Part IX
Buffy pursed her lips as she pushed the library doors open. Her Watcher was hunched over the counter, perusing some ancient text in a way that was so predictable, she couldn’t help but crack a smile. There was something undeniably comforting in the calm clockwork of the man’s behavior. She just hoped he didn’t fly through the roof when she revealed who was waiting behind her.
“Giles?”
The Watcher glanced up in surprise. “Oh, hello, Buffy. Is school out already? I didn’t hear the bell ring.”
“No, but something important has come up.” She drew in a deep breath. “I need you to promise me something.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t wig out.”
“Pardon me?”
“I need you to not wig out.”
The look on her Watcher’s face went blank with apprehension. “What is it?” he asked. “What have you done?”
She blinked. “Me? I didn’t do anything.”
“Buffy...”
“I didn’t do anything! Nothing has been done by me...” She paused. “Only yes, I did something. But it’s not bad, so I need you to just stay there and not freak out.” There was a long beat as she searched Giles’s eyes. He didn’t even bother to reply; the look on his face was answer enough. “Okay. Ummm...”
Behind her, she practically heard Spike’s eye roll. “Oh, bloody hell, pet, jus’ open the sodding door.”
Giles all but tripped. “Buffy, surely you didn’t—”
Spike sighed and pushed the library doors open, and Buffy’s heart leapt into her throat. The last thing she needed was a heated, gut-reaction from her Watcher that led to a premature dusty ending for her undeclared boyfriend. She hurried ahead of him, throwing her body in front of his to block any impending attack that Giles might instigate on instinct.
“He’s here to help us,” she explained in haste. “He’s here because he has the inside scoop on whatever Angel’s planning.”
She felt Spike tense behind her, then mentally gave herself a good swift kick. The words had rushed out before she considered the darker implications—the appearance that whatever else they might be to each other was something to be kept in the shadows. He wouldn’t complain, though, or call her on anything that she might find shameful. She knew him well enough to know that.
Which was why she exhaled deeply and lowered her arms. Giles’s look of unadulterated astonishment hadn’t faded, thus she suspected she might as well hit him twice, rather than wait for him to gather his bearings. At least that way, he’d only once have to fight back to his feet.
“He’s also here because I want him here,” she said, wincing when the old man nearly tripped again.
“Buffy—”
“No. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want you to remind me that he’s a vampire, a slayer killer, and doesn’t have a soul. You’d be wasting your breath and our time. Spike’s an ally, and nothing you can say will change that.” She huffed a deep breath, feeling lightheaded with her bravado, but overwhelmingly relieved. “Okay, so, let’s get to business.”
“Buffy, you can’t—”
“I can and I did.”
“Our allies aren’t killers,” Giles spat, his eyes flashing dangerously. “Our allies don’t beat you within an inch of your life. Our allies aren’t soulless demons.”
Spike placed a hand at the small of her back, stemming her anger with a soothing caress.
And she was grateful. So, so grateful. Buffy released a deep breath and leaned into him, not even attempting to be subtle. He gave her strength where others would rip it away, and she didn’t care who knew how close they’d become. “Be that as it may—”
“No. You don’t get to make the decisions here. You brought a murderous vampire into my library.”
“Oh, knock it off, Watcher,” Spike snarled, his fingers itching around Buffy’s waist. “I’m not gonna eat anyone. The Slayer has enough to worry with without addin’ tension among the ranks to the mix.”
“I’m sorry if you don’t inspire warmth and comfort.”
“Well, to you, maybe,” Buffy mumbled. She had to fight off a grin when the vampire rumbled in amusement behind her, the comforting strokes becoming more prominent. “Look,” she said aloud, “we don’t have time for this. Spike’s here with—”
“I don’t care if he’s here with four mop-top boys from Liverpool, he’s not staying.”
Spike sighed in exasperation. “If it makes you feel any better, I haven’ killed since that night that—”
“You nearly slaughtered my slayer?”
“Well, of course it sounds bad if you put it that way.”
“Yes. And either way, you’re lying through your teeth, so I don’t suppose how I sound should factor in at all.”
