Sang et Ivoire
By Holly
Chapter Fifteen
Though her better senses commanded her feet to turn home, the scars burning her insides persuaded her pumping legs to pivot north instead of south. With every lingering beat that filled the gap between herself and the broken vampire, Buffy's heart welled with embittered resentment, hurt mending slowly into betrayal. Chilled air collided with the hot tears pouring down her face. In the midst of all the confusion, she didn't know what to think. Anger was human nature, and had to have a place somewhere.
The most obvious target was herself, but she shunned the notion away for a more acceptable frontage.
Spike had a soul.
With as much as the truth had pounded her mind already in the past hour, she couldn't force herself beyond realization. Spike had a soul. Spike had willingly gone out and won his soul. A prize. The trophy signifying the end of long trials.
He had won a soul for her.
There was no doubt in her mind that it was Spike's intention to return after he collected his bounty. He had told Clem as much before his departure. Never had he calculated the possibility that subsequent guilt would consume him so thoroughly. It had been three years, closer to four, and he still was not ready.
He had sacrificed everything for her, but could not predict the consequences of his actions.
And Buffy couldn't stop crying.
It was an angry fist that pounded relentlessly on Giles's motel door. Scarred eyes met a wordless gaze, and without vocal confirmation, he understood.
"You know," he observed reverently. She couldn't tell if shock or relief coursed through his tone, and at that minute, it didn't matter. "You..."
"I know," she acknowledged, tenor cold. She knew she was misplaced in her anger, but it pumped through her, filling lungs with air and veins with blood. "God, how could you not tell me?"
The Watcher sighed, motioning her inward with a jest of his head. Buffy followed grudgingly, duster tight against her body. It wasn't until she heard the door close behind her that she turned around. Awkward silence filled mindless gaps as he brushed passed her to shut off the television, set to the news, of course, as only Giles would. He pulled out a chair beside the heat vent and offered her a seat.
"Things are going to get difficult for you," he acknowledged wearily. "And perhaps I could have stopped that, had I mentioned something. But that wasn't the way he wanted it, and I had to respect his desires. After all, I dragged him along, and despite all the trouble it's seemed to have caused, I am glad I did. There are things he's seen that would have taken me a while to pick up on. You saw him earlier today in the Magic Box." A sigh rolled off his shoulders. "The William you met tonight is a far cry from the William I took in those years ago. He wasn't a mess, but he wasn't as collected as he is now. The slightest reference had the ability to send him down the path of sacrament. He cries at ease, now, usually when forgiveness is mentioned or implied, but in retrospect, he has progressed admirably." Giles looked down, studying his clasped hands. "He believed up until our arrival that you hated him, and he was...well, not content, but satisfied. To him, it was poetic justice. He could deal with it, even if it ate him up. It killed him to know he was the source of your suffering, but he accepted that it was right that way. He never wanted you to stop hating him. You have seen him...what did you say?"
The Watcher's words worked like ice through her heated bloodstream, and by the time he stopped speaking, she was rendered no more enlightened than she had felt upon leaving the graveyard. A heavier burden of guilt was weighing forth. "I..." The Slayer looked down, the mask of anger fading away, beset with reluctant understanding. "I didn't know, and I had to...I realized that I...and I had to tell him..."
"Buffy." Attentively, Giles leaned forward, eyes dangerously wide. "Do you love him?"
"I did," she whispered, looking down at last. "I loved Spike, I mean. Don't look so horrified. Took me a while to realize, and even longer to accept. I didn't fully understand until tonight. Until I realized how much..." Her voice trailed off with a heavy breath. "I told him, and-"
"You told him?" He paled with concern. "Oh God. How is he?"
The way those two understood each other was uncanny. Buffy shook her head in amazement. "He broke down. Then he started yelling at me. About how I couldn't love something like him, because of what he had tried to do. And I told him I had forgiven him...then I saw."
"You told him you loved him before you knew?"
