Author: enigmaticblue
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Everyone knows that not all these characters are mine, and I'm not making money off the ones that are. So there.
Archive: Anywhere that already has my stuff. Anywhere else, ask and it shall be given to you.
Summary: Set after the end of Cast Me Not Away and its follow up stories. This sequel is longer and darker than the intervening short stories. It deals with family, children, immortality, life and death, and making amends. We will also be jumping around in time a bit, so look sharp.
A/N: I debated for a long time before writing this one, although the idea was there before I even finished CMNA. Some of you will believe that I have ruined the previous stories, which is fine. All I ask is that if you're unhappy with where this goes that you'll go back, re-read Cast Me Not Away through Silver Bells, and then you can flame me if you'd like. I'll calmly pull out the fire-extinguisher and ignore you, but that's alright. The themes have been there; I just hadn't quite managed to elaborate on them yet. (Oh, and before anyone screams Nika, Wesley, Spike and Buffy will survive. More than that I won't promise.)
Chapter 13: October 2014
Perhaps the most interesting aspect of Giles' new system was the fact that so many more people knew about the Slayer and her support staff. The young man who met them at the airport shook their hands, exhibiting tell-tale signs of hero worship. He introduced himself as Matt and ushered them to a waiting van.
The minivan was littered with toys and fast food wrappers, and he grimaced slightly. "Sorry about the mess in here," Matt apologized. "We had to borrow it from Angurie's sister on short notice."
"Angurie?" Buffy asked, sounding slightly amused.
Matt shrugged. "One of the coven members. Her sister is a soccer mom. I can guarantee you that she has no idea that there's a Slayer and a couple of vampires riding along."
"What about a witch?" Willow asked, her lips twitching upwards.
"She knows about that," Matt admitted. "She thinks we're crazy, but sometimes that's okay. It means that they don't take anything you do seriously."
"I can see where that would be a good thing," Angel remarked, looking uncomfortable in the confines of the vehicle. "So where are we going?"
Matt turned slightly in his seat to look at the vampire who wasn't visible in the rearview mirror. "Wren thought you'd probably want to get on things right away. I'm taking you to her house."
The rest of the ride was made in silence. Spike was uncharacteristically quiet, possibly because Buffy had elected to ride in the front passenger seat, which left him in the very back with Connor. He was contemplating what was to come, and the possibility of losing another Slayer. He rarely allowed his thoughts to run down that road these days, but the fear was there—made more real by every passing year when Buffy aged and he did not.
This wasn't a new line of thought.
Wren's home was a cheerful, suburban two-story, and Spike chuckled to himself, remembering the days when he scoffed at such things. These days, most of Giles' operatives flew under the radar, residing in just this kind of neighborhood. They were mostly ordinary people—like Matt—who had been called upon for extraordinary jobs.
It had been Giles' revolutionary idea that regular people could be heroes. The Scoobies had taught him that.
The exterior gave no indication to the furor within, however. As soon as they walked through the front door, they were greeted by several members of the coven, all of whom appeared to be exhausted. "I'm so glad you could make it," Wren said sincerely. "It's been all we could do to keep the Hellmouth closed."
Spike and Angel exchanged looks. They had known it was going to be bad from the beginning. They were starting to think it might actually be worse. "Why don't you tell us what happened?" Angel suggested. "Our information is pretty sketchy."
Wren nodded, ushering them into the kitchen. She was a young woman, and hardly looked old enough to be placed in charge of a coven, much less a Hellmouth. Willow had vouched for her, however, saying simply, "She reminds me of Tara."
The coven leader quickly made a pot of tea, and then asked the vampires if they wanted to eat. "We're fine," Spike assured her. "Just want to get to the bottom of this."
"I'm sure you do," she replied, finally sitting down. The table was small, but Spike and Angel had both chosen to remain standing on the periphery of things while the others took seats at the table.
"What happened to Faith?" Buffy demanded after the pause had dragged on too long for her taste. "Giles couldn't even tell us that much."
Wren sighed. "That's because we don't know. We noticed a disturbance a couple of weeks ago, but it was small. We were trying to find out what was causing it without alerting anyone about our presence. We like to keep things as low key as possible." She shook her head. "When we realized how big it might be, we let Faith know, thinking she'd look into it and then get backup if she needed it. The next thing we knew, Giles was calling us saying that a new Slayer had been Chosen."
"Then you still don't know what happened to her?" Buffy asked. "How are we supposed to do our job?"
"We learned enough to make Faith try and take her out when she found her," Matt interjected. He had followed them into the kitchen and was leaning against the counter next to Spike. "The longer we let things go, the better chance this vampire had of tapping into the Hellmouth."
Wren shot her young colleague a look. "We knew a little. Enough to make us worry that there was a real possibility that this vampire might succeed when others haven't. She's old, she's powerful, and she isn't afraid of anything."
"You got a name on her?" Spike asked.
"She's calling herself the Slayer of Slayers now," Matt said. "But before, she was known as La Muerta."
Angel's jaw tensed. "I see."
"You know her?" Connor asked quietly, seeing his dad's reaction.
The vampire shrugged. "I've heard of her. Rumors say she's a bitch."
"Then we take her out," Buffy said coldly. Turning to Wren, she asked, "And what are you guys doing? Faith is dead, and you're sitting around drinking tea?"
"Buffy—" Spike's tone held a warning, but Wren was more than capable of taking care of herself.
The witch met the Slayer's eyes, and there was cold power there that had Buffy quickly looking away. "We have not been 'sitting around drinking tea,'" she said with precise diction. Gone was the amiable young woman who had met them; in her place was a powerful witch. "We have been thwarting every attempt this vampire has been making to open the Hellmouth. Three of my people are completely drained, and unless you stop her soon, the rest of us won't be in much better shape."
"Tonight," Willow said quietly. When the others looked over at her in surprise, she grimaced. "I know Giles was counting on me to be all in favor of extensive planning, but Wren's right. We don't have the time."
"What is it, Willow?" Buffy asked, recognizing the expression on her old friend's face.
She shook her head, joking weakly, "There's a disturbance in the Force, Luke." When only Spike and Connor chuckled appreciatively, she got serious. "Nothing I can put my finger on, Buffy, but I can feel it. There's a tension there, and we're not winning."
"Right," Buffy said determinedly. "Let's figure out where this arrogant bitch is and put a stake in her."
Angel and Spike exchanged looks. They had both seen Buffy in all her moods, and they knew that anger had a tendency to make her careless. If there was only one thing they could agree upon, it was keeping the Slayer safe.
No matter what.
~~~~~
"Why is it always a warehouse?" Buffy asked her husband irritably. "Why not—I don't know, a nice mansion somewhere?"
"You forgetting Angelus and Dracula?" Spike asked with a raised eyebrow. "An' it's a warehouse because nobody calls the cops when they hear the screams." At Buffy's glare, he felt compelled to point out, "You did ask."
She let out a breath. "It was a rhetorical question." There was a pause. "How do you think the others are doing?"
Spike shrugged. "'m sure they're fine. Between Angel and Connor, they'll bring Willow in right under her. We'll attack her on two fronts, an' she'll be dust before she knows what hit her."
"Do you really think it's going to be that easy?"
"No, but a bloke can hope, can't he?"
There was a long pause. "Are you angry with me?"
"Angry?" Spike glanced over at her. "Now why would I be angry?"
"Because I came even though—" Buffy stopped. "You understand, don't you?"
"'course I understand," Spike said, sounding annoyed. "I know you, Buffy. I never thought you'd sit this one out, not when it's about Faith."
She glared at him. "Then why did you even ask, Spike?"
"Maybe because I was hopin' you'd see sense," he shot back, and then immediately sighed. "Look, luv, let's not do this now. We've got enough in front of us to fight without fightin' each other."
"Fine." The tightness in her voice told Spike that she still wasn't happy with him, but he really couldn't say that he cared. He knew that Buffy had a tendency to lash out at those around her when she was angry or upset. Once she worked out some of her aggression on their target, they'd be right as rain again.
Of course, that didn't make it any more fair to him while she kept making him the target.
Matt crept up behind them, moving quietly, although not so silently that Spike didn't hear him approaching. "They're in," he whispered. "Angel said he wouldn't have any trouble in the sewers."
