CHAPTER 12 - Closure
Willow dropped her bag on the floor and took off her coat with a sigh. Dropping it onto a nearby chair, she turned to Tara. "So looking forward to my bed tonight," she said with a wide yawn.
Her girlfriend, having shed her own coat, lowered her head slightly and smiled coyly as she looked at the redhead through her lashes. "Me too."
Willow froze mid stretch and gazed back at Tara, a slow smile appearing at the hint of promise in her lover's eyes. Suddenly, it hit her that they had the whole night ahead of them. A whole uninterrupted night ahead of them. Without another word, she turned to her bag and rooted through it until she pulled out her cell phone with a triumphant look and switched it off. Buffy was with Spike, Dawn was safe at her friends house and Giles had probably gone to bed. The only one left who could possibly ring was Xander and she wasn't about to be distracted at a crucial moment just because he decided to play one of lame prank phone call jokes on them.
Turning back to Tara, her smile widened into a grin as she walked over to where the blonde stood and pulled her into a heated kiss.
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Buffy's temper saw her all the way home until she entered her house where the emotion promptly dissipated, leaving a nasty taste in her mouth. Leaning back heavily against the front door, she closed her eyes and felt the regret of her actions wash over her. "Way to go, Buffy," she congratulated herself mockingly. "Got injured because you were careless then lost your temper and lost your man. Not bad for a nights work. Even for you."
Pushing away from the door, she flipped on the light switch and headed for the kitchen, picking up the phone on the way through. Entering the kitchen, she turned on the light then switched on the kettle. Flopping down onto a nearby stool, she punched in a number then held it to her ear. What she needed right now was a good old-fashioned, 'Men!' rant with her best friend.
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Spike sniffed hard and pinched the bridge of his nose as he worked his jaw from side to side, trying the ease the throbbing that emanated from the centre of his face. "Bloody bint always goes for the soddin' nose," he grumbled irately as he walked over to the fridge and opened it up.
Bending over, he reached in and pulled out a bag of blood, then straightened and let the door swing shut. Ripping the bag open, he drank the contents down quickly, trying to minimise the unpleasant prospect of actually tasting any of the cold, bland fluid that he could. When he finished, he crumpled the plastic bag in his hand and threw it uncaringly over his shoulder.
Hunger somewhat appeased, he walked over to the chair in front of the television and sat down. On the small table to his left sat an almost empty bottle of whisky and shot glass. Pouring himself a drink, he downed it then poured another and sat back forcing himself to unclench his hand on the glass before he inadvertently crushed it as he tried to get a grip on his jumbled emotions. Jaw set, he stared unblinkingly at the switched off TV and tried to think of anything but a certain Slayer and the argument they'd just had.
Six and a half seconds he lasted…and that was only because he focussed on counting them off in his head. Six and a half pathetic seconds before the petite blonde forced her way into his thoughts as surely as she'd forced her way into his heart.
Knocking the second shot back, he poured the remaining alcohol into the tiny glass and grimaced when it only filled up to halfway. He needed to get more if his head were to make it through this night with anything vaguely resembling sanity.
It was all his fault, obviously. If he hadn’t spouted off to the witches in the first place then this wouldn’t have happened. Still…didn’t need her pity. Had quite enough of his own going on thank you very much. Something she had pointed out to him in no uncertain terms. Wallowing, she'd said and she was right. He was wallowing. And he was damned if he didn't know how to stop it.
Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, his anger started to recede as he thought back over the past couple of weeks and for the first time felt a tiny spark of annoyance over what he suddenly realised he'd so glaringly become.
"I'm a bleedin' Angel clone!" he suddenly exclaimed aloud in disgust. "William the Bloody Great Poof, they'll be calling me soon."
Downing the half glass, he slammed it back down on the table next to him so hard that the legs gave way with a loud crack, sending the empty bottle and glass crashing to the floor. Ignoring the mess, he got up and started pacing around his crypt, his revulsion at the realisation he was even remotely near as broody as his grandsire only adding to his… well…brooding.
