Chapter 6: Odd Couples

 

Buffy flopped down on the couch with a sigh. Wesley had just left with Drusilla in tow, and the Slayer had to admit that she was happy to have the ex-vampire off her hands. Not that the last couple days had been bad, but Drusilla had definitely required more work than Buffy was accustomed to.

 

At least she’d had Willow and Tara to give her a hand. Drusilla had seemed to form an instantaneous bond with the two witches, especially Tara, and Buffy was immensely grateful for the blonde witch’s patience and sweet spirit. Drusilla had done so well, in fact, that they’d ended up having a girls’ night. The three of them had introduced the ex-vampire to the joys of Ben and Jerry’s, (and Buffy was really hoping that the woman had a high metabolism since her sweet tooth rivaled the Slayer’s) and teen movies. Drusilla had liked the teen movies too.

 

In fact, as Spike had said, Drusilla was very nearly normal. She had asked about Spike only once, wanting to know if Buffy had seen him. When the Slayer said she hadn’t, Drusilla had seemed to go off somewhere in her head, muttering something about a “lamb caught in the blackberry patch.” Buffy had no idea what she meant, and she didn’t bother asking.

 

That was really the extent of the craziness, however. Once in a while, Drusilla would go off and then she’d be back. Sometimes she would spout nonsense and other times she would just—not be there. The only time Drusilla had really wigged Buffy out was when she’d started talking about how her sister would be the key to the doors of the world.

 

Hello? Buffy didn’t have a sister, as Dru should know, since she’d been living in their house.

 

Still, as weird as Drusilla could be at times, Buffy was almost sorry to see her leave. At least she’d gone with Wesley quietly enough. The ex-vampire had murmured something about another “brave knight,” and had cackled about messing up someone’s plans, but that had been it.

 

The Slayer had given her a brief hug, and when Drusilla asked her to look after Spike, Buffy had promised to do so. More to get her out the door without hysterics than for any other reason.

 

Wesley had pulled Buffy to the side before they’d left, letting her know that the lawyers didn’t seem to know where Drusilla was, nor did they seem intent on finding her again. Which was definitely a relief.

 

And speaking of Wesley, Buffy wondered when the heck he turned into a real person. The Slayer almost believed that he might be capable of looking after Drusilla until they figured out what to do with her.

 

Buffy sighed. She supposed she needed to get out there and patrol. She had let things slip the last few nights on account of Dru.

 

While she was at it, Buffy figured she might as well check on Spike.

 

At least Giles was happy. He’d gotten enough information from Drusilla to have him researching the spell that brought her back for the rest of the summer. Giles was in Watcher heaven.

 

Too bad his Slayer wasn’t.

 

Buffy was hurting for some attention of the male kind, truthfully. Not that she’d ever had a boyfriend over the summer months before. Not since before she’d become the Slayer anyway. The summer days seemed to stretch endlessly on, however, leaving Buffy very much at loose ends.

 

She hated to even think it, but Buffy was dying for a good apocalypse.

 

Even slaying wasn’t that exciting lately. Sunnydale was definitely both vamp and demon-lite ever since they’d stopped Adam and shut down the Initiative. Give it a little time, and Buffy was certain that the undead population would be back up to normal levels, but for right now it was Boring City.

 

There was only one demon left to bother…

 

Buffy stopped in front of the crypt’s door with the insane urge to knock. It made no sense. Spike was an evil vampire. One did not perform the courtesy of knocking on evil vampires’ doors. It was a law or something.

 

The Slayer finally decided to compromise by not flinging the door open with a resounding crash. There was only the sound of squeaky hinges and a little thump as it hit the wall. “Spike?”

 

No answer. Buffy frowned. Her vamp-sense was tingling, so she knew he was somewhere nearby. “Spike? Come on, I know you’re here.”

 

“Go away.” Spike’s voice had a definite snarly quality.

 

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Geez, Spike. Bad moody much?”

 

“Yeah, well, you watch the love of your life ride off into the sunset and see how much you like it,” he replied, not sounding at all sorry.

 

As he came into the dim light of the candles, Buffy could see a new bruise on his cheek. “What happened to you?” she demanded, before she could remind herself that she didn’t care.

 

“Got jumped by a pack of vamps, if you must know,” Spike replied snidely. “They’re dust now.”

 

Buffy wrinkled her nose, not pleased. “You couldn’t have saved them for someone whose job it is to kill them?”

 

“Not when they were tryin’ to off me first, no,” Spike returned sharply. His words were slightly slurred, and Buffy sniffed the air.

 

“You’ve been drinking,” she accused.

 

“So what?” Spike replied. “Not like anybody needs me for anythin’.”

 

Now the vampire was just feeling sorry for himself, causing Buffy to roll her eyes expressively. “You could have stopped by to see her before she left for L.A., you know.”

 

“She didn’t want to see me,” Spike replied glumly. “Besides, I thought I wasn’t welcome.”

 

They had moved rapidly back to the snide part of the conversation, and Buffy snapped back, “Mom said you could both stay, Spike. Don’t be going all broody on me.”

 

“I do not brood!” Spike was yelling now, and it felt good. After the events of the last few days fighting with the Slayer put him back on even ground. “Your precious Angel is the one who broods.”

 

“He’s not mine!” Buffy shot back hotly. “Why do you have to do that?”

 

“Do what?”

 

“Be such a jerk when I was just trying to be nice?”

 

“Since when are you nice?”

 

“Since your girlfriend asked me to look after you!”