Spike nodded. "Good."
"You're going to stay here." Buffy was using her best general's voice, but Matt wasn't used to her taking command yet.
"What? No!" he hissed back. "Wren told me to stick close to you guys."
Buffy's eyes narrowed. "Wren isn't in charge. I am. And I don't want you getting hurt."
Spike knew he was going to regret this. "He's comin' in, Slayer."
"Spike—"
"He stays out here by himself, there's no one to watch
his back. He comes in with us, he'll probably be safer." The vampire gave the
young man a hard look. "You stay close and keep down, hear me?"
The expression on Buffy's face told Spike that Angel was probably right. He would be spending the next month on the couch, but right now he didn't care. She was being a bitch, and the kid would be in more danger staying behind. "Fine. You're responsible for him, Spike."
That was it. Normally they didn't go into a fight without exchanging some kind of pleasantries, even if it was only a quickly uttered, "Be careful." The Slayer was up and headed towards the warehouse entrance in a flash, without saying anything else.
Matt glanced towards Spike in alarm when the vampire let out a low growl. "You know how to use that crossbow you're hangin' onto?" Spike asked. When Matt nodded, he said, "Then you find a secure spot an' start dustin' 'em quick as you can, hear me?"
The boy nodded, his eyes revealing a mixture of excitement and apprehension. Spike was reminded of Xander. Harris had had the same grit that Matt was displaying—although grit could easily translate into stupidity.
Spike was on his feet, moving swiftly and silently after his wife. He noted that Matt was nearly as quiet, and was grateful that he seemed to know what he was doing. Spike understood what Wren had been doing by sending one of her own with them.
Even though it had been decided that Willow would disrupt La Muerta's attempts at opening the Hellmouth, she might need a little extra muscle. Matt had power, but he was inexperienced, which meant he wasn't much use joining the rest of the coven in fending off La Muerta's attacks from a distance. In accompanying them, Matt could act as a spare battery, just in case Willow ran low on juice.
Spike was cursing his Slayer's impatience roundly when they entered. He knew why Giles had wanted them to plan this out carefully. Going in with guns blazing was what had gotten Faith killed. Although if Willow was right, they didn't have the time to develop a more complicated plan.
He was grateful that Matt was willing to follow his lead. The boy got himself into a safe corner and started firing his crossbow, hitting two out of every three. Angel and Connor were guarding Willow, who was chanting steadily.
They had briefly discussed attempting a sunlight spell inside the warehouse, but neither Angel nor Spike were willing to let the three humans go in without their protection. Besides, while the sunlight spell was rather spectacular, it was tricky. Even Willow's skill couldn't guarantee that it would come off right every time.
Buffy was in the middle of the action, as usual, trading blows with a female vampire who had six inches and about fifty pounds on her. Spike was on his way to lend a hand when he was met by three vamps, all female, looking ready for a fight. "It's a tribe of bloody Amazons," he growled, bringing out the demon with glee.
It wasn't often that he got this opportunity anymore, but he still loved it.
They surrounded him in a loose circle. "If it isn't William the Bloody," one of the vamps jeered. "Looks like the rumors were right. He is Slayer-whipped."
"Won't keep me from dustin' you ugly ladies," he retorted, slipping easily into the banter of fighting. Oh, how he had missed this. It had been months since he'd had a good fight.
One of the vamps was obviously young and inexperienced. At Spike's insult, she launched herself at him furiously, and he blocked her blows easily, ducking a high kick to sweep her legs out from under her. She went down hard, and he put his stake through her heart before she could rise.
The other two howled in rage, and one jumped on his back, clawing at his eyes. He was distracted enough that he couldn't fend off the third's knee to the groin, and he doubled over in agony. The vampire behind him took advantage of the situation. She seized him by the neck and arm, trapping him in a three-quarters nelson, and leaving him wide open to attacks from the front. "Bloody hell," Spike hissed, knowing that if he didn't get moving they would take advantage of his incapacitation.
Spike heard a shout from behind him, and the vamp who had kicked him disintegrated before his eyes. The vampire pinning him loosened her grip, and Spike grabbed her arm, twisting himself free. He saw Matt holding a crossbow, looking triumphant. The vampiress was disoriented, looking in shock at the dust of her fallen companion, and Spike slipped his stake into her heart before she could recover.
"Good work!" he called, watching as Matt flushed in pleasure and then retreated to his corner again, still firing off the occasional bolt.
He turned to Buffy, who was getting beaten back by La Muerta—which was a damn stupid name, if you asked him. Pretentious, and just asking to be challenged. Too bad it looked like the vampire could live up to her name admirably.
Willow was facing off against the only male in the entourage. He was obviously the sorcerer La Muerta had employed to open up the Hellmouth, but Spike could see that Willow was enjoying the contest. That meant she wasn't feeling threatened, and as long as Angel and Connor kept the Raksh demons off her back she would be fine.
It was Buffy he was concerned about, and Spike focused on getting across the warehouse floor to assist her. She'd be pissed at him for taking her kill, but if he could just catch the vampiress from behind, unawares—
Spike was so intent on reaching Buffy in time that he didn't see the vampire behind him. He wasn't even aware of the danger until he heard a shout—it sounded like it came from Angel. By then, the wooden plank was through his chest, tearing through bone and muscle, dropping him instantly.
And then he wasn't aware of anything else.
~~~~~
The ringing of a phone pulled Xander out of a sound sleep, and he felt a shudder of fear go through him. It had been a long time since he had been part of the action, not since before Buffy had left Sunnydale for good.
There were days when he missed it—missed the adrenaline rush and the excitement. When he missed knowing that he was a big part—or maybe a medium-sized part—of why the world kept turning.
More often, however, he just liked waking up next to his wife, going to work, and coming home. Xander liked having what passed for a normal life, and he liked being the one that his friends counted on for that balance. He liked to think of himself as their anchor to the normal world.
Nights like this, however, when the phone rang late, and Xander knew the news wouldn't be good, he couldn't help but wish he was there again, in the thick of things. At least then he wouldn't have to answer the phone in a cold sweat.
"This is Xander."
"Xander—" He heard Willow's voice falter on the other line, and he felt guilt for the relief that flooded him. At least Willow was okay.
"What happened?"
"It's Spike," Willow replied, her voice steadier. "We went in—took care of the bad guy, but—he's hurt really bad."
Xander swallowed hard. For all their past animosity, Xander had actually come to like the vampire. More importantly, if something happened to him, Buffy and Meg would be devastated. "How bad?"
"Big wooden plank through the chest," Willow said in a rush. "It was rough wood, so we're working on making sure there aren't any splinters left in. If it had been even a little more to the left..."
She left it hanging, but Xander knew what she was saying. Spike very nearly hadn't made it. "The others?"
"Good," Willow hastened to assure him. "Well, actually, Angel—he, uh, got slimed."
Xander's lips curled in a smile, in spite of the bad news about Spike. He could hear a spark of humor in Willow's tone, and he thought there might be a story there. "Slimed, huh?"
"Big time," she giggled, suddenly sounding like the girl he'd known in high school. "One of the demons exploded on him, and I guess it doesn't come out of anything. Like hair."
Xander chuckled. "How much whining did he do?"
"A lot, until Buffy told him to shut up because it could be worse." Willow sounded grim again. "I was calling to let you know that it's going to be a few days before we can leave. We don't want to move Spike in case—"
Xander didn't let her finish. "Does Buffy want me to say anything to Meg?"
"Not now," Willow replied. "It looks like he's going to pull through, so there's no reason to make her worry."
"I won't say a thing," Xander assured her. "You guys take as long as you need."
Willow heaved a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Xander. I'll give Wes a call and let him know too."
"Not that I'm telling you how to do your job, but you guys went in pretty fast," Xander commented.
He could hear Willow's sigh. "We weren't sure we had a choice. Before you say it, I know we got lucky. If the vampire Buffy was fighting hadn't been distracted, it could have been really bad."
Xander knew what "really bad" meant. He'd been there for it in the past. "Tell Buffy to hang in there, okay?"
"Will do," the witch responded. "We'll see you when we get back."
