Sang et Ivoire

By Holly

Chapter Twenty-Seven

It truly was beginning to feel like old times. The sad dismal face of deeper realization had struck its usual nerve. An instinctively uncomfortable regrouping commenced on the lower floors, achieving little more than further displacement and fatigue. The atmosphere was confined and strangely quiet. No one knew what to say or how. And in the midst of this, there was research. Long live Giles-The Research King. Never a break. Never a want of rest. There was no time for ideality.

As the night wore on, everyone consigned themselves to different parts of the house. The Watcher, the peroxide vampire, and Willow occupied the living area, each buried in a separate book. Xander and Dawn were making supper that no one would eat. Angel sat on the back porch, immersed in his own studies. No words had been exchanged in the course of several hours. There was simply nothing to say.

All felt like a bad dream. Nothing to do but read and wait. Search and hunt. Find and destroy.

Willow glanced up from her studies, eyes heavy with lack of sleep or substantial caffeinated support. "Anything?" she asked Giles, boldly breaking the silence.

A heavy sigh heaved through the room. "Nothing," he reported grimly. "There are several gates mentioned that will open portals to hell dimensions. But no specifics. With what we're going on...Dawn wasn't able to tell us much, other than give us a lead that eliminated twenty-five letters of the alphabet."

"Well, that's helpful, right?" the Witch asked fearfully. "I mean...yay...less research. Gives us at least a little hope to stop this thing..."

"It helps, yes," he conceded, removing his glasses in an orderly, very Giles-like manner. "And no. The way things turned last night...it's difficult to speculate-"

She nodded. "Very. To know anything anymore. I just don't-"

"None of us do." Giles looked up finally and glanced in the general direction of the back porch, eyes glazed as though he could see through the walls that barricaded his view. "Where is she?"

"Where else? Patrolling." Willow shook her head. "I think she wanted to be somewhere normal. She was talking with Angel and..." The other member of that statement was in the room, still reading and pretending not to hear a word of the passing conversation. The two shared a look of courteous acknowledgement. "She left just a few minutes ago."

The Watcher's eyes widened. "Did Angel go with her?"

It was William who answered, head peaking from its hiding place amidst a number of dusty pages. "'E offered. We both did. Jus' a while back. She wanted to be alone."

"And you let her go?" Giles demanded in alarm. "After everything that has happened? Wasn't it you who suggested-"

"'Ey there. 'S not like I din't try, you bloody pillock." The vampire shot him a somewhat affronted look, but there was no burden of accusation weighing behind it. Nerves were clinging by the last strand of decency, and snapping at comrades seemed the only way to vent stress. Unless one, of course, was a recently turned Slayer who got her kicks by fighting the forces of darkness. "Couldn't talk 'er out of it. Believe me...I don' want 'er out there by 'erself. But you know Buffy..."

That was most certain. Once she put her mind to something, the Slayer never backed down until her objective was complete.

"But I figure," he continued, "any vamp that tries to cross 'er now is in for one massive walloping. 'S important to 'er. Couldn't..."

Willow held up a hand to signify mutual, however unspoken understanding. "Right. Probably for the best," she said. "Did she eat anything?"

"Every last drop, an' even some of mine." An ironic smile flickered humorlessly across his features. "She was hungry-no doubt about it. We talked a bit with Peaches, then she jus' up an' left. When I offered to go with 'er, she flatly turned me down. I know the Slayer...'f I 'ad followed, I'd've ended up mightily sore tomorrow."

The comment slipped by with understanding until Xander entered the room, blinked, and double-tracked out. "I really shouldn't come in during the middle of a conversation."

Not one pair of eyes was spared a good rolling. Then things grew quiet once more.

"Is Angel still outside?" Giles asked.

"Yeh," William replied, also glancing in the aforementioned direction. "'E 'asn't said much as of the late." He paused again as though considering, hesitated, then climbed to his feet. "Think I'll go for a smoke break."

Willow glanced upward from her reading and quirked a brow. "Peace offering?"