 

Silence fell over the crypt. The old enemies regarded each other warily for a moment, each not quite willing to admit that their relationship had changed at a fundamental level. Of course, that didn’t change the fact that it had. “Well, thanks for stopping by,” Spike said grudgingly, sounding almost polite.

 

Buffy shifted her weight, wondering what “looking after Spike” entailed. Wondering why she even cared. If Xander or the others found out about her promise, she’d never hear the end of it. With uncharacteristic abandonment, Buffy suddenly decided that she didn’t care what her friends thought. They were all wrapped up in their respective significant others. If she wanted to spend her time haunting cemeteries with an undead bleached menace that was her problem.

 

“Do you want to finish patrol with me?”

 

Spike’s eyebrow went up. He wasn’t actually that drunk, although he had been drinking. Which was odd, since he could have sworn that Buffy had just asked him to go out on patrol with her. “Are you serious?”

 

She shrugged. “I’m bored.”

 

Spike frowned, remembering his promise to Dru. He’d sworn to look after the Slayer’s mum—and the sister that she didn’t have. “Yeah, why not?” he replied. “Let’s go.”

 

~~~~~

 

Wesley allowed Drusilla to precede him into his apartment. “I, uh, thought you might want to take the bed,” he began awkwardly. “I can sleep on the couch until—well, until we get things settled.”

 

Drusilla looked around the apartment, feeling lost. She was lost without Spike, which meant it was true penance. It wasn’t real penance unless it hurt. The priests had always been very clear about that.

 

“Would you like some tea?”

 

Wesley’s tentative question broke her train of thought, and Drusilla glanced over at him, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. The ex-Watcher looked nervous, uncomfortable. “I don’t bite.”

 

It was the sly tone as much as the words that caused him to smile, almost unwillingly. “No, I don’t suppose you do,” Wesley replied, relaxing slightly. “Drusilla—” He stopped, unsure of how to say what he wanted. “I realize that this is probably uncomfortable for you, and I am sorry for that.”

 

She looked away again, her eyes unfocused. “It can’t be helped.”

 

“No,” Wesley agreed. “Would you? Like some tea, I mean.”

 

She smiled at him then, and Wesley found himself reflecting on her beauty, in spite of his best intentions. “That would be lovely.”

 

~~~~~

 

“Did they make it in okay?” Angel asked Cordelia anxiously when she put down the phone.

 

She raised an eyebrow. “No, actually that was Wesley calling from the hospital. They were in a five car pile-up on the interstate.” At the look on the vampire’s face, Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Yes, Angel, they’re fine. So can you stop brooding now?”

 

“Maybe I should go see her,” he suggested, ignoring her suggestion. “I could help her settle in.”

 

Cordelia stared at him as though he’d grown another head. “Or you could set her off again, and with no Spike to calm her down, Wesley would probably end up staking you. Forget it, Angel.”

 

Angel sat on her couch, his shoulders slumped, the very picture of dejection. “I don’t understand,” he said plaintively. “Surely Dru’s over her fear of me by now.”

 

“It’s been three days since the last time you saw her,” Cordelia replied. “I don’t think that’s long enough. Besides, Angel, Wesley’s got everything under control. What you need to concentrate on is finding a new place so you’re not living in my apartment any longer. Wes is only going to put up with a house guest for so long, and then it’s going to be my turn.”

 

While Cordelia didn’t look terribly happy about having Drusilla as a guest, she did like the idea of Angel getting out of her apartment. Hopefully once that happened, they could convince Drusilla that Angel was harmless, and then foist her off on the vampire.

 

If he wanted to take responsibility for her so badly, then they would let him.

 

“I’ve been looking,” Angel protested. “I just haven’t found the right place yet.”

 

Cordelia stifled a sigh, since that was the whole reason they had been using her apartment in the first place. Angel was the pickiest vampire she’d ever met. “Fine, Angel, but you’d better find something quick, because otherwise you’re going to have a mutiny on your hands.”

 

~~~~~

 

“We have to get her back.” Now Lilah Morgan didn’t usually make obscenely obvious comments like that, but she could be excused in this instance. After all, the Senior Partners breathing down one’s neck did have a tendency to induce nervous twitching.

 

Lindsay gave her a dirty look. “No shit, Lilah,” he muttered. “Look, we know she’s back in L.A.”

 

Lilah was feeling distinctly panicky. “What good does that do us, Lindsay, when Angel has her?”

 

The lawyer frowned. “Maybe we can work this to our advantage,” he said, trying to placate her enough so that he could actually think. “If she’s around Angel, it might—”

 

“What?” Lilah argued. “Drusilla might do what? We were trying to raise Darla for a reason. This is your fault.”

 

“My fault?” Lindsay didn’t like being blamed for things any more than anyone else did. “How is this my fault?”

 

“You’re the one that finished the ritual,” Lilah pointed out. “It has to be your fault.”

 

Lindsay glared at her. “If I hadn’t finished the ritual, nothing would have happened.”

 

“Which also would have been your fault,” Lilah replied smugly. “Trust me, Lindsay, it’s always going to be your fault.”

 

He gave her a patently fake smile. “Trust me, Lilah, if I go down for this, I’m going to make sure you come with me.” Lindsay was trying to figure out how they could make good on this mess. Getting the wrong woman back was bad enough, but having lost her was even worse. Of course, the guard who had fallen asleep had been disciplined for dereliction of duty, but that didn’t do much for retrieving Drusilla.

 

They knew that she’d gone to Sunnydale, which was troubling. The last thing they needed was to get the Slayer involved. Drusilla was back in Los Angeles now, and she wasn’t staying with Angel, which was interesting. Lindsay wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, and he didn’t know if it boded well or ill for them.

 

“We have to get her back,” Lilah repeated.

 

A smile blossomed on Lindsay’s face. “Maybe,” he said, thinking about their options. “Then again, maybe not.”

 

