| In Omne Tempus by Holly |
| Chapter #29 - Turning The Backdoor Key |
Turning The Backdoor Key “Mom…there’s something I…something we need to tell you.” Joyce set down her forkful of spaghetti and shot a petrified look to Spike, whose eyes were glued to his plate. “Oh God,” she gasped. “You’re pregnant.” Buffy’s gaze widened comically. “What? No!” The night, needless to say, was not going as she’d hoped. Matter of fact, from the moment her mother walked through the door, nothing but calamity had followed. It didn’t help that Joyce’s first glance of Spike was of him necking her daughter. Buffy hadn’t been to school in two days; Willow’s funeral left her emotionally drained, especially seeing that Xander hadn’t looked at her throughout the entire service. Thus, when they came home, the Slayer had collapsed on the sofa and fallen asleep while watching Spike’s selection of film. According to her mate, right as the credits began to roll, she began moaning and fidgeting from a bad dream, and to calm her, he had laved the claim mark with licks and kisses. That was how her mother found them. Not the best way to make an introduction. Joyce hadn’t been scheduled to arrive until that night, but she’d left the convention early for want of being home. Buffy and Spike had planned initially to have a nice supper ready for her when she walked through the door as to make a good impression, but had to rush around in lieu of her early arrival and settled instead for spaghetti. And now they were seated around the seldom used dining room table, frozen in awkwardness. “Not pregnant,” Buffy emphasized. Then frowned, turning to Spike. “Can I even get pregnant?” “Between mates? Hasn’t happened yet,” he said, taking a long drink of wine. The same wine he’d bought to replenish Joyce’s stock. He’d earned a glare or two, but the woman palpably noted that he was old enough to indulge. That and then some, but they hadn’t told her that. And now that she needed to, Buffy was at a loss. She and Spike had discussed what they would say, but not how to say it. Neither one of them were particularly talented at this sort of thing. Joyce was scrutinizing Spike with a look that shot daggers. He didn’t seem to mind. He wasn’t the epitome of comfort, but he was handling everything pretty well. “We haven’t met before,” Joyce said suddenly, taking a sip from her glass. “Have we?” Buffy and Spike exchanged a glance. “Yeah, Mom,” the Slayer replied. “You’ve met him.” “The memory’s old…I can’t place you, but I know I’ve seen you before.” Joyce’s eyes narrowed. “Just how old are you, William?” “Old enough for you to be worried about your daughter, were I anyone else,” he answered honestly. “An’ I don’ mean to make this into a movie of the week, but I love her. I wanna get that out. I love her, an’ we’re…well…” “Well, I just don’t accept that. I’ve been gone for a week, and when I left, there was no one in her life. How can you be in love to the point where you think I shouldn’t worry? She’s eighteen years old!” Spike nodded. “I know how old she is.” “It’s not like that,” Buffy countered. “Of course, honey. In these scenarios, it’s never ‘like that.’” They were getting nowhere fast. She had to think on her feet. There was no way she was letting Spike leave her side tonight. The funeral had been hell, and though she had reconciled and made peace with Willow’s passing, the part of her that was burdened with human suffering was screaming for penance. She needed her mate to hold her tonight, and that was something her mother wouldn’t allow as long as she was thinking on a human level. She wasn’t letting Spike leave her side. Not tonight. Not ever. “There’s something you do need to know,” she said again. “It’s not ‘like that,’ and I can tell you why.” A pause. Her mother was staring at her as though waiting to be dazzled, and she knew then that there was absolutely no way to cushion the blow. There was nothing that could be done. Nothing to do but say it, and hope that the woman knew her daughter well enough to know she wasn’t crazy. “I’m a vampire slayer.” Joyce’s face blanked. Spike took a bite of his spaghetti and a sip of his wine. He glanced to Buffy quickly and flashed her an encouraging smile. There it was. The worst was over. And it was officially the longest silence of her life. However, when Joyce sighed and leaned forward, the next words to come out of her mouth were the last thing Buffy would have ever expected. “Well,” she said with a small smile. “It’s about time you told me.” Buffy blinked. “What?” “Sweetie…I know that.” “You know?” She nodded. “Mr. Giles told me…a year ago.” “He told you.” “Yes.” “He never told me that he told you.” “He didn’t want you to feel like he’d betrayed your trust, but apparently, it had been weighing down on him…what he’d have to say to me if you were…killed.” She swallowed hard and took another drink of wine. “He called me in for a private conference that day that your history class went to the museum…he called me in the day that he knew you wouldn’t be there. And he told me everything.” “Well, doesn’ that beat all?” Spike shook his head, tossing Buffy