"Figure might as well, now that she's gone an' we can figure this sodding thing out," the vampire retorted with a shrug. "Get all our bloody differences behind us now. I got a knackering that the three o'us'll get real chummy sooner or later, whether or not we really want to."

That was logical enough. William waited a minute to complete the final paragraph of the page he was reading and flipped the book shut. It wasn't until he made the motion for the door that the Watcher realized the implied conversation with the grand-sire was due to be held right away, and spoke up abruptly. "Wait a minute. We have a matter of some urgency to discuss. Before you and Angel decide anything..." With that, he arched a pointed look to Willow that issued a wordless order to vacate the room.

A hushed silence overtook them for a few uncomfortable seconds once they were alone.

William frowned and conceded a step inward. "Wha' is it?"

Giles cleared his throat. "I know this isn't a topic you look forward to discussing," he acknowledged drearily. "But it merits attention. Given the course of everything that has occurred these past few evenings..." His gaze was trained on clasped hands. "Our objective has changed, Will. I need to know...where you plan to go from here."

The vampire's eyes narrowed. "Whaddya mean?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean. You said it yourself." Giles sighed and rose to his feet. "You have the opportunity to...to have everything you ever wanted, even if your conscience would not allow it. Right now, the ball is in your court. What you have forbidden yourself to consider must now be taken into committee." The Watcher's shoulders heaved with tension, and William felt his already-cold body going numb. He knew what would be said next and silently implored it not so. And yet the words continued, unable, unwilling to stop. "You must decide where it is that you are needed most. Whether or not you will return with me to London as we originally planned...or stay here...with her. To help her through this. Through...whatever it is that she's going through. It's not something of which I can be of any assistance. Despite my knowledge and my studies of the vampiric society, no one is as ample a teacher as one who has been there. I must conclude that, in my belief, it is here you are needed." He hazarded a look at the vampire's face and frowned. "I know you might not agree...but it's...it's what is in her best interest. And as her former Watcher, looking after the girl as though she were my daughter...I have to...consider everything and disregard the respective disposition of others. In the end, though, it will of course be your decision. I just believe here is where it should reside. Here or wherever she is. Wherever you're needed the most."

There was nothing for a long minute, then a pained look flooded William's eyes, and he expelled a small sound of agony. With a furious rumble, he automatically initiated himself into an empowered pace, taking strides that quaked the house with magnanimous force. "Oh no," he said shortly. "Not you, too. Everyone else 'ere an' I can say no, fer all the right reasons. But not if you join the bandwagon. I can't stay, an' you know it. No matter 'ow I wan' to. 'S badness, Ripper. All of it. One way or another. I-"

"What's keeping you, then?" Giles retorted. "Nothing but petty fears and selfishness. You want to stay here, you're needed here...and everything considered..." A long sigh rolled from his throat. "Listen, I don't like the prospect of losing you as a work colleague, but I have to think about what's best for her. Right now, you are it. You've kept her grounded throughout this ghastly ordeal. You're the only one she lets inside anymore. And after this all passes, if we're miraculously able to stop whatever gate the Master intends on opening, she will need you. For guidance, for support...someone to help her as the people she loves grow old and move on. She needs someone who will always be here. I can't give her that. No one else can. Only you, Will. You're it."

Intensity had dropped by degrees in Spike's tenor. A somber look overwhelmed the denial so previously manifest, and his lower lip quivered. "What about Peaches? 'E's 'ere all the time. A drive away an' all. An' I'm willin' to bet he'd be ecstatic to-"

"Two reasons," the Watcher interjected sharply. "We don't want an ecstatic Angel on our hands. That leads down the path of..."

"Wackiness?"

"In a nutshell." Giles shook his head. "Secondly, she doesn't want Angel. Do you have any comprehension on how pivotal that is? Her first love and it's no longer good enough for her. If things were different...if he still held her affection, he could have her now if he wanted. The reasons of his leaving were dismissed enough when she made the decision to sacrifice herself. It's not him anymore. You're the one she loves, Will. You've seen enough to know that by now. And despite what you may say, a sense greater than duty is the drug that lures you here. The idea of leaving at all aches you away day by day. Don't think I can't see it. I know you well enough. You are at home here. This is where you belong."