~~~~~

 

Unfortunately, even using Spike for bait wasn’t bringing out the evil. “I am so bored.”

 

“Why aren’t you home or with your mates?” Spike asked.

 

Buffy sighed. “For your information, my ‘mates’ are probably doing the couple thing tonight.”

 

“An’ you don’t have Captain Cardboard to act as second part of a couple.”

 

Buffy shot him a dirty look. “Why do you always have to do that?”

 

“Do what?”

 

“Be rude.”

 

“I’m evil.”

 

“You aren’t rude to Drusilla,” Buffy pointed out reasonably.

 

Spike frowned. “I love her.”

 

There wasn’t an argument Buffy could make to that. They walked along in silence for a while, and it was very nearly comfortable. In a strange way. “Slayer?”

 

“What?”

 

“Dru told me somethin’. Made me promise to look after your mum.” Spike glanced over at Buffy, trying to determine how she was taking his comment.

 

For her part, Buffy wasn’t too surprised. “Yeah, what did she tell you?”

 

“She said your mum was ill.”

 

“She’s not sick, Spike. Mom’s fine.” There wasn’t any room in Buffy’s tone for argument, so Spike decided to let it go with a sigh. It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried anyway. Then, a moment later, Buffy asked, “How often is she right about this kind of thing?”

 

“More often than chance would indicate,” Spike replied. “Why’d you promise her to check in on me?”

 

“To get her to leave with Wes without making a huge fuss,” Buffy admitted. “But—”

 

“But what?” The Slayer shook her head, unwilling to say it. “But what, Slayer?” Spike pressed.

 

“You were nice,” she finally said. “I wanted to know if it was a fluke.”

 

“Dru’s nice to me,” he pointed out reasonably. “Only makes sense I’d be nice back, even if I wasn’t in love with her.”

 

“She dumped you,” Buffy replied.

 

Spike frowned, kicking at a stone on the ground. “Well, yeah.”

 

There was another long silence. Buffy decided that while she didn’t like Spike, it was nice to have company for patrol. And she had promised to look after him. “You wanna come with me tomorrow night?”

 

Spike thought of all the ways he could wind the Slayer up, which was always fun, and a lot more interesting than spending night after night alone in his crypt or dodging demons that wanted to kill him. “Alright.”

 

Both of them squashed the next thought that entered their heads. It was definitely not a date.

 

Chapter 7: The Eye of the Beholder

 

“So what do we know?” Lindsay demanded of the man they’d set to watch Drusilla.

 

The man known only as Jones shrugged. “Not much. That vampire isn’t going anywhere near her, and she’s staying mostly with the English guy.”

 

Lilah frowned. She had no idea what Lindsay was planning for either Drusilla or Angel, and he was refusing to tell her. It was really pissing her off. “I don’t see how that’s supposed to let us get to Angel, Lindsay. We wanted him dark. Drusilla staying elsewhere isn’t helping.”

 

Lindsay shook his head. “Haven’t you been listening, Lilah? Drusilla doesn’t want anything to do with Angel, and she was his greatest obsession. It’s going to drive him crazy that he can’t get to her.”

 

Lilah rolled her eyes. “He’s a hero, Lindsay. It might drive him crazy, but he’s not going to do anything about it.”

 

“Maybe not, but we can,” Lindsay replied. “What do you think Angel would do if someone went after her? Or if we drove her crazy again? He’d insist on protecting her, and that’s only going to get him into trouble.” The young lawyer looked back at Jones. “Keep watching her,” he ordered. “But make sure she knows she’s being watched. That should unsettle things.”

 

Of course, the funny thing about dealing with the paranormal on a daily basis is that you often forget to take it into account. No one at Wolfram & Hart seemed to remember that Drusilla had her visions long before Angelus had come along. If they had, Lindsay and Lilah would have had very different plans for the woman.

 

Very different plans indeed.

