Enemy Incognito

By Wynn

Chapter Thirty-One: Facing Your Fears

Her nerves were frayed, her temper was short, and a scowl curved her lips. Buffy plowed through the doors to the Hyperion, causing the heavy wood slabs to bang against the wall and rattle in their hinges. Stalking into the lobby, oblivious to the wide-eyed stares from Angel, Gunn, Lorne, and Connor, frustration coursing through her veins, Buffy kicked the circular sofa in the center of the foyer, sending it slamming against the far wall.

Angel edged away from the lobby desk and cautiously approached Buffy, his dark eyes darting to the open front doors where Cordelia and Fred inched into the hotel. He arched an eyebrow at the two women, who shook their heads. Sighing, Angel stepped towards Buffy and said, "Buffy-"

Buffy abruptly stopped pacing and whirled on Angel. "Why did Faith come here first and not go directly to Sunnydale?"

"What?"

"Did she leave the hotel any? Have any clandestine meetings with aggravating bitch lawyers from hell?"

Angel blinked a few times before he spoke again. "Did Lilah say something about Faith?"

"She said something alright." Buffy drew in a deep breath and drug her hands through her hair. She closed her eyes for a moment, Lilah's words about the circumstances surrounding Faith's release from prison spinning in her head. Was it all an act, the training with Giles, dedication to patrolling, becoming friends with Anya? Was it a way for Faith to worm her way back into life in Sunnydale so she could kill everyone, fulfill whatever agenda was behind her release? Could Faith be that cunning and ruthless? Opening her eyes, Buffy looked at Angel and said, "Do you trust her?"

"Faith?"

Buffy nodded.

"Yes. Whatever Lilah told you was said so you would react like this and storm off after Faith, looking for blood."

"I know. I know." Her shoulders slumped as the sparks of anger faded from her hazel eyes. Buffy glanced around the hotel's lobby and grimaced. One of the front doors hung crooked in its hinges and the sofa had smashed a sizable dent in the wall. Lorne, Gunn, and Connor stared at her, various expressions of shock on their faces, and Cordelia and Fred remained as far away from her as possible. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"It's alright," Angel said, a small smirk on his face. "'We all go a little mad sometimes.'"

"Yeah," Cordelia said as she walked towards the lobby desk. "But that was beyond 'a little mad.' Try unbalanced and psychotic."

"And more than a little bit scary," Fred said, stepping close to Gunn and wrapping her arms around him.

A sheepish smile crossed Buffy's face. "Sorry guys."

Cordelia said, "No big. At least you're not sulking like Angel would be."

"Hey!"

"Sorry. I meant pouting."

Angel turned towards Cordelia, a mock frown pulling at his brow. "Cordelia."

"Moping."

"You're not funny."

A wide grin appeared on her face. "I know. I'm hilarious. And I think the word I'm looking for is brooding."

Ignoring the bantering of Angel and Cordelia, Buffy looked around the lobby, gnawing gently on her bottom lip. "Where's Spike?" she asked, her brows rising as the four men in the Hyperion's lobby froze at her question. "What? Did he really stay in his room? I thought he would have been up and about as soon as I left." Her gaze shifted from Angel to Lorne and back again, eyes narrowing as Lorne looked at Angel and tilted his head towards Buffy, carefully avoiding her gaze. Slivers of panic began to wind through Buffy at their continued silence. "What happened? Is he Ok? Angel, where is he?"

Turning towards her, Angel said, "He's on the roof. Buffy-"

Buffy bolted up the stairs, her heart hammering in her chest, and she sprinted down the hall towards the stair access to the roof, tendrils of cold sweat sliding along her spine. Why was he on the roof? Why was he alone? Had something happened? She kicked open the door and scrambled onto the roof, the cool rush of night air pricking her skin. Her gaze skittered around the rooftop searching for Spike among the shadows cast by the twinkling stars in the sky.

"Spike! Spi-" She saw him sitting on the edge of the roof, his back towards her, head tilted up towards the sky. She started across the rooftop, relief spreading through her at the sight of him. "Spike? Hey, what're you doing up here all by yourself?" She stopped behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder, starting as he slid from under her touch and eased off the stone ledge. Buffy watched him take a few steps away from her. "Spike? What's wrong?"