"Maybe," the vampire replied, voice hoarse. "Apart of this bloody town'll always be with me. I know it. God, how I know it. But London's where I belong, Ripper. In that soddin' library, workin' alongside the likes of you an' all those other wankers. When all 's said an' done, all I wanna do 's go home an' forget any of this ever happened."

Giles arched a skeptic brow. "Forget that she loves you?"

"Forget everythin', mate. 'S too painful, even now. I can't help but feel a bit responsible, even after everythin' the lot of you 'ave told me 'bout bein' all helpful-like." He sighed. "'F I 'aden't been 'ere, she never woulda got so distracted."

"And all of us would have gotten an extreme case of dead." The tone was unmistakable. The old man was calling out the full Ripper now. "Stop meddling with excuses. You know what you've done here. Who you've saved. What you've helped prevent from happening. You know it just as well as I do. It's this insidious self-loathing that you've never been able to rid yourself of. You're the one holding you back, Will. No one else. No...it would be easier if you had more than yourself to fight. But you don't. This is it." A beat passed. "You can't go home, you see? You're already here. Answer yourself honestly...do you really, beyond the guilt and the other that you put yourself through, do you really want to leave her?"

A thick pause settled between them in immediate affect. William cast his eyes downward and twitched uncomfortably. Before any word could be spoken, enough was portrayed through the passing silence. Giles's mouth formed a solemn line of conclusion. With that alone, the need for verbal substantiation dissipated.

"You see, then," the Watcher continued when an answer was not provided, "why you cannot go? Duty calls you back, but love and honor anchor you here. The question, however...the final question is not whether you stay or leave. That is material, in my opinion. I want what is best for her, even at the expense of others." He paused once more. "Do you love her, Will?"

The vampire blinked at him incredulously. "Tha's a bloody stupid thing to ask."

"Precisely. And she loves you. Nothing but guilt keeps you apart now. Guilt that has been pardoned and shared. The past cannot be redone, but the future is at your disposal."

William sighed. "There's more to it than that, you git. An' you know it. Sure, it sounds all honky dory when 's not your unlife you're talkin' about, or her's, for that matter. There might come the day when she doesn' wan' me around, an' what then, eh? What am I to root myself 'ere for? I can love 'er forever. I will love 'er forever. I know I can. I've been there. But for Buffy...forever's a ruddy long time. I don' think she grasps it. You can't romance it up like that."

There was little sign of conviction in his colleague's face. "Like what?"

"Like it's so bloody easy!"

"And it's not?"

"No! 'Aven't you been listenin'? Not after all tha's 'appened. What we put each other through."

"If you're not there for her, then she will be alone." Giles shook his head and heaved a breath. "And a slayer is supposed to be alone, inherently. But she will forfeit that position when this is all over. She will never stop being the Slayer, of course...but her responsibility where the world is concerned is finalized. We can demand no more of her. Expect her to accomplish no greater feat, even though I know, should she try, she would succeed." He sighed once more and rubbed his eyes with fatigue. "But she might not stay here. I think it better that she don't, but I cannot make that decision for her. What would you say to that, Will? Instead of staying, you take her with you. Away from the Hellmouth where all she will do is fight the evil until it ultimately consumes her. It's not her battle anymore. It's not fair to her to make it so. Not after everything."

"I'd say you're a crazy ole sod without a heart," William retorted bitterly. The look he received in reply was coated with astonishment, to say the least. "Wha? Take the Slayer away from her family an' friends? Away from the Bit? From Red an' everyone 'ere who need 'er? That would kill her, mate. You know it."

"Yes. That's why I would let her make the decision. I would never presume to take her away against her will." Giles looked down somberly. "But she cannot stay. Not without subjecting herself to a never-ending cycle."

The vampire nibbled lightly on his lip and nodded in agreement. "Right. I see that."