 

~~~~~

 

Wesley had not lived with another person since he’d shared a room at the Watcher’s Academy, and that had been a very long time ago. In fact, he hadn’t shared a room at all his last year, since the Head Boy had a private room. He could therefore be excused for forgetting that he had a guest, especially a female one, when coming out of the bathroom fresh from the shower, with only a towel around his waist.

 

Wesley had been thinking quite intently about the rather knotty problem of exactly what one did with former vampires, and it slipped his mind that said ex-vampire was currently sharing quarters with him. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Drusilla called out to him.

 

One hand over his heart, one hand desperately clutching the towel, Wesley stared at her. Drusilla looked as scared as he probably did. “I’m sorry,” he managed to gasp. “I—well, you startled me.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Drusilla said, watching him warily, as though he might strike out. Then her eyes started traveling downwards and Wesley’s hand gripped the towel even more tightly. “I just—where’s the tea, please?”

 

Wesley blinked. “I’ll show you. Just a minute. I just need—” He gestured helplessly at his half-clothed state with his free hand and darted off to the bedroom. Drusilla watched him leave and then giggled. It had been nice to see someone other than herself flustered for once.

 

Thinking of his bare chest brought another sort of pleasure that Drusilla didn’t linger over too long. Dru might be a good girl, but she wasn’t blind. Nor was she dead—at least not anymore.

 

Drusilla frowned. There was someone watching them. She drifted over to the window and flicked the curtain aside. The man was standing down on the street, and she could see him clearly. In more ways than one.

 

The smile that graced her face was not guileless, nor was it kind. Spike would have recognized it for what it was—the smile of a ruthless woman.

 

“Drusilla? Is something the matter?” Wesley called from behind her.

 

She turned to look at him. He was fully dressed now in jeans and a short sleeved shirt, watching her with a mixture of puzzlement and concern. “We’re being watched,” Drusilla replied, then giggled at her own pun. “Watchers are watching the Watcher.”

 

Wesley came to stand beside her at the window, immediately seeing who she was talking about. A light entered his eyes that the Slayer would not have recognized, but that Drusilla welcomed. “Perhaps I should go down and have a little chat with him.”

 

Drusilla shook her head. “It’s not necessary. There’s no harm, not yet. They will try to hurt me.”

 

There was no fear in her voice, a fact Wesley found quite remarkable. “I won’t let them.”

 

She met his eyes, then smiled. “No, you won’t.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike stood on the Summers’ front porch, wondering what the hell he was doing there. He and Buffy had patrolled together three nights in a row, and it was—and he couldn’t believe he was even thinking this—fun.

 

It was one thing to kill his own kind; Spike realized that made him a traitor. At the same time, it wasn’t as though he was actually on the Slayer’s side. If she kicked it tomorrow, he’d dance on her grave with the rest of them. No, Spike hunted demons because he needed a spot of violence before bedtime the way an alcoholic needed liquor. It was an aching thirst that was never completely slaked.

 

It was something completely different when you accompanied the Slayer while she killed vampires and demons, and enjoyed it. That was the real kicker. Spike was enjoying Buffy’s company. It was ridiculous—a vampire even thinking about a Slayer in a friendly manner.

 

Spike had made a promise to Drusilla to look after the Slayer’s mother, however, and that was a promise he didn’t mind keeping. That’s what he told himself. By helping the Slayer, he was actually helping her mother, since Joyce would be devastated if something happened to Buffy.

 

Yeah, Spike didn’t buy it either.

 

“Spike?” Joyce smiled at him when she opened the door. “Come on in. Would you like something to drink?”

 

That’s what Spike appreciated about Joyce. She was always warm, always welcoming, and always had a cuppa for him. “Hot chocolate would be great,” he replied hopefully.

 

“Or blood?” Joyce offered.

 

Spike blinked. This was the first time he’d been offered blood. “Uh, sure. With little marshmallows?”

 

Joyce didn’t even bat an eyelash. “Of course.”

 

Spike followed her back into the kitchen, grabbing a seat at the kitchen island. “So, uh, is your daughter anywhere ‘round here?”

 

“She’s out with Willow tonight,” Joyce replied. “I don’t know when she’s going to be back. Was there something you needed?”

 

Spike wanted to ask if Buffy had said anything about patrolling with him, but he didn’t want to press his luck. Instead, he asked the other question that had been bothering him. “You heard from Dru at all?”

 

Joyce gave him a compassionate look. “I believe Wesley called yesterday to let us know that things were going well, but nothing more than that. Did you want to call her, Spike? If you wanted to use our phone—”

 

Spike cut her off with a shake of his head. “No, I was—just wonderin’ if she was alright, ‘s all. Don’t want to bother her.”

 

“I doubt you’d be ‘bothering’ her, Spike,” Joyce said gently. “Maybe she’d enjoy hearing from you. I’m sure she’d appreciate knowing you’re still thinking about her.”

 

Spike was afraid that if he even heard her voice, he’d be too tempted to take off and head to L.A., no matter what kind of promises he’d made. “Better to let her get settled in,” he replied. “Don’t want to disturb her or anythin’.”

 

Joyce couldn’t resist. She put an arm around his shoulders and squeezed. “It’s going to be just fine, Spike. I’m sure you’ll work things out.”

 

Spike glanced up at her, blue eyes vulnerable. There was no one else in the world he’d allow to see him like this, but Spike had always told his mother the truth. He treated Joyce no differently. With her, he was all boy—uncouth, perhaps, but a boy again nonetheless. “Not with Dru,” he admitted, the first time he’d said it out loud. “’s never gonna be like it was.”

 

“It never is,” Joyce said, thinking about her own failed marriage. “Sometimes you just grow apart, Spike. It’s not really anybody’s fault, but it happens.”

 

When she had suggested as much the first time he’d cried in his hot chocolate over Dru, Spike had denied even the possibility. Being immortal also meant that they were unchangeable. They were supposed to have had an eternal love, and it had somehow ended. They had—as Joyce suggested—grown apart.

 

“We weren’t supposed to change,” he said. “We were supposed to be forever.”

 

“I know,” Joyce replied gently. “Been there, done that.”

 

Spike looked at her, and a brightly mischievous glint entered his eyes. “He was a bloody wanker—if you’ll excuse the expression.”

 

“I couldn’t agree more,” Joyce replied. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy hated to admit it, but she’d been disappointed to find Spike gone when she got to his crypt. It was wrong—sick and wrong. The vampire Slayer should not even be friendly with an evil, unsouled bloodsucker, and yet she found herself having to create a new label for Spike. Or, well, do away with labels altogether.

 

She was beginning to think that Spike didn’t have a box.

 

It was an uncomfortable feeling, indeed. If she had to rethink Spike’s position in relation to the universe, did that mean she had to rethink vampires in general?

 

Well, Buffy wasn’t the queen of denial for nothing. The Slayer simply told herself that Spike was the only vampire in the history of the world to have gotten a chip in his head, and that made all the difference. After all, if he hadn’t had the chip, Spike would have turned Drusilla immediately, rather than waiting.

 

Yeah, Buffy didn’t really buy it either.

 

She felt that Spike’s treatment of Drusilla had unseated her world from its axis. She preferred her world to be completely stable. Buffy preferred stability. It would be easier if she just avoided Spike, and all associated thoughts of the chipped menace, from now on.

 

Of course, that would mean losing her Slaying partner. She didn’t particularly want to lose the one bright spot in an otherwise dull summer.

 

However her opinion of Spike might have changed over the last week or so, Buffy was still just a little shocked to arrive home and find her mom and Spike ensconced on the couch watching some old black and white flick. “Mom?”

 

“Oh, hello, sweetheart,” Joyce said absently, her eyes glued to the screen where Deborah Kerr and Cary Grant were involved in an intense conversation. “You want to watch the movie with Spike and me? We’ve got popcorn.”

 

The world had definitely become topsy-turvy.

 

