~*~*~*~
Buffy was lying on the ground beside the door that separated her cell from Spike's. She'd grabbed the blanket and pillow from the cot but they did little to make the floor less floor-like. That hardly mattered, though. Being close to him was a lot more comforting than sleeping on a mattress.
"You asleep, Slayer?"
"No. Tell me another story," Buffy said, tracing a circle on the surface between them.
"Don't know any more, unless you count old episodes of Falcon Crest."
"Liar, you're like a hundred."
"Most of the stories I haven't told you have bad endings," he said, the regret giving his voice a weight it hadn't had before.
"What about the first time you fell in love? If you tell me yours, I'll tell you mine," Buffy said, failing to rationalize her interest in Spike's love life and then immediately deciding it didn't matter.
"I know yours, it's the poof."
"It's not Angel," Buffy said, smiling sadly at the blank wall.
"Well now I gotta know," he said. She could hear him shifting on the other side and imagined he was lying on his back. For some reason that included an image of him stroking his stomach, teasing up the hem of his black t-shirt.
"His name was Pike and he was the first guy who knew about my Slayer stuff. He was older than me, not like a century older, just a couple years. We burned down the gym at my old school together to destroy this vampire."
"I heard about that, you snuffed Locos. I was kind of raw about that seeing as the pillock owed me money."
"Him and Dracula, huh?"
"Yup, although I'm still hoping to get my ten pounds out of that smarmy, little ponce. So you fell in love with a fella with a name shockingly close to mine. What happened then?"
"We went to Vegas, beat up some conjoined twins and he dumped me for my own protection. That last part is kind of a leitmotif," Buffy said.
"It is a classic maneuver for noble gits. Was he taller than me?"
"Nope. He was just about your height."
"Handsome?"
"Well, duh. Now you go," Buffy said.
She still thought of Pike often; he was her shot at something normal before Angel came into her life and wiped that notion away. Not that there was much of a future to regret losing. Her life seemed to be slipping away. The only things resembling a foothold of hope was Spike's voice and his simple belief they would escape.
"Well, this was back when I was alive. Her name was Cecily."
"What made you love her?"
"Aside from the glowing beauty? Not much. She was kind to me when other people weren't. Why'd you fall in love with fishy?"
"Fishy? Oh, Pike. Funny, that's what I said when we first met. He was the first person to really see me for who I was and he made me laugh. That combining with the handsome pretty much clinched things."
"Peaches was never funny, unless you think sodomy is riot."
"Ew. Angel has a few other things to recommend him besides his sense of humor."
"Right, the tall, handsome mysteriousness."
"You're kind of hung up on that size thing, aren't you?"
"At least I got Magical Misery Tour beat in one area when it comes to length and girth. I'm surprisingly disproportionate for someone my height."
"Are you talking about your gigantimous, Dum-Dum Pop cranium?"
"Not that head, love."
"And again I say, Ew. Now tell me the rest of what happened with you and glow girl."
"I've never told anybody this before," Spike said, his voice so soft she had to press her ear to the wall to hear it. "She was kind to me, right? She'd tolerate my poetry—"
"What do you mean?"
"If you laugh at me, Slayer, I swear I'll let that git, Forrest, dust me."
"Not laughing. Go on."
"I wrote very, very bad poetry which is much worse than other kinds of failed writing. It kills the soul the same way good poetry makes it soar. When I was alive I didn't understand that you could make plain words extraordinary. It was always too much, you know?"
"I've only ever written in my diary, so I kind of don't. That and Giles is always saying I abuse the English language like a fishwife beating a ginger stepchild."
"Rupes is exaggerating. I like the way you talk. It's playful."
"Thanks. It's hard for me to imagine you that way, with the poetry."
"It is sort of ridiculous; the Big Bad writing poncey verse and pining after a woman I wasn't fit to stand beside."
"I'm sure you were fit and non-ponchy. Your abs rock so they must have been hot when you died."
Spike chuckled.
"You're too kind," Spike said. He didn't speak for a second. "So the sad ending with Cecily. She and I ended twice. The first time I asked her to marry me and she said no. The worse part...I asked her to see me, you know, the way Pike saw you. She said she did, but what she saw wasn't worth very much. Not enough to throw in her lot with me, anyway. There were people around when it happened. Back then you couldn't be alone with a woman, at least one you weren't paying for her time. I left the party and met Dru. You know how that turned out.
'Wish I could tell you the story was done, but years later I found Cecily again. I saw a girl in the street who looked just like her, so I followed the bird. Couldn't keep away. She led me to Cecily's old house and I thought there had to be some magic afoot; like she was a demon or something. I tried to enter the place but I couldn't get in. Had to trick a maid. I can do a thrall when I need it; not so good as Dru. She used to say my face did most of the work. Turns out the girl I saw wasn't Cecily at all. It was her granddaughter. Cecily was upstairs in one of the bedrooms so I went to her. Snuck into her chamber and hid from the others in the house."