Coming to a stop by the chair, he glanced down at the broken glass and cracked table top upon which the used gauze still rested. He reached down and picked it up then stared at the patches of dried blood that covered it. Slayer's blood. Buffy's blood. The now familiar feeling of worthlessness started to rise up but Spike closed his eyes and gritted his teeth against the emotion as his hand fisted tightly around the cloth.
"No, no, no," he ground out. Opening his eyes, he threw the gauze to the ground as if the very cloth were aflame and turned around, heading for the door. 'Get a drink. Get pissed. Get through tonight,' he thought to himself as his boot came in contact with something small on the ground and inadvertently kicked it a couple of feet in front of him. The light clinking sound and the brief flash of a shiny object bouncing across the stone floor caused him to halt abruptly and seek out the source.
Taking a step, he frowned then bent down and retrieved a piece of golden metal. Holding it up, he realised it was an earring. Buffy's earring judging by the scent that clung to it. 'Silly chit's lost both of them now,' was the first thought that ran through his mind but then his frown deepened. He was positive that she had still been wearing one when she stormed out of his crypt. His mind easily produced a picture of her turning to face him just before she delivered her punch. Her hair had swung out around her face, in exactly the way he loved, and he'd bet a thousand kittens that the twin to the piece of jewellery he now held was still safely attached to her ear.
So how did that explain this then? Shouldn't this be sitting gathering dust in the Sherman crypt? And talking of dust, considering there should have been a vamp nest there that Buffy had disposed of, he didn't recall seeing any telltale piles of remains from his, albeit, one quick glance around. He remembered candles. Lots of candles, but no dust. Odd.
Although he knew that things had got heated between them a couple of times tonight, he thought it'd been due to circumstance and his own weakness. Giving into his base urges when he had no right. Now, though, he began to wonder if there had been more to it than that. And if there was; what would that mean for him?
'Tonight, so didn't go how I planned it,' she'd said. 'Don't know what I still see in you.'
Words that could mean something, especially if he twisted them to his wishful way of thinking. Refocusing on the earring, he stared at it a moment longer, then put it into his duster pocket.
First things, first. Go to the Sherman crypt and take a look around. If he found another earring and piles of dusty remains…well…then, at least he'd be halfway to Willy's where he could get himself a bottle or four. But if he didn't…
The vampire refused to allow the thought to form and continued on his way to the door. He'd deal with that little quandary if the need arose.
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Buffy pressed a button on the phone with a tut, abruptly ending the automated voice that directed her to leave a message at the other end. "Great," she muttered in frustration at not being able to contact Willow.
Frowning, she tapped the handset against her bottom lip contemplating who to try next. Giles sprang to mind but she knew that he'd just get all embarrassed if she tried to discuss what had happened and probably stammer his way through a trite platitude that he didn't really mean in the first place.
It was too late to speak to Dawn, not that she particularly wanted to go down that road anyway, which left one other person. Xander. Buffy sighed. Not a normal choice for this sort of phone call but she needed to talk with a friend badly. Dialling his well known number, she placed the receiver to her ear and listened as it began to ring on the other end.
The bell trilled four times before going into their answering machine and Anya's voice filled her ear. "Hi. Xander and I aren't available at the moment, probably because we're either saving the world from another apocalypse or having sex. Either way, we won't get back to you for a long while so it's probably not worth you leaving a message."
The beep sounded and Buffy automatically spoke cheerily. "Xander, it's me. Don't worry, it's nothing important, I'll talk to you tomorrow." She was about to hang up when she brought the phone back to her ear and added dryly, "Oh, and Anya changed the message again." She cancelled the call and dropped the handset down on the work surface with a muttered curse.
The kettle clicked off behind her and, as she got up to make herself a drink, she briefly considered calling Dawn anyway but quickly decided against it. She didn't need a lecture about how much this situation was her fault from her little sister.
Drink made, she placed it on the counter top and sat back down on her stool. Grabbing up the phone, she held it out in front of her as a realisation of who else to ring began to take hold. Someone who knew Spike even better than she did. Someone who could maybe give her some insight into the workings of the vampire's mind. Someone who was going to hit the roof when she revealed her feelings for the bleached one. She rejected the idea several times mentally arguing that it was ridiculous but couldn't seem to shake the persistent little voice that egged her on to make the call. 'That'd be desperation,' her mind provided sarcastically. 'Or stupidity. Only things it can be if you're even considering this now.'