~~~~~

 

Angel was moping, and Cordelia was rapidly getting fed up. There were still visions, still racing off to the rescue, but she was going nuts, where before things had felt almost normal. Now, Wesley stayed at his apartment a good bit of the time with Drusilla, leaving Cordy to handle Angel all by herself.

 

He was driving her insane.

 

“Are you sure she doesn’t want to see me?”

 

It was the fifth time Angel had asked that question. He was beginning to remind her of a five-year-old on a long car trip. “Angel, for the last time, give Drusilla a little space. She’ll come around when she’s ready and not before.”

 

“I just—I feel like I should be doing more, helping her through this,” Angel protested. “She’s alone in the world because of me. I’m the one that turned her, and Wolfram and Hart brought her back because of me.”

 

Cordy sighed. She did understand Angel’s guilt. She also wanted him to snap out of it. “Angel, there is nothing you can do. Accept it and move on.” Cordelia paused. “Although, if I was Drusilla, I could think of something you could do.”

 

Angel was ready to do anything to assuage his guilt. “What’s that?”

 

“Shopping. New clothes always help.”

 

“You think?” Angel looked thoughtful. “Dru always did like a new dress.”

 

“Absolutely,” Cordy said. “I’d be happy to take her tomorrow. I’m sure Wesley could use a break anyway.”

 

Angel started digging for his wallet. If he couldn’t do anything for Drusilla himself, he’d let Cordelia do it for him. “Okay,” he said, handing her the credit card. “Get her whatever she needs.”

 

The seer’s eyes lit up at the sight of the plastic. “Perfect.”

 

“And go ahead and get something for yourself,” Angel suggested. “For putting up with me still being here.”

 

Cordelia smiled at him. “Will do. And while we’re shopping, Wesley is going to help you find a new place.”