an appraising look. “Wily old sod, your Watcher.” Buffy was absolutely dumbfounded. “I don’t understand,” she said shakily. “If you knew…then why didn’t you—” “I wanted you to come to me.” Joyce glanced down. “Mr. Giles convinced me you would one day. He said it was important to you that I know, but you didn’t know how to tell me…or if I’d believe you…and I admit that much was a leap of faith. But he had a woman with him who practices witchcraft, I believe—” Her eyes went wide. “Ms. Calendar?” “Yes! That was her.” “So, let me get this straight. Giles and Ms. Calendar and you have all been buddies in the fact that Giles told you my secret and you guys kept it a secret from me that my secret was out?” She shook her head. “I’m getting a headache.” “He wanted the best for you.” “Giles tends to take liberties where the best is concerned.” “He thinks of you as a daughter, Buffy. Really, I hadn’t realized how much you needed a father until I heard the pride in his voice. The way he talks about you—” “And you’ve been playing for a year that you had no idea that I was going out and potentially getting myself very dead every night?” A shadow fell across Joyce’s face. “If you think this has been easy for me, young lady, you’re sadly mistaken. You chose not to trust me with your Calling. I chose to let you come to me. We’ve been keeping secrets from each other. I don’t think it’s any surprise that mothers and their teenage daughters don’t tell each other everything. Does that excuse it? No. You did what you did because you felt it was right; so did I. Okay?” Buffy didn’t have anything to say at that. She glanced to her mate, who took her hand and squeezed. Spike. Her pillar of strength. “I take it you knew of Buffy’s Calling all along,” Joyce observed, her eyes trained on the vampire. He smiled ironically. “Well, not until three or so years ago.” She blinked. “I’m sorry?” Buffy shook her head again, not looking up. “Mom…William…Spike’s a vampire.” The woman dropped her fork and stared at her daughter in horror. “What?” “Din’t exactly segue into that one, pet,” Spike observed dryly. Buffy shook her head. “He’s a vampire.” “Then what—” “Mom, do you remember when I was snatched by a lady at a toy store when I was four?” Joyce was visibly taken aback by the question, especially coming after such a groundbreaking revelation. She drew in a deep breath and shot an uncertain glance to Spike. “Yes,” she said slowly. “What does that…” Buffy knew the instant it hit her. Knew the second that memory clashed with knowledge, and she was thrown from the present to fourteen years prior. She saw her mother’s eyes awash in relief, holding her so tight the world would not rip her away again. She saw Spike standing a few feet away, his eyes burdened with what he knew was to come. The pain of what she could now, as an adult, identify as loss. The lonely mourning of his demon as he reconciled his fate to turn away and wait for her until she was old enough to truly be his. She saw her mother crying. Remembered the lecture she received later that night about not talking to strangers. About not letting go of Mommy’s hand when they went out. Remembered going to sleep that night, thinking of Spike and wondering if his promise of someday could be trusted. If she would indeed ever see him again. She wouldn’t have thought her mother the type to forget a face, but then again, it had been over a decade. And she wouldn’t have expected Spike to have remained frozen in time. A picture of eternal youth and vitality. “Oh my God,” her mother gasped. “It was…oh my God, I remember you.” Spike ducked his head and took a bite of his chilling spaghetti. “You’re the one that saved Buffy. You brought her home to me. You…” Her eyes darkened. “You’re a vampire?” “I was with a woman then who saw things,” he said, not looking up, his voice soft but audible. “Pictures. Words. Future events. She was my maker, an’ I’d been with her for a hundred years. She saw Buffy…an’ she knew Buffy was mine. So she snagged her from you an’ brought her to me. She thought I was s’posed to make her my bedtime snack.” Joyce gasped again. “She was going to—” “I’m not a nice bloke, right? I’ve done my share of bad. I’ve done things I don’ want you or my mate to ever know about. My past isn’t dainty. I’m not sorry for a lick of it, except for how it hurts her. How it…makes me less than what I oughta be.