Xander hung up the phone, rubbing tired hands over his face. There was no way he was going to be able to get back to sleep now, even though he had a trip to Disneyland with a nine-year-old planned for the next day.
He just hoped that Willow was right and that Spike pulled through. It seemed strange to even think it, but the world would be a worse place if Spike wasn't in it.
Chapter 14: January 2017
Buffy ran her hands through Spike's curls absently. His head was resting against her abdomen, and his chest was rising and falling in a regular rhythm that fascinated her. She could see the new lines around his eyes and mouth—even in sleep he couldn't fully relax, and Buffy wondered how long it would take him to get used to his new humanity.
At least she wouldn't be accused of robbing the cradle again, Buffy thought wryly. Spike appeared to have aged a decade in the week and a half he'd been gone.
There was a part of her that was relieved, in a way. The idea that she would age while he remained the same had frightened her. She had gray in her hair now, and crow's feet around her eyes. Her stomach was no longer as flat or as tight as it had been when she was in her twenties, and her breasts had begun to sag. The ravages of age left no one untouched, not even the Slayer.
Still, Spike had always insisted that she was beautiful, had assured her that he had eyes for no other woman. Buffy believed him—mostly. Now, though, they would grow old together, and the weight she hadn't realized was there had been lifted.
She had realized—too late—that they hadn't used any kind of birth control. It hadn't been necessary when she was sleeping with a vampire, but it would be now. Although, and Buffy wasn't sure she would mention this, she wouldn't mind getting pregnant again. It would be nice to have another child, this time with her husband. Of course, Buffy knew that he thought of Meg as his, but they had discussed this once, long ago. Neither one of them would have minded another child, if it had been possible.
And now it was.
Spike stirred slightly in his sleep, and his eyes blinked open. "Buffy?"
"Right here, sweetheart," she murmured. "How did you sleep?"
"Good," he admitted softly. "Better than—"
"Me too," Buffy replied. "The bed was too big without you there."
They were silent, Buffy continuing her ministrations. She had the sense that Spike needed to feel her just then, needed to know that she wasn't going anywhere. The Slayer well remembered the nights and days when he had tried to comfort her after her friends ripped her out of heaven, and she wondered if this transition would end up being just as difficult for the both of them.
"Are you hungry?" she finally asked, realizing that Spike was not inclined to speak. "We never did get around to eating last night."
He made a movement that was almost a shrug. "S'pose I should be."
"You aren't?"
"Not much of an appetite."
Buffy frowned. "What about some french toast?" When he hesitated, she continued. "You're going to eat something, Spike."
"That'd be fine," he finally decided, pushing himself into a sitting position. "Buffy, I—" Spike stopped, unsure of how to put what he was feeling into words.
For once, the Slayer read him as easily as he read her. "Take your time, Spike," she said kindly. "I'm not going anywhere." She brushed a kiss across his lips. "I'm going to go start breakfast." Buffy grabbed her robe and headed downstairs, leaving Spike to pull on the pair of jeans lying next to the bed.
He was tired and sore, but there had been a definite improvement as a result of a good night's sleep. With Buffy's assurance of support, it seemed easier to face the day, and his burden was a little lighter. A small part of him had believed she would reject him. That she would look past Spike and see William.
The fear was still there, but now he thought it might be possible to hide it, to hide William.
Spike pulled a t-shirt on over his head, padding downstairs on bare feet to watch Buffy make breakfast. "Where's Meg?" he asked from the doorway.
"Wesley picked her up yesterday," Buffy replied. "He said they'd keep her until we called. You think you might be up for going over there later?" Spike was quiet, causing her to turn to him. "Spike? If you don't want to go, I can pick Meg up."
"No, it's fine. I don't mind." He wandered into the kitchen to sit down at the table. The smell of food was causing his stomach to growl. It was the first time he'd truly been hungry.
She smiled at him, going back to her french-toast flipping. "I heard that, mister. You know Nika and Enid are going to take one look at you and insist on filling you up."
"Same thing happened to Wesley when he started coming around," Spike replied, giving her a half-smile. "Nika kept insistin' that he put on a few pounds."
Buffy was just grateful that he was smiling again. "She'll be saying the same thing to you, and Enid is going to be worse."
The smile faded from his face. "Buffy, you don't mind, do you?"
"Mind what?"
"That I'm not—I mean, I know you..." Spike trailed off, hating himself for bringing it up, but wanting to know the answer.
Perhaps it had been their time apart, or perhaps Buffy was simply ready to open her eyes. "No, I don't mind that you're not a vampire any more. I want you, Spike."
It wasn't like she hadn't said it before, but he was having a hard time believing her for some reason. Every fear he'd ever had and laid to rest about their relationship was coming back to haunt him. It made no sense to him, but he was still craving her reassurance.
"Sorry, luv. I'm bein' a bit of a wanker." Spike said it with a rueful smile, but it was his tone that had Buffy whirling to face him.
She glared at him. "Don't you dare apologize for being honest with me, Spike. No matter how many times you need to hear it, I'll say it. Whatever you need from me, I'll do my best to give it to you."
"Know you will, pet," he replied quietly. "'s just different, is all."
Buffy sighed. "It'll take some getting used to, but it will be fine. We'll be fine."
She just wished she was convinced of that herself.
~~~~~
Meg woke the next morning with the sinking realization that her parents hadn't called yet, and she didn't know when they would. In spite of Uncle Wesley's reassurances, she was terrified that something would happen to prevent them from coming for her.
It was her greatest fear: someday her parents would leave and not return.
Will and Davey were awake and watching Saturday morning cartoons when she got out to the living room. Without speaking, Will scooted over on the couch in an open invitation, and when Meg sat down next to him, he put a sturdy arm over her shoulders. Davey, not to be outdone, handed her his box of cereal so she could pull out a handful.
They watched and munched dry cereal in silence for a while until they heard Carwen begin to stir. Hannah appeared a few minutes later, the little girl in her arms. She set Carwen down on the floor and plopped down next to Meg on the couch.
"I spoke to Wesley last night, Meg," Hannah said softly at the next commercial break. "Your dad is fine. Really."
Meg swallowed hard. "They haven't called for me yet."
"It is Saturday," Will pointed out logically. "Everybody sleeps in."
Meg perked up a little with that. The Saturday-morning lie-in was tradition at both houses. None of the adults got up before nine, and it was just after eight. "Yeah. Mom and Dad like sleeping in."
Hannah hid a smile. She'd come a ways in the last couple years, and the idea of Buffy and Spike "wrestling" no longer grossed her out. Well, not quite as much anyway. "See, it'll be fine, Meg. I'm sure they'll be over as soon as they can."
By the time Wesley came wandering out of his bedroom, Davey was good-naturedly pushing a ball back and forth with Carwen while Meg and Will played Halo. Carwen immediately gave up on her game, her chubby little legs pumping frantically to get to her father. "Da!"
Wesley smiled and caught her up, tossing her into the air and catching her again, listening to her squeals of delight. He'd missed this so much. "Is anyone hungry?" he asked.
"Yeah!" Davey and Will spoke simultaneously and dashed off to the kitchen, leaving Hannah to follow at a more sedate pace.
"Coming, Meg?" Wesley asked quietly, smiling at his goddaughter.
"I'll be right there," she said, watching him head towards the kitchen.
Her earliest memory was of Wesley and her father coming into their house. They had been out on a job together when she had been around three or four. Meg remembered them as black leather-clad giants, standing in the hallway laughing. When her father had seen her, he had scooped her up, playfully tossing her to Wesley. Even while flying through the air she had felt safe with them.
They were her heroes, but Meg wasn't sure that the father who had returned was the same man. She wouldn't know until she had laid eyes on him for herself.
~~~~~
Spike stood outside under the sun, appreciating it for the first time. Closing his eyes and tipping up his face, he felt Buffy's arms come around him from behind. "This is nice," she murmured.
"Yeah," he agreed. With the heat from the sun and Buffy's arms around his waist, he felt the burden of guilt drift away—if only for a moment. This was the reason he had made the journey.
"Meg's waiting for us," Buffy reminded him after a few minutes.
She could feel him stiffen. "Right. We'd better get goin'."
Buffy realized that Spike was nearly as apprehensive about seeing Meg again as he had been to see her. She moved so that she was looking him in the eye. "Don't."