"So where, then?"

William sighed. "Listen...I don' 'ave the answers right now. There's a lot to think about. I told 'er I'd always be 'ere for 'er. Told 'er that plenty of times last night while we shared our touchy-feelies an' my expert words of wisdom. But we might not see eye-to-eye on what's in 'er best interest, Ripper. When's bein' around me ever done 'er any good? A phone call away 's better than nothin'."

"Have someone you love beside you during times of unspeakable difficulty is the greatest incentive of all."

A growl of frustration clawed at his throat. "You right annoyin' ponce! Stop!"

"Stop what?"

"Tryin' to do this. It won' work." Furiously, William paraded for the door. "I gotta talk with Peaches, all right? We need to figure wha's all out. Right."

Giles waited until his friend was almost out of earshot before he spoke again. "You will think about it, though, won't you?"

The peroxide vampire paused heavily in stride but did not turn, anger evaporating from his voice. "Tha's the problem, Ripper," he replied softly. "I am thinkin' about it. I 'ave been ever since last night. It's so bloody temptin' that my concept of wha's good an' wha's not 's completely hazed over. I love London, 'kay? Love it so much that, painful as it would be, I could've left 'ere without much difficulty 'ad things not gotten as ugly as they did. But what it comes down to is what I think 's best, right? Not what I want, not what you or she wants. I can't let myself think like that."

Apparently, this was at least a part of the answer he was searching for. The Watcher grinned tightly and nodded, even as William could not see his compliance. "But you are considering it."

"O'course." The previous notes of shame lingered nowhere near his tone. It was honest and straightforward-the type of answer Giles demanded of his cohort. "What bloke wouldn't?"

That was enough. Nothing more was shared. As William retreated to trade these musings with his grand-sire, the Watcher exhaled deeply-both weary and pleased-and resumed his research.

*~*~*

Angel would have known Spike was behind him even if he hadn't lit up the second he stepped outdoors. It was second nature, and had been for a century and a half. The certain knowledge of when your family was nearby. When he put his mind to it, the peroxide vampire could be as quiet as a cat, but often he failed to apply any attempt. If he was there, it was because he wanted attention. Recognition. A pat on the back for something he didn't do, and if he did, not at all well.

At least, that was Spike as he had known him. Spike of yesterday. The Spike who stood behind him was, for all intents and purpose, a stranger. A person he did not know. A person capable of so much more than anyone had comprehended. Change. Yes, change. So much change. The demon willingly converted to man. The man inside, breathing, feeling, acting in the way he thought was in the best interest for those around him. Such candor was beyond the grasp of what Spike could recognize.

There was no doubt in Angel's mind that his childe had had absolutely no idea what he was grasping when he made the decision to seek out his soul. Spike, by nature, was a vile, selfish creature that only acted if his behavior would in some way benefit his status in life. No deed portrayed had truly noble cause behind it. Certainly the want of a soul was no different. Points for intent, sure, but had he truly known where it would lead him...that the Slayer's love was only a matter of time from being his. That his souled self would revert to a mini-watcher in many senses...returning to that plane of humanity would have been an impossibility. A soul was more than a conscience; it was a completely defining sense of self. A new will. A new understanding.

At least, that was what he wanted to believe. To credibly grasp that Spike-evil, arrogant, cocky Spike had done something so completely selfless out of human guilt was a concept beyond his experience and perceptibility. They hadn't spent much time together since that first night when the revelations were made. Even then, Angel had been hesitant. Unwilling to believe. Not wanting to believe.

When a creature so entirely filled with iniquity willfully reverted to the light, why was it so that he could not? Soulless Angel was not a drinking buddy. Soulless Angel was not someone, chipped or not, that you could trust your family with. Soulless Angel was one would never let into your home. Soulless Angel knew nothing of real love. There was lust and jealousy and obsession. Oh, there was obsession. But love? The word held no meaning to him. Four letters to occupy unused space, not at all wisely. For all that he had shared with Darla, with Drusilla, there was nothing beyond the physical.