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Dru brought Buffy to me ‘cause she saw that she was mine. She jus’ din’t know how.” “Yours?” “When I got in that night, an’ she was there, it all changed. Her eyes flashed.” Joyce inhaled deeply. Buffy and Spike exchanged another glance. “Her eyes flashed gold,” he concluded, watching the woman suspiciously. “Accordin’ to vampire creed, that—” “Your mate.” “Okay!” Buffy sat back, throwing her hands up. “That’s it. You know about vampires and mates?” “Well, did you expect me to not do any research after I found out what you are?” The Slayer just shook her head. “How is it that my mom knew about vamps and mates before I did? Me, the mate of a vampire!” Spike shrugged, unbothered. “Irony?” “I didn’t know that slayers could be mates of vampires, though,” Joyce said. “I don’t…” “That seems to be the Council’s best kept secret,” Buffy retorted. “All slayers have one…a vampire mate. We’re technically of the same mold…just opposite sides of a coin, really. Also, I’m the first slayer that we know of to have actually been found by her mate, as well as claimed.” “But vampires…I thought…” “Yeah, well, the PTB don’t just assign any vamp to a slayer. Something about redemptionist vampires—” “Which is rot, ‘cause I’m not a redemptionist,” Spike added. She shot him a look that he chose to ignore. There was no way he hadn’t felt what happened the minute they made their union whole, beyond what they’d already discussed. She’d felt it as well as he had. The cleansing. The baptism of prior sins. Her past of former wrongs was gone and it had bothered her for the awakening that she had mistaken for apathy. Spike’s sins had been much greater than hers. They were both clean now. Spiritually cleansed by uniting. And since he came back into her life, he’d done nothing but perform small miracles that spoke volumes for everything he wanted to refute. Not redemptionist? He’d slain his sire without blinking, and felt bad only because of what it meant for the monstrous life he’d once led. The way he’d willed himself to do what had once been unthinkable without feeling anything but the expected wail of his demon as his maker fell to dust. “Stop it,” he growled good-naturedly, when she wouldn’t break her incredulous stare. “You’re in denial.” “An’ I’ll be here for a while. Want a souvenir?” Buffy rolled her eyes and shook her head, turning back to her mother. “We’re mates,” she said. “I know it seems like this is all fast, but believe me, the past few days have been…” Lifetimes. “…not just days to us. And mates—” Joyce nodded. “Sweetie, I read up on everything. There wasn’t a piece of vampire history or lore that I didn’t ask Mr. Giles to get me a book on. Mates are fiercely protective of each other. It’s an unbreakable bond, one of the most powerful unions that can ever be accomplished. But they don’t always love each other…” “We do,” they answered together. She smiled wryly. “I can see that.” Buffy worried a lip between her teeth. “So…are you okay with this?” “Well, it seems that I don’t have much of a choice.” “That doesn’t mean I don’t want you to be okay with it.” Joyce sighed heavily and glanced to Spike thoughtfully. “You really love her. And will provide for her—” “Hello! It’s the twentieth century. I can provide for myself!” “Yes,” her mate agreed readily. “Always.” The woman shrugged and took a bite of spaghetti. “Then you have no quarrel with me.” Spike shot Buffy a smirk, who sighed and returned to playing with her noodles. “Charmer,” she accused, smothering a grin. “What can I say, pet?” “He does have a certain air about him. I’ll probably even overlook the fact that he’s undoubtedly been staying here since I left.” Joyce shook her head, smiling when the Slayer froze in horror. “And…if what I’ve read about mates is true…” “We’ll be outta your hair as soon as I can find a place,” Spike offered. “One week away and my baby’s moving out,” Joyce sighed, shaking her head. “Yeah, well…it was bound to happen sometime. I mean, there’s college and everything.” “Oh!” The woman finished off her spaghetti and wiped her mouth on her napkin. “Which reminds me…are you two going to see Willow anytime soon? I picked up some brochures on UCLA. She asked me to see if their…what? What is it?” Buffy wet her lips. “Mom…there’s something…something else…happened while you were gone. Something terrible.” Something that was so far in her past that she hadn’t thought of it right off. The human in her collapsed in guilt. Her best friend was gone, and she… Spike took her hand and squeezed. She wasn’t human anymore. And death was a part of life. She saw what others didn’t and felt what others couldn’t. Her entire existence had altered, and it didn’t make her any more or less of what she was. She knew that. The part of her that was human, though, and based on purely human emotion felt she was a traitor. The rest of her knew better. The rest of her made up for it. It didn’t make telling her mother any easier. It didn’t stop her tears from rekindling. It didn’t make the sobs she still had to cry for Willow any less real. Death was a part of life. That concept was so above humanism that she wondered if she would ever grasp it and hold. People said it; they never truly understood it. Spike had brought her out of the cave, and she understood. Some things simply were the way they were. She would patrol tonight with her mate at her side, and he would tell her again that it was all right. And then they would go to the library, and prepare for whatever was in store. Petty squabbling ended now. If nothing else, they owed Willow that. They owed her that to save the world she’d lived in. If there wasn’t a plan, they’d make one. She wasn’t giving the world to Angelus. She’d be a memory before she let him win. To be continued in Chapter Thirty: Mysterious Ways and Means… |