"You didn't kill them?" she asked.
"Wanted to savor, wanted to make Cecily watch. Didn't end up like that, though. When I finally confronted her, this girl who'd loomed so large was a frail, elderly woman. Her hair had gone silver and was spread out on the pillow. She was still beautiful but the light inside of her was guttering out. Her mind was nearly gone, too, but when she opened her eyes, Cecily recognized me. It was like the intervening years hadn't happened. She thought it was only a few days after I proposed. She put her arms around me and cried; said she blamed herself for my death. Then she said that she changed her mind. Losing me made her realize she wanted to spend the rest of her life with me. So she did. I held her and we made plans for two lives that were already over. When she fell asleep, I drained her. It wasn't out of spite, just wanted to let her leave this world with a little happiness. If it means anything, when I slipped out before the dawn I didn't touch anyone in the rest of the house."
There was long stretch of silence. Her rules about killing were rigid to keep herself from going all vigilante Punisher-Buffy. Spike was another type of creature entirely and hearing the tales of his warped, intermittent morals through the years always left her at a loss. She was starting to understand him more and more, though. Even though his experience with Cecily was horrifying, Buffy could appreciate the idea of death being a blessing sometimes.
"Spike," she asked.
"Yeah, Slayer."
"Tell me another story."
~*~*~*~
All Giles wanted was to have a bath and collapse into bed. It had been a long flight and he was jet-lagged. He'd been forced to re-wear a pair of dirty socks and he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. He had to check in with Joyce first, of course and talk with the children. He picked up his battered, brown suitcase off the metal carousel and walked to the passenger pick up area. Xander and Willow were waiting there for him. Xander popped the trunk of his black Buick Skylark; Giles had always thought the car was shaped oddly, with the bumper in the front jutting like a petulant child's chin. No matter. He threw his bag in the back, shut the trunk and got into the backseat.
"G-man!" Xander said with forced enthusiasm. The boy maneuvered his car into a space in the line of cars exiting the airport; adding another link in the chain of lights. Willow twisted around in her seat and reached out a small hand to take his.
"Giles we missed you so much! How was your trip?" Willow asked.
He could see she'd been crying; her large eyes were webbed in red and there were dark crescents beneath them. Giles took her hand and gave it a squeeze before letting go.
"As pleasant as these things can be. Have you learned anything since last we spoke?"
"Um, a few things. I can't seem to get the locator spell to work. Every time I try, the map goes poof! Extra flamey. I'm hoping you'll have better luck."
"Yes, well, I'm a bit worse for wear. Let me have a cheese sandwich and a cup of tea first, unless Davinia cooked," Giles said, hopefully.
"Um, Dav and I...I broke up with her," Xander said.
"That's unfortunate," Giles said, softly.
"Well, it was probably for the best. Now to radically shift topics, our buddy, Angel is here," Xander said, biting out the words. "I guess being the charming stalker he is, he was having Buffy followed. His guy blacked out before he could see what happened to Buffy and Spike. The last thing he remembers they were in Restfield Cemetery rescuing a bunch of virgins from some vamps who were dressed up like extras from 'Congo.'"
"They donned the skins of apes?" Giles asked, removing his glasses and pinching the place where his nose met his brow.
"No, there was a dance sequence with some villagers in that movie. I haven't seen it in awhile. Never mind. What's important is that we searched the cemetery and came up empty. On the plus side, Angel talked to some of the demons at Willy's and they filled him about some kind of prison camp for the undead," Xander said.
"Prison camp?"
"Demons have been disappearing enmasse and the rumor is Buffy's behind the whole thing. I guess most of them went missing around the Sunnydale University campus. Angel talked to a vampire who said he knew someone who knew someone who escaped from this gulag for ghouls. The last thing the vamp remembered before waking up in a white cell was fleeing from a fight with Buffy and Spike," Willow said.
"We were thinking because of the fighty and extra-strong pummel action she sports, Buffy might have been picked up by whoever is capturing demons," Xander said.
"Good lord," Giles whispered. Several panicky notions were competing to form in Giles' mind; he squelched them all before they could take shape.
"Angel has another theory," Willow said, nervously.
"Which is?"
"What do you think it is? Tall, dark and broody is convinced Buffy's disappearance is all a ruse so Spike could lure him here for the resurrection spell. I mean don't get me wrong, Spike is still a vampire. When Buffy first let him into the gang I thought it was going to be Evil Dead Part II, but at least Spike respects the group. He gets why those of us who aren't super-powered and who've been almost killed by him before would be a little skittish in presence. Angel acts like we're the ones who are tools because we can't seem to get over all the murder," Xander said, his hands flailing from their position on the steering wheel for a second to give extra punch to the word, "murder."