Buffy pursed her lips. She couldn't find a will within herself to look at the Watcher. The spot on the far wall suddenly became the epitome of fascination. "Like I said, I'm a sick, horrible thing that loved a monster. But sweet Jesus, I don't care anymore. You saw what he did. He did it for me, Giles. Spike - not William...he did it for me. And that's worth everything. And now..." Tears clouded her eyes, squeezing passed sealing barriers before she could stop them. "And now I don't know who he is."
A small, understanding smile spread nether the Watcher's lips, and he stood, nearing to give her shoulder a reassuring pat. "Take it from me...picture Spike as you knew him. Add an immeasurable conscience, thoughtfulness, and a sense of poetic appreciation, and you have William. Sometimes the similarities between my colleague and the demon are so...precise that..."
"But I don't know what to think anymore!" Buffy cried, leaning into what comfort her former Watcher had to offer. "How could he do that? How could he ask for his soul? It's impossible, Giles! You and I both know that's-"
"Oh yes. I knew so bloody much at the time that I could not help but hurt him with my opinion. Even after we were working together, I doubted the sincerity of his motivation. It wasn't the big things, understand. Every time he let his guard down, he unconsciously let me see a part of himself. I first saw him as William, oh, likely the night he told me that he refused to let himself grow too comfortable sleeping on my couch, eating my food, and so forth. He noted a desire to have legal means to obtain his blood and Wheatabix. He never wanted me to forgive him or consider him a friend." Giles shook his head in lingering awe. Even after so many years, it could take him aback. "The trouble is, you can't know William and not crave his friendship. I don't see him as a demon anymore, Buffy. Whatever suffering he puts himself through - lest it concerns you - he keeps concealed. He's the most helpful worker I've had, and his passion for books rivals my own. Spike gave William to the world because he thought it would make you happy. It was perhaps the only selfless thing he ever did. He...he truly loved you. William loves you, too. It's hard to know where he ends and Spike begins. They are so...alike."
An odd sense of revered complacency commanded her features, and her gaze traveled dazedly from the wall to the floor. "He sounds wonderful," she whispered, closing her eyes tightly and shaking her head. "God! What kind of person would miss a demon, Giles? I'm the goddamned Slayer! And I can't help-"
"I would have agreed with you, once upon a time," he acknowledged. "But my understanding of this situation is much more extensive than our ordeal with Angelus all those years ago." When she challenged him with her eyes, he sighed with exasperation and rose to his feet, instinctively modifying conduct into instructor mode. "Spike's desire for a soul inadvertently gave him one. Not literally, of course - that didn't come until later. But when he saw that it would please you, his ability to fight his demon and crave the change...I believe that gave him a figurative spirit. His genuine want of goodness and love for you overpowered the darker nature of his origin. He did not understand it then, and while he struggled with his instincts, he learned to control them." Giles captured any straying conviction with a significant intake of breath. "He loved you, demon and man, where no vampire, not even Angel, could dare to touch you. What happened that night in your bathroom-" She winced. "-I believe was a reflection of the demon in face of rejection. Of trying so hard without reaping the benefit of altered consequence. Did you love him then?"
Buffy sighed and looked down. "I told him that I could never trust him enough for that. That night, I mean. That's what I said before...but Angel reminded me of something tonight. I loved him before I trusted him." Unbelievingly. She shook her head. "'Course, I was sixteen and had only died once. That seems so long ago."
"Just a few years." Giles smiled. "Did you, though?"
"Love Spike? Yeah. I did. He knew it, least it seemed like he did. Kept telling me I did, even when I insisted it wasn't possible. I think...no, that is why I pushed him away. I knew then, on some level...I had to. And it terrified me. How could I love a killer? What kind of monster was I?" Buffy's tears came easily now, flowing freely down her cheeks with no sense of reserve. "So he's suffering now because of me. Because I was too prejudiced to see him for what he was when he-"
"You couldn't have known better. I wouldn't have, then. He has what he wanted. What he believed you deserved."
"An eternity of torment? How could he want that?"
