Backstage
By Lisa Martin
It's midday when I awake. At least I think it is. The clock says it's one o'clock, and that can't be one A.M. We weren't even here at that time. The apartment is dark, all the curtains drawn. Which makes sense, in a vampire kind of way. Then I feel it. He's staring at me.
"Morning." Lame, but there you go.
"Yeah." Another stare, incredulous now. "Thought you'd be long gone."
"I just woke up!"
A smirk. "My, my, the donut boy has changed. The Harris I knew would've fled in terror when he realised what he'd done."
"That one doesn't exist anymore." Not after tonight. "We had sex. I don't regret it."
Silence stretches on for a long time. "Me neither," he says finally, slowly. "No bad dreams.."
So he heard that. "I didn't have any." In fact I didn't dream at all.
"No dreams at all. Just sleep." He seems truly amazed by that.
"First time?" I ask.
"Yes."
We lie there without talking for another hour, neither of us moving. I can't get rid of the feeling that this was bound to happen, that it was unavoidable. How, what or why is a mystery that I don't really want to think about too much. It happened. End of story. Except I don't want it to end.
"You're doing anything today?" The question comes out of the blue. It shocks me a bit.
"Well, I was planning on going home today. Can wait, though. It's not that I have a job to go back to."
He looks at me, raising that scarred eyebrow. And I tell him. The whole screwed up story. He listens, doesn't interrupt once. When I finally fall silent, he still doesn't say anything. It's taking too long, he probably thinks I'm still a loser and I'm getting cold. I reach out and grab my sweater from the floor, but before I can put it on, he takes it away from me.
"Here." He hands me the Indian blanket that is draped over the back of the couch. "It's warmer."
Now why didn't I think of that? I pull it around me. He's right, it's soft and warm and comfy.
"So, the bint left you?" Here it comes, the verdict. "Good for you." Case dismissed. Huh? He chuckles at my confusion. "She's wasn't right for you, pet. For anyone. She's been a demon for 10 centuries, with no one to think about but herself. You can't change that in just a few years. You did the best you could."
"It wasn't good enough."
"It was more than enough, that's the point. She had to fend for her own all that time and now all of a sudden there's this kid who wants to take over the responsibility. Nice, but scary."
That is the first logical explanation I heard since it happened. It's simple, to the point and oh so true. But hey.."I'm not a kid."
He sniggers. "To her you are."
Uuuh..yes. "And to you?"
"Why do you think I call you whelp? I got a century on you."
Great. Oh wait. "Dirty old man. Having sex with a kid."
He stares then laughs. Wholeheartedly. "God pet, I missed that wacky humour of yours."
Who's wacky here? "I wasn't kidding."
He's laughing even harder and I have no choice but to join in. Laughing without bitterness, how long has it been since I'd done that? Oh right, when Dawn 'accidentally' died her hair pink. Willow's rant put any demon to shame. Yet, never about things that were meaningful. Like my divorce. Not that I am actually laughing about it now, but he gave me a new perspective on the matter. It wasn't my fault. Strange, I believe that now. I just had to be that way, couldn't be helped. Divine intervention. Um no, that's taking it a bit too far.
"What's going on in that crazy mind of yours?" His question makes me realise I've been staring into thin air.
"Just thoughts," I sigh. "The whole mess is finally sorting itself out in there." I look at him, at the face I once feared. He suffered too, it's clear. There's something in his eyes giving that away; a trace of sadness that wasn't there before. "It wasn't your fault," I tell him. "She chose to die, to save us all. Nobody could've done anything to prevent that. Even Dawn is convinced of that now. She still feels guilty though."
"Can imagine. I should've stopped that bloody Doc!!" His eyes glow yellow.
"He threw you from that tower! You broke both legs, Spike, what could you have done?" The image of him kneeling down next to her body, crying and cursing, is one I will never get out of my mind.
"Something, anything!" He vamps out fully now. "I felt so helpless."
"We all did. We all felt guilty for not saving her. It wasn't until Dawn told us what she said up on that tower, how she was fully prepared to give her life to save the world that we began to understand. Death was her gift. The First Slayer told her that in a vision and at that moment she understood the meaning. She died for us, for you."
His eyes close briefly and when they open again, there's no more yellow.
"Destiny."
"Yes."
"The first Slayer to die by her own hand." His voice is soft, his gaze distant. In an impulse I draw him to me, wrapping the blanket around us. He snuggles close, making soft purring sounds. It's an odd sound, yet soothing. I smile into his hair, and settle in for another nap.
That night I go with him to the concert. This time I'm admitted back stage without a problem, after all walking in holding hands with one of the band members does count for something. I hang around among the tech crew and get introduced to the difficulties of managing such a big concert. It's interesting and I find myself helping them afterwards. My years in construction are helpful, I'm used to lifting heavy things. When one of the crew jokingly asks me if I want a job, I am more than tempted to say yes.
"You want it, pet?" I startle as I hear his voice very close to me.
"Uhh.yeah.that is."
"Want it or not?" He moves in front of me, eyes dancing with mischief.
"Yes." I have a feeling I'm making a life altering decision here.
"Then you got it."
"Just like that?"
"I run this joint, pet. My band, my money."
Okay, not what I expected to hear. But then again, he keeps on surprising me. "You sure you want me around all the time?"
"Wouldn't have asked if I didn't."
True enough. He's always been honest up to the point of being rude. I cringe when I realise my two former lovers where that way as well. Hold on! The guy offers you a job, not his love! Thoughts, hide or else run as fast as you can. Typical for me, they don't, but stay firmly lodged in my brain. I sigh in frustration, nothing short of a crowbar will get them out now.
"I'll take the job."
"Only if you want to." Is that concern? Can't be!
"I want it. I need a break from my regular slaying duties." The guy whom I was helping earlier on, flinches visibly.
"Slaying???"
"Don't scare the crew, pet. They're kinda sensitive about that issue."
Ooooooh, I see. "He's a vampire?"
"Damned right I am!!" He vamps out and moves towards me, but is stopped by Spike.
"No one touches him!" he growls. Turning back to me he asks, "Don't ever mention that word again, Harris!"
"I won't. Look, I didn't know," I tell the guy. "You seem like an okay guy." It's not a lie to save my hide, he does seem all right. All my years on the Hellmouth taught me that no two vampires are the same. The powerful ones that is. Minions are all the same, just brainless killers. He gives me another growl and stalks away.
"Will take a while to get him to trust you," Spike remarks.
"I'm sorry, okay?" He nods and the subject is closed.