Willow put her hand on Xander's shoulder.
"It's O.K., big guy," Willow said, before turning back to face Giles,"This is his last chance to vent before we have to make nice."
"I take it we're going to meet with Angel soon."
"He's waiting for us at your place," Willow said.
"Lovely," Giles muttered. Being near Angel made him tense, to say the least. Giles put his glasses on. Gone a week and the world falls apart. Giles supposed it was good to be needed, though.
~*~*~*~
Angel was waiting in the courtyard for them when they arrived at Giles' flat. The vampire was wearing his ankle-length, black coat with dark trousers underneath; as always he was dressed in mourning. Perhaps now it was finally appropriate. They said their hellos. It struck Giles what a polite monster the vampire could be when he tried. Giles tried to forget how similar Angel's smile was when he was greeting people pleasantly to the one he wore as he tortured them. He couldn't help wondering if Angel had smiled at Jenny the same way.
They went inside the house and Giles went upstairs, leaving the others in his living room. He hoisted his bag up onto his bed. He unzipped the case and took out the clotted cream, loose tea and licorice toffee for Dav, setting them on his dresser so he wouldn't forget to call her in the morning. Even if he couldn't help his Slayer, he could at least comfort the young woman he'd grown to see as a good friend. Looking at the other souvenirs he'd brought back made him feel like a delusional, old fool. They had been impulse buys, but now it seemed especially insulting to present Willow and Xander with bobble heads that looked like the guards at Buckingham Palace. The tank top emblazoned with a sequined Union Jack for Buffy winking at him through the opened zipper of his bag made Giles want to cry.
When he came back downstairs, Xander and Angel were sitting at either ends of his couch, glaring at one another. Willow poked her head out of the kitchen.
"I put the kettle on and I found some bread in the freezer. You definitely want a grilled cheese sandwich?" Willow asked.
"That would be splendid, thank you," Giles said.
He went to the phone and called Joyce. She hadn't heard anything, just as he'd suspected. He filled her in and she seemed genuinely grateful. In the middle of the conversation, Willow placed a plate laden with a toasty sandwich in front of him. He ate mechanically, trying to sound reassuring between mouthfuls. Willow had mercifully plopped down in between Angel and Xander. Xander stared off into space while Angel and Willow spoke quietly about Cordelia. Joyce's voice sounded distant and tinny through the receiver. Giles realized he was far too exhausted to audit either conversation properly.
"At least they're together, wherever they are," Joyce said.
Giles shook his head.
"Pardon me?" he asked.
"Buffy and Spike. At least they're together wherever they are."
Giles was uncertain if Joyce was terribly naive, or if she understood something fundamental the others had missed. He hoped it was the latter.
"Yes, well, good night. I'll call you as soon as we get word."
"Good night, Rupert," Joyce said.
He placed the phone back in its cradle. The others became silent as they noticed Giles had finished his chat. Someone, most likely Willow, had placed the proper accoutrements around the room in order to conduct the spell.
"If you're ready, Giles, maybe we could try it again," Willow said. He nodded and they linked hands.
Just as it had for Willow, Giles' attempt ended up in flames as well. Giles doused the fire with his tepid tea.
"Alright, I've no bloody idea what to do next," Giles said, instantly realizing this was the worst thing to say. Willow looked like she might cry again and Xander seemed ready to pop.
"Don't you see, it's dark magicks disrupting the spell. That's proof Spike is doing something with the du Lac book," Angel said.
Xander rubbed his brow with a vaguely flailing motion.
"Right, because on the Hellmouth no one ever uses dark magicks and also doesn't Spike need your blood to work the mumbo jumbo mojo?" Xander asked.
Angel got close to Xander's face.
"Why are you defending Spike?"
"I'm not. I'm defending common sense and rational thought," Xander said.
Willow got in between the two, putting a hand on either of their shoulders.
"Hey, Xan, Angel may be right. I got a copy of the translation from Andrew and there are multiple parts to the spell, culminating with a sire sacrifice. Also, it's not just Angel's blood Spike would need; it would be his whole body," Willow said. Giles had no idea who Andrew was, but decided to save his question for another time.
"Where there any areas required by the spell; a holy place, a graveyard?" Giles asked.
"Why didn't I think of that! That church Buffy destroyed was mentioned and also he needs the skeleton of an orphan between the ages of six and seven."
"That du Lac was eerily specific with the horrible," Xander said.
"See, he could be using a spell to control Buffy right now to tailor make that orphan," Angel said.
"He'd hardly need her for that; besides, if Spike had the inclination, he'd bite her," Giles said, looking pointedly at Angel until the vampire ducked his head. "At least now we have a place to begin. We'll do a sweep of the church ruins, the graveyards and the University. However, I must insist on turning in for the night. You all understand?"