It was just one word, but Spike knew exactly what she meant. Buffy might be able to understand and deal with his fear, but Meg would be badly hurt if she thought her father didn't want to see her. He nodded. "Wouldn't dream of it, luv."
"I know, Spike." Buffy smiled at him. "Meg will be ecstatic to have you home."
They made the drive to the Watcher's house without speaking. Buffy plugged in one of Spike's punk mixes without being asked and watched as some of the tension seeped out. They pulled up to the house, and Spike took a deep breath. "Show time, luv."
"It'll be fine."
Spike walked in after a cursory knock and caught Meg as she immediately launched herself at him. Her arms twisted around his neck, and he could feel her shuddering. "Hey, now, moppet, none o' that." Meg's face was buried in the crook of his neck and Spike felt her warm tears wetting his skin. "Hush, now, luv," Spike murmured. "'m right here. Not goin' anywhere, yeah?"
For the moment, they were the only two people in the world—a father and his daughter. To think that he'd hesitated to come back to this—that he'd feared her reaction enough to leave for good—
Spike could see how unfounded that fear had been now.
After a few minutes, Meg pulled back from him, looking into his eyes, her brow deeply furrowed. "Dad?"
"Yeah, luv?"
"You look the same."
A smile touched his lips. "Do I now?"
"You're warm."
"S'pose I am. You okay with that?"
"Uncle Wesley said you could come to my football games now. All of them."
Spike smiled. He hadn't thought that far ahead himself. "That's right."
She beamed at him. "Good!"
And that was enough. The world started again, and Spike found himself surrounded by familiar faces, by hands seeking to touch him, by voices that he'd have recognized in the dark.
Wesley had been right. He needed to come back—for them. This quest of his had been self-centered, but necessary, and now it was time to shoulder his burden again.
This was the road he'd chosen, after all, and Spike was anything but a quitter.
~~~~~
Nika came out to sit next to Wesley on their back porch. The evening was cool enough that she needed a jacket, and she'd brought a blanket for good measure, hoping that her husband would be kind enough to provide some body heat.
He smiled at her in greeting. "Are the children asleep?"
"Everyone but Hannah," Nika replied. "She said to let you know that she'd be back in a couple hours after she patrolled."
Wesley frowned. "Alone?"
"Just one of the local cemeteries," Nika assured him. "There was a report of a death including neck trauma recently. She's going to make sure the vampire doesn't rise."
"I suppose that's alright then," he said.
Nika smiled and leaned into him. "She's been out alone a number of times, Wesley, and she always comes home in one piece." They sat in comfortable silence for a while before Nika spoke again. "Spike was uncomfortable tonight."
"Hmm."
Nika recognized that sound—Wesley always made it when he had an opinion he wasn't prepared to share. "What are you thinking?"
She never could resist asking.
"I'm wondering what this transition is going to be like," Wesley confessed quietly. "He didn't want to return, Danika. Or, rather, he was afraid of returning. Quite honestly, I think one wrong move on Buffy's part could send him packing."
Nika frowned. "That's not the only thing you're concerned about."
Chuckling, Wesley shook his head. "You know me too well. No, it's not." He let the pause drag on while he organized his thoughts. "I don't know that Spike realized what he was getting himself into."
"This was what he wanted, Wesley," Nika reminded him. "I think Spike understands that there will be sacrifices."
"Not with his humanity, with his soul." Wesley sighed. "It's already weighing heavily on him. What if we need him again, and he—"
Nika realized what her husband wasn't saying. "You're concerned that should you need him in an emergency Spike won't be able to deliver."
"In short, yes." Wesley shook his head. "You didn't hear him while he was delirious, love. It was—frightening."
There wasn't much in the world that scared Wesley, and that alone would have made her concerned. "He was wild?"
"Despondent," Wesley corrected her. "Completely." He turned to look at her. "He kept muttering about blood for blood, and I think he would have tried to slash his wrists if I hadn't been watching him so carefully."
Nika bit her lip and then shook her head. "He's in no danger of suicide now, Wesley, of that I am certain. I do think you're right, however. Buffy will have to step very carefully with him. He's fragile at the moment. Still, Spike is the most persistent man on the planet. He does not quit, not easily."
"No, you're right," Wesley replied, leaning back and tugging Nika into his arms, pressing his lips to the side of her neck. "Let's just hope that nothing gives him a reason to quit."
They were too busy getting reacquainted to talk much after that.
~~~~~
Enid shut herself up in her small apartment with a sigh of relief. William was bruised, but he wasn't broken. He would need careful handling for a bit, and plenty of mothering, but he would survive.
They were all so dear to her, so very dear.
Her Nika had managed to weave an intricate web, creating a family where before there were only lost souls. They kept Enid young, and she loved that.
She could feel her time growing shorter, could feel it in her heart, in her gut. She would have time enough to see them safe and settled, but not much more than that.
Enid just hoped that it would be long enough.
Chapter 15: September 2016
"Buffy, I need to talk to you."
The Slayer hated it when Spike used that tone of voice. It was a clear indication that she wasn't going to like what he had to say. She turned to look at him. "Yeah?"
The house was empty. Meg was at school for the day, and neither of them had anything pressing to do. It should have been comfortable—just another afternoon spent in each other's company. Spike had been unusually quiet the last few days, ever since the parent-teacher night at school. Although Buffy had noticed, she was accustomed to the vampire's occasional moods.
The look in his eyes told her it might be more serious than she had thought. "Spike, is everything okay?"
Spike stared at her, trying to find a way to explain what he needed, what he wanted. "No, not really, luv. Look, I—can we sit down?"
Buffy took the plate with the salad she'd been preparing for herself and sat down at the kitchen table. "What is it?" Her tone was flat, her eyes wary. She suddenly felt the need to brace herself for the worst.
"I think I might need to leave, Buffy," Spike said quietly, cursing himself even as the words left his mouth. He knew that he wasn't beginning well.
Buffy's eyes widened and then narrowed. "What do you mean 'leave?'"
"People are starting to notice that 'm not agin'," Spike replied. "Sooner or later they're gonna start askin' questions we can't answer."
The Slayer shook her head. "People see what they want to see, Spike. I don't think—"
"Meg's teachers are already starting to talk," Spike cut in. "I overheard 'em talkin' the other night. Meg did too."
It was the hurt in his tone that caught Buffy's attention and slammed the lid down on her irritation. "What did they say?"
"Said they knew I wasn't her father because I looked too young. Said I was probably one in a string." Spike shook his head. "It wasn't that so much, luv. It was the fact that they're right. In a few years, I really won't look old enough to be Meg's dad, an' it won't be just the teachers commentin' on it. Few years after that, and Meg'll start to look older than me."
Buffy shifted in her chair uncomfortably. "So? Spike, it doesn't mean anything. People talk. It gives them something to do."
"What happens when it gets too obvious to hide?" Spike pressed. "What are we goin' to do then?"
"We'll figure something out," Buffy said, an edge of desperation entering her tone. She wasn't sure that she liked where this conversation was headed.
Spike shook his head. "No, Buffy, it's more than that. I'm never going to look any older, an' you will—"
"Are you saying you don't want to be with me anymore?" Buffy asked incredulously. If there was one thing in her world that had always been sure, it was Spike, and now he was suddenly—not. He was talking about leaving, and—
"No!" Spike shot back. "This isn't about you, Buffy. It's about me." He heaved a deep sigh. "I've been thinkin' about this for a while, pet. I want—I don't want to be immortal any more."
Buffy blinked. "Spike, you're a vampire. That's pretty much in the job description."
"There are ways," he said evasively. "I want to start lookin' for them. I want—"
Buffy was shaking her head emphatically. "What kind of ways, Spike?"
"Heard of a demon in Africa that grants wishes," Spike said. It wasn't something he'd looked into extensively. There were always rumors going around the demon world. Although Spike had never heard of a vampire becoming mortal, the whispers had seemed to indicate that there were ways. It wasn't until recently that the half-formed desire had blossomed into need, however.
"What else?"
"There're some spells," he replied. "Pretty dark stuff, though. 's not somethin' I'd want to try, but I want to look into it. I thought—"
"No."