If Soulless-But-Chipped Angel had sometime during the duration of his self-imprisonment discovered a loophole in the manufactured wiring keeping him jailed, he would have seized it. The Slayer would be dead-captured during a moment of unguided trust. He would seize hold of her vulnerability and play it like a harp. Soulless-But-Chipped Spike was a different story. Whatever ties he felt to Buffy had kept him from feeding on her after times of intimacy, and Lord knew he had had plenty of chances.

How did that work? The willful want of redemption? The seeking of something he couldn't possibly desire, and further, the acceptance made with such eager and open arms?

That was of the past, though. There was no use in brooding over it now. Things had changed. Things had drastically changed. He and Buffy now shared a common trait. The thought of her classified as a creature of darkness sent cold shudders to his already frozen heart. She was above it. Above the sentencing of vampirehood. Above everything that made him into who he was. What he was. She claimed to know what she had done, and yet there was no way she could make sense of it. To fully acknowledge what the path she chose would entail.

A puff of smoke drifted beyond his head. Angel heaved a needless sigh and arched his gaze in Spike's direction. "Is she back yet?" He knew the answer, of course. He would know as soon as she entered the house. As soon as she was a block away from the front door. As soon as the thought of returning for the night crossed her mind. The silence demanded fillers, and nothing seemed to fit as well as an inquiry to which he required no reply.

"No," came the retort, knowing the angle he manipulated but letting the unspoken implication pass without comment. "Don' reckon she'll be back for a while, yet. Out there's all normal to 'er. Wanderin' through the ruddy cemetery night after night."

"Home is her prison," Angel murmured. And he was abashed with sudden culpability-the source from nowhere. Not made with suggestion, rather the insinuation of numerous standing shortcomings. It was impossible not to feel a twinge of responsibility for the outcome of this horrible mess. "We should have tried harder. If...if I hadn't stopped to think...I could have had Fred and Gunn here in a matter of hours."

"An' that would've helped?" Spike retorted with poignant cynicism, blowing a ring of smoke into the night air.

"They're good at what they do. Whether or not we could have saved her is another issue, but it would have helped."

The other vampire sighed, head falling to gaze at the face of his boots. "There's a number o' things any one o' us could've done to save 'er. We jus' din't know, tha's all." He took another drag of his cigarette, smoking away the manufactured excuses that convinced him no more than they did Angel. The words filled his lungs with Giles's unhelpful influence.

"Is Watcher Boy still comin'? Thought he'd've been 'ere by now."

"Wes? No. I reached him. Turned around after much convincing." Angel fisted his hands tightly. "There's not a decision I can make right now that would be the correct one. If I bring the others into this, they could get hurt. If I don't, we could lose the world. I don't want to put them in danger, especially with as busy as things have been recently."

"Busy?" Spike repeated, blowing another ream of smoke into the air.

"Like you wouldn't believe. At least before I left...things might have died down now."

"I'd say leave 'em out." The platinum vampire sighed. "Don' think it'd be exactly good fer business if things started goin' all wonky on the home front because of some vamp troubles in a soddin' town not 'alf of California's livin' population's even heard of."

Angel nodded. "I suppose...but the Master is not just-"

"Some vamp, I know. 'E's the one who changed everythin'. Don' think I don' know that." A brief silence passed between them. "Listen mate, I don' wanna chat 'bout this anymore than you do, but Ripper's got me all ancy. I told Buffy last night that you an' I would always be there for 'er." At that, the older vampire finally turned to meet his childe's imploring gaze with tacit understanding. There was no need of anything further than shared comfort. "Fact is," Spike continued, "that we're it. You, me, an' her. From 'ere on out. After the Scoobies are gone an' buried...it'll be us, less we get clumsy an' find ourselves staked."

Angel grinned tightly, but there was no humor behind it. "Two centuries' worth of experience just doesn't earn any weight around here, does it?"

"Well, jus' in case you need the reminder, it was you she killed to save the rotten world."

"I seem to recall being told you were in on that deal."

"So what if I was? Point's still there."