"Because of the wrong he committed you." The Watcher smiled softly, sighing with dry realization. "Perhaps I was wrong, and I never should have brought him. Well, I suppose that's a bit rash; his assistance thus far has been more than sufficient. But I don't believe he is doing either of you any good. I shudder to think how much we will have retracted in progress when we finally return to London. He's here because he loves you. Did he tell you that?"
"Not in so many words, but I can see. His eyes-"
"Yes. Likely, with your admission, he will refrain from pronouncing his affections verbally." Giles sighed. "It would only make things harder for you."
She stifled a sob. "Things are already hard. I just wish I could do something. Everything I do that I think will make things better just...hurts him more."
"At least he knows," he replied softly. "And after time, knowing such will help him heal."
The storm finally began to wither, her aching insides reaching some point of acceptable calm. Buffy sighed and looked down. She felt she had drained herself dry of tears, and the mere notion caused her eyes to well up again. No more would be shed tonight. The evening had had its share.
"It hurts," she whispered.
"Yes," Giles agreed. "But it won't forever. William will likely distance himself from you. But be assured he loves you very much. He wouldn't pain himself like this if he didn't."
Buffy nodded, trembling. "I'm not sure if that makes things better," she murmured. "Or worse."
*~*~*
Everyone had assembled at the Magic Box for what would be one of the last communal meetings. Until the Master went public, Giles ventured it was best to refrain from community property and stick to places that required an invitation. He was alone when he arrived that evening. Willow was at the register, helping Dawn prepare for upcoming finals. Angel and Buffy were sparring in the back rooms - an occasional grunt or two emanating to the entry. Xander had buried himself in books, arriving somewhat fatigued from a long night. After William's departure the previous evening, Dawn had dragged him to the Bronze where he disappeared for two hours, returning with a dazed, half-goofy smile on his face. Conspicuously, the lead singer of the Annoying Pedestrians was also absent during that interval.
They all had their various ways of dealing with apprehension.
The sun had set an hour and a half before William finally arrived. Buffy, pumped from her workout, felt a familiar twinge cripple her insides and knew before he entered that he was near. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that he suffered the same insight. After their sorrowful exchange, it would be difficult to look at him. To know and not speak.
To know and not implore his forgiveness for forcing him to such desperate measures.
Buffy understood why she had revoked blame for so many years. Irrefutably, guilt was one nasty bitch.
However, when he pushed through the doors, nothing remained of the man she had left the night before. Instead, he carried the visage of the utmost concentration, confident in stride even if his eyes told her otherwise. For the briefest instant, she marveled at how different he looked without his coat before consciously digging her nails into the leather that surrounded her.
"Nice of you to join us," Xander quipped, not looking up. "Especially-"
"Sod off, Harris, I want to get a few things straight." Attention immediately captivated by everyone in the room. Angel slowed by her side, handing her a diet soda, even as her eyes refused to leave the bleached vampire at the front of the store. No one made a sound. "I prolly should 'ave started with this yesterday, but I'd like to get it out of the way so we don't folly around and waste valuable time with little nasties. Can't afford any more distractions. In order: yes, I am back in town. Yes, I have been workin' with Ripper since I left. And yes, I did snatch myself a soul before I got to London. All's the well, then. Back to work, people."
No one moved for a full minute.
"And to that I add a 'huh'?" Xander finally said. "You got a what?"
Buffy drew in a breath and held it, popping open her soda and taking a long, hard swig. The astonishment beaming from her sister and her friend was singular for their lasting unawareness. They were the only two left out of the loop. It was for show, she understood. Certain factors had the means to get in the way of more important things. If they didn't come out with William's altered persona, he would be gone before everyone had the chance to catch up.
Hostility was not needed here, and while the announcement likely wouldn't clear away all diversion, it was nice to come clean.
No more secrets.
The vampire turned to Xander and arched a sardonic brow. "A nice sparkly surprise. You know. Like what Peaches has, only a bit more poetic. That's all I 'ave to say. Chop, chop. Time's a wastin'."