"Oh, what the hell," she mumbled to herself as she began to dial. "Gotta do this sometime anyway. Two birds, one stone."
The sound of ringing came down the line and Buffy took a couple of deep breaths as she tried to steady her suddenly erratic breathing. The ringing stopped and Buffy licked her dry lips nervously as a male voice greeted her. "Hello, Angel," she greeted in return. "It's me."
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The crypt loomed ahead of him and Spike hastened his pace torn between either confirming his suspicions or quashing them for good. He came to the door and after a moments’ hesitation, he lifted his hand and pushed the protesting wood slowly inwards. Three steps had him over the threshold and surveying the interior curiously.
Candles were dotted all over the tomb, their flickering light casting soft shadows about the room lending it a romantic ambience…to his mind anyway. Walking to the centre of the crypt, he crouched down and ran his hand along the floor. Lips pursed in concentration, he lifted his hand and rubbed his fingers together slowly.
Nothing. No vamp dust. Not even much dirt. Standing up, he took a slow walk around the tomb and noticed the considerable lack of cobwebs and thick layers of dust that were usually part and parcel of a long forgotten mausoleum.
"Well, I'll be…the whole bloody thing's been cleaned," he murmured in amazement. Investigating further, he found the blanket plus the cooler full of blood and soda behind a nearby sarcophagus. With startling clarity, Spike stood stock still and gazed dazedly in front of him. "She planned this," he said in an awed voice and then, moments later, his face twisted into a look of pure disgust. "I was right, the bloody chit planned this and I went and buggered everything up with my stupid pride. Once a git, always a git, eh, Spike?"
Shaking his head in self-annoyance, he abruptly turned and headed out of the door and into the night. Time for a little chat.
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"Buffy?" Angel queried in surprise, concern flooding his features moments later as he sat bolt upright. Calls from Buffy rarely boded well. "Is something wrong?"
"No…well, nothing apocalypse-y wrong," she hastened to assure him. "Just thought I’d call, you know, for a friendly chat."
The ensoulled vampire frowned slightly as he relaxed back into his chair. "A friendly chat?" he queried dubiously.
"Well, yeah," Buffy replied, suddenly realising that the pesky internal voice that goaded her on was definitely stupidity. "I mean, we’re friends, right? And we’re talking, so see? It’s all friendly chatting and stuff. I mean, I know we don’t do it that often…chatting, that is…but I always figured, you know, we could…"
"You’re babbling," Angel cut in, his amusement evident.
Buffy stopped talking and smiled wryly. "I am, aren’t I? Sorry."
"It’s okay," he replied, still a little confused as to why she’d called. He could tell she was nervous and for all her denial, he was certain that she’d called him for a reason. "So, was there anything in particular you wanted to chat about?" he asked nonchalantly.
"Yeah," the Slayer admitted. "I’ve got something to tell you but I’m just not quite sure how I’m going to say it, that’s all."
In L.A., the dark-haired vampire could appreciate her predicament. There was something he’d been putting off telling her about as well. As soon as he’d heard her voice down the line, however, he knew he that he couldn’t let the opportunity slide any longer. "Actually, I’ve got something to tell you, too," he began.
"I know you’re not going to like it," Buffy continued as if he hadn’t spoken, building herself up to make her confession.
"It’s kind of awkward to explain," Angel said at the same time, so intent on finishing what he’d started that he didn’t pay attention when she resumed speaking.
"There’s this guy…"
"There’s a girl…"
"You know him, actually…"
"You know her…"
"Although, he’s probably the last person on earth you’d think of…"
"I don’t think you’ll ever guess…"
"He’s changed."
"She’s changed."
"There’s really only one way to say this…"
"Guess I should just come on out with it…"
"I’m in love with Spike."
"I’m in love with Cordy."
Silence descended over the line as both waited for the other’s response to their own revelation until they each suddenly realised what the other had said.
"You’re what?!" Buffy exclaimed loudly, bolting upright so quickly that she almost fell backwards off the stool. Grabbing a hold of the counter she harshly demanded, "Are you out of your mind?"