He ducked his head, drawing his fingers through his hair. The bleached tips shone under the moon and starlight. He half turned toward her, his face hidden in shadow, as he murmured, "You love me."

Buffy blinked, her mind struggling to understand what he had said. "What… how…" She trailed off, heart rate accelerating and palms growing damp; she shouldn't have been surprised that he knew how she felt about him. Her emotions were always an open book to him, laid bare no matter how hard she struggled to hide them. She could deny his intuition as she always had in the past and do her best to distract him and herself from the truth that they both now knew. But before the protestations finished forming in her mind, she said, "Yes."

"You shouldn't."

"I know." Buffy moved towards Spike, her steps slow and steady. "You're a vampire. I'm the Slayer. I know the rules, but I don't care. They're not mine and they're not yours, and I don't want to live by them."

"It's not that."

Buffy stopped before him and reached for his hand. He moved his hand away, and she felt fire flicker in her, sparking her anger into a blinding blaze. "So what is it then, Spike?" she asked, her voice low and tight with the tension that seeped into her muscles. "Why shouldn't I love you? If it's not because you're a vampire, then why-"

"You know why!" His head snapped towards her, eyes glittering with fury. Spike held her gaze for a second before he sighed, the fire dwindling from his azure eyes, shoulders sagging beneath the weight of his tired protestations. "I… I don't…"

"What? You don't deserve my love?"

"I don't."

"Oh. So you deserve my friendship but not my love. Interesting distinction. Or was the discussion we had in the car a lie? Were you just placating me with talk of us being friends, of you deserving my friendship, until the day you could up and walk out of my life because it's what's in my best interest?"

Shaking his head, Spike took a step towards her. "No. I wasn't placating you or lying to you. I wouldn't do that. I've never done that. Not with you."

"So it's alright for me to be your friend as long as there're no feelings involved?"

"No… yes… " He growled in frustration and moved away from her, stalking back towards the roof's edge.

She followed him across the rooftop. "I thought we had moved past this," she said softly. "Forgiven each other about the past. Decided to move on to the future."

"It's not that simple."

"It never is." She stared at him for a few moments, taking in his white knuckled grip on the brick ledge and the taut muscles of his neck and shoulders, before she said, "You're scared."

He spun towards her, mouth hanging open in shock. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. You're scared. Scared that I love you. Scared of what might happen now."

"I'm not scared."

"Yes, you are."

"Well, maybe I am! Maybe I have a reason to be! The last time I tried to love you I almost… I nearly…"

"Say it."

"I tried to rape you! I threw you down on the ground and… and…" Spike broke off, a sob choking him, constricting his throat around the sins of the past. He bowed his head, tears pooling in his eyes, a few spilling across his dusky lashes and gliding down his cheeks. "I can't hurt you again, Buffy. I can't."

She reached for him and cupped his face. Turning his head towards her, her thumb stroked his cheek, smearing the tears staining his face. "You won't," she whispered. "You won't. You've changed. I've changed."

"I haven't changed so much that the demon isn't still inside me, Buffy," Spike said as he moved around her to pace the length of the rooftop. "You love me, you love the demon. I'm not like bloody Angel, pet. You can't love the soul and hate the demon because they're one and the same in me. All twisted together in some sodding permanent entity."

"Yeah, and unlike Angel your demon isn't a twisted bastard bent on torturing and killing me. Your demon tracked down and fought for your soul because you hurt me. Your demon kept its promise to a dead woman and protected her sister for an entire summer when it could have blown town and never looked back. Your demon did more good last year that three humans with souls, so don't even try to play the demon card."

