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Chapter 37

The servants took one look at their lord’s face and scattered out of his path. Something had upset him, and only a foolish person would remain in his presence and incur his wrath.

In the privacy of his study, Spike gave vent to the rage coursing through his system. The Slayer’s repeated, “I love you,” like drums in his head, beating louder and louder, driving out all other thoughts. Those objects that found themselves in his way as he prowled around the room were soon thrust from his path to crumble from impacting with something of a harder constitution.

Eventually he wound down – although his thoughts were no less troubled – and he made his way towards the bar and the plethora of spirits just waiting to be had. The first glass was consumed in a matter of seconds; the second even faster. But, he knew before he’d even taken his first sip, that it wouldn’t silence her crying. Or the fervent declaration given in the heat of the moment.

His empty glass seemed to mock him, and disgusted with himself, with her, with fate in general; he threw it away and stalked to his chair behind the desk. He knew not how long he sat there in silence, mulling over what his life had become…but he was aware the instant he was no longer alone.

“I outta kill you, ya know,” Spike spoke without preamble, instinctively sensing the half-breed’s presence without actually having seen him.

“We’ve had this conversation before… ‘m just the messenger,” Doyle replied. He moved to the bar, all the while feeling the gaze of the master vampire upon his back. Snagging two tumblers and the jar, he walked over to the desk and plopped into one of the chairs set before it.

Neither said a word while the half-breed filled the two glasses to near overflowing, placing one within easy reach of Spike and downing the second in two long swallows. Doyle watched as the vampire mimicked his actions and held out the empty glass for a refill. He complied, doing the same to his own, then leaned back in his seat.

“What are you doing here?” Spike asked wearily. He was in no mood to deal with the Irishman right now.

“Well, you’ve got everyone in a tither. Thought there was going to be a bit of high-five-ing going around when the Slayer finally confessed. Then you had to ruin what could have been a rather nice moment by rushing off.”

“Sod off.”

“Yeah…told ‘em you’d say something along those lines, only I was a bit more descriptive.” The two shared a brief look, equal smirks donning their face. Doyle may be fighting for the side of good, but there was a bit of rebel in him still. “But seriously… this denying what you feel is only making it harder on yourself, and her.”

Spike surged to his feet, knocking over his chair at the sudden burst of rage.

“Look…I did what you asked, though it stuck in my craw t’do it. Even married the girl,” he roared. “Nowhere did I sign on to love the bloody bint.”

Doyle just watched him, unimpressed.

“Jus’ a means to an ends to get back t’ Dru. A vampire an’ a Slayer…together?? ‘S not natural,” he argued. He paced back and forth behind his desk, his pent up energy forcing him to movement. Now that he had someone to listen, he spouted off his laundry list of grievances, not the least of which was that he was evil, and had the Powers failed to realize that? When Spike finally wound down and leaned heavily against the wall behind him, Doyle gave a flick of his wrist.

Like that first time when he’d had to convince the blond-headed vampire to claim the Slayer, a slight mist appeared along with several images.

The Slayer and him battling side-by-side to stop Angelus from awakening Acathla.

Dru ranting about him being “covered” in the Slayer.

His neutering at the hands of the Initiative.

Falling in love with her.

Him helping her battle a hellgod. Being unable to save her. Crying over her broken body.

Her death and subsequent rebirth at the hands of her friends.

Their fighting and shagging…his inevitable hurt.

Getting a soul.

That last image shook him and he righted his chair and sat down.

“I get a soul for her?” he whispered aghast.

“I’m cheating a bit by showing you all this. But, essentially…yes. You fall in love with her and eventually hurt her, then go off and get your soul. That’s not the point, though.”

“What is the bloody point?”

“Things were never supposed to happen that way. Angelus was never supposed to be released. Never before had a Slayer seen vampires as anything other than monsters. For Buffy to do so…well, talk about your proverbial monkey wrench.”

Spike just snorted.

“So, when Ethan caused this little time travel spell, the Powers thought to take advantage of the Slayer’s makeup.”

“And made her fall in love with me.” God, even here, he had nothing of his own.