"No!" Dawn cried, pacing steps forward. "You can't just come in here and say that and...and expect us to go 'Oh, all right' and get back to work. How did you do it? Where did you get it? Was-"
"Firstly, Nibblet, I don't expect you to do anything. I didn't say it so you'd forgive me. Rather you not. Go 'head and wallop me a few times; won't make a bit of bloody difference. Gimme all I deserve." A sad smile tickled his lips, and Buffy watched her sister's face contort with grief-stricken realization. When she didn't move, William heaved a sigh and shook his head. "I got it in Africa. Went there right after..." Unbidden his eyes rose and finally met hers, flashes of lightning waving behind stormy pupils - a sea of inward torment and forbidden adoration. A thousand apologies screaming an empty plight to the night that didn't want to hear. "Went there right after I left town. Beat me a few baddies and got this as a prize. So you can all get off Ripper's case for workin' with somethin' to the likes of me." He spoke broadly as though the announcement was directed to everyone. "He didn't take me in outta the kindness of his heart."
"Well-" Giles began to protest.
"Least not until he saw that I wasn't...that I'm not..." William trailed off in exasperation, body frame hung with tension. The room fell still until he moved, chuckling humorlessly as Willow came to his side, hand instinctively drawn to his shoulder. "You know," he said, turning to Xander. "I've had this bloody conversation three times already since I got here. Have the entire speech memorized, and I just realized I don't give a good damn what you think. Wasted more time trying to cover my tracks from the bloodhounds that we coulda used to research this apocalypse. You want the full story? Ask Peaches, or Red 'ere, or Buffy." His eyes were drawn home again. "I jus' don't 'ave it in me right now."
Sharply, both Dawn and Xander spun on their heels to glare at the Slayer. "You knew?" they demanded simultaneously.
"Only since last night," she replied defensively. "And hey! Why yelly at the Buffy? Both Willow and Angel-"
"Enough!" The vampire at her side came forward, shaken with irritation. "There's no point in arguing about it now. Spike told everyone for a reason, and we need to respect that. For the moment, we have bigger problems to deal with. Everyone can be angry with everyone when I'm gone and out of danger of a massive headache." Angel shook his head and turned away, selecting a random book off the shelf and flipping open the cover.
"Thanks, Peaches," William muttered, though it was obvious the words came with difficulty. After an uncomfortably long pause, he cleared his throat and moved toward Giles, selecting a book off the shelf beside him. "I was thinkin' last night," he said, speaking casually as though the previous conversation hadn't existed. "This Master bloke's got a real yen to hurt you." He commanded Buffy's gaze with his. "I'm thinkin' there might be a stronger link between him and the chap you killed. Can't say for certain, but I'd be prepared fo' anything. He might attack your mind, even hold memories passed on from-"
The Watcher stepped forward sharply. "You're not suggesting reincarnation, are you?"
William shook his head. "No. Nothin' like that. I'm sayin' he'll feed off his rage. The more brassed he is, the stronger he'll be. And his followers will revere him like a bloody god."
"A vampiric Buddha," Angel offered unhelpfully.
"More like little Buddha goes ballistic," the other vampire quipped, arousing a snort of amusement from Giles, and they shared a few seconds of isolated laughter before understanding their humor had escaped impressionable minds. The reaction was almost simultaneous: they looked down, coughed, murmured something intelligible, and shuffled on with work.
To Willow, Xander tentatively whispered, "Are we sure they're not related?"
And this was how they worked, Buffy realized. This was an image of how life carried through in London.
"My point is," William continued, flexing his shoulders as if to reaffirm his composure, "that I think this bloke'll 'ave anticipated every bloody precaution we're taking. He's not the same fellow, of course, but he'll 'ave a sense about your style. He'll attack where he knows it hurts the most.
"How would he know?" the Slayer whispered.
