Enemy Incognito

By Wynn

Chapter Fifteen: No Punching Allowed

Buffy lay on the bed, eyes closed, fingers trailing over the cuts and bruises on her neck. Her mind was numb, overwhelmed with the conflicting emotions careening inside her head and heart. Embarrassment, anger, hurt, confusion, guilt, rage. Faith had struck again, interjecting herself into what was hers. Buffy frowned. Hers? Spike wasn't hers, far from it. She had no claim on him. They were barely friends. Angel was in the past, and his involvement with Faith came as no surprise considering his support of her in the past. And Buffy had never been close to Anya, even when she was dating Xander. But the feeling of betrayal and jealousy swirled within Buffy, stoking her resentment, fanning the flames of fury.

She sighed and sat up in her bed, staring at her opened closet, at the red silk shirt hanging amidst her skirts, shirts, and sweaters. How long had Spike and Faith known each other? Were they close? Were they more than friends? Did he want to be more than friends? Buffy shook her head, attempting to clear her mind of the endless stream of what-ifs running through her. Maybe if she had stayed last night, her questions would have been answered. But how could she have stayed and listened to the explanation of the relationship between the woman who had tried to steal her first boyfriend and slept with the second, and… what? Her ex-enemy? Ex-boyfriend? Her relationship last year with Spike did not exactly qualify as typical "boyfriend-girlfriend." It would be natural for him to move on to someone else, to want to move on to someone else. But he had come back to Sunnydale, and he said he had come back for her.

And why was she so concerned about what he felt for her and what he could possibly feel for Faith?

She grabbed a pillow off her bed and threw it against the wall. It smashed against a picture, knocking it off of its nail and onto the floor. She moved next to the broken picture, carefully brushed away the shards of glass, and picked it up. It was one of her, Xander, and Willow, taken a few months after Buffy had moved to Sunnydale. The people in the picture were happy and were best friends. Now so much had happened that she didn't know who her friends were anymore.

She didn't know who she was anymore.

Setting the picture on her dresser, Buffy looked around her room, at the decorations that had been there since she was sixteen years old. She wasn't the same girl with the fantasies of a normal life, who cared more about shopping and gossiping than anything else in the world. She was caretaker to a fifteen year old mystical ball of energy-turned-little sister. She had a steady job. Hell, she had died twice. The sixteen year old girl with visions of Prada and Johnny Depp was no more. But who was she now?

Buffy sighed again, a lone tear sliding across her cheek. She brushed her fingertips across her face, smearing the glistening teardrop, and walked to the bathroom. She splashed cool water on her face and looked into the mirror. The face in the mirror belied her scant twenty-one years. It was pale and exhausted, and it had seen too much, witnessed too many apocalypses, suffered through too many betrayals that it had hardened, forming an impenetrable mask over her heart. Seven years of slaying had taken its toll on Buffy, but she didn't want to exist like that anymore, like a hardened shell. She didn't want to be ostracized from her friends and family and she didn't want to have to fight Willow or Xander or Giles or Dawn or… Spike.

She wanted to live.

Straightening her shoulders, Buffy took one last look in the mirror and left the bathroom. "Dawn! Hey, little sis of mine!"

"In the kitchen."

Descending the stairs, Buffy said, "I was thinking we should go out today. You know do something fun. Just you and me. What do you…" Buffy trailed off as she entered the kitchen and saw Dawn glaring at her, her blue eyes shining with barely restrained anger. "What? What is it? Did something happen?"

Dawn crossed her arms over her chest. "When were you going to tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"About Spike!"

Buffy drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes. "How did you find out?"

"I heard you. You and Giles."

Opening her eyes, Buffy said, "Dawnie-"

"No! Don't even!" Dawn stalked forward, scowling, and stopped before Buffy, planting her hands on her hips. "Don't even try to make an excuse. 'Dawnie, I meant to tell you.' 'Dawnie, it's complicated.' 'Dawnie, it's my life. Stay out of it.' 'Dawnie-"

"-I'm sorry."

Dawn's mouth closed with a snap. She blinked once, then again. "What?"

Buffy smiled, a small watery curve of her lips, and brushed a strand of hair off Dawn's face. "I'm sorry. I should have told you about Spike."

"Well… yeah."