“No, we did nothing of the sort. Rest assured…she loves you. All we did was provide the setting. The reason I’m here is because you’re being so darn stubborn.”

“Well, pardon me for not doin’ wha’s expected of me,” he snarked. “I have mentioned the evil part, right?”

“William, you’re no more evil than I am…much as you like to fool yourself into thinking you’re the ‘Big Bad’. You’ve got too much of the poetic nature inside you to ever be fully evil, even without a soul. Look around you. This is what you were made for. This shade of gray. Where humans and vampires coexisted peacefully…well, mostly anyway.”

“You’re wrong. I was made for Dru. She’s the reason I am.”

“She made you, true. But, she’s not your destiny,” Doyle argued. “She was just the stepping stone to guide you on your way.”

“No! Not Dru. We’re forever, Drusilla and me,” Spike railed. He dismissed the memory from his mind that negated those words, his eyes pinning the half-breed in place. But, he knew. Somehow, Doyle knew about that time with Angelus.

The fact that Drusilla had never let him claim her slammed into his gut with all the force of a freight train. How she’d never said she loved him. Even after her “daddy” had left. Like she just knew that one day that he’d return and was just waiting for that moment, biding her time with her childe until that day arrived – and by all appearances it appeared to happen not too far from their normal future.

That realization near brought him to his knees.

Doyle eyed the vampire with sympathy. It was a lot to take in, but better to get it all out of the way now. Leave no room for any misunderstanding later. He stood, walking over to where the vampire sat, gazing off into nothingness.

Placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, Doyle told him, “I can stay for a while if you like.”

“Nah… Tell me something, mate.”

“Sure. If I can.”

“Could we go back now? If we really wanted to…me or the Slayer?”

“I wouldn’t say it was an impossibility.”

“And, if we did…would the same thing happen…like those pictures you showed me?”

“Yes.”

“Even—”

“Yes, even that. Face it, Spike. You were meant to be hers. Only here…here she loves you. Would you throw it all away?”

Spike was silent.

“You’re going to tell her.”

The vampire gained his feet and confronted the half-breed. “I’ll no’ be wonderin’ if she thinks about him. About ‘What if?’. Sure, she says she loves me, but if she had a chance to go home…what then?”

“Then, give her the chance and see if she takes it. I’m sure you’ll be quite surprised at her reaction. Only, you can’t tell her what’s to come. That little ‘peek’ was for your benefit…to make this an easier pill for you to swallow.”

Spike relaxed his stance when he realized he wasn’t going to have to fight his friend.

“And for pete’s sake, tell her you love her already and put me out of my misery!” Then, he was gone, leaving silence to descend upon Spike’s study.

~*~*~*~*~

The closer he got to the bedroom as he retraced his steps, the louder her crying seemed to be. Only her sobs were silent, her anguish unconsciously ripping into him through the claim. He didn’t know how she did it, how she’d managed to tap into what had heretofore been a one-sided deal. But, each keening wail that wracked her body called to him.

Made him hurry to right the wrong he’d perpetuated with his sudden disappearance.

Spike paused just inside the door, his gaze taking in the huddled figure on the bed. She’d no more than rolled to her side and clutched a pillow to hold close before giving vent to her sorrow, not even bothering with the covers.

The Slayer gave no notice that he was back, and his feet closed the distance between them until he was sitting on the bed his back to the headboard, so that he could pull her into his arms. His presence just seemed to make her cry harder, and it wasn’t long before his bare chest was soaked with her renewed tears.

With her snuggled up against his left side, he used his right to comb his fingers through her hair, fanning the darkened tresses down her bare back. His touch comforting, and for once, not the least bit sexual. There was something about her tears that got to him, and it just made it that much worse that he’d been the cause of them this time.

Gradually, her crying lessened, then faded altogether as she fell into a light sleep, lulled by his soothing touch and whispered nonsensical words. She didn’t sleep long, maybe half an hour. When she awoke, she seemed shocked that he was there…with her. Her confusion barely masked her hurt as she lifted her head from his chest to look at him.

He spoke without thinking, posing the question aloud so that he couldn’t call it back, no matter how much he might want to.

“If you could…if there were a way…would you go back right now?”

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