Pairing: Willow/Spike
Warnings: Character Death
Summary: Spike's past collides with his present after his trip to Africa. Set the summer after Season 6.
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It had been a few long, torturous months since Spike received his soul and William had finally come to terms with it. The coping mechanism that allowed him not to go insane, was that it had only been the shell of a body with a demon that had perpetrated the atrocious acts. The killings and the tortures would not be a stain on his soul.
The irony was not lost on Spike. He'd gone to Africa in preparation of killing the Slayer and came out of the trials with his soul intact. The one thing he never wanted, was the one thing he received. It had been over a century since he felt much humanity and it had come rushing back in a tidal wave of remorse.
It had taken him the months to get the courage to face his past, but he had finally returned to England. The misting rain barely registered on his consciousness as he stood over the grave marker of his mother. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks, his fingers lightly tracing her name, "I'm so sorry, love." The guilt and remorse were becoming overwhelming again and he turned from his mother's grave. Spike turned his face toward the night sky and let the rain wash away the tears, wishing it could wipe away the memories as well.
A light from a nearby pub caught his attention and he decided to drown his sorrows in a pint of Guinness and anonymity. He'd been doing that often lately, preferring the obscurity that being in a crowd afforded. No one knew who he was, what he was or what he'd done. He could just be a bloke.
The welcoming warmth of the room enveloped Spike when he stepped through the door and out of the rain. The predator in him took the room in a glance and picked out the vulnerable creatures and those that could potentially pose a threat.
"What'll you have, mate?" The man behind the bar asked Spike with a friendly smile.
"A pint of Guinness." Spike leaned against the bar, his eyes roaming the darkened interior. He didn't detect any other vampires or demons in the room, but he was picking up a subtle shift in the air around him.
The tingling along his spine was getting more pronounced. Taking a sip of the whiskey, he let his senses feel out where the disturbance was coming from. Spike spun around toward the door and expelled a breath when he saw a familiar redhead enter the pub.
"Bloody, fucking hell." He murmured into his drink and sighed. An old line for a black and white movie played through his mind. "Of all the gin joints in all the world, she had to walk into mine."
Was the disturbance he felt the reason Willow was here in the pub? If that was the case, then surely Buffy would be with her. His eyes flicked behind Willow and his brow furrowed in concentration and widened slightly as realization dawned. The Slayer wasn't with her and the power seemed to be emanating from her. The witch had been formidable, but not the magical strength she seemed to have now. He idly wondered if she'd buckled under the strain of not using magic when Tara left her.
Spike turned his back to the door and on Willow, hoping that his longer, light brown hair would be enough of a difference that she would not recognize him. Unfortunately, he had the distinct feeling that his present was about to collide with his past.
~*~
This was to be Willow's last night in England, before returning to Sunnydale and she was terrified and excited at the same time. Giles and the coven had assured her that she was ready to be on her own, but she wasn't sure if she was ready to be with Xander, Buffy and Dawn. Willow wanted her last night to be with Giles, but he'd been called away to the Watcher's Council. So she'd come to the neighborhood pub to be with friendly faces before she returned to possibly hostile ones.
"Willow, my love. What will you have this fine evening?" The bartender smiled genially at her as he raised a glass bottle. "An ale?"
"Mike, I'm going to miss…" Willow trailed off and her eyes narrowed as she took in the sight of the missing patron in the mirror behind the bar. Her mind whirled with ways to kill the vampire without drawing attention to either her magic or that there was a vampire in the pub.
Maybe she could make herself a target, she had lovely red blood pumping through her veins that any vampire would consider tasty. Heck, she'd been bait for vampires the night Jesse was murdered, without even knowing it. Surely, she could be bait if she intended to be.
Willow flicked her hair away from her neck, hoping to entice the vampire and squeezed in next to him at the bar. "Thanks, Mike." She smiled as he handed her, her ale.
Taking a sip, she turned toward the vampire, but before she could engage him in conversation, hazel eyes met startling blue. Willow's jaw dropped and her eyes widened. "Spike?" She managed to squeak out when she recognized the potential threat.