 

~~~~~

 

“An Affair to Remember?” Buffy asked, her voice squeaking slightly. They were sitting out on the back porch so Spike could have his smoke. “But why?”

 

Spike shrugged. He’d originally seen the film with Drusilla when it had first come out, and so he refused to be ashamed of it. “Your mum wanted to watch it.”

 

It was a perfectly reasonable response. It even made sense, in a weird sort of way. But seeing Spike lounging on the couch with her mother, eating popcorn and watching one of the sappiest romances ever made—

 

Buffy could swear that Spike got misty-eyed at the end of the movie too.

 

“Spike, that’s probably one of the most sentimental movies ever made. Why on earth would the Big Bad be watching it?”

 

“Your mum wanted to watch it,” he repeated patiently, as though speaking to a very small, very slow child. “Besides, there’s nothin’ unmanly ‘bout wishin’ for lasting love. Everybody wants that.”

 

Vampires weren’t supposed to care about lasting love, but Spike’s actions with Drusilla had already made Buffy a trifle suspicious of that theory. The Slayer finally plopped down on the step next to Spike, watching him warily as he smoked his cigarette. Spike, for his part, was trying not to get too nervous about the way she was watching him.

 

“What?” Spike demanded, unable to take it any longer.

 

“You really do like my mom.”

 

“Said I did, didn’t I?” Spike sighed. “She’s nice.”

 

“She hit you over the head with an ax.”

 

Spike’s eyes went dreamy. “Yeah, she did. Your mum’s got stones.”

 

Buffy made a disgusted face. “You like my mother?”

 

“What?” Spike stared at her in horror. “No! Bloody hell, what made you think that?”

 

“You! You were talking about her like—like—ew!”

 

“Was not!” Spike glared at her. “Yeah, I like your mum. She’s nice. Maybe in another situation I’d be interested, but as it is, I just think she’s a decent person. You don’t meet too many of those.”

 

Buffy had to admit that much was true at least, and the real dismay on his face caused her to relax a trifle. “I don’t get you.”

 

“Well, same goes here,” Spike replied sullenly. “Slayers aren’t supposed to have friends and family, an’ you’ve got a whole gang of ‘em.”

 

“Well, vampires aren’t supposed to be able to love.”

 

“Who told you that?” Spike scoffed. “We can love. Get it a bit twisted sometimes, I s’pose, but we love just fine.”

 

“Angel—”

 

An emphatic eye-roll cut her off. “Slayer, Angelus was a bastard before and durin’ being a vampire. Don’t see how the soul has improved him all that much either.”

 

Buffy decided she didn’t want to go there. “Well, vampires aren’t supposed to be able to change anyway,” she stated, determined to win at least one argument with Spike.

 

“You might think that,” Spike replied. “But if you don’t change, you die, Slayer. You don’t adapt, you end up dust on the end of a stake.”

 

Their eyes met, enemy to enemy. Ally to ally. Friend to—friend? “Dru told me to look after your sister too,” Spike said after a long silence.

 

“I don’t have a sister,” Buffy said automatically. Then she sighed. “Drusilla said something about having a sister to me too. Something like she’d be the key to the whole thing, whatever that means.”

 

Spike was quiet, then said in a low voice. “She made me promise to stay here, you know. Said there’d be more blood shed if I didn’t. I was goin’ to leave town.”

 

“I know,” Buffy replied. “At least, I figured on the whole leaving town part. Why didn’t you go?”

 

“Because she was right.” Spike glanced over at her. “Don’t know what’s comin’, but I don’t think I’m supposed to be with her anymore.”

 

“Are you offering your services?”

 

Spike leered at her, although Buffy could detect the spark of mischief in his eyes that suggested he was trying to push her buttons. “You askin’ for ‘em?”

 

Buffy smiled sweetly. “I could always use more muscle, Spike. There shouldn’t be any trouble finding work for you.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“You can always take out the garbage.”

 

Chapter 8: Strange Relations

 

 “Pastels, I think,” Cordelia said authoritatively. “Or bright colors. And you really should think about getting a tan.”

 

Drusilla eyed the shirt she held out dubiously. “You don’t think it’s too bright?”

 

“Are you kidding?” Cordy said. “I’m the queen of fashion. Go try it on.”

 

Cordelia was actually enjoying the shopping trip, not least because Drusilla was like a blank slate. She hadn’t the first clue what was in style, and she was thus willing to listen to any and all suggestions.

 

It had been easy enough to get Drusilla to come along. Cordelia had simply marched into Wesley’s apartment, insulted his décor, and announced that they were going shopping. She’d informed the ex-Watcher that he was in charge of getting Angel out of her apartment, and left. So, she and Drusilla had Angel’s convertible for the day, not to mention Angel’s credit card. Life didn’t get much better.

 

Cordelia watched, lips pursed, as the other woman came out of the dressing room, smoothing down the front of her shirt with nervous hands. “Do I look alright?”

 

Eyes narrowed, Cordy considered. She took her fashion very seriously. “That’s a really good shirt for you,” she finally decided. “I wouldn’t wear it, but you can get away with it for some reason. I think that’s a definite yes.”

 

Drusilla wasn’t so sure, although her concerns didn’t have much to do with the shirt. “Will D—Angel be angry? We’re spending a lot of money.”

 

Cordelia put her arm around Dru’s shoulders. “What you have to realize,” she began, “is that Angel will always feel guilty. How he decides to get rid of that guilt is completely up to him. Now, if he decides that buying a bunch of new clothes is the way to make himself feel better about driving you insane, who are we to argue?”

 

The logic of the argument was exquisite, and Drusilla was enough of a girl to appreciate it. Besides, while Buffy and Joyce had been kind enough to take her shopping to get some essentials, Drusilla still didn’t have much in the way of clothing. The opportunity to shop and get whatever she wanted was a balm to her spirit.

 

Everything might have been just fine had she not dropped a red shirt on the floor, where it puddled in a heap. To anyone else it was simply fabric, but in Drusilla’s mind it became a pool of blood—

 

Angel was fighting, and he was going to kill the other man. The man’s severed hand already lay on the floor—

 

He was furious. They had taken her again, and Angel was furious because no one touched what was his. She was his. She always would be his—body and soul.

 

“Is something wrong?” It was the saleswoman talking, and Drusilla suddenly realized that she was in a clothing store, with Cordelia, and nothing she had seen had happened. Not right then, anyway.

 

Cordelia had no idea what had just happened, only that Drusilla had dropped a shirt and now she was white as a sheet and shaking. The other woman looked over at her pleadingly, and Cordy made the first excuse that came to mind. “We’re fine. My friend just dropped the shirt, and she felt bad, you know. It’s been a really long day.”

 

It was probably the lamest excuse ever, since it was just noon, but Cordelia decided that they’d had enough shopping for the day. In fact, it was probably time for lunch.

 

~~~~~

 

“How about this one?” Wesley asked. “It’s a basement apartment, which means you wouldn’t have to worry about the sun, and you’d probably have ready sewer access.”

 

Angel looked over the advertisement. “I don’t think so,” he said. “We need something that can double as an office.”

 

Wesley gave the vampire a dirty look. “Well, we won’t need an office if you don’t find something soon, because Cordelia will probably stake you.”

 

A deep sigh was all the response Wesley received, and so he kept looking. After a few minutes, Angel asked the question that he’d probably been dying to ask all morning. “How is she?”

 

“She’s fine, Angel. I think she’s adjusting better than we might have hoped, in fact.” Wesley kept his nose in the paper. Cordelia had made it very clear what he was supposed to accomplish by being here. He had decided that it would be best not to tell Angel that Wolfram & Hart was watching them. The vampire wouldn’t be able to do anything about it—or if he did, it would be something rather unpleasant. For now, Wesley believed himself capable of handling matters.

 

“I just—” Angel frowned. “I’m being stupid about this.”

 

“Is that a question or a comment?” Wesley asked, having his own opinion on the matter.

 

“I just want to help.”

 

“You are helping,” Wesley said. Then, muttering under his breath, he added, “Of course, you might do a better job of it.”