"I could ask you the same thing!" Angel retorted, partially stung by her incredulity and partly aghast at what she’d just admitted. "Spike for God’s sake? He’s evil, Buffy. You can’t trust him."
"I can," she refuted curtly. "He’d rather die than let anything happen to me or Dawn. Or any of the Scoobies if it comes to that."
The vampire snorted derisively. "Yeah, I’ll bet he’d be the first one to push Xander out of the way of an oncoming truck."
"Oh, like Cordelia can fit in saving the world between all the shopping, manicures and hair appointments," she countered sourly. "I can just see her now, axe raised, ready to strike then right at the last moment, shock, horror, she breaks a nail. Bye, bye, Angel. Bye, bye, world."
"At least she has a soul."
"That’s a matter of opinion," the Slayer said wryly.
Angel gritted his teeth angrily. "I told you, she’s changed."
"Yeah? Well, so has Spike."
"A vampire doesn’t change his fangs, Buffy."
The Slayer opened her mouth to make a cutting reply when what he said registered. Of its own volition, her lips curved up into a smile and she giggled, the silliness of the situation suddenly hitting her. "Oh my God, I can’t believe you actually just said that," she said as another chuckle escaped her mouth. "What are we arguing about? We’re both as bad as each other. I mean, you falling for Cordelia? Would never have seen that one coming in a million years."
Against his will, Angel found a smile tugging at his own lips as her apparent mirth filtered down the line. He could understand her shock. Cordelia wasn’t the…easiest of people to get along with. "Yeah, kinda took me by surprise too," he admitted with a smile as his mind conjured up a visual of his love.
"And me falling for Spike? Also not an obvious choice and if I’m honest, it’s not one I ever imagined would happen."
"Me either," he muttered with feeling. Then, unable to stop himself, he added, "And I still say you can’t trust him, Buffy. The chip is just a muzzle…"
"I know, I know," Buffy cut him off with a heavy sigh. "Believe me, Angel, there’s nothing you can say that the gang haven’t already said. Or that I haven’t told myself. It doesn’t matter. I love him and you’ll save yourself a lot of wasted breath if you just accept it." She frowned as she realised what she’d said. "Not that you have any breath to waste exactly…but you know what I mean." When he remained silent, she let out another heavy sigh. "Look, why don’t we just agree to disagree and get the heck on with our lives?" she suggested. "It’s not like it’s the first time we’ve made bizarre choices on who to love. I mean, look at us," she pressed softly.
"Probably not the best example," Angel commented dryly, finally breaking his silence. "But…I know what you mean."
They both lapsed into silence as they lost themselves in the painful memories of their doomed love affair until Buffy quietly asked, "Hey, if I said I wished you luck with Cordelia, would you do the same for me?"
"Would I wish you luck with Cordelia?" he repeated lightly. "Sure; although I doubt you’d get anywhere…she’s pretty into me you know."
Buffy chuckled. "I’m glad you’re happy," she remarked then frowned. "But, not too happy, right? I mean, how goes the soul and everything?"
"Wes came up with a spell that gives me with unpleasant mental images when I near to…uh…perfect happiness," he explained hesitantly.
The Slayer pulled a face. "Oh, that’s gotta be a downer," she said sympathetically, her eyes then widening slightly at her gaff. "Er…but not physically, I hope? Not that you have to answer that because, eww, so don’t need the imagery."
"To be honest, the spell’s only worked once," Angel admitted reluctantly. "It acts like a deterrent mostly. Now I know what I’ll see…well, let’s just say it’s not pretty."
"Wow…that’s…that’s great. I’m pleased for you. Both," she told him, ignoring the little pang of disappointment at the fact that they’d never managed to think of a spell like that when she was with him.
"Thanks," he replied.
"Well?" she asked, after a slight pause.
"Well, what?"
Another lengthy sigh. "Never mind. I guess I’d better just go," she muttered, flatly.
"Okay, okay," the vampire relented as he raised his eyes heavenwards. "As much as it pains me to say this…I…I’m…good luck with…Spike."
Even though he almost spat the blond vampire’s name, Buffy felt a weight lift off her shoulders. Everyone knew…except for Spike…and everyone was being supportive…well, in their own way of course. "Thanks, Angel. It means a lot."