"Of course, thanks for your help, Giles," Willow said, walking to him and giving Giles a hug. The others followed, Xander subbing a handshake for the hug and Angel a curt nod. When they left, Giles sank onto the couch and promptly fell asleep.
~*~*~*~
She couldn't believe he was finally doing this for her, after so much pleading and begging. Buffy was curled up on the floor, draped in her blanket, concentrating on Spike's breathing on the other side of the wall.
"You're sure you want this, love?" he asked.
"Oh yeah. Give it to me."
He inhaled deeply.
"My soul is wrapped in harsh repose
Midnight descends in raven-colored clothes
But soft. Behold! A sunlight beam
Cutting a swath of glimmering gleam
My heart expands, 'tis grown a bulge in it
Inspired by your beauty... effulgent."
"Wow, you really let her read that right before you proposed?"
"The last two lines, yeah. It was that terrible?"
"No, just, I mean, I thought Victorians were more staid with their social mores and stuff, it makes sense that she'd be a little flustered—"
"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" he asked, his voice rising.
"Your expanding...heart."
"It was about how I felt, it wasn't literal, haven't you ever heard of poetic license?"
"Replace heart with another part of your anatomy, lower down. You know, the one that tends to dominate most of your decisions."
"Oh....Ohhhhh," he said, and she could almost see him nodding, "no wonder she said I was beneath her, she thought I was writing an ode to my dick."
"The top of it's good, kind of like Edgar Allan Poe with but less lugubrious and no plutonium shore. Do you have any other poems?"
"We must be scraping the bottom of the conversation barrel if you want to hear more of my poetry. I think before I go again, you should have to compose something for the entertainment of the room."
"I can't—"
"It won't be worse than mine, love."
"Yours is actually a real poem though!"
"The next words I hear better follow an AA BB CC pattern or the well runs dry; no more Spike's shameful moments for your enjoyment."
"Wah! Give me a second."
Buffy thought on it, wishing she had a pen and paper. While she put some phrases together in her head, he hummed the tune from Jeopardy! So not helpful.
"This one's called, 'Spike,' because you're my creative inspiration."
"Aw, that's sweet," he said.
"Spike's a vampire who stalks the night,
He's fairly decent in a fight.
He's maybe evil and probably bad,
But if he left I would be sad.
When prowling the streets he wears all black.
Something, something, blam, Attack!
(Still working on that part)
His eyes are pretty and his abs totally rock.
Now if only he'd stop talking about his...heart.
So what do you think?"
"Fairly decent? I saved your pert, little ass more times than I can count and my eyes aren't pretty. They are piercing and should fill you with erotically-charged terror."
"Hey, you gave me like, two minutes to come up with something here. At least it rhymed!"
"True. But your stanzas are all out of whack, you've got syllables in there where they ought not be."
"What are you, an English professor?"
"When I was alive, yeah. So now I can kick ass and get pedantic."
"That's so..." Buffy almost said cute, but caught herself. He'd be apoplectic if she called him pretty and cute in such quick succession. But he was. Her duplicitous enemy turned uneasy partner was adorable. She longed to know the man who was shyly poking out from behind the monster. "What was your full name then? Your last name wasn't bloody, was it, or were you from Bloody like Leonardo da Vinci was from Vinci?"
"You get silly when you're tired, don't you, Slayer? It was William Wesley Pratt, which was sadly appropriate."
"If we live through this, you've gotta help me with my modern poetry class."
Her words stopped their merry back and forth.
"We'll live, Buffy. I promise you."
"You can't promise—"
"I can. I do. There's nothing more to worry about because I've decided we'll live, or at least you will. We're winning the bloody day, no arguments and don't roll your eyes at me, I can hear them swiveling in their sockets. Now get some rest," Spike said.
"Not before you recite another poem for me. You can't see it, but I'm pouting really hard over here."
"You know I can't resist that pout, naughty, little thing. Fine.
'Where true Love burns Desire is Love's pure flame;
It is the reflex of our earthly frame,
That takes its meaning from the nobler part,
And but translates the language of the heart.'"
"That's really pretty. You should have led with that one, I might have tried harder on mine," Buffy said.
"Would've loved to, but Samuel Taylor Coleridge wrote it, not me. Now sleep, darling. I'll be right next to you," he said.
"Good night," she said. The cot was marginally softer, but she didn't want to be that far away from him. Besides, if he really could feel the warmth of her body through the wall, she didn't want to deny him that small measure of comfort; not when he'd given so much to her.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
All mistakes are mine this chapter.
Chapter End Notes:
Yes, I know the Cecily story contradicts canon, but I took a shine to it a long time ago, before I found out she was a vengeance demon. I suppose it could still work in canon if Hallie was only taking Cecily's guise, changing her response to William, then giving those memories of rejecting him back to the real girl. My version makes his proposal much less foolhardy but all the more crushing.
What's everyone think?
What's everyone think?