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Chapter 3-

Signing, Buffy began to walk back into town when a car zoomed passed her and then stopped about ten feet ahead of her. The driver backed up the car where Buffy stood. The door opened and the driver called out to her.

“Buffy!”

Buffy’s looked into the car and said, “Giles."

She knew she had to be careful.

“Buffy, you’re all wet,” Giles stated the obvious. “Get in the car.You'll catch you're death.”


Giles motioned for Buffy to get into the car. Buffy just stared for a few moments before hurrying to the car. She slid inside, staring her watcher for a moment.

“What you doing in the rain?” Giles asked Buffy as she shut the door. "Slaying?"

“Um, yeah." Buffy said quickly, remembering what Xander had reminded her of. "Demon actually."

“Oh.” Was all Giles said. “I've still got your duffle bag back at my place.You can change there." Giles told her as drove away in his old clunker. Buffy just glared back at him.

A little while later, he pulled into the parking lot of his building and they headed inside his loft. Buffy was careful not to spoil as much of the timeline as possible and kept quite. Giles didn’t really pay much attention to her quietness. Just assumed she was tired.

“Go in and change and we’ll do some research on this demon you were after,” Giles told her. “I believe there’s something of yours in the bathroom cabinet.” He gestured.

"Thanks Giles."

Buffy headed towards the bathroom, pulled out the duffle back from the cabinet, and dressed in an old pair of her sweat pants and a black tee-shirt she. She finally walked out of the bathroom. Giles had already poured himself a scotch, looking over a book as he waited for Buffy.

“Ah, yes, Buffy, come sit down.” He set the book down his lap and patted the spot next to him.

“I think I’m going to sit this one out Giles.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’m just not feeling very well.”

“Ah, very well.” He set the book and his drink down on the coffee table. “We’ll just continue this in the morning. I’ll drive you home then, since it’s raining out.”

****

ON the way to Buffy's house, the rain had stopped. She watched as Giles pulled out of her driveway, and she waved him off. She turned around, heading up to the house.

She dreaded seeing her mother once again. The thought of seeing her again…well, Buffy just wasn’t ready for that just yet.

Grabbing for the door handle, Buffy stopped for a second, remembering all the good and the bad times in the house.

“NO! I’m not going to do this now.”

She held back the tears that were threatening to spill over and made her way inside. When it was clear, Buffy high-tailed it up to her bedroom, closing the door softly, as to not alert whom ever would be home. She grabbed a pair of jeans sitting on a chair, thankful that she was about the same size then as she was now.

As she button up her jeans, Buffy heard the front door open and she froze.

“Mom,” she whispered.

“Buffy!” Joyce called out. “Are you home?”

“Shit!” Buffy whispered

“BUFFY, I’m home!” Joyce yelled as she climbed the stairs.

The slayer froze in place. She wasn’t sure how to handle things with her mom yet. She was surprised that Giles hadn’t said anything more to her. Just then, the phone rang and Joyce turned back around and headed down the steps and into the kitchen to answer it.

As Buffy sat down on the bed, relieved, she looked over at the clock. It was after nine and her past self would mostly likely be hanging with Xander and Willow. It was safe for now to camp out in the house for a little while, but what she didn’t anticipate was the memories coming to the surface.

Lying back on the bed, Buffy began to cry thinking about the past, and soon she fell asleep. Joyce bounded up the stairs after her phone call, and saw that Buffy’s door was close.

Assuming that her daughter was home for the evening, Joyce opened the door gently, looking in on Buffy. Glad that she was safe and sound, Joyce closed the door and headed off to her room.

*****

Spike lay passed out on an old ratty mattress in the warehouse he had shared with Dru, before she broke his heart by leaving him for her latest love. Every once and while when Spike would roll over, he’d call out to Dru, not realizing he did so.

Beer and whisky bottles were all stern around him. It smelled like a brewery, but Spike, he didn’t care. It was a place to sleep. It was his home away from home. Wherever home was at the moment, Spike didn’t much care.

As he lay asleep, another vampire stood, hovering over him, and glaring back down at him. Spike was to far gone to realize what was going on. Dru had sent the vampire after Spike. She didn’t want anymore hassles with him coming after her any time soon. She was content with her latest conquest.

The vampire swiftly produced a stake from his back pocket, and held it above Spike. Just as the big burly vampire was ready, another dark clad figure stood in the wings. To his better judgment, the dark clad figure stepped out of the shadows, his coat billowing behind him, very dramatic like.

“I…uh, wouldn’t do that if I were you!” The dark clad figure barked.

The vampire with a stake turned around to see who was speaking to him. He transformed into his vampire visage.

“Angel!” He growled. “What are you doing here?”

“I’d ask you the same thing,” Angel said, walking closer to the other vampire. Once he got closer, he realized it was one of Drusilla’s minions. “Andre, it’s so nice to see you.” Angel casually said.

As perplexed as Andre was, he wasn’t buying Angel’s sincerity, so he just played along with it.

“It’s uh…nice to see you too, Angel.” Andre tightened the grip on his stake, taking no chances. I think I could take him!

Stopping just short of Spike’s bed, Angel smiled and then lunged at the minion vampire. After several minutes of fighting, Angel got bored and staked Andre without warning. Spike finally rolled over blindly looking for his booze and then the smell hit him. It was his grandsire. Oh he hated him more than the slayer, although the slayer was close behind.

“Oh it’s you,” he slurred. “What the bloody hell you doin’ here, peaches?”

“Saved your sorry ass,” pointed out Angel. “I could have always let you get dusted,” Angel said, matter-of-factly.

Slowly sitting up, Spike took a long swing from the bottle, and then said, “Well, I don’t need your god damn help!”

Sighing, Angel turned to walk away. He stopped to slowly turn around. “Looks like Dru sent Andre to kill you.”

“Bugger!” Spike through the bottle and watched it hit the wall nearby and shatter into tiny pieces.

Angel kinda felt bad for him. He knew what it was like to get wrapped up in Drusilla’s world only to be thrown aside when she didn’t need you.

“Spike,” Angel began slowly. “I’m sorry.”

“I can’t believe the crazy bint did this to me. All that I did for her. All that time I spent with her. I loved her. Hell, I still love her.” Looking up at Angel, Spike realized he didn’t want Angel’s pity. “Get the bloody hell out of here. I don’t need your damn pity or fucking sympathy!”

Shaking his head as he sighed, Angel said, “I’ll be around if you just want to talk.” He turned and finally left into the night.


“I don’t need your god damn help, you wanker.” He muttered, turning around, looking for another bottle of his Irish whiskey.

Instead, he found his journal and plopped down on the bed to read all the heartfelt poems and song lyrics he’d written for Drusilla.

A single tear ran down his face and he abruptly through the book away from him.

“I’m such a git.” He fell back on the bed, closed his eyes, and fell fast asleep

TBC





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