Spike blinked. "What?"
"No." Buffy's face was hard. "Let me guess. Most of these methods you're looking at are dangerous enough that you're scared you wouldn't make it through."
He was about to disagree but found he couldn't lie to her. "There's a chance," he admitted.
"Then no." Buffy looked angry. "You'd risk your life just to avoid a little gossip?"
Spike stood, frustrated. "That's not it! Are you not listenin' to me? What do you think it's like for me, watchin' everyone I love get older while I'm not changin'?"
"Spike—"
"To know that I'm goin' to lose you again?"
Buffy could see fear in his eyes, and she suddenly realized what that meant to him. The fear of losing her was so great that he would rather die first. Spike would rather risk death than have to watch her die again. This was something he'd been thinking about for a long time.
There was a part of her that wanted to tell him that they would fix it. She would help him find a way to fix it. The other part of her was scared to death of losing him—or of having him change beyond all recognition.
"What about me, Spike?" she asked. "You're talking about becoming human. What happens if you die? Or if you come back completely different? You promised you weren't going to leave me!"
Spike knew he was fighting a losing battle. "Buffy, I need to find out if I can do this. I need—"
"No." The word left no room for argument. "The risk is too big, Spike. You can't leave."
His eyes glittered dangerously. "You can't tell me what I can and can't do, luv. We might be married, but I'm still a free man."
"We're partners," Buffy shot back. "That means we make decisions together, and I'm saying no on this one. Let people talk. What they say doesn't matter anyway."
Spike shook his head. "It will," he replied. "One of these days it will. What happens when we can't hide this anymore?"
"We'll deal with it then," Buffy said stubbornly. She wanted to live in the land of denial for a while longer.
Spike shook his head. "Not good enough."
"Don't you dare even think about going through with this," Buffy said furiously. "What do you think it would do to me to lose you? I can't."
It was a stalemate, with neither of them willing to back down.
Spike whirled, stalking out of the kitchen without replying. He wasn't willing to promise that he wouldn't investigate the possibilities. It was too important to him. Buffy was unwilling to listen, unwilling to see that he couldn't stand still while everything around him moved and changed. He couldn't stand to lose everything he'd built.
Buffy would just have to get used to the idea.
~~~~~
Hannah twirled her stake impatiently. There had been word of a number of deaths lately that seemed to suggest in influx of vampires into the area. Of course, it was all rumor and gossip at this point, and she hadn't seen a single member of the undead to confirm the reports.
It was really pissing her off.
She glanced over at her slaying partner. Spike had been quiet all evening, barely even saying hello. It was a sure sign that he and Buffy had been arguing, and Hannah had to wonder what had brought it on this time. It wasn't like Spike and Buffy fighting was anything new, but when it wasn't important, Spike usually grumbled about it.
Silence was a bad sign.
"What's up?"
Spike glanced over at the girl. "What?"
"What's wrong?" she asked patiently. "You've been in brood-mode all night."
He glared at her. "I don't brood."
Hannah knew that would push his buttons, and she grinned at him. "It sure looks like brooding to me."
"Sod off."
Their relationship was an odd one, a fact of which Hannah was well aware. While Wesley and Nika easily filled parental roles, and Buffy was more of an aunt, Spike was something else altogether. Ever since Dawn and Connor had moved to Cleveland, the vampire had acted like something of a big brother. He was more of a peer than a superior.
It might have had something to do with the fact that Spike was the one Hannah most often patrolled with. Wesley came out with her, of course, as did Buffy and even Angel, but Spike was the one who had her back most nights.
Hannah often thought that they were like the partners on the cop shows. The older cop and the rookie—a little like siblings, a little like friends. It was hard to explain.
"You and Buffy have a fight?"
"None of your business."
Hannah knew it was serious when Spike used that tone with her. He never used that tone unless he was really and truly pissed off, although she was fairly certain he wasn't angry with her. "Fine."
There was a long pause. "What would you say if I said I didn't want to be immortal any more?"
Hannah blinked. It wasn't a question she'd been expecting, and somehow she knew it was directly related to whatever had gone down between Spike and Buffy. "I'd say it would make sense. I mean, everybody you know is mortal, except for Angel. And who'd want to live with him forever?"
Spike chuckled at that. "Yeah, pretty much."
Hannah hesitated. "Are you going to do something about it?"
"Buffy doesn't want me to."
It wasn't an answer to her question, but Hannah had a feeling that was all she was going to get out of Spike for the evening. He could be pretty close-mouthed when he wanted to be. "I think you should talk to Wesley."
Spike gave her a sharp look. "Why?"
"Because I think he'd understand," Hannah replied. She knew not to say more than that.
The vampire was silent. "Maybe I'll do that. You won't mention this?"
"Hypothetical question, remember?" Hannah said. "Hypotheticals don't mean anything."
He gave her a wry look. "No, they don't."
Both of them saw the small knot of vampires at the same time. They were gathered around a grave, obviously waiting, and Hannah and Spike grinned at each other. It was the real reason that they connected. No one loved the hunt more than they did.
This was what they had both been born for.
~~~~~
"You want to do what?" Wesley asked, staring at his partner in surprise.
Spike set his jaw, ready to argue if necessary. "I don't want to be immortal."
Wesley frowned. "Then you want to be human."
"Not particularly," Spike replied. "Just don't want to live forever."
Understanding was beginning to dawn. "Have you talked with Buffy about this?"
"She said no."
Wesley had wondered. As close as he and Spike were, it was easy for him to sense when the vampire wasn't in a good mood, and he certainly hadn't been tonight. When he and Hannah had returned from patrol, both of them with grass stains and dirt all over, the Watcher had sensed that something was off. Since Hannah had been downright cheerful with the night's work, Wesley had to assume that Spike's problem wasn't work.
Although, Spike rarely had a problem with work. If the vampire was out of sorts, the root of it could usually be found at home.
"I see. You've decided not to listen to her, then?"
Spike shrugged, standing and pacing in the confines of the study. This was Wesley's inner sanctum, where no one came without an invitation. It was where they had had innumerable conversations, where they had planned a hundred battles. It was the place where they had reaffirmed their friendship again and again.
Now Spike was relying on that bond for something he could not get himself.
"This isn't about her. This is about me."
Wesley nodded slowly. He had to say that he wasn't terribly surprised at Spike's announcement; he'd felt it coming for a while. Spike never had been one to take what Fate handed him lying down.
Wesley sighed. "She's going to be angry when she finds out you're going ahead with this anyway," he pointed out.
"I don't care," Spike replied stubbornly. "She doesn't understand, Wesley. She can't."
"I'll make some inquiries," Wesley finally promised. "However, if it's merely what other people are saying that concerns you, we could talk to Willow. Perhaps she could cast an illusion of some sort, one that would cause you to appear as though you're aging."
Spike shook his head. "If it was just people talkin' that I was worried about, I wouldn't be here. You know that."
"I do." Wesley stood, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Whatever you decide, Spike, you know I'll help."
A smile touched his lips. Spike still remembered the days when it was the Slayer who was always right, the Slayer who received the support of everybody else. There were still moments when Wesley or Nika would surprise him, reminding him that he was their first priority.
Wesley's loyalties were with him—Spike. It was a good feeling. "I 'preciate it."
"You'll need it," the Watcher said.
Spike's eyes were rueful. "I know. Buffy won't make this pleasant."
~~~~~
Spike entered his silent house. He could sense their presence. Meg was deeply asleep, and he stopped by her room. She was a perceptive girl, and he knew that she had sensed the tension at the dinner table.
The vampire had never thought much about children one way or another before Buffy had gotten pregnant. Well, other than the fact that they made a good snack. She continually surprised him, however. The way she had changed, grown—
His daughter made Spike want to change and grow too, just to keep up with her.
He brushed a strand of dark hair out of her face and pulled the blanket up around her again. Pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, he left her room and entered his.
Buffy was in bed, her back to the door. Spike could sense the fact that she was awake, but she wasn't moving. He frowned slightly and undressed, slipping into the bed next to her, reaching out to touch her.
He felt her stiffen and then pull away, still under the pretense of sleep.
Withdrawing his hand, Spike stayed on his own side of the bed. The thought came that he could give up his idea. He could talk to Willow, have her cast the glamour. He could accept the idea that he would not age, while everyone around him did.
