TITLE: Forgiveness
DISCLAIMER: Surprisingly enough, I don't own any of this. ME and Joss do. But I can pretend.
THE STORY: Set five years after the end of Season 6. Buffy never heard from Spike again after he left. Now a new danger threatens the world and everything that she has worked for is endangered. Spike and Angel are the only ones that can help.
FEEDBACK: Please. In fact, I'd love some serious reviews on what you think works and what doesn't in my writing.


CHAPTER ONE - THE MORE THINGS CHANGE

Buffy felt pretty damn good as she made her way down the sidewalk towards the town centre.

If she’d been the singing kind, she probably would have burst into song right about now. Oh what a beautiful morning or something like that. Fortunately for the populace, she wasn’t the singing kind.

Instead, Buffy silently counted her blessings.

First of all, it was a beautiful spring morning, with the sun shining in a clear blue sky, birds singing, children playing, and all that kind of thing.

Secondly, she had just spoken to Dawn on the phone, and her sister was planning to get way from college life for a while and come stay for the weekend. Buffy still found it hard to accept that her little sister was old enough to be a student at Sunnydale U, but there it was. It wasn’t often that Dawn would take the weekend off to come visit, and Buffy couldn’t wait to see her again.

Thirdly, she had despatched four vampires last night to meet their maker, which was cause for a good mood in itself. But even more pleasing was the fact that demon activity in Sunnydale at the moment seemed to be down. Maybe she was actually winning the battle.

And finally, she didn’t have any work to prepare over the weekend for next week. So she was as free as the proverbial bird.

Life, all round, was pretty sweet. Buffy didn’t like to think the thought - well, out loud, as such - but it finally seemed that things were starting to fall into place. It wasn’t perfect, of course, but Buffy was old enough now to realise that it never was. It was getting pretty close, though, and after that terrible year when Tara had died five years ago, and everything else she held dear had fallen apart, Buffy thought she was entitled to a little bit of rightness.

As she turned into the street towards the Magic Box, Buffy felt a smile creeping across her face. She considered for a moment, and then decided not to fight it. Let the rest of the world think her mad. She was happy, dammit, and she didn’t care who knew.

****

Alison looked around the Magic Box, checking that everything was in order before unlocking the door to the bright Saturday morning outside.

Shelves dusted? Check. Cash register organised? Check. Stock displayed appropriately? Check. Rupert Giles sitting at the table engrossed in an ancient tome? Check.

Satisfied that all was as it should be, Alison crossed to the doors, drawing back the heavy bolt and propping the door open to let in the fresh spring air.

For a while, the peace of the shop was broken only by a few quiet customers, the ringing of sales, and the whisper of the page turning as Giles continued reading.

Then, right on cue, the peace was shattered.

“Good morning, everybody!” A cheery Buffy bounded into the store, smiling in Alison’s direction before collapsing in a seat next to Giles. “How are we all on this oh-so-beautiful Saturday day?”

“What?” Giles looked up from his book, that look on his face that Alison had come to know so well, the one that revealed his confusion at finding himself in the Magic Shop instead of whatever strange world he had been reading about. “Oh, good morning Buffy. Is it ten o’clock already?”

“On the dot,” Alison confirmed, joining them at the table with a tea tray.

Buffy watched with pleasure as the familiar Saturday morning ritual unfolded - the judicious trickle of just the right amount of milk into the enormous blue mugs, the careful pouring of the tea through the tea-strainer, the steady stirring in of sugar for herself and Alison, and finally the ceremonious handing over of the mug. She enjoyed the ritual more than the tea itself, truth be told, but it had become a Saturday morning tradition since Alison had moved to Sunnydale, into the Magic Shop, and into their lives two years ago. Buffy wouldn’t have forgone it for the world.

Buffy liked Alison. She was a petite, pretty, dark-haired woman, in her mid-thirties, who Buffy had decided was perfect for both the Magic Box, and for Giles. Since moving to Sunnydale after the death of her husband, she had been a most knowledgeable assistant in the shop and a fine addition to the Scoobies. With a smattering of magic knowledge and a calm, level head, Alison had proved perfect in any way. Buffy was pleased to note that Giles seemed to think so as well, in his own quiet, diffident way.

It was hard to imagine a time before Alison.

“Thank you, Alison,” Giles murmured, taking his mug without looking up. He was still engrossed in his book, and Buffy felt a dark foreboding that threatened the sunny day. Usually, Giles would push aside whatever book he was reading or accounts he was studying while they drank their tea, in order to talk with her about the latest danger in Sunnydale and make plans for the week ahead. It was a time that Buffy thoroughly enjoyed, reporting on her latest slayings, and watching Giles and Alison pretend not to watch each other.