Sighing, Spike faced her again and said, "Buffy-"

Buffy felt tears prick the backs of her eyes, and she dropped her gaze to the ground. "I'm not going to force you to love me or be with me just to make me happy. I don't want that. But just because I love you doesn't mean we have to go back to the way things were between us last year. That's not how love is. You know this. You tried to show me last year but I wouldn't let you. I couldn't let you. But if you don't want to be with me, or if you can't for whatever reason, then that's Ok. I just… I want… Just don't shut me out of your life. Please. Just don't leave-"

His fingertips caressed her lips, heat emanating through her from where his cool touch rested against her skin. He shook his head slightly as he tilted her head up and leaned into her. His lips replaced his fingertips and brushed against hers, lightly, feather soft, requesting instead of demanding, asking instead of claiming, and it sent shivers shooting across her skin. Buffy moved into him and deepened the kiss, tasting the tears that clung to his lips, feeling the tremors coursing through him, giving instead of taking, pouring her love, her desire, herself into him and into the embrace. She wound her arms around his neck, fingers curling into the soft strands of his hair, as he placed his palms on her waist, hands sliding against the silk of her shirt. Spike drew back from the kiss and laid his forehead against hers. "How could I leave? I love you, you bloody stubborn beautiful woman. I love you."

Buffy laughed, a wide grin stretching across her face. She looked into his eyes and saw shame, guilt, and sorrow mingled with love, passion, and hope in his cerulean gaze, and she knew her future lie within those blue orbs if she could say the words she felt, open her heart fully, completely, irrevocably, and risk the pain. Love, give, forgive. Buffy drew in a deep, calming breath and opened her mouth and said, "I love you."

She felt Spike tense as she heard the soft scrape of shoe against rooftop. Turning in his embrace, Buffy saw Cordelia standing in the broken doorway, a grim expression on her face. "Sorry to interrupt," she said. "But Giles is on the phone and he needs to talk to you, Buffy. And, Spike, you better get down here and stop Angel from committing Murder One. Now."

* * *

Two days had passed since Giles had fled Emilia's apartment, terrified of the past, of himself, and of the kind woman who tried to help him. He slowly approached her door, the clothes she had given him to wear in place of his soiled, alcohol drenched ones grasped in a small bundle in his hands. They were clean and folded. He may have renamed himself Ripper and delved into the darkest of the dark magicks, but he still remembered the manners instilled in him by his mother. Giles considered placing the clothes on the doorstep and leaving without having to face Emilia, but the door to her flat opened and she stepped into the sunshine, her multicolored streaked hair shining in the late afternoon rays.

She smiled at him and said, "Hello, Rupert. Feel better?"

"Um, yes, thank you. The, uh, herbs in your tea helped with the inevitable hangover." He shifted under her steady violet gaze and held the bundle of clothes out to her. "Um, I brought your clothes back. They're clean."

"Thank you. Would you like to come in for a drink?"

His stomach churned at the thought of drinking liquor and he grimaced. "No, I had better not. I should go." Giles placed the clothes into her small hands and stepped off the front stoop. Grey eyes flickering to her lavender, he said, "Thank you, again. I appreciate all of your help." He nodded once and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his black jacket. Turning, he walked a few steps away from her before she spoke.

"What will you do now?"

"Pardon?"

"You can't go back to the way you were living. You'll die too. If not from the magic itself then from drinking away your guilt every night."

"What? How do you know about magic?"

"Your soul is soaked in it, but it hasn't taken hold of you completely. You still have a chance."

"Who are you? How do you know so much about me?"

Emilia stepped back inside her apartment, an unreadable smile upon her face. "You're a Watcher. You figure it out. When you're ready, you know where I live." She stared at him for a moment longer before closing the door to her flat.

* * *

Giles pounded on Emilia's door, heedless of the fact that it was three in the morning and all was quiet and still in her neighborhood. He saw a light flicker on in her apartment, and a few moments later her door creaked open and she appeared in the doorway, rumpled from sleep, long hair pulled into a messy bun at the base of her neck.

"You're not human," he said.

Emilia laughed as she rubbed a hand across her face. "Hello to you, too. And what am I, Watcher, if I'm not human?"

"You're an Elf. And don't call me that. I'm not a Watcher."

Arching an eyebrow, Emilia said, "Aren't you?" She stepped away from the door and walked back into her apartment. "I don't know about you, Rupert, but my brain does not begin to function without a spot of wonderful caffeine laden tea. Would you like some, or have you decided to stand on my doorstep for the entire night?"