"Yeah, well, if there’s any sort of comfort I can get from this, I guess it’s the fact that I know he won’t leave you…unless you want him to, that is. Never knew any vampire quite like William when it came to love," Angel told her quietly.
"Yeah, well, gotta be together first for him to leave me, right?" she replied dully.
The vampire at the other end of the line frowned. "What? But I thought you said you loved him?"
"I do," she affirmed quickly. "And he loves me too. Has done for a while now."
"So?" Angel prompted. "What's the problem?"
"Everything," the Slayer mumbled as she rapidly blinked back the sudden sting of tears that had appeared in her eyes.
"I'm not going anywhere," Angel said as he settled back into his chair more comfortably. "Tell me."
Haltingly, Buffy explained everything from the time Spike first declared his love, to Glory, to the gang's acceptance of Spike and of her feelings, right up to Willow's plan and the argument she had had with the blond only an hour or so before. "He's being so stubborn," she finished frustratedly. "I just don't know what to do anymore."
Apart from commenting quite strongly about Spike chaining Buffy up in the beginning, Angel had listened to the rest of the tale in silence. Now, however, he knew that Buffy was expecting him to come up with a perfect solution but he wasn't sure that he could. Yes, he knew Spike well, but the vampire she was describing now wasn't the same one who'd wreaked devastation alongside him for more years than he'd care to remember. He'd only known the evil killer, not the ally. In fact, the only thing he recognised being the same as the Spike he knew was the unflagging devotion to the one he loved.
The guilt hadn't been as much of a surprise to him as it obviously had to Buffy and the gang though. In the past, even when Spike was at his most murderous, he had always displayed what, at the time, Angel had considered to be weak human tendencies. Especially when it came to Drusilla. Jealousy and hurt being the prime examples and mostly directed towards Angel himself. So no, guilt over letting Dawn get hurt wasn't really a surprise, more like an expectation.
"You still there?" Buffy asked, pulling him out of his reflection.
"Yeah, still here. Just thinking," he said.
"No idea's though, huh?" the Slayer asked unable to keep the hope from her voice despite her words.
"Nothing that'll give you the certainty I think you're looking for," he admitted reluctantly. Then suddenly, something clicked in his brain and slow smile spread across his lips. "Actually, I take it back. I might have a little tip on how to make him come around, after all," he revealed in a teasing tone.
"Really?" asked Buffy, feeling a small surge of excitement at the possibility of having a way to finally reach Spike. She listened intently as her first love began to speak, her eyes widening slightly as a grin made it's way to her mouth. "I think I could manage that," she commented, her mind going into overdrive as she mentally ticked off what she'd need. "Halloween's only a couple of weeks away. If I haven't got him by then, that'd be the perfect time."
"Let me know if it works," Angel requested.
"Will do and thanks, Angel…really, I…I appreciate it."
The vampire smiled. "Hey, what are friends for?"
Buffy grinned at that and felt the last of her awkwardness slip away. "I'm glad we can be friends, Angel. I didn't want to lose you over this. What we had was good. Really good. But, I think what we both have ahead of us could be better. Even though we do both think the other completely whacko."
Relief flooded through his body at her confirmation of their newfound friendly status and the slight guilt he carried over loving Cordelia now instead of her faded. It felt good that they could be friends. Like her, he'd been worried that she would not want anything more to do with him which was why he'd held off on making the call but all that was forgotten now that they'd come to an understanding. It'd still take him a while to get used to the fact that she loved his impulsive grandchilde but get used to it he would. Like it, however…well, that was something else altogether.
"I guess I'd better go," came Buffy's voice, once more jolting him out of his internal musings.
"Yeah, must be getting late there," Angel observed as he glanced at his wall clock.
"Yeah."
"Well, I hope you get things sorted out, Buffy. You deserve to be happy and if Spike can do that for you then…" he stopped, unable to actually give his blessing in words then quickly changed the subject. "If you ever need anything don't hesitate to call, okay? I'll always be here for you, Buffy, don't forget that. Just because we're not together, it doesn't stop me worrying about you or…loving you." There was a slight pause, before the vampire hastened to clarify in a slightly panicked tone, "I meant as a friend, that is."