Today, however, Giles didn’t seem able to tear his attention away from the book.

“Watcha reading, Watcher?” she asked flippantly, hiding her sudden fear.

“Oh, nothing - nothing.” Giles seemed to become aware of her gaze, quickly shutting the book, but keeping a hand resting on it as though he couldn‘t bear to lose contact. “Nothing for you to worry about, Buffy.”

“Giles. I have known you for ten long years. I can tell that there’s something,” Buffy told him. “Glasses are being polished. The little crease is appearing in the forehead. And the clincher - tea is being ignored. Something must be muchos wrongus. So, spill.”

Giles gave a wry chuckle. She did know him far too well for him to hope to hide anything. He replaced his glasses and leaned back in his chair.

“I’ve been picking up the portents for a few months now,” he admitted, rubbing the worry line in his forehead wearily. “The most recent was last night, I’m afraid. It proved conclusively that the Hellioan prophecy is coming to pass.”

Buffy sighed gustily in exaggerated exasperation. “And what, exactly, is the Hellie-whatever prophecy?”

“Well, it’s an extremely old prophecy from a religious cult in the time of ancient Greece,” Giles began. “It’s unusual in being very specific. It refers to a number of signs - eclipses, weather patterns, and so on. Last night’s sign was a particular and rare pattern of celestial alignment. The final sign it describes is an earthquake, and then it details that the time has come for the old ones to reclaim the earth.”

Buffy frowned, wondering why Giles was so worried. “Come on Giles, it’s not as though we’ve never heard that one before. Return of the Apocalypse. Apocalypse Now, Again. Part 2. We defeat it, save the world again, keep it a secret, and wait for next year’s ‘end of the world’. What’s the big?”

“Buffy, I’ve never seen a prophecy as detailed and exact as this one,” Giles said. He closed the volume with a slam. “And it’s the very last prophecy recorded by this cult. As though - there was no more to record of the future after this one was fulfilled.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Also, it refers to an important role played by a certain group of vampires. One that we know fairly well.” He looked at Buffy. “The Order of Aurelius.”

“Aurelius? Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” Irritably, Giles opened the book. “Roughly translated, it says:

“On the night of the full moon the earth shall shake with fear.

The old ones shall return to the earth
Back to the beginning
Back where they belong.
Brought back by the leader of Aurelius
To claim what was theirs.

And the earth shall no longer be home to mankind.

Only if the Empress of Night-time leads the way
Only if the three of sadness come together
Only if the two hands guide the shade
Will the doorway remain closed.

“Ok, so definitely Aurelius,“ said Buffy grudgingly. “So why don’t we just call Angel, get the inside scoop?”

“I’ve already spoken with Angel,” Giles replied, and Buffy was silenced for a moment. It still bothered her that Angel had more contact with Giles these days than with her.

“Right. So, um, what did he say?”

“He couldn’t help,” Giles admitted. “He’s not exactly kept in the loop, he says. He did have another idea though.” Giles paused again, removing his glasses for a quick polish. He looked up at Buffy, then returned his attention to his cleaning.

Buffy waited, eyebrows raised. Giles sighed and replaced his glasses.

“He suggested we ask Spike.”

Spike ....

Buffy froze. Against her will, memories swirled around her, and long-forgotten emotions washed over her - anger, frustration, disgust, fear, hate. She swallowed hard, forcing down the memories of that terrible time five years ago, when she had been trying to cope with her own return from the dead, with creating a home for Dawn without her mother, with Giles’ absence, with Spike’s attack and departure, with Tara’s death, and with Willow’s horrific descent into dark magicks. After a few seconds, she felt the world stop spinning and settle back into place around her.

“Ask who?” she finally asked, her voice hard. To her ears, it seemed to come from a long time ago.

“Ask Spike, Buffy,” Giles said calmly. He met Buffy’s eyes steadily and they regarded each other silently for a moment. An understanding borne of their years of friendship and regard passed between them, and Buffy gave a slight nod, accepting that Giles had good reason for bringing up the name of Spike.

“Why would Spike help? We don’t even know where he is -” She caught a glint in Giles’ eyes. “You know where he is, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do,” Giles admitted. “I’ve known for about two years. I wasn’t going to tell you unless you asked me. But I feel that it‘s necessary now.”

Unable to sit still any longer, Buffy surged to her feet, pacing the room.

Spike.

Even now, she felt a wave of nausea when she thought about him. Logically, she knew that the feeling wasn’t just due to him, but just as much to everything else that had been happening at that time. But it was just easier to blame Spike. It always was.