Spike could set aside his own desires once again.
His face hardened in the darkness. He could—but he wouldn't. He wanted this—needed this, and he wasn't going to let Buffy stand in his way.
Chapter 16: October 2014
Buffy stood outside the door of the room they'd set aside. Wren had told her in no uncertain terms to stay out, warning her against disturbing their concentration. It had been hours, and they still hadn't emerged to let her know everything was fine.
Everything had to be fine.
If she closed her eyes, she could still see the rough, wooden plank emerging from his chest. Still see the look of surprise on his face, followed quickly by his eyes rolling up into his head. Watching him pass out had been a relief in a way, since it meant that he wasn't going to dust.
It had been instinct alone that had caused her to take advantage of La Muerta's momentary distraction, shoving her stake through the vampiress' chest, darting across the floor of the warehouse to reach Spike.
Her first inclination had been to remove the wood, but Angel had stopped her. He'd been doused in slime, but warned her that pulling it out could cause a splinter to lodge in his heart. It wasn't safe.
Buffy was just grateful that Spike had been unconscious while they transported him back to Wren's house. She hoped that he wasn't in too much pain.
The Slayer wanted to be by his side when he woke up. She had a special medicine of her own to offer.
A weary Willow opened the door to the bedroom where they'd placed him. "Hey, Buffy."
"Did you get it?" she asked hurriedly. "Is he awake yet?"
Willow shook her head. "We think the danger is past. Spike should heal just fine, but it's going to take some time."
"He hasn't woken then?"
"No. It's probably better," Willow commented, echoing the Slayer's own thoughts. "He's going to be in a lot of pain when he does."
Buffy chewed her lip. "Can I see him now?"
"We're done." Willow laid a hand on her friend's arm. "He's going to be fine."
Buffy shook her head. "I was angry at him when we went in, Willow. Usually we tell each other to be careful or—" She broke off. "What if he—"
Willow hugged her tight. "I know, Buffy, but he's going to make it. That's what you have to concentrate on right now."
"I almost lost him," Buffy replied. "Will you call the others?"
"Sure," Willow said, watching as Buffy brushed past her to enter the room.
Wren was putting the finishing touches on the bandaging around his chest. "I'll be done in just a moment."
"Thank you," Buffy said. "I'm sorry about earlier. It's just—"
"You had lost a friend, and you were going into battle," Wren replied, straightening and stepping back from the bed. "We've worked with a Slayer for years now. Faith wasn't so different."
There was a time when Buffy would have found that an insult, but these days she could take it as a compliment. "Thanks," she repeated awkwardly.
She watched as Wren left the room, taking the bandages with her. Buffy stood next to the bed for a moment, wondering if she shouldn't wait until Spike was awake to try this. It wasn't an ideal situation. Normally, she got nearly as much pleasure out of his biting her as Spike did.
He always had known how to make things good for her.
Buffy walked over to the door and locked it, less because she was ashamed of what she was doing than because she knew the others wouldn't understand. Well, some of them might, but there were things she never wanted to discuss with Angel, her love life being one example. She didn't want to risk being interrupted.
Spike's jeans were still on, and Buffy knew she probably ought to remove them. For now, though, she went looking for the knife he kept in his left hand pocket. It was an old habit, stemming from one of his early jobs with Wes. The whole mission had nearly been blown for want of something sharp, and Wesley had given Spike a knife to prevent it from happening again.
With a quick movement, Buffy ran the blade over her wrist, making a shallow cut. It wouldn't do to lose too much blood if Spike wasn't even up to swallowing. She opened his mouth just slightly and let the blood dribble in, waiting to see if he'd swallow.
After a breathless moment, Buffy watched as his face changed, and he latched onto her wrist. He didn't drink for long before withdrawing, his eyes fluttering open. "Must be bad," he croaked out.
"It's not pretty," she agreed.
Spike could see the unshed tears in her eyes. "'m still here, luv."
"You almost weren't," Buffy replied. "It was—it was bad, Spike."
He wanted to touch her face, but even the influx of Slayer's blood wasn't going to give him enough strength to do so. It felt as though he had a giant hole in his chest, and if the sense of being wrapped in bandages from navel to neck was any indication, he probably did have one.
Spike settled for slipping his hand into hers. "With that little pick-me-up, I'll be right as rain in no time."
"I shouldn't have gone in angry," Buffy whispered. "If you—"
His face softened. "Slayer, it's fine. We made it out. We got the bad guy, yeah?"
"Yeah, but—"
"An' no one else was hurt? You're okay?"
"Everybody except for Angel," Buffy replied quietly. She'd seen him once earlier, before he and Connor had left to stay with Matt. "He got slimed. Did you know Raksh blood is like superglue?"
In spite of his weakened state, Spike grinned. "Heard that. He get hit bad?"
"Matt said he'd give him a haircut." Buffy giggled. "I haven't seen him yet, but I'm guessing a shaved head isn't going to suit him."
Spike chuckled and then groaned. "Don't make me laugh, luv," he asked. "Hurts too bad."
Buffy ran her fingers through his hair. "Do you want more blood? I've got plenty."
"Not right now, pet. Don't want you hurt too."
"Seeing you hurt makes me hurt," Buffy replied softly. "I know Wren has some downstairs, though. You should probably eat something."
Spike's eyes closed. "No," he murmured. "Be alright for a bit. Just keep doin' what you're doin'."
Buffy stayed with him, running her fingers through his hair, stroking his face, reassuring herself that he would be fine. For one moment, she had understood completely what it would mean to lose him, and she was certain that it would kill her.
~~~~~
Wesley managed a smile for Hannah when she tentatively poked her head into his office the next morning. She had been with them two days, and he still hadn't managed to discuss things with her. Giles had departed for Cleveland a couple hours earlier, after the call had come in from Willow. The Watcher had wanted to offer his support to Buffy, and to check in with the coven.
That had left Hannah squarely in Wesley's hands.
"Good morning, Hannah," he said, pushing his worry for Spike to the back of his mind. Willow had assured him that the vampire would make it. That was what was important.
She smiled. "Hey. Enid said you wanted to see me."
"Come on in and shut the door," he invited.
Hannah slipped inside, gently closing the door behind her. Wesley took a moment to study her—slightly hesitant manner, wary eyes, worn jeans and an oversized t-shirt. She was a waif-like girl, and she looked lost.
She paused for a moment, and then sat down in the chair on the other side of his desk. Wesley decided that things needed to be a little more informal and came around to sit next to her. From the surprise in her eyes, he realized that not only had she not been expecting that, but that she recognized the significance of his action.
"Dawn and Connor told you what the Slayer is," Wesley stated. Hannah nodded. "When did you know?"
She looked away, glancing at the rows and rows of books. Wesley didn't miss the hunger in her eyes. "When I was at diving practice." Wesley remained silent, waiting for her to continue. "It was a school team," she said slowly. "I could only do a single somersault with a twist, but it was fun, you know?" He smiled encouragingly, and Hannah shrugged. "I got to the board and stood there, and I just knew. And then I did a triple."
"What was the others' reaction?"
Hannah smiled wryly, meeting his eyes for the first time. "They were impressed, but they thought it was a fluke. I mean, nobody improves that fast. People see what they want to see."
"Indeed, they do," Wesley agreed. "Do you have any questions?"
She hesitated. "Not really."
"You can ask anything you'd like." Wesley smiled at her warmly. "That goes from here on out, as well. I won't always know the answer, but I will always be honest with you."
Hannah's eyes betrayed her doubt. "I know how I got chosen, but why are you my Watcher?"
There was a part of Wesley that didn't want to tell her about Faith, about his failures. He would have liked to give her the pat answers—that he was an experienced field agent with a team of people ready to help her train. That he was simply the best man for the job.
Wesley was no longer so sure that was true, not like he had been so long ago.
"I was Faith's Watcher," he said evenly. "A very long time ago, shortly after she was Chosen. Since that time, I have worked both independently and alone, doing the very job you'll be facing. I suppose the Council thought I was the best man for the job."
A little of the toughness she must have needed to survive came out, as Hannah tilted her chin, challenging him. "Are you?"