"I'm guessin' by these vamps that bleed blackness. Strong number growin' by the minute. He's bein' careful - trying nothing impulsive." For the life of him, William looked like he should have a pair of glasses in the heart of mid-lecture polishing. If he noticed her unbelieving scrutiny, he did not make it known. "Whatever vamps you've killed 'ave been expendable. Like martyrs helpin' the cause. Your tinglies don't go away, do they?" She blinked, realized he had addressed her, and shook her head. "Didn't think so. Yeah. Been watchin' you, they 'ave. 'S not even safe to patrol anymore." With a sudden burrow of fury, the vampire growled and kicked a nearby trashcan in wan frustration. Several concerned glances were shot toward the Watcher in anticipation of a violent outbreak, but he knowingly shook his head in promise that the spat was minor, and his companion was nowhere near losing control.
William noticed and rolled his eyes, obviously restraining himself from tapping his chest in reminder of his earlier announcement. Instead he shook his head and continued. "I'd lay low - find a safe place. Chances are your house's monitored, and even if they aren't allowed across the threshold, there'll be a loophole. They'll find it."
"But they can't-" Dawn stuttered.
"I bloody well know they can't. What I'm sayin' is there'll be things they can do to get you outside. Might be during the daylight. Me and Peaches aren't the only vamps that can lurk in the shadows and wait for you to come to us." He took a minute to indulge in a proud smirk - a true visage of the demon that had harvested his body for over a century. Buffy suppressed a slight shiver. "I'd recommend stayin' somewhere you don't go often."
"We can use my parents' basement," Xander volunteered, then flinched. "Again. They should be used to me being such a low-life. Though it's most likely storage down there, now."
"It'll do," Buffy agreed. "But I don't think I should stop patrolling. I mean - that's kind of excessive. There's lots of innocent people out there who-"
William's eyes blazed with concern, mouth dropping open in protest. However, it was Angel who stepped forward first, placing a hand on her shoulder in silent verification. "We should patrol," he agreed, glancing up and catching the other vampire's eyes. "All of us. It's not safe for the others, but we could handle-"
A grunt of disbelieving laughter escaped the bleached blond, his eyes going wide with incredulity. "There's a bloody party I'd hate to crash. No. Sorry, Peaches. I'm not going to put up with-"
"Spike," the Slayer intervened softly, stepping forward and symbolically out of Angel's reach. She placed a hand delicately on his forearm, eyes wide and beseeching. The wave of softness that coursed in affect was impossible to miss. "Please?"
That was it, and everyone knew it. Thick tension pierced the air - surprising that it could remain so heavy with everything that had occurred. Torn conflict and swelling adoration filled William's eyes, and with a quaking sigh, he looked down and nodded. "All right," he conceded, nodding tightly. "All right."
A smile flickered across her lips - sad but content. Her hand traveled down his arm to grasp his, giving him a reassuring squeeze. The touch was fiery cold, painful to both but similarly impossible to retract. They were both so starved for contact, even if it hurt.
The room remained speculatively silent with the exchange - respectful if not confused. Neither moved until Angel stalked passed them, pushing through the shop doors. At that, they redefined the space between them, though not by much, and followed without another word.
"Why do I have the feeling," Xander muttered, "that we missed something big?"
No one replied. Dawn was staring at the door, as though expecting something else to happen of measurable significance. "Look what he did for her," she whispered, awe-struck. "I can't believe him. I can't believe me. I was so awful to him the other night."
"As you should have been," Harris affirmed with a stern nod. "For all you knew-"
"Hey!" Willow growled, prowling forward. "Lay off! Sure, Spike did a terrible thing. So did I, if you guys remember. He also did something remarkable because he felt so bad. I-"
"We're talking about Spike here," he retorted. "Remember. 'Ooh, I'm an evil demon, who-'"
The Witch rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Don't be a butt, Xan."
"Well, how'd he do it? Must've done something-"
"Fact of the matter is," Giles said softly - twitching his irritation and discomfort. "Whatever he is right now is what counts. Will is a colleague and a friend who loves her very much. I trust him with my life and hers. And as much as you would like to believe otherwise, Spike gave William to the world out of his guilt. He sacrificed himself." Pausing fondly, the Watcher gazed out the window, eyes falling down the street where the unlikely trio had vanished. "Wish I could thank him."