Buffy froze. Had it not been for the cool certainty in her Watcher’s voice, she would have assumed that he was making radical accusations in order to avow Spike’s status as an evil, relentless monster. However, there was something in the old man’s eyes that couldn’t be mistaken. It wasn’t as though Spike had promised her to stop killing; the subject itself was one they mutually avoided. She suspected it was a conversation they’d tacitly agreed to reserve until after this mess with the Order was dealt with. And though she understood that Spike’s need to eat coincided with killing innocent people, she’d forced herself to shove the issue to the back of her mind. There were no delusions that he’d bag it, as Angel had, and as long as she didn’t witness him feeding, she was more than satisfied to pretend.
Pretending was easier for her than the alternative, especially when she needed him so much.
“What on bleeding earth are you talking about?”
Giles didn’t say anything. Rather, he stood and stared at the vampire for a long, cold beat. Then a long sigh tore through the air, and Buffy felt Spike fall slack behind her. “Oh.”
“Yes. Oh.”
Buffy licked her lips, not wanting to admit how hard her heart was pounding. “Oh? What oh?”
“The bloke at the motel,” Spike said lowly. “Offed him an’ took a key.” He tossed the Slayer a glance. “You were in the car.”
The world around her dissolved completely.
“You...while I was with you...you killed...”
Buffy had never considered herself the sort of woman to faint when presented with an ugly truth, but for the way her head was spinning, nothing seemed impossible. She barely felt the hand that wrapped around her wrist, little more than she realized she was being moved out of the room and into the hallway. Giles barked something in protest, but the sound drowned out to a low drone. There was nothing but Spike’s hands steadying her, the cool concern in his eyes striking a familiar chord.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted.
“I don’t...” Buffy shook her head, her mind muddled. “I...”
“It was right after our fight, an’ I was bloody confused. I needed to kill something, an’ you...” He glanced to the ground. “Slayer, I never thought I’d be here. Standin’ here with you. I’d all but promised myself—”
The library doors flew open, an incensed Giles on the other side.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he hissed through his teeth.
Spike’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me. This is a private conversation.”
“Bugger that.”
Buffy blinked and shook her head. It wasn’t often Giles cracked out the British slang, and it troubled her to see him so unhinged. “No,” she said, startling both men. “No. Spike and I need to talk. We’ll be back in a minute.”
“Have you completely lost your mind?”
“I really hope not.” She glanced back to the vampire, who was gazing at her like she’d offered him heaven. “We’ll be back in a minute.”
“Buffy—”
Patience snapped. She twisted on her heel and pinned Giles with a glare. “In. A. Minute,” she all but growled. “Go read a book or something until we’re back.”
She grabbed Spike’s hand and jerked him down the hallway.
“Slayer—”
“Shut up,” she snapped, shoving him into the first empty classroom she came upon. She wanted to ignore the open, vulnerable look on his face. The way he could delve into her, reach her where no one else had even tried, with nothing more than a simple, however heartbreaking glance. She knew, though, without needing to mull it over, that any animosity was directed at herself. She couldn’t be angry with Spike—not when he’d done nothing more than be who he was.
After all, they had no promises between them. She hadn’t stopped staking vamps, just as he hadn’t stopped feeding on humans.
But it hurt. No amount of talking herself through it could stop the hurt.
Spike exhaled softly. “Buffy...I need to—”
She shook her head and raised a hand. She refused to be detoured by the seductive way he said her name, even when their conversation was serious. “No. I don’t want to do this. I don’t need you to tell me it was just ‘one time’ and...I don’t want to give you an ultimatum. I don’t want to tell you to stop being who you are and doing what you need. We’re not there. Whatever we have is...incredible, but undefined. You’re a vampire. I never asked you to stop killing, because I know you don’t owe me anything.”
“Buffy—”
“You are who you are.”
“Would you let me talk?” Spike sighed and cast a hand through his platinum locks. “I don’ want to hurt you. I told you that earlier, yeh? Downstairs?”
She flushed. He would bring that up now.
“I meant it. I meant every bloody word.” He glanced down. “I don’ know what to tell you...an’ I’m not gonna try to soften the blow. I kill, yeh. ‘S what I do. But you...you make me wanna be more than I am.” A pause. “This is a big thing for me, Slayer. I was fine livin’ life alone, then you had to come along an’ change everythin’. I don’ think you can know how much you’ve given me. You’ve made me see that...it’s possible to...oh, bugger all.”