"I don't know," Wesley replied. "But it's my job now."
Hannah frowned. "What if I don't want to be the Slayer?"
"It's not a job," he said. "It's a Calling, and it's not something you can quit. Ask Buffy. She tried to turn in her resignation a number of times. If you truly believe you cannot do this, however, I will understand. I felt the same way myself a few times."
Her gaze dropped, and she started picking at a ragged patch on her jeans. "Will you always be my Watcher?"
"Yes." Wesley waited for her to look up and meet his eyes once again. "I will always be your Watcher."
She seemed to consider that for a few moments and then nodded. "So where do we start?"
~~~~~
Roger Wyndam-Pryce had been right about one thing, Wesley thought, hours later. His father had always insisted that being a Watcher was his destiny, but until now he hadn't believed it. Wesley had been continually frustrated with Faith and Buffy, as well as uncomfortable with Giles and the Slayer's friends.
In all honesty, Wesley hadn't been all that comfortable with himself.
He had been too young, too inexperienced, too inflexible for his position—especially living on the Hellmouth. He had been the interloper, although he hadn't thought of himself as such at the time.
It was all different now, not least because he was Hannah's Watcher—her first, and with any luck, her only.
He had begun by giving her the story that was told to every Slayer—about why and how demons and humans had come to exist, and why the Slayer had been chosen. Then, Wesley had fielded her questions on why Spike as a vampire didn't eat people, how long the Slayer got to be the Slayer, whether or not she'd have to keep going to school, how long she would be staying with him, and so on.
After lunch, they started on her physical training, and Wesley began teaching her the basics of self-defense. She was a fast learner, as most Slayers were, naturally gifted with strength, although not always grace. She was a little clumsy, he noticed, and a little tentative. Either trait could easily get her killed. They would have to work on that.
When they were both tired, he called a halt to the session. "Why don't you get cleaned up? I'm sure dinner will be ready soon."
Hannah nodded, and started to head upstairs, looking back over her shoulder. She'd never had an adult spend this much time or energy on her. It gave her a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach, even though she knew it was Wesley's job. "Thanks."
"For what?" Wesley asked.
She shrugged. "It was fun."
His Slayer was up the stairs before Wesley could form a reply, and he got a pleased grin on his face. He'd had fun himself.
Wesley had finally gotten the opportunity to fulfill his destiny.
~~~~~
Giles knew exactly how worried Buffy had been when she immediately hugged him. He returned her embrace, as their meetings had become too few and far between to shy away from physical contact. At this stage, he could admit that his feelings for his Slayer went beyond those strictly required to be her Watcher.
Or, beyond what had been required over a decade ago, when he'd first been fired from the Council. These days, such a relationship was considered good sense.
"Wren told me Spike would be fine."
"He will be," Buffy replied, finally pulling away. "She wasn't the one who saw the big plank go right through his chest, though."
Giles gave her his best sympathetic look. "No, I suppose she was not. Are you alright, Buffy?"
"Honestly? No," she said. "I—I nearly got him killed, Giles. We went in there while I was still angry at him. If he had died—"
"Spike knows you love him," Giles said gently, knowing quite well how foreign those words would once have felt in his mouth. He had long since come to accept Buffy's relationship with Spike. Their love and devotion to one another was more obvious each passing year.
Buffy looked down. "Yeah, but the way I treated him—" She sighed. "He's not ready to travel."
"How long?" Giles asked. "I can arrange for you to stay in a hotel for the next few days, if you feel that would be the better option."
"I think it would be quieter," Buffy agreed. "This is still pretty much command central for the coven. I think Willow said something about sticking around, but Angel and Connor will want to get back."
Giles nodded. "I'll talk to them and arrange their flights. Are you certain Spike can be moved to a hotel at this time? We could wait."
Buffy shook her head. "As long as it's close, I think it'll be okay. One of the coven members has a van. We can use the back seat."
"Very well. I'll make the arrangements."
Buffy watched Giles turn to do exactly that, and she stopped him with her words. "I got her, Giles. I got the vampire that killed Faith."
"That's good, Buffy." The older man gave a sigh of relief. "I still worry about you, you know."
"I know," Buffy replied. "All good Watchers do."
He turned then and met her eyes, sharing a smile that had more than a decade of memories behind it. "Go see your vampire, Buffy," he said gently.
She walked away, and Giles could still see the girl she'd been.
Chapter 17: February 2017
"Are you hungry?"
If Spike had a dollar for every time someone asked him that, he would be a rich man. They all tried to feed him, perhaps because they were afraid he wouldn't eat if left to himself. Of course, he probably wouldn't have. Spike still didn't have much of an appetite.
Maybe it was the change from demon to something else. A vampire's hunger was a near-constant, and he had learned to control it. Human hunger was something else altogether, and Spike hadn't yet discovered how to deal with it. What the changed signals signified.
Spike hadn't yet learned how to read the new signs.
He still found himself shying away from mirrors—these days because he didn't want to see himself, rather than not wanting to see the empty space where he should have been. He still flinched at crosses and paused at holy water, although he had little contact with either.
Sunlight was the only change he actively welcomed.
Most days he felt like he was acting a part, as though he was playing a role in someone else's life. Spike didn't feel as though anything belonged to him, and he couldn't help but wonder who the worthier party was—the old Spike or the new.
He didn't feel like the same man.
Buffy had been wonderful, but he could see the uncertainty in her eyes, and he wondered if she didn't have regrets about the transformation. Perhaps she resented what he had become almost as much as he did some days. Maybe she regretted staying with him.
Maybe she didn't love this man who had come to take her husband's place.
Spike lived out his days with a sense of unreality dogging his heels. He ate and slept and made love to his wife, all the while wondering if they noticed that he was no longer himself.
Wondering if he would ever figure out who he was.
~~~~~
Buffy watched him struggle to answer her, waiting patiently for him to reply. Spike didn't seem to be quite all there a lot of times. She worried about him—a feeling that had become constant. The Slayer wondered if he had felt this way after she'd been resurrected, if Spike had seen that she wasn't quite all there, and worried about her.
She kind of thought it might be.
It wasn't that he was so different. Even though Spike kept insisting that he wasn't the same, Buffy couldn't see the change. He was a little more introspective, a little less into the hunt. He hadn't been out with Hannah since he'd returned from Africa. It made sense for him to take it easy the first couple of weeks. It had taken that long to recover from all his injuries and the subsequent illness.
Now, it seemed that the reasons went deeper, but she couldn't figure out what it meant.
Buffy could admit that she wasn't good at this kind of thing. Spike was always the one who could read people, who knew what went on under the surface. Meg was just like him, except that if it was genetic, she had probably inherited the trait from Joyce.
Buffy wished she was more like her mom, like Spike, like Meg. She wished that she could just look in his eyes and know what it was that he feared so deeply. No matter how hard she tried, however, Spike continued to be inscrutable. This new version of him was foreign to her, and yet she loved him no less.
She just didn't understand him these days, but she was trying. Patience had never been a strength for either of them, however.
"Spike? Are you hungry?" There was definitely a note of impatience in her voice now that she wished she had been able to erase.
He finally shrugged. "I could eat."
It was his standard answer. Buffy thought it was like Spike couldn't tell whether he was hungry or not. For some reason that frustrated her, and she spoke more harshly than she wanted. "That's not an answer, Spike. Either you're hungry or you aren't."
She knew it was a mistake as soon as the words left her mouth. Spike was delicate these days. Harsh words sent him running for cover—or just running. "Then I'm not." It was the first sign of temper he'd shown since he'd returned, and absurdly Buffy's heart leapt in her chest.
"Fine, Spike. Don't eat."
"I'm goin' out."
The door slammed behind him, and she sighed, not knowing whether to be happy that he seemed to be getting back to normal, or worried that he hadn't engaged. Normally, when they fought, they locked horns and kept at it until things had been sorted. They didn't run from each other any more.
At least, they hadn't run from each other. This wasn't precisely Spike, though.
"Mom?"
Buffy turned to look at Meg, who had a stack of plates in her hands. "What is it?"
"Should I set a place for Dad?"