"Red."
The synapses in her brain finally fired and she was able to string more than a few sentences together. "Your hair! What are you doing in England?" Willow left it unsaid that she didn't think he'd ever leave Buffy or at least the city that Buffy was in.
Spike stared at her for a minute, and decided to put the conversation back on Willow. He was not ready to tell anyone, especially not someone close to the Slayer, what had happened.
"I could ask the same of you. Did the apron strings to Buffy finally get cut?" He fell back on the expected and the norm with a cutting question, his lips curled in a small sneer.
The words cut deep as she relived in her mind's eye, how she'd cut the apron strings to Buffy. Her hazel eyes turned haunted, "You could say that. I've been spending the summer with Giles." Not quite the truth, but not quite a lie. Willow motioned toward an empty table with her bottle, "Would you like to join me?"
The witch didn't wait to see if Spike followed her, as she wound her way toward the table in the back. She was curious as to what had driven him from Sunnydale and from Buffy, but was ambivalent about his company. If he followed her fine, if he didn't, that was fine, also.
Spike watched her walk away and debated internally of the merits of following her or turning around and melting into the English night. In the end, his need for a familiar, non-judgmental face brought his feet toward Willow instead of the dark.
He turned the chair around, so the back was facing the table and straddled it, his elbows resting against the top. Spike's eyes locked on hers, "So, you becoming a Watcher? Can't say I'm surprised. I always thought you'd follow in Giles' footsteps."
It hadn't escaped her notice that Spike had yet to say why he was in England. Willow's resolve face fell into place and she crossed her arms on the table, her eyes not breaking contact. "So, you know why I'm in England, what about you? Come to relive old memories?"
Willow had said it sarcastically, but the flash of pain on Spike's features brought her up short. First, that he was sensitive to something that she'd said and second that it might possibly be the truth. "You are! Spike, what happened? The Spike I know wouldn't be walking down memory lane."
"I'm not the Spike you know. Haven't been really, since I got the soddin' chip." Everything that had gone wrong in his vampiric life, could be traced back to Buffy. Angelus, Dru, the chip, falling in love with a bleedin' Slayer, getting the soul. It had all begun when he and Dru came to Sunnydale. "I wish I'd never met Buffy."
A woman turned toward Willow and Spike with a malicious gleam in her eyes, her true demonic face coming to the fore as she uttered, "Done." Willow's shocked eyes took in the demonic features and glowing necklace a millisecond before her world suddenly changed.
~*~
Strong arms encircled her waist from behind and Willow leaned back into their strength as a solid chest pressed into her back. "Alright there, love?"
Willow nodded and twined her fingers with Spike's. She didn't know what she would have done without him. She'd wanted to greet the sun the day after Xander had been staked by the White Hats in the battle with the Master and the Night of St. Vigeous. The Master had prevailed and Willow had vowed vengeance that night.
He called for William from Prague, to join him in the ruling of the Hellmouth. Spike needed to be occupied after the death of his lover, Drusilla and Willow needed a goal to focus her hatred on. They had been two lost souls without their mates, but in the ruling of Sunnydale they had found the other.
Willow bent her neck to the side, giving Spike better access to it as his fangs gently scored along the skin. "I'm fine, love, just a little hungry."
Spike snapped his fingers and a minion rushed to fill a goblet of fresh blood. "We'll be able to hunt soon. As convenient as the blood on tap is, I still prefer the scent of fear and the actual hunt."
Her eyes followed the minion to the figure strapped on the table and she smiled. "Holding their body tight as they feebly struggle against their fate. I love that part."
He brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed the back of her hand, "You love all the parts."
"I do." The minion handed Willow the filled goblet and she took a sip. Her eyes strayed over to the figure again and she watched as minions removed the used body. "I like that part the best."
She raised her glass in salute and laughed with glee as the leader of the White Hats' body was dumped with the rest of the garbage. The Watcher had lasted longer than the others, but in the end he was just a frail.