 

“I heard that.”

 

“I’m sure you did.”

 

Angel glared at his friend. “Fine. What would you suggest?”

 

“Finding another place to live and getting on with the business of helping the helpless.” Wesley met Angel’s eyes, his face uncharacteristically grim. “Angel, whatever Drusilla’s presence may have changed, you are still serving the Powers That Be. You still have the Shanshu prophecy to think of. Drusilla has been around for a long time, and she is doing quite well without you. So perhaps you can focus on what’s really important, like finding a new place.”

 

Angel was silent. “What other options are there?”

 

Even though the vampire sounded sullen, Wesley was relieved that they might actually be able to make some headway.

 

At least he hoped so.

 

~~~~~

 

Cordelia watched Drusilla pick at the salad she’d ordered. She wasn’t eating much, and Cordy had to wonder how Wesley was feeding her. Last she’d seen, he wasn’t much of a cook. She felt a stab of guilt. She really had left the ex-Watcher to his own devices with Drusilla, and it wasn’t as though he was particularly prepared for taking care of a crazy person. She was surprised he hadn’t gone crazy himself.

 

“So you want to tell me what happened in there?” she finally asked.

 

Drusilla looked up, startled and guilty. “It was—it was nothing.”

 

“Please,” Cordelia said. “I might be the queen of fashion, but I’m also the queen of bull.” Her tone suddenly gentled. “Was it a vision?”

 

The guilt on Drusilla’s face intensified. “I saw Angel, and he’d cut off a man’s hand.”

 

“That would be Lindsay,” Cordelia said confidently. “He’s one of the guys that brought you back.”

 

Drusilla breathed a sigh of relief, finally realizing why he’d looked so familiar. “And then I saw Angel again, and he was angry because someone had taken me, and he was going to get me back.”

 

Cordelia didn’t like the sound of that. Kidnapping was never good. “Just because you saw it, doesn’t mean it’s going to happen. I get visions all the time, and the whole point is prevention of mass destruction.”

 

Dru shook her head, not entirely convinced. “But I see them, and I’m not supposed to. I try not to.”

 

“I would have given anything at one point to get rid of these things,” Cordy said sympathetically. “I mean, who wants to get migraines and see demons eating people anyway? But then I realized that I could do some good.” When Drusilla appeared doubtful, she spoke a little more forcefully. “Look, not to be insensitive or anything, but you’ve done a lot of damage. Maybe you keeping the visions is a way to make up for it. You could help people.”

 

Drusilla swallowed hard. She’d been trying not to think about that—trying not to think of all the blood she’d spilt, because the madness threatened to pull her under again. Like it threatened to do right now.

 

With an effort of will, Drusilla pulled her eyes up from her plate to meet Cordy’s. It was time to join the world again.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike had never particularly cared for the Bronze. As far as clubs went, it was pretty small-time, catering to the younger population. He preferred something a little more—adult. The options were limited in Sunnydale, however, and so he made do.

 

He’d come in for a drink and to get out of the crypt for a while, feeling the need for a distraction from his own thoughts. If he wasn’t wondering about Drusilla, he was thinking about the Slayer, and Spike was tired of both.

 

Of course, it figured that Buffy was at the Bronze with her friends. Spike couldn’t get away from her to save his unlife.

 

Not that he wanted to get away from her, really. It just would have been nice to have a break.

 

Even so, since he was there, and she was there, it only made sense for him to go over and say hello. Besides, the Slayer and her friends had a table, and there weren’t any others open.

 

“Slayer.”

 

“Spike!” Buffy looked startled, as though she wasn’t expecting to see him. Compared to the greeting the Slayer had offered the past few days, tonight’s reception was downright chilly. “What are you doing here?”

 

He held up his bottle of beer in response to her question, raising an eyebrow to let her now how idiotic he thought it. “Just out for the evening. You?”

 

“Hanging with the living for once,” Xander said, interrupting whatever Buffy might have said in response. “So why don’t you go find somebody else to bug?”

 

“You have a free chair,” Spike pointed out. “Otherwise I might.”

 

Xander drew the chair closer to him with a foot. “We’re saving it.”

 

“For who?”

 

There was a moment of silence since Buffy, Xander, Anya, Willow and Tara were all there. Spike couldn’t think of one other person that might be joining them, except perhaps for Giles, and he knew that wasn’t likely. When the silence stretched on, and Xander looked no more likely to allow Spike to sit, the vampire glanced over at Buffy waiting to see what she would say.

 

Buffy refused to meet his eyes. “Well, you know, one of our friends from school said they might show up.”

 

It was a bold-faced lie. Spike could smell it, and he had a very good nose for that sort of thing. If Buffy had done it only a few days before, Spike would have shrugged it off and walked away. Called her a tight-assed bint and reminded himself that it was just one of many reasons to hate the Slayer.

 

Instead, it hurt—hurt more than it was supposed to. He was the Big Bad. Spike knew he wasn’t supposed to regard Buffy’s actions as a betrayal, but he did. That’s what it felt like, and Spike usually went with his emotions.

 

“Right then. Well, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your little reunion,” he said, his voice tight with a hurt he was trying to hide. “See you around, Slayer.”

 

Spike made sure his swagger was firmly in place as he walked away, slamming his bottle back quickly. It wouldn’t be enough to get him drunk, of course, but that wasn’t his goal anyway. He thought maybe it was time to go kill something.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy watched Spike’s back, recognizing the tension in his shoulders for what it was, and feeling absurdly guilty. After all, this was Spike they were talking about. He might be marginally helpful on patrol, and sure he was nice to her mother, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t an evil vampire. And it certainly didn’t mean that she had to include him in everything she did.

 

The problem—and where the real guilt came in—was that Buffy honestly wouldn’t have minded if Spike joined them. The other girls probably wouldn’t have cared either. Willow, Tara, and Anya had worn looks of mild interest. It was only Xander who would have had a major problem with it.

 

And Buffy didn’t want to explain to Xander why she was allowing an unsouled vampire to hang out with them.

 

“Can you believe him?” Xander demanded, once Spike had disappeared back into the crowd. “He thought we’d actually let him sit with us.”

 

“It’s not that big of a deal, Xander,” Willow said. “Spike could have sat there if he wanted.”

 

Her friend stared at her in disbelief. “Since when did you get on the pro-Spike bandwagon?”

 

“I’m not!” Willow replied. “I’m just saying that it’s crowded in here tonight, and it wouldn’t have hurt anybody to let Spike take that seat. No one else is using it.”

 

“No,” Xander said patiently, as though speaking to a particularly slow child. “But if Spike was there, that would prevent a more well-deserving person from sitting. As in, someone who actually was a person.”

 

“You know, I think I’m going to go patrol,” Buffy announced, standing. She couldn’t stand it anymore. She was having mildly friendly feelings for Spike, and hearing Xander talk like that just made her feel guilty. And angry. It made her feel as though she was collaborating with a bully, and Buffy had never been one for bullying.

 

Unless it was Spike. And that just made her feel even more guilty. Which again, was absurd, because he was evil and deserved whatever came to him.

 

Then why don’t you just stake him? asked the little voice in the back of her head.

 

“But you said you didn’t think you needed to patrol tonight!” Xander protested. “You were going to hang with us.”

 

Buffy didn’t bother telling him that it would have been easier to stay if Spike had been there. She wouldn’t have felt quite so much like the fifth wheel then. “Yeah, but you know those pesky vamps,” the Slayer said cheerfully. “They just keep popping up.”

 

“Yeah, you should go take care of that,” Willow said knowingly.

 

The Slayer shot her friend a look. “There’s nothing like that going on.”

 

“Like what going on?” Xander asked.

 

“Xander, shut up,” Anya advised him. “You’re pushing it.”

 

“Pushing what?”

 

“Buttons.” Anya stood and grabbed his hand. “I want to dance now.”

 

When the couple was on the dance floor, Willow leaned in closer to Buffy and said, “Don’t tell me you don’t have some friendly feelings for Spike.”

 

“I don’t!” Buffy replied heatedly. Then, quietly, she said, “Okay, so I don’t hate him quite as much. He’s been really helpful lately. But that doesn’t mean I want to be best friends!”

 

“No, just that you didn’t really want to lie to him.” Willow was wearing her resolve face, and as bad a liar as Buffy was normally, there was no way she could lie to the resolve face.

 

Buffy sighed. “It wouldn’t have killed Xander to let him sit at our table.”

 

Willow raised an eyebrow. “But would it have killed you to tell the truth?”

 