Buffy shook her head as she walked through the kitchen, tears pooling in her hazel eyes. "It… it's just that I didn't know what to say to you. About Spike. I didn't know what to think. He vanishes... completely. And then a couple of months later, he just shows up again. Drifts back into town and into my life, and I-I don't know what to think. And it's not just that. Something's changed. He's different. I know it. But he doesn't say anything about where he was or what he was doing, and then I find out that he was in L.A. with Faith and Angel and Anya. And I'm more confused because I think that we're friends but I don't know if I should be friends with him after everything that happened, and we would be better off not being friends and just-just not…" Buffy sunk to the floor, trembling, tears streaming down her face. She leaned her head against the counter and crushed her bottom lip between her teeth, struggling to be strong.

Dawn watched her sister crumble before her. She moved next to Buffy and sat beside her, grabbing her hand and holding it tight. She laid her cheek upon Buffy's shoulder.

Buffy sniffled and wiped the tears from her face. She shifted and locked eyes with Dawn. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I should have told you."

"Yeah. And I shouldn't have overreacted. I'm sorry too." Dawn glanced at the floor and fidgeted; she returned her gaze to Buffy and said, "I went to see him yesterday."

"You did? What did he say?"

Dawn sighed and stood. She reached down, grabbed Buffy's hand, and helped her up off the floor. Moving to the cabinet, Dawn grabbed two mugs and set them on the counter.

"Dawn…"

"He told me where he went after he left Sunnydale. He told me what happened to him."

"What happened?"

Dawn bit the corner of her lip and looked at Buffy, who stood next to the refrigerator, face tear stained, eyes red and puffy. "I- You should ask him."

Buffy rubbed a hand over her face and opened the fridge, removing the orange juice and placing it beside the two glasses. "I don't think he wants to see me."

"Why?"

Buffy fingered the bruises on her throat, grimacing as the events of the night before replayed in her mind.

"Oh my god." Dawn rushed over to her sister and pulled her hand away from her throat. She leaned down and examined the cuts and scrapes on Buffy's neck. "What happened? Did you two get in a fight?"

Buffy shook her head and backed away from Dawn. Pacing the kitchen, she said, "Faith. I fought with Faith. And he broke it up."

Confusion spread across Dawn's face. "I thought you and Faith were getting along better."

"We were. Until last night. Then we both lost our tempers and… bam! Another Buffy and Faith fight for the record books. At least no one ended up in a coma."

"But what would that have to do with Spike not wanting to… oh. You learned that he knew Faith and freaked out, didn't you?"

Buffy shifted, her gaze floating around the room, landing everywhere except Dawn. "I didn't… freak out. I, um, ran away. But-but I didn't fight with Faith about Spike. It was, um, because of Angel."

Dawn raised an eyebrow. "Angel?"

"Sort of…uh… yum. Orange juice. Gotta love some nice, tangy OJ." Buffy returned to the counter and poured two glasses of orange juice. She handed one to Dawn then sat on one of the stools surrounding the kitchen counter. "So… about tonight?"

"Spike doesn't like Faith. He gets her, understands where she's coming from. You know, formerly evil people trying to do good. But he doesn't like her."

"It… she's like his perfect type. Psychotic brunette with an Angel fixation."

One corner of Dawn's mouth quirked up, vanishing as quickly as it appeared. Face sober, she sat across from Buffy and said, "He gave up one psychotic brunette with an Angel fixation, one that he had a hundred years worth of history with, for you. He wanted you."

"Yeah…"

"Just talk to him. Really talk to him. With no punching."

Buffy smiled at her sister and smoothed Dawn's hair from her face. "I love you."

"Love you, too. So what are we going to do today? Maybe… some shopping followed by a trip to the Bronze?"

"Sounds good to me." Buffy laughed as her sister jumped up and down. She watched Dawn bound out of the kitchen and race up the stairs, her words of wisdom weighing heavily in Buffy's mind. Talk to Spike. No problem. She was an adult and adults have conversations all the time. Have civil, meaningful conversations… about thoughts… and feelings… without resorting to screaming and name calling and violence… oh god. It was hopeless. Buffy swallowed and ran a hand through her blonde hair as she slid off the stool and walked out of the kitchen.

* * *

"Cheer up. This is no fun with you two sitting here moping and casting broody looks around the room." Two sets of eyes, one blue and the other black, turned and scowled at the overly perky voice of Anya. She glanced from Spike to Faith and sighed. "Your scary looks don't work on me. I could kick both of your asses within a minute, and you both know it. So perk up. Now."

