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Chapter 19

She’d been holed up in the training room for hours now. Which meant she was either seriously pissed off, or really avoiding something. Knowing Buffy, it could go either way or possibly both. Maybe she was seriously avoiding something she was really pissed off about. Clearly, something was off. He’d been leaning against the doorframe for the last 15 minutes, and as best as he could tell, she still wasn’t aware he was watching her. Which was really strange, because he’d swear that over the years she had practically developed a sixth sense for when he was near.

Deciding it was time to break her out of whatever dimension her head was currently in, he slowly crept up behind her as she worked over his heavy bag. He’d gotten within arm’s reach of her before he saw the moment she detected him. Acting on instinct, she planted her left foot, pivoted, and sent a wicked side kick flying straight towards his head… which he effortlessly caught. Again…strange.

He saw the moment that it also registered in her mind and the split second of confusion, followed by anger as she jerked her foot out of his hand. Pissed off it is.

“Wanna try that again?” He asked her with a smirk.

“What are you doing here, Angel?” She asked, rolling her eyes as she turned back to the heavy bag.

“Well, this is kind of my house, and you’re in my training room, so….” He left the statement hanging.

“Didn’t think you’d mind.” She answered, pounding the bag even harder than she had before he’d interrupted.

“I don’t. But you’ve been at it for a few hours, and I thought you might want to talk about whatever it is you’re trying to beat into a pulp. Or maybe it’s more of a whoever.”

She briefly flinched, sending her current punch just slightly askance of her target, and carrying her body forward of her center of balance.

Well, that was interesting.

“Nope. Not trying to beat anything or anyone. Just keeping up with my training routine.”

Ok then. Avoiding it is. So what exactly was she so pissed off about that she’s avoiding? Which reminded him, he still had some questions from their discussion yesterday.

“You’ve never been very good at lying,” He replied as he grabbed the upper arm closest to him. Her reaction, once again, was instinctive. She grabbed his hand, applied pressure, and tried to twist his hand and arm to put him on his knees. But she still didn’t have her head clear, and he easily switched the move, ducking under and around as he wrenched her arm around and behind her, and pressed her up against the beg. “And you're definitely distracted by whatever it is you’re trying really hard to avoid.”

To her credit, she recovered quickly. She threw her free elbow back, cracking him soundly in the jaw, and followed it with a back fist that caused him to drop her arm and back up a few steps.

“I’m not avoiding anything!” She protested a little too vehemently, as she dropped into a defensive stance, clearly inviting him to spar with her.

This he could do. It was practically their chosen mode of communication.

“So it’s my imagination that you’ve got some major regret about something going on?” He jabbed at her with a quick left that matched the sharp edge of his words. Both had the desired effect, catching her off guard and connecting with her right cheek.

She answered him by throwing a quick series of high and low punches, followed by a roundhouse with her right leg. He easily blocked each of the moves, then backed up a few steps giving her a moment to regroup. She was definitely off her game today. She came at him again, lunging with a feigned high jab before landing a solid kick to his ribs that sent him flying back a couple of feet to connect with the wall.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” He laughed as he pushed off the wall. “Question is, what is it you’re regretting? Or should I say, who is it you’re regretting?”

Fire blazed in her eyes as she flew at him, delivering a barrage of blindingly quick punches from both hands, pushing his back against the wall again as he brought his arms up to block the blows. She followed up by grabbing him by the back of his head with both hands and pulling him down while throwing her knee at his face. He managed to block most of the force of the blow, so she changed directions, jumping up and throwing her left knee into his right side before he could block it. He shot his right hand out at her chest just before she hit the ground, sending her flying backward, landing in a not so graceful heap.

“It is just me,” He began as she sprang back up and then dropped back into fighting stance. “Or do you really not have your head in the game today?”

She planted her left foot and sent a solid roundhouse kick with her right leg that didn’t connect, but the follow-up front kick from her left foot caught him right in the sternum and sent him back and then to his knees. She quickly sent another round his into the middle of his back, send him to the ground completely. She brought her right foot up and tried to slam it down on his back, but he quickly rolled towards her, catching the foot before it could connect.

“Must have hit a nerve,” He groused, twisting the captured foot hard, throwing her off balance and sending her splayed out on the mat next to him. “So who has you so worked up you can’t even connect two-thirds of your punches?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” She bit out. “It sure as heck isn’t you!” She charged at him, telegraphing her intended right hook from a mile away.