Giles crossed the threshold and closed the door behind him. The rich fragrance of flowers invaded his senses as he made his way down the hall to the kitchen. Emilia stood beside the stove, her eyes fixed upon the teakettle warming on the burner. "Why do you keep insisting I am a Watcher?"

"Because that is who you are, even if you have not accepted it yet."

"And you're an expert on who I am, a woman who I met only two days ago while royally pissed in some dank hole in the wall bar?"

The water in the kettle began to boil. Emilia removed two cups from the cabinet and placed them on the white round table in the corner of her kitchen. "I'm not an expert. I just know what I know."

"And you know I'm a Watcher?"

Emilia shook her head as she sat at the table. "Not yet. But you will be. Sooner or later."

"So you can see visions of the future? I didn't know Elves possessed that ability."

"We don't. But I don't have to see the future to know your path."

"All you have to see is my soul? Or can you discern my 'path' from reading my mind?"

Smiling, she said, "A little bit of both. You can sit down if you want."

Giles crossed his arms across his chest and leaned against the archway between the hall and kitchen. "I'd rather stand."

"Still paranoid?"

"I am not paranoid."

"Scared, then?" Off of his silence, she continued. "You have every reason to be scared. You know what you've done, what you've unleashed upon the world. You know the path you chose to walk. It's ugly and deadly. But it's not permanent. You can change. All you have to do is face your fear."

"Easier said than done. And why should I do what you say?"

"Because it will save your life."

Giles raised one eyebrow at her declaration.

"You don't believe me?" Emilia asked. "Have a seat and let me tell you a little story that might change your mind."

* * *

"How are you?"

Looking up from the glass of scotch held in his hand, Giles watched Emilia walk into the kitchen, her bare feet silent on the linoleum floor. The Summers' house was relatively quiet considering the amount of people populating the living room, currently occupied by one of Clem's innumerable DVDs. Something about a woman that was pretty. After the revelation of Wesley working with Lilah and Tyler, the rest of the cassette tape had gleaned little information, save for the specifics of how the surveillance cameras operated.

"I'm… dealing, to quote a phrase from Buffy." Giles sipped his scotch as Emilia sat across from him at the kitchen counter. Setting the glass on the countertop, he said, "The Wesley that was on that tape was not the Wesley I knew four years ago. Cordelia said on the phone that he had changed and that there had been a falling out between him and Angel, but I would never have expected him to plan attacks against Buffy or Dawn or anyone else here in Sunnydale." Shaking his head slightly, Giles turned the glass in his hands, watching the light glimmer off the liquor and glint off the crystal. "I don't understand his motivations for attacking us unless this is some way of retaliating against Angel."

"People's motivations are rarely simple or easily discernable." Emilia removed the glass from his hands and took a drink of the scotch, closing her eyes as the liquid slid down her throat. "How did Buffy take the news?"

"She was shocked and understandably so. She said Angel reacted rather badly to the news and left the hotel to confront Lilah about Wesley's involvement. Apparently, Spike is chasing him down now and trying to prevent Angel from doing anything rash."

"Like killing this Wesley fellow?"

"Yes." A wry smirk crossed Giles' lips and he drained the rest of the scotch from his glass.

"What's so funny?"

"The thought of Spike preventing anyone from doing anything impulsive, least of all preventing anyone from committing murder."

Emilia arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. "He's changed."

"I know. Everyone has changed. Spike used to be a soulless vampire and unrepentant murderer, but now he has a soul and is trying to stop Angel from killing Wesley. Faith murdered and tortured people, but she's attempting to atone for her crimes and was almost killed for it. Willow tried to destroy the world but is now learning how to use her power without succumbing to the darkness within her. Anya was a vengeance demon who has killed and maimed countless men, but she willingly chose to give up that life and live as a human."

A sad smile appeared on Emilia's face. "And now Wesley, a former ally, has apparently turned against you."

Giles stared into his empty glass for a few moments. He shook his head slowly as he stood and placed the cup into the sink. "Sometimes it's hard to know who to trust when it seems everyone is capable of evil."

"Yes," Emilia said. "It is."

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