This felt new, and strangely familiar. Jesting, mild as it was. Acting natural around his childe. Sitting next to him and holding a civilized conversation about grown-up material. It was something he would never have granted Spike capable of. And while, true, the vampire at his side wasn't intrinsically Spike, the imitation was good enough to make anyone double take in surprise.

What he said next surprised him-not for the words, rather the burden behind it.

"Ripper wants me to stay."

"Is this a problem?"

Spike narrowed his eyes and tossed him a wry glance. "What do you think?"

"I think it's fairly simple; either you want to stay and do, or you don't..." Angel arched a brow. "You do want to stay, don't you?"

"O'course. But I also wanna go home." A sigh coursed through his body. "More over, I wan' her to be happy. She deserves it, after all this."

Angel glanced downward. "Then leaving likely isn't your best choice," he reported. "It's sickening, the way she loves you. All of you. The demon and the man together. What she feels...I can't presume to know anything. Whatever it is that you have with her...it's different from anything she's had before. Different from what we had-not any more or less powerful, but different. It's the difference she needs, growing up with it. Maturing into the person she is now. What she will need to keep her steady. Yes, she deserves to be happy. After a life of forced servitude to a world that doesn't know you exist? I can't imagine that."

Spike scoffed. "Sure, go 'head. Make it sound all easy. You an' Ripper really oughta tag team on this one, you know? Ruin a bloke's chance of ever doin' what 'e alone thinks is right."

"I didn't say I think you should stay," he replied softly, earning a confused look. "I don't know what you should do. Giles has a point, of course. He always does. But he hasn't taken into account what binds her here. What makes her stay the way she is. To him, she's just Buffy." Angel sighed. "I don't blame him, of course. He never thought this could happen. I don't believe any of us did."

A thin silence settled between them. Knowing and uncomfortable.

"You're talkin' 'bout the curse, aren't you?"

Another deeply taken needless breath. "Yeah. I am. And it's the happiness that scares me. The happiness that makes this entire situation so completely unfair. Understand that she can never be happy. No matter how she deserves it. How she has earned it. The curse is doing what it should-sentencing her to a term she should never have received. An eternity of misery to the woman who warrants more than her share of happiness. This is my sentence, see? I earned it with everything I did. She didn't. She chose immortality over watching her sister die...and I don't know how or why...and it never occurred to her. It's more than just living forever, Spike. More than drinking blood, avoiding sunlight, being burned by crosses and holy water...it's the willful sacrifice of any shot she had to be completely satisfied." He looked down at his laced fingers. The vampire beside him had not uttered a word, moved a centimeter, even blinked for long minutes of pivotal understanding. "I'm not sure what would do it for her," Angel said a minute later. "It could be anything. She has no guilt to plague her. Nothing to focus on to keep her from reaching that point. And if you stayed..."

"Dear Lord," Spike whispered, finding his voice, or lack thereof, clinging to air with a gasp. "I can't...why din't I...why din't Rupert-"

"You didn't because you were focused on keeping her calm. On getting her home. It's not a curse for you, you see. It's a choice. You don't have to worry about those things." Angel shook his head. "And Giles...he didn't because, well...like I said. The most obvious things can overwhelm our better senses.

"I suppose my final answer would have to be, then, I don't know. The last thing I want her to do is grieve. Things would be easier for her if you decided this is where you belonged." He closed his eyes tightly. "Use your judgment, Will." The uninhibited use of his given name lent Spike a moment of honored reflection, but Angel didn't let him dwell. "You've proved you have your share these past few weeks. What do you think is best?"

And time stood still. Forever, it seemed, they sat in silence, hovering over the final statement. He could nearly hear the clockwork tickings of his childe's thoughts. The thinking. The toil and torment that poured down the pathway to every possible conclusion. And then there was nothing. No proper way for the evening to end. No one distinct answer that would solve the massive riddle holding over the household like dam willing to break. With heartbreaking defeat, Spike turned to him and uttered the three words that struck devastation into the heart all mankind.

"I don't know."

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