“Didn’t think it was.” He caught the wild swing and used her own momentum to send her stumbling past him. She quickly recovered and spun back around to face him and charged with another right swing. He blocked it with a kick from his left foot that knocked her off balance again. He followed it with a front kick that knocked her back.

“Is it sweet little Willy that’s got your head all spun around?” He pushed, adding as much disdain as possible to his words.

“Don’t talk about him like that!” She ground out, taking the bait and charging at him again, leading with another wild right. He easily caught it, twisting under and around to flip her over and onto her back on the floor.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” He laughed. “But somehow I don’t think that’s all, is it?”

She popped back up to her feet and spun back around to face him, pacing a couple of steps left and right, trying to regroup.

“Maybe you’re thinking too much, Angel.” She suddenly took two steps toward him, clearly gearing up for a jump kick. He turned to the side and caught her in mid-air, throwing her forward, her arms flying out as she landed in a roll.

“Maybe you’re not thinking enough,” He countered, as she began pacing again. He hadn’t seen her this worked up in, well, ever.

“Brooding is you’re department, not mine,” She scoffed at him, then rushed him, feigning a hook before she ducked under his block and counter, to spin around and catch him square in the face with a left backhand, followed by a brutal uppercut that had him seeing a few stars.

He dabbed at the blood he could feel trickling from his nose and smirked, knowing he was getting close. It always took quite a bit of pounding before her walls crumbled enough for everything to come spilling out.

“Brooding, huh?” He sent a wolfish grin her direction. “Is that what you’ve been doing down here? Brooding about something? Maybe say… a wish?”

Her eyes betrayed her thoughts, opening wide for a second before her face hardened. She stepped forward and spun like she was going to send another roundhouse at him, but then dropped to the ground and swept his feet out from under him, dropping him on his back. She was on him in the blink of an eye, straddling him and raining blow after blow on his head as he tried vainly to block some of them.

“You have no idea what you’re talking out!” She punctuated each word with another blow.

He finally had enough and bucked her off over his head, springing up and spinning around just in time to catch a spinning right back fist. Almost there.

“What happened, Buffy?” He asked, stepping back as she once again started pacing, clearly trying to calm herself down. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she had picked up a few of Spike’s traits. “Don’t get me wrong,” He sidestepped as she charged him. “I couldn’t care less that Spike’s gone.” He sidestepped again as her next lunge faltered at his words. “I’m just curious,” She spun around sending her elbow towards his face. He caught it with one hand, and grabbed her around the waist with his other, hauling her flush against him and pinning her there with her arms crossed in front of her, “what it is that idiot finally did that made you accidentally summon a vengeance demon,” She suddenly went very still, “and then wish him dead.”

He watched as her eyes suddenly went hauntingly distant for a few seconds, giving him time to inhale deeply and confirm up close what he’d only vaguely scented earlier. And then she suddenly went almost feral, kicking and screaming, biting and clawing, in an effort to free herself from his hold. He dropped her like she’d been covered in holy water, stepping back and watching as she scrambled wildly away from him, climbed to her feet and dropped into a fighting stance again with a deadly glint in her eyes. She didn’t even seem to notice the tears streaming down her face as she issued him a venomous, “Don’t touch me again.”

As recognition dawned on him, he felt his stomach drop like it was filled with lead. He knew this as intimately as a lover. He’d spent 147 years savoring the kind of reaction she was giving him. He felt his demon rear its ugly head, angrier than he’d been in decades, his growl shaking the walls. He turned for the door, suddenly needing to find a certain vampire and rip his spine out through his throat. He’d made it up the stairs to the second floor and halfway to Spike’s room before she’d caught up with him.

“Angel, stop!” She grabbed his right arm, and swung him around, twisting it behind him and pressing him against the wall. He bucked against her, trying to push her off him. “Angel, stop! He isn’t Spike!”

“You never did get it, Buffy. Couldn’t ever get beyond the Council party line. He is Spike!” He ground out. His assertion caused her to loosen the pin she had on him for only a moment, but it was enough. He pushed off the wall, sending her stumbling backward. He’d managed another five feet toward the room before she caught him again, spinning him around and nailing him with the hardest left hook he’d probably ever been on the receiving end of, temporarily stunning him.

“He’s not, Angel!” She grabbed him by both arms and shook him hard enough to make his fangs rattle. “He’s not!”