Faith slouched lower in her chair, crossing her arms across her chest, and Spike rolled his eyes and turned to look out into the Bronze. The club was full. The friends sat around a tall table next to the dance floor, between the pool tables and the stairs to the second level. Anya had complained, whined, and nagged until Spike and Faith had agreed to go to the Bronze with her, and Spike had only acquiesced under the condition that Clem joined them. Thirty minutes had passed since the four friends had arrived, and Anya was beyond irritated at the moody silence of Spike and Faith.

"You know, guys, Anya does have a point," Clem said as he looked at the Slayer and the vampire. "The fun factor is significantly less with all of the brooding."

Spike clenched his jaw. "I'm not brooding."

"Sure, yeah, whatever you say, Mr. Mopey Pants."

Anya propped her elbows on top of the table and rested her chin in her clasped hands. "At least tell us what's wrong if you're not going to be cheerful." Her request was met with hostile silence. Lips pursed, Anya examined her two friends. She raised one eyebrow and said, "I bet it's Buffy."

Spike stiffened. Faith flinched.

Anya continued. "She's the only one that can get under both of your skins like this. What do you think, Clem?"

"I think you're right, Anya."

"Me, too. So what did Buffy do this time?"

Spike turned his head from the crowded Bronze and stared at Anya, exasperation shining from his blue eyes. "Buffy didn't do anything."

Nodding, Anya said, "So what happened?"

Faith stood, knocking her chair to the floor. "Can't you mind your own fucking business and stay the hell out of it?" She spun on her heel and disappeared amid the mass of people.

"Touchy."

Spike rolled his eyes. He let his gaze drift around the dark club, eyes widening when he saw Dawn and Buffy walk through the entrance, laughing, broad smiles on their faces. They looked beautiful, glowing like glimpses of the sun on a rainy day. The smile faded from Buffy's face as she turned and locked eyes with him. He felt his heart constrict at the sight of her, tighten with the emotion he struggled to keep hidden from her, from everyone, from himself. Love. They were his world, his family, the only people besides the Great Poof that he cared about.

Spike watched Dawn glance at Buffy. She leaned closer to her sister and followed her line of sight across the Bronze. Dawn waved when she saw him. She grabbed Buffy's hand and attempted to drag her towards the table, but Buffy pulled out of Dawn's grasp, eyes wide, shaking her head quickly. Dawn crossed her arms across her chest and cocked her head to the side as she listened to Buffy, then rolled her eyes and walked away, maneuvering past the dancing crowd towards Spike. "Hey guys."

Spike smiled. "Dawn, you look beautiful."

Dawn twirled in a circle, showing off her outfit, a lavender halter top and a pair of black pants. "Thank you. Buffy and I went shopping today. Sisterly bonding and stuff like that." She looked at Spike, her blue gaze traveling from his ash curls down to his scuffed boots. "And I see you look the same as always. Basic black."

"Never goes out of style."

"Yeah, just ask Buffy. All the colors of the rainbow available to her and yet she still goes for black leather."

Spike nodded, glancing at Buffy from the corner of his eyes. She stood in the center of the Bronze, arms folded, head down, mumbling. She drew in a deep breath, then another. "How…um…is she?"

Dawn's eyes darted towards Clem and Anya before she leaned closer to Spike. Whispering, she said, "She's fine. A little embarrassed, and you know how Buffy gets when she's embarrassed."

"So she told you about last night?"

"Yeah." Dawn grasped Spike's hand and pulled him from his chair. She circled around him and plopped onto his now vacant stool. "You should go talk to her. She wants to talk to you, but she doesn't know how. Her basic conversation skills rarely extend past face punching." She nudged him away from the table and faced Clem.

Spike looked back at Buffy and sucked in a deep breath. "Dawn, I-"

"I don't hear you leaving yet."

Clem and Anya laughed at Dawn's commanding tone. Glaring daggers at his two friends, Spike sighed and moved onto the dark dance floor of the Bronze towards Buffy.

* * *

Buffy ran her hands over the bare skin of her arms and shifted from one boot clad foot to the other. This was too soon. She wasn't ready. She needed more time to prepare. Conversations weren't something that happened everyday. She could feel him moving towards her, drawing closer and closer, and the urge to run swelled within her, swirling inside her stomach.

"Buffy."

She froze, panic gripping her muscles, freezing her lungs, and stopping her heart. Buffy sucked in a shaky breath, forcing her body to relax. She turned towards Spike, opened her eyes, and said, "Hey."

The colored lights of the club danced above Spike, highlighting the pale blonde streaks in his hair, the deep blue of his eyes. He glanced at her throat, grimacing at the faded ring of purple bruises. "Are you Ok?"