~~~~~

 

It was a very good question, and one that wouldn’t leave her alone as she patrolled. Buffy knew that Willow made a good point, and it only made it worse that the witch said she wouldn’t have minded at all if Spike joined them. “He can be nice,” Willow had said. “Not always, but sometimes, and he did take care of Drusilla.”

 

“I kind of like him,” had been Tara’s quiet opinion. She hadn’t said anything up to that point, but now she spoke up. “I-I think it m-might have hurt his f-feelings.”

 

Like that helped Buffy feel better.

 

There really weren’t any demons or vampires out, which was the entire reason she’d decided that patrolling wasn’t necessary. She’d wanted some time with her friends, and that didn’t include evil vampires.

 

Buffy heard him before she saw him. There were the sounds of fists on flesh, grunts and cries of pain, proving once again that Spike could find trouble wherever it might be. “And it’s the Slayer to the rescue again,” she muttered.

 

Spike was holding his own against three vampires, and Buffy paused to appreciate his fighting style. The vampire really was grace incarnate. In another moment, she was right in the middle of it all with him, and they were fighting back to back. “Did you get bored with all your little friends, Slayer?” Spike asked, a definite snarl in his voice.

 

“No, I just figured you were probably out trying to get yourself killed.” She grunted as one of the vamps got a blow in to her face. The trio weren’t mere fledglings, that was for sure. They were both skilled and graceful, and Buffy had the feeling that while she and Spike together would have no trouble dusting them, either one of them on their own would have been hard-pressed.

 

Spike dusted one of the vamps, and whirled to face her. “I can take care of myself!”

 

“Well, excuse me for caring!” Buffy shot back, dusting another vamp. She and Spike got the third at the same time. They were nose to nose now.

 

“Didn’t think you did,” Spike replied, a thick coating of anger over his words. “You couldn’t even be bothered to let me sit at your table.”

 

Buffy glared at him, although the flush in her cheeks gave her away. “Well, you know, our friend might have shown up.”

 

“What was the friend’s name?” Spike challenged.

 

She had to think about it too long. Spike turned to walk away. “Spike! Don’t be like this!”

 

“Like what?” Spike called over his shoulder. “Like an undead, evil thing? ‘s what I am.”

 

Buffy watched him go with a sinking feeling in her stomach, and hating it. She hated that she felt guilty, and she hated that it mattered.

 

Unfortunately, Buffy couldn’t quite convince herself that she still hated Spike.