Buffy reached out for him, but he shook his head and stepped away.
“You need to hear this without...” Spike sighed again. “If you touch me, I’ll lose it, an’ I need to get this out there. The thing is, see, I’m...I killed the kid ‘cause I needed to prove to myself that I was still a demon. I’d jus’ let you walk. Hell, I was bendin’ over backwards to make sure you were taken care of for the night. I needed to be monstrous, because I thought anythin’ else made me less of a man.”
“It doesn’t,” she whispered.
He chuckled bitterly. “To you, maybe. I’ve never been the kinda vamp the others said I should be.”
“But you’re not with them now.”
“I know that. It doesn’ make me any less a vamp.”
She nodded numbly, casting her eyes downward. “I know.”
“I can’t promise you anythin’. I want to. God, I want to, but I’ve buggered up too many times to tell you I’ll never stop doing things that hurt you.” He shuddered. “But God help me, I don’ want to hurt you. Thinkin’ about what...I’ll try.”
Silence settled between them—silence that even the loud shrill of the school bell was hopeless to disturb.
“I know who you are, Spike,” Buffy said after a long minute. “I’d already made up my mind to accept the ‘killing’ thing, even though it’s impossible. I can’t sit still knowing innocents are being hurt. I thought I could, because I need you, and I guess I was hoping that whatever we were made you wanna stop. But that’s you, right? That’s the whole thing.”
“You need me?” The words were barely a whisper.
Heat rushed to her cheeks. She hadn’t intended to actually say that, and had rather hoped that it would go in one ear and out of the other. It had been a foolish gamble. “You give me strength,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve made the pain go away.”
“How?”
“Well...I was blocked before. With Angel. I’d look at the thing he’s become and think of Angel, and that’s not helping me. This...Angelus...he needs to be dust. And I’m not too keen on having Angel around right now, anyway.” She shivered and shook her head. “I don’t care what face he was wearing, he hurt me. I gave him everything and got my heart ripped out. You...” A long sigh shuddered through her lips, and she glanced up to meet his eyes. “You’re giving it back to me.”
The look he gave her was unlike anything she’d ever seen before. It was a mixture of awe and wonder, humility and rapture—she had never been on the receiving end of such reverential regard. Never.
His lips parted whispering her name as a prayer of grace. Then she was in his arms, his mouth tearing at hers. The taste of him had yet to stop surprising her—he was a delicious mesh of liberation and danger, romanticism and rebellion. He nipped at her lips and warred with her tongue as his wandering hands mapped her body adoringly. Even through layers of clothing, the heat of his touch burned her skin—a slow, succulent burn that rattled her to her core.
He’d killed. He was a vampire. He was her enemy. But God, she wanted him so much.
“I’ll try,” Spike panted, breaking away from her lips and trailing a hot path of kisses down her throat. “God, Buffy, I’ll try. I’ll try to be a good boy for you. You’re worth it. You’re more than worth it. An’ I’ll do whatever I can. I’ll bag it an’ I’ll save the world. I’ll hunt with you. You drive me so bloody crazy, but livin’ out my days as a dangerous vamp isn’t worth it. Not without you.” He began to calm, breathing heavily, and pressed his brow to hers. “You’re in me now, Slayer. Couldn’t leave you now if I wanted to. An’ if that’s the price, I’m willin’ to fork it over.”
Her vision blurred and she let out an unattractive sniff. “Really? You...you didn’t seem so sure last night. You were ready to leave.”
“I can’t leave.”
“Why?”
‘Cause you’re here.”
“But—”
“Look...I’ve thought about this...a lot.” He paused. “You’ve been torturin’ the hell outta me ever since that night in the park. I thought it’d be easy. Don’ know why, but I figured I could kill you an’ get my life back on track. Sodding pipe dream, that was. An’ I don’ think I ever got off track—jus’ detoured to somethin’ better.” A grin kissed his face. “I’ve never done anythin’ without Dru. Understand? Never. An’ I’d made the decision to leave before you sunk your seductive li’l claws in. It jus’ never occurred to me that maybe...changing more than the small things...” Spike trailed off awkwardly, his eyes falling shut as he searched for words. “You’re so different,” he continued after a minute. “You’re warm. You’re giving. You look at me like...I’m worth somethin’.”