Not even having crossed her mind that his declaration was meant in anything other than a friendly way, Buffy bit back the giggle that threatened to escape at his obvious trepidation. "I know, don't worry," she assured him soothingly before impulsively adding, "Love you too, Angel."
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Spike approached Buffy's house and felt the doubt start to set in. What if he was wrong? Almost immediately, he shook his head, rejecting the question. No. No dust, remember you prat?
Thrusting his hand into his pocket, his fingers closed around the earring and he felt his uncertainty lessen. Pulling out the small piece of jewellery, he clung onto it as if it were his very salvation as he came to a stop in front of Buffy's house.
He briefly debated whether to knock on the front door but decided he'd head around the back and go in through the kitchen. Not that this was what he normally did, it just gave him a few more seconds to compose himself before he faced her.
Stealthily, he made his way around the back and climbed the few steps to the rear porch. Almost immediately he stilled as he looked through the window and saw her sitting on a stool next to the counter. She was in profile with the telephone pressed to her ear, talking to someone. Probably Willow, he surmised. Noticing that the window was open slightly, he inched closer telling himself that he wasn’t eavesdropping, merely putting himself in a position to hear any words that might accidentally slip outside. After all, wasn’t his fault if the Slayer couldn’t keep her voice down, was it?
Seconds later, his face clouded as he overheard the one thing that could destroy his entire existence as easily as a stake to the heart.
"Love you too, Angel."
Jaw tightening, he closed his eyes trying to blot out the incredible pain that seemed to encompass his whole body, freezing it in place. This couldn't be happening. He didn't just hear that. She wasn’t on the phone to Angel telling him she loved him.
"Night, Angel."
Only she was, he acknowledged miserably as he felt his whole world shatter into a million pieces around him. ‘Leave, leave, leave,’ his mind ordered in an attempt to induce his legs to start moving. It took a couple of seconds before his limbs actually decided to co-operate and when they did, he threw the earring he’d all but crushed in his hand to the ground then took off at a run.
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Buffy and Angel bade each other goodnight and as soon as the Slayer terminated the call, she suddenly felt freer than she had done in years. Despite her initial misgivings upon phoning him, she realised that it had provided her with the closure she’d not been aware she needed. And, she suspected, it had provided the same sense of conclusion for Angel as well.
The door to her past now well and truly closed, she could look to Spike…and the rest of her future.
Spike. As soon as she thought of him the familiar tingle tickled her neck for a couple of seconds, then just as quickly stopped. Rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand, she dropped the phone on the counter and spun around, looking out her back door. Was he here?
Hurrying over, she wrenched open the door with a huge smile and stepped out onto her porch. "Spike?" she called, looking around hopefully. "Spike?" Her smile faded at the answering silence and she sighed. Deciding she must have conjured up the sensation because she'd been thinking about him, she cast one last lingering look out into the darkness, then turned around and went back inside. Locking the door behind her, she switched off the light and made her way up to bed.
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Before he knew it, Spike was in the centre of town heading towards Willy’s determined to drink himself into oblivion in record time.
Sick at heart, he called himself all kinds of fool for stupidly convincing himself that the Slayer cared anything for him at all. That phone call proved once and for all who her affections truly lay with and he'd been a prat to forget it.
Angel. Of course it was Angel. It was always bloody Angel! And he was just a monumental idiot for ever imagining that tonight was anything other than it was…a sympathetic head pat for helping out followed by a swift kick up the jacksie in a less than patient effort to snap him out of it.
He shouldn't have been so surprised. Really, he shouldn't. She'd told him in no uncertain terms over and over again what she thought about him and no amount of word twisting and wishful thinking was ever going to change that.
But, God…it hurt. So much. Too much.
He was lost so deep in his unhappy thoughts that when a faint chill ran up his spine, it took him several seconds to realise what his brain was trying to tell him.
Fen.
Coming to a stop, Spike turned slowly around on the spot trying to get a fix on the demon’s whereabouts. The shiver along his back grew in intensity and he headed off to his right determined to track the murderer down.
Trouble was, after tonight, he was no longer so sure that once he found Fen, he'd try and resist his magic…it was looking more like he'd simply let himself succumb.
END CHAPTER 12
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