Backstage
By Lisa Martin
It's been a year. No four years. My mind is mixing up things, been doing that a lot lately. It's early evening and I'm on my way to the cemetery. Not for patrolling, although I have a stake with me, but to visit Buffy's grave. It's four years today, four years ago the world lost the best Slayer it ever had. We do this every year, the ones that are still in Sunnydale. Call it a pilgrimage if you like and maybe it is. We stand by her grave, put flowers on it and tell her things. Sounds weird perhaps, but it has helped us cope for these four years. I bring white roses, like I do every year. She told me once she liked white roses, so that's what I put by her grave.
The sounds of arguing wafts towards me. I hear Willow's voice, angry and upset, then a deeper one. Halting in my tracks I listen, and hope. The frustrated 'Bloody 'ell Red!' clinches it, it's him. Slowly I walk on, not sure what I'm landing into. Willow spots me first.
"Xander, finally!"
I hold up the flowers. "Had to buy something."
She smiles, a smile that vanishes once her gaze turns back to Spike. "And now will you leave!"
"Why?" I ask, genuinely puzzled.
"Because he has no right to be here."
Oh boy, determined Willow. "Why not?"
She gives me a wide-eyed stare before replying. "He is evil! He is everything Buffy fought against!!"
There it is, the anger. And it's bad. "Angel is a vampire, he was evil. Would you send him away?" Djeez, my voice sounds calm.
"Of course not!"
"He loved Buffy. I heard that story a thousand times before."
"He can stay," Dawn chimes in, ignoring the glare she gets from Willow, but smiling at Spike who gives her a wink. "I don't see the problem, Willow. He helped fight Glory, he didn't tell her I was the key and he tried to free me from that tower."
If I weren't so furious I would hug her. I catch Spike's warning look and ignore it. Time to speak my mind. "He has every right to be here. We were all there, we all tried to help, we all saw her die to save us. Us, Willow, not just you, me, Tara, Dawn, Giles and Anya, but all of us. Including Spike."
"Oh shut the fuck up, I'm outta here." He storms off and if I thought I was angry before, it's nothing to what I'm feeling now.
"Great! Got your way now?? Who died and made you boss??" That's mean and I know it. I stare at her startled face for a moment and decide it's wiser not to waste my breath anymore. I run off, roughly in the direction Spike went to. I think I know where he went, so I take the shortest route to his old crypt and there he is, leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette. His movements are jerky, uncontrolled; he's upset. "She had no right to do that."
"Like I care."
"If you didn't care about what she said, you would still be standing there." Take that, Mr Big Bad.
He glances at me and smirks. "Damn, I hate it when you're right."
He knows by now not to try and railroad me. I can see through him like he was made of glass. I take my time to have a good, long look at him. The old Spike is back, the bleached hair, the black outfit. Will, the rock artist is gone. "Changed your tune again?" I inquire.
He shrugs. "Feels better, more me. The other thing was fun for a while, though."
Dread, ice cold and painful, floods through me. He has closed off that period of his life. I belonged to that time. Conclusion, no hope for me.
Still, I have to try. "It's been a year, Spike."
"Really? Didn't think it was that long."
Thank God, he doesn't ask what I'm talking about. "Almost. Eleven months, one week and two days."
"Don't tell me you've been counting the days??" He throws his cigarette on the ground and immediately reaches for another one. He's upset, all right.
"I have." Pathetic, idiotic, moronically romantic and hopeful.
"Oh pet."
Hello anger. "Don't you 'oh pet' me! A year, without so much as a postcard!! I didn't know where you were after the band split up." Bye anger, spilled in just three sentences.
"You expected me to write?" He walks towards me, stops a few feet away from me. He's surprised, not a reaction I expected.
"Yeah. Or call, or e mail for all I care."
He shakes his head, makes a helpless gesture with his hands and smiles. "I just never thought about it."
Ow. That hurt. "I waited."
Now he is truly amazed. For Christ's sake, why? "You.waited? For me?"
"I promised."
"I know that, but." Again that helpless gesture. "I thought someone had grabbed you by now."
I promised to wait, I kept my promise. I love you. None of these words make it to my mouth. "I had an offer."
A full out grin. "Who was the unlucky one?"
"Hey!"
"Who got turned down?"
Oh. "Dawn."
"Little Bit?" he laughs. "She's quite a catch, pet."
"She is, but not for me. I love her, but like a little sis. Thinking of her as a lover makes me go eeeiuw." I shudder to emphasize my words. It's the truth, but a little over acting never hurt anyone. "Besides, I made a promise, one I didn't make lightly. I kept it because I wanted to."
The smile vanishes and makes place for a very intense look. I swallow, feeling slightly uncomfortable, not quite sure what to make of this.