Buffy released another quaking breath.
“Dru taught me to be somethin’ that I’m not. An’ now, I honestly don’ know what I am. I’m not the demon she wanted me to be, an’ while that smarts, it doesn’ change anythin’ else.” His lips touched hers gently, and warmth rippled through her body. “I told you downstairs that I’m yours. ‘S true. An’ I’ll do anythin’ to keep from hurtin’ you.”
“Even if—”
“Yeah. All of the above.”
“What if Dru wants you back?”
“I walked out on her, luv. The only reason she’d want me back is to complete the happy li’l family. I’m not her sodding lapdog anymore.” He shook his head defiantly. “An’ even so, I don’ think you got a good grasp on what I do for the women in my life. I’m a bad penny. You made your decision—you’ve invited me into your world, Slayer. I’m here an’ I’m gonna stay.”
“But what if—”
“But nothin’. You’ve given me more than I had all the years with her.”
She heard the words and about tripped with awe. More than he’d had with Dru—that was what she gave him. And while she found herself trenched in glee at the admission, the treacherous voice that she had yet to kill still found volume. The one that whispered another truth. A crushing truth.
But he loved Dru.
If he loved Dru, yet found more with Buffy, did that mean he loved her, too? The love issue was way too complicated—where did admiration end and love begin?
People never loved for the right reasons, it seemed. She hadn’t loved Angel because it was the smart thing, just as Spike hadn’t loved Dru because she was what was best for him. And while he might recognize that Buffy gave him more than his sire had, that didn’t mean he felt for her what he’d felt for his former.
That thought, however forceful, remained unspoken. Instead, Buffy smiled and nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck to draw him down for another kiss. He was with her now, and that was all that mattered. And she had a promise—a pledge. He’d attempt to give up what was natural to him to be with her. To make her happy.
He’d already sacrificed so much to stand at her side. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could love her a little.
“We should get back,” Buffy murmured against his lips. “The bell rang a couple minutes ago.”
Spike’s grip on her tightened. “Sod it.”
“We really need to tell Giles about Alfalfa.”
“Acathla,” he corrected with a roguish grin. “You think he’s gonna be stake happy? I really don’ fancy becoming a pile of dust after I’ve had an epiphany.”
“Well, we can’t expect him to throw us a tickertape parade.”
“We can hope.”
“What was your epiphany?”
Spike merely looked at her and smiled, then squeezed her hand and led her into the hallway.
*~*~*
He knew it when she raised her voice against the Watcher. When she shouted that she was the one with the sacred Calling; she was the one that called the shots. He knew it when she glanced to him and smiled reassuringly, then turned back to the befuddled old man and demanded that he stop complaining and listen to what they had to say.
God, he knew it like he’d known nothing else.
“Very well,” Giles said, calming. The Watcher’s eyes were practically on fire. “I’ll listen...but first, you have to agree to something.”
Buffy frowned. “What?”
“Spike must put you under his protection.”
“What? He already has.” The Slayer mirrored his earlier action, stroking his skin through his t-shirt. He wondered if the old man could see that the girl had her arm wheedled inside his duster. Probably. The way she refused to hide their relationship thoroughly warmed him over. “See him here? With the protection?”
Spike smiled wryly. “That’s not what he meant, sweetling.”
“No, it’s not.”
The frown on her face became more prominent. “Huh?”
“Means I take your blood. Jus’ a li’l, mind you. Watcher-Boy here would have my head otherwise. I say a couple fancy words, yadda yadda, an’ you’re under my protection.”
“Which means?”
“He can’t hurt you,” Giles said. “It thoroughly prevents him from hurting you in any way. If he, oh say, decided to stab you to death, as vampires are so prone to do, he’d be the one with a knife in his back.”
The look that flashed across Buffy’s face was one of pure ire. Spike knew then, too, and the knowledge gave him peace. “That is so totally not necessary.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way.”
“Watcher, you really think I’m gonna force my fangs on the girl when—”
Giles’s eyes darkened. “It’s the only way to give me peace of mind. I’m sorry if I don’t feel particularly forgiving, Spike. You see, someone very close to me was put into the ground by a vampire. A vampire I was foolish enough to trust. And while I admit that you’re not the vampire in question, I don’t believe it’s unreasonable to demand proof that you won’t do anything to harm my slayer, especially when you’re so well known for killing them.”