“He is, Buffy!” He was pissed off, and he was going to set her straight on this once and for all. “Where do you think Spike came from? Or Angelus? You think the demon just takes over some empty shell? Put you on like a meat suit?” He paused to ensure he had her attention.

“What do you…” She let go of him with a shove, then crossed her arms, her confusion clearly showing.

“You’re still the same person, Buffy. Same thoughts, same feelings, same personality, everything. The demon soul just moves in and merges itself with you, just like the human soul did. Magnifies certain thing, suppresses others, but it’s still you. Angelus is just a demon charged version of Liam. Give me back my human soul, and I’m still me, just with better control and judgment thanks to the guilt over centuries of slaughter.”

“You’re lying,” She challenged softly, refusing to look at him.

He closed the distance to her in two strides and grabbed her by the arms.

“Not even close,” He insisted, giving her a little shake for good measure, hoping it would jar something in her brain into accepting what he was saying. Then he shoved her away from him. “Now get out of my way.”

She stood there, unmoving, still not looking at him. Instead, she seemed lost in thought, her face creased in deep concentration for an interminable amount of time. With an impatient growl he finally just tried to step around her, but her hand suddenly on his chest stopped him.

“Buffy?”

“Angel,” she finally cast her eyes up at him, and what he saw there confused the hell out of him. “Don’t… please?” She softly pleaded, fresh tears threatening to spill.

He stumbled backward as if the words she’d said had physically struck him, and he could swear it almost felt like they had.

“You… you forgave him?” He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. And it was making him really damn angry again. “You forgave him?” His voice edged up in volume. “Spike?” Even louder. “After he raped…”

“Tried!” Buffy shouted her interruption. “He tried, Angel, and I stopped him.”

“Not any better, Buffy!” He was now fully shouting as well. “He still tried to rape you!”

“And what about what I did to him?”

“What?” That threw him for a loop. “Buffy, what do you…”

“Less than sixty seconds, Angel! That’s the time it took for him to…” Her eyes closed and she shook her head as if to clear it before she opened them again to intently stare into his own eyes. “That’s all it took until I stopped him.”

“Buffy…”

“No! You’re not listening! I did worse to him for months, Angel, months! I spent months driving him insane. Beating him, taking what I wanted whether he wanted it or not, and convincing him it was the only way he could ever touch me.”

“Not the same, Buffy.” He’d calmed down somewhat, he’d had to just to try and figure out what she was saying.

“No, it’s not!” She answered, tears now fully flowing, her voice pleading with him to understand. “But what I did wasn’t any better. I knew how he felt, and I used it against him. I’d been ripped out of heaven, Angel, and I put him through hell because I could, and because it made the cold, empty feeling go away for just a little while.”

“Buffy…”

“I’m not done!” She shouted. “Spike was wrong, yes. But I went to him time after time, pushed him, punched him, ripped his clothes off, and took what I wanted knowing he wouldn’t stop me because he loved me. We told each other to stop a hundred times, and no one ever did. We left consent behind about five exits back. We were both so screwed up that I don’t think either of us was in a headspace to even consider consent. He loved me, Angel, and I took that and I used it to torture him until he didn’t know which was up. How the hell was he supposed to know I meant it that time?”

“Buffy…”

“Why didn’t he know I really meant it that time? Why?” Her whole demeanor changed, this last question a genuine plea for an answer, confusing the hell out of him as he tried to switch gears.

“I broke it off! I told him I was using him and he said he didn’t care! He told me I could, Angel, that I could keep using him. Who does that? You talk about how Drusilla was you at your worst, well Spike was mine! So who’s the bigger monster here, Angel?” Her words were getting harder to make out as she shook with emotion.

“You’re not a monster...”

“I am a monster!” She screamed at him. “I used his love to torment him for months and practically drove him insane until I couldn’t…” Her body shook as she cried, “I couldn’t use him anymore because I finally saw what it was… and I couldn’t… couldn’t anymore…any more because I… because I…” She crumbled in on herself into a heap on the floor.

“Because you loved him.” It was more statement than a question.

She nodded as her body shook, wracked by sobs for several seconds before she suddenly gasped, sitting straight up and looking directly at him, in an oddly calm way.

“I am a monster,” She softly asserted. “I used and hurt him for months and walked away.” She shook her head, eyes focusing distantly on nothing. “He lost his mind for sixty seconds… and I killed him for it.”





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