"Yeah. They're not too bad. I've, uh, had worse. Which probably isn't a good thing, but par for the course for me, you know, with the Slaying and, uh, everything."

"Yeah." Spike licked his lips and sucked in two quick breaths. "About last night, I-"

Buffy held up her hand. "Wait. I wanted to, um, say sorry. I kind of lost it last night. B-but it wasn't your fault. You didn't do anything. So… I'm sorry. For the punching a-and yelling."

A small smile appeared on Spike's face. "No worries, luv, I mean, Buffy. Do you want to talk about whatever made you mad?"

Buffy shook her head. "It's not important. Got into a fight with Giles. No big." Her hazel eyes darted to the side and locked on the black clad form of Faith. The brunette approached the table with Clem, Anya, and Dawn and retrieved a fallen stool off the ground, setting it upright next to Anya. She sat on the stool, shoulders hunched, arms folded across her chest. Turning back to Spike, Buffy said, "So you and Faith… um… known each other?"

"Sort of. We've threatened to kill each other a few times, but not much else."

"Oh." Buffy glanced down at her clasped hands and gnawed on her lower lip. Her gaze drifted up and locked with Spike's. "Dawn said you told her what happened over the summer. Were you going to tell me?"

"You know most of it. Left town, went to Angel's, came back here."

"Why would you go to Angel's? You hate him. A lot."

Spike was silent. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply; his body trembled. He ran his fingers through his dark blonde curls and opened his eyes, his sapphire orbs locking onto Buffy's hazel gaze. He stared at her for a few moments, silently communicating the words he could not speak, willing her to understand what had happened to him. What he had sought out. How he had changed. Her eyes traveled across his face, down his body, and back up again, slowly filling with tears and realization. Her mind flashed back to her dreams, to the vision of the strange mixture of Spike and William, to the dark cave and green eyed entity. We have fulfilled your request.

"Your soul…"

Spike nodded.

"Why?"

His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. He tilted his head to the side and stared at the toes of his boots. "I-I had to. Had to so I wouldn't hurt… so I wouldn't hurt you. To make sure I would never hurt anyone again."

"So you got cursed with a soul?"

"No," Spike said as he lifted his head. "I won my soul. It's permanent, no clause, no moment of happiness. It's here with me…forever."

Mind racing, overrun with thoughts and feelings, overwhelmed with the revelation of his soul, Buffy shivered. She drew her arms tighter around her, drops of tears spilling onto her black top, and looked at Spike, stared into the turbulent blue of his eyes. She reached out with one shaking hand and brushed her fingers across his lips, the cool softness setting her skin ablaze. "I…" Buffy turned and ran out of the Bronze, heart thumping wildly inside her chest, golden hair streaming behind her. She burst through the door, careening into the night air, and sucked in lungfuls of the crisp night breeze. She stumbled over to the brick wall and leaned against the rough stones.

"Buffy." Dawn laid a hand on her sister's shoulder, gently tugging her away from the wall. She brushed a lock of hair behind Buffy's ear. Concern etched itself across Dawn's face as she said, "Are you Ok?"

Buffy shook her head. "I-I don't… I don't understand. Why he would…"

"Why he would want his soul?"

Buffy nodded.

"Because he loves you. Because he wants to be a better man. Because he wants to be more than just an evil, soulless thing."

Tears fell from her eyes as Buffy grasped Dawn's hand, squeezing it tight. "Dawn, when I say, you turn and run back into the Bronze and get the others."

Dawn stared at Buffy, eyes wide with blooming fear and panic. "What? Why?"

Buffy's tear filled gaze flickered to both ends of the alley before settling on Dawn again. "Because we're surrounded. Eight men, four at each end, coming this way. Some with swords. Go get Spike. Get Faith and Anya. Now." Buffy released her sister's hand and shoved her towards the entrance to the Bronze. Dawn stumbled a few steps, crashing against the door to the club, and wrenched it open, disappearing inside the smoky, dim interior.

Buffy straightened her shoulders and blinked away the few remaining tears. Her eyes bounced from one end of the alley to the other, watching the eight men advance. Their hands were covered with black gloves; their faces were lined with scars. As they closed in on Buffy, they formed a circle, surrounding her on all sides. Mouth in a grim line, Buffy dropped into a fighting stance, adrenaline flooding her veins, the ancient power of the Slayer coursing through her. The man directly in front of her lifted is head and nodded.

All eight men stalked towards Buffy, swords held high in the air, eyes hard with bloodlust, drawing their circle tighter and tighter around her until one by one they charged.

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