A surge of irritation combated with knowledge. “Look—”
“I’ll do it.”
Spike turned to the Slayer in absolute astonishment. “Buffy—”
“It’s fine. I’ll do it. As long as Spike doesn’t get hurt in the process.”
She met his eyes and warmed his heart. And he knew.
“He only gets hurt if he hurts you. It’s a blood-tie, and blood-ties are unbreakable.”
“And that’s it?” Buffy asked cautiously. “That’s it. No other wonky side effects or whatnot?”
“It’s a step away from a claim,” Giles concluded. “And its barely even referred to anymore among the vampiric community. The Watcher’s Council has a few documented cases concerning humans that fell under vampire protection, and while it never turned out well for the vampire, the human always lived.”
“Usually ‘cause the bloody pulsers pull a double crossed their protector,” Spike drawled. “Yeh, mate, I know the jist.”
“That surprises me. Most vampires don’t.”
“I’m not most vampires. Dru din’t teach me rot, an’ whatever Angelus taught me was based on the hunt, not our history. A bloke has to find some way to entertain himself, especially before the invention of the telly.” He paused, then added slyly. “‘Sides...Watcher’s Diaries make for good readin’.”
Giles seared him with a look. “You’ve had access to Watcher’s Diaries?”
“Well, yeh. After all, I do kill slayers, right? Where else am I gonna research?” Spike glanced down with a long sigh. “The protection ritual’s nearly died out. I’m not even sure Angelus knows about it, else I’m sure he’d’ve put Buffy under his protection a long time ago. But yeh...if she’s willing...”
“I am,” Buffy confirmed softly, her concealed hand squeezing him with affirmation.
God, there was no way to not know. No way to ignore the swell of his heart, the giddiness he felt when she tossed him a glance, or the warmth that encompassed him whole.
He loved her.
Spike averted his eyes to the ground.
I love her.
He did. He truly did. It had happened so quickly—crept up on him when he wasn’t paying attention. When his demon was screaming at him to flee town. To snap her neck and have it over with. She’d always looked at him differently, even when they fought. The emotion that sparked her gaze was completely singular to anything he’d ever experienced. She did everything with all she was. She fought, lived, and loved with every fiber of her being.
He loved her. He was in love with the Slayer.
Only now, he was faced with a new dilemma. Did he tell her? What would she say? Would she laugh? Would she tell him that he was beneath her, despite all his efforts? Would she think he was just trying to get into her pants? Was there any way she could ever love him back? And if not, did it matter? Buffy had already given him so much more than any other woman had even tried.
Spike wanted love. He needed love. But to be with her...
The library doors flew open, snapping him back to himself. He turned in time with the Slayer, who had nearly leapt out of her skin at the sudden intrusion. Spike bit back an instinctive grin. He adored the little things. Buffy was the strongest person he’d ever known, yet she could still allow herself to jump with fright at loud noises.
Inward bounded the little redhead with the wolf, loyal at her side. The girl’s eyes were ablaze with excitement, so much that she didn’t do anything more than pause when she noticed him.
“Buffy! Omigod, we just found it! We found it!”
“Huh?”
The wolf frowned at Spike. “Aren’t you that vampire?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Thought so.”
The redhead elbowed her boyfriend, all but trembling with glee. “We found it. Oz and I found it.”
“Found what?” Buffy demanded, her arm tightening around Spike’s middle. Brazen little thing, she was. She wasn’t even attempting to conceal their closeness now.
The other girl held up a small yellow disk and rocked on her heels. “Oz found what Ms. Calendar was working on. See? It’s the curse. Angel’s curse.” Buffy went rigid against him and the room began to spin. The redhead paused and waited for the ecstatic squealing, and when it didn’t come, she all but burst. “Don’t you see? We can do it again. We can give him back his soul!”
And just like that, Spike felt the walls cave in.
No. No, no, no.
The look on Buffy’s face was unreadable for the first time in days. He felt cut off—shut out, even as she stood beside him. Her arm was around his waist, but he didn’t feel her.
God, this couldn’t be happening not now.
Not now.
Not now that he loved her.
TBC |