She could hear the worry in her daughter's voice. Spike was most like himself when he was with her, or the other children. For some reason, he could be the old Spike with them in a way he couldn't with anyone else. Buffy didn't understand, but she was thankful for Meg's sake. "No, sweetie. He'll eat when he gets back in."
~~~~~
Stepping through the door was like putting on his old boots—comfortable and secure. Spike wasn't quite sure why things had to be that way, but they were. Where Buffy made him tense, Nika's house soothed. He wasn't quite sure why.
No, he did know. It was because they had never expected him to be anything other than what he was. Spike never could tell what Buffy wanted, and these days he was afraid to ask.
They accepted his presence as they always did. Wesley handed Spike a beer, and Nika fixed him a plate, and the boys chattered on about their days. At some point during the meal, Enid handed Carwen to him, and she put her chubby arms around his neck and gave him a wet baby kiss on the cheek.
It nearly brought tears to his eyes, although he couldn't have said why. If he wasn't feeling disconnected, everything felt entirely too real.
After dinner, Spike went out and sat on the back porch. He wanted a cigarette badly, but when he'd tried to light up around Buffy, she had gotten angry at him. "Those things will kill you," she had said.
Spike wasn't sure it mattered. He still wanted one.
"Spike?"
He turned slightly to see Hannah come out the back door, sitting down next to him. "Hey."
"Do you mind?"
Spike moved over to make room for her. They sat quietly for a while before Hannah spoke again. "Do you want to come with me tonight? There's a nest we've been hearing about."
"I don't—"
"Wesley's too busy with everything going on," she continued in a rush. "I could call Angel, but he's weird about that kind of thing. He's always killing more than his fair share of vampires." Hannah felt a sense of satisfaction when Spike's lips twitched. "So will you come with me?"
Spike shook his head. "Hannah, I'm human now. We don't know what, if anything, I can do."
"Wesley's human," Hannah replied stubbornly. "And you're my slaying buddy. Please."
He hadn't gone out hunting since before he'd left for Africa, and Spike wasn't so sure it was such a good idea. He half-feared what it would do to him. He did have a duty to Hannah and Wesley. The expectation had long been that he would handle most of the fieldwork.
"Right," Spike said, pushing himself up off the steps. "Let's get going, shall we?"
~~~~~
Hannah had a plan. No one was asking much of Spike. They kept tip-toeing around him as though he would break. She was getting a little tired of it. Hannah wanted her friend back.
It wasn't that she wanted to be harsh, or that she wanted to push him into doing something he wasn't ready for, but Spike had loved the hunt as much as she did. After the fiasco with her mother, it had been Spike who had finally brought her out of her funk.
Hannah just wanted to return the favor.
She had chosen the nest very carefully, not wanting to get either of them killed. It was one she probably could have handled by herself, if Wesley wasn't always insisting that she have backup. There were only five vampires, and they were all there, drinking from various bottles and telling tall tales about their most recent kills.
It didn't surprise Hannah one bit when Spike sprang into action. In fact, after staking one vampire, she sat back and watched him dispatch the other four. His movements were still fluid, still precise. When Spike staked the last one and looked at her with joy in his eyes, Hannah knew she'd done the right thing.
Then the light faded.
"Hannah—"
"Do you think I don't get it?" she asked quietly.
Spike shook his head. "Sweet, I know you think you're all grown up, but you don't know everything."
"No, I don't," she agreed amiably. "What I do know is that you used to enjoy this, and I thought you might again. I think you did."
He shook his head. Spike had no idea how to explain what he felt, that even the fight was tainted for him now.
"I always wondered if there wasn't something wrong with me," she said conversationally. "I mean, because I like the slaying so much."
Spike shook his head. "It's the way you are. Slayers—"
"Slayers aren't like most people," she finished for him, having heard the speech a thousand times for a thousand different reasons. "Neither are you."
Sitting down next to her, he looked off into the darkness. "It's not that simple."
"I always wondered if something was wrong with me, even before I was Chosen," Hannah said softly. "I mean, my mom was a nut job even before she refused to get out of bed. My dad took off when the pregnancy test turned out to be positive. If anyone was ever going to flake out on their big destiny it would be me."
"You're not like that."
"No, but you know how I figured that out?" she asked. When Spike remained silent, Hannah said, "You. I figured that if a vampire could go against everything he was, I could too." She smiled. "If you're thinking about atonement, Spike, think about this. You might have killed two Slayers, but you saved two as well."
Spike managed a smile. "It's not that simple, pet. Not so much about atonement as it is figurin' out what the bloody hell 'm supposed to do now."
"What makes you think you have to do anything?" Hannah asked, sounding amused. "Why not just take it a day at a time?"
Spike scowled at her. "That's not fair."
"It was good advice."
"You weren't s'posed to use it on me."
"Then don't give out good advice," Hannah shot back, sticking out her tongue at him.
"Maybe I won't." Spike sounded much like his old self at this point, which Hannah considered a job well done.
Hannah smiled smugly. "Then I guess now is probably a good time to tell you that I slept with Sam."
"You what?" Spike was on his feet, glaring down at her. "That's a bleedin' stupid thing to do! I'll—"
"I'm kidding."
Spike's eyes narrowed. "What?"
"I was kidding, Spike. Geez." Hannah grinned. "I just wanted to see the look on your face."
"Why you—"
She just sat there, grinning at him, and it suddenly hit him that for a moment he had forgotten everything. Spike had been pissed as hell, and all he'd wanted to do was find the boy and rip his arms off. He shook his head. "Pull another one like that on me, and you'll regret it."
"Promises, promises," Hannah replied easily.
"I mean it." Spike smirked. "You haven't seen the Big Bad come out to play for real yet."
Hannah just laughed at him. Spike couldn't help but laugh a little himself.
~~~~~
Spike slipped inside the house. It was later than he'd meant to be home, and he was hoping that Buffy wouldn't be waiting for him. The couch seemed like the best option for tonight.
"You were out late."
Her voice came from the living room, and Spike froze in the darkness. "Yeah. I took Hannah to clear out a nest."
"How did that go?" Buffy asked, coming out into the hallway to meet him.
Spike shrugged. "Fine. We got them all."
"That's good." She gave him a hesitant look. "You haven't wanted to go out since..." Buffy trailed off, not quite sure whether or not Spike wanted her to bring that up.
"Slayer needed the supervision," Spike offered by way of explanation.
Buffy nodded, feeling a pang. He could be with Hannah, but not with her. "Are you hungry?"
"No. I ate at Nika's."
"You've been eating there a lot lately. Is there something wrong with my cooking?"
It was meant to be a joke, to sound light-hearted, as though she couldn't care less where Spike was eating his meals. Instead, it sounded like she was trying to pick a fight, and as Spike's face shut down, Buffy knew that was how he was going to take it.
"No. Just wasn't hungry earlier, that's all."
Spike turned sharply to go to the kitchen, hoping that Buffy would take a hint and head upstairs to bed. "Spike, I didn't mean it that way."
"I don't know what you want."
It seemed a complete non-sequitor. Buffy blinked in confusion. "I don't understand."
"I'm not him," Spike said. "I don't know who the hell I am these days, but I don't know what you want from me."
Buffy struggled to find the words to say. Spike's back was to her, and she suddenly knew that he couldn't say it to her face. She could appreciate the guts it took to say that much. "I don't know how to answer that," she said honestly. "What would you want me to do?"
"I don't know!" The words sounded as though they'd been torn from his throat. "I don't know," Spike whispered. "Buffy, what are we doing?"
"We're getting through this as best we can," she replied. "We're doing what we've always done."
"Everything's sharper," he muttered. "An' yet it's all dulled. It's real, an' it's not real enough. Every day, feels like 'm dyin' all over again. Don't know how to describe it exactly."
Buffy sighed. "I know. It's okay, Spike. I understand."
"How can you?"
"Maybe I can't, but I know what it's like to feel lost inside your own life."
She put her arms around him then, thinking that he might be able to accept the gesture for what it was. His strong, warm hands came down over hers, giving them a squeeze. "I don't know how to be with you."
"Then just be here," Buffy replied. "Time will take care of the rest."
They didn't know that, not for sure, but Spike wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe that Buffy loved him, in any incarnation. He wanted to believe that she didn't need a little monster in her man.
Spike wanted to be enough.