For a while, she had expected him to return, as they all tried to get their lives together after that awful year. It had taken a long time, but recently Buffy had begun to feel as though they had all moved on, and had created a life for themselves that had left the darkness behind. Now, in a simple sentence, Giles was threatening a peace that she had not realised was so fragile.

A frown marred Buffy’s brow as she thought back over the past five years, following Tara’s tragic death and Willow’s attempt to avenge her and end the world.

Willow had spent some time in England with Giles, recovering from both the physical and psychological effects of what she had done. To this day, Buffy still had no idea how Giles had dealt with the authorities in the aftermath of Warren’s murder and Willow’s attack on the police station, and she would never ask. Willow had returned after a year, a pale, quiet girl who was only now beginning to show flashes of the old Willow’s personality. Her time with the witches’ coven had taught her to control the magic that was an inextricable part of her, and she spent part of each day in meditation, as well as keeping in constant contact with the coven. She still lived with Buffy, working as a computer freelancer and paying much needed rent to supplement Buffy’s meagre income.

Xander and Anya had spent the next six months ignoring each other, then trading verbal snipes, before settling into an uneasy friendship. Eventually, however, Anya had started to see someone else, and Xander had been devastated. It was only after Anya had left Sunnydale with her new boyfriend that Buffy had started to see a return to the funny, thoughtful boy she had known at school.

As for Dawn - Buffy had no idea what she would have done without her little sister. Dawn had proved a tower of strength, helping Buffy out as much as she could, working hard at school, convincing the social workers that she was best staying in Sunnydale with her sister.

Giles had also been a rock to cling to. He had returned with Willow from England, taking back his old role at the Magic Shop and in Buffy’s life. Buffy had managed to finish a teaching degree by correspondence course and finally leave the fast food industry, securing a job at Sunnydale Junior School teaching seven year olds.

Spike had been pushed back into the farthest recesses of her mind, and when Buffy did think about him, she found that she assumed he was dead.

And now, Giles was forcing him back into her mind, back into her life ...

Turning back to Giles, Buffy studied him for a moment. He was watching her calmly enough, although she could detect a slight tension in the way he sat.

“So why do you think Spike would help us?” Buffy asked.

“Angel seems to think he would,” Giles replied, but Buffy got the feeling he was holding back on her.

“And why would Angel think that?” she continued to prod.

Giles sighed, removing his glasses again. “Buffy - it’s not really my story to tell. I think - I think we should go to Los Angeles. See Angel. See Spike. Decide what the best course of action is.”

Buffy frowned. Why was Giles being so secretive? What did he mean, it wasn’t his story to tell? She debated pushing further, trying to get Giles to spill, then abruptly decided against it. If this was the way he wanted to do it, then she would go along with it.

“Fine then. Let’s go.”

Giles looked at her in surprise. “Now? You want to go now?”

“No time like the present!” Buffy said cheerfully. “I’ve got the car here, all full of fuel, ready to go. You call Angel and let him know we’re on our way. I’ll call Willow and let her know I won’t be back till tonight. And we’ll hit the road.”

“Well.” Giles turned to Alison who had been watching them silently, sipping her tea. “Will you be all right to hold the fort here?”

“Of course.”

“Well. Well then. Yes, let’s go now. I’ll meet you at the car in five minutes, shall I Buffy?”

“Five minutes,” Buffy confirmed, pulling her cell phone from her bag as Giles headed out to the private office to ring Angel.

TBC

CHAPTER TWO - THE MORE THEY STAY THE SAME

They had been on the road for an hour, the landscape streaming past at a steady speed, the black highway punctuated by the flickering white road markings. Buffy wound her window down another inch, enjoying the fresh spring air that poured in her open window, stroking through her hair. Since finally getting her driver’s licence a year earlier, she now wondered what had taken her so long. She enjoyed driving, especially on beautiful days like this one.

Beneath her good feelings, though, a surge of darkness was beginning to rise, and despite a conscious effort not to think about it, Buffy’s mind was dwelling on Spike. Giles’ conversation with Angel had resulted in the plan of going to see Spike immediately, and Buffy was finding it hard to believe that, within a couple of hours, she would be facing Spike again.

The last time she had seen him ...

Tiredness and pain, soaking through every bone in her body and every cell of her brain. The effort of moving, dragging herself up the stairs. The temptation to collapse into bed finally subsumed by the beckoning siren song of a long hot bubble bath. The cold white tiles, the muffled roar of the tub filling with water, and then the jump of the heart as he starts to speak, unexpected, behind her ...

The struggle ... unable to believe that this is really happening. Slayer strength against vampire strength, but he still in his human visage, and she ...she, also, trapped by her human facade, struggling ineffectively against him, unable to break free, unable to fight as the Slayer against this all-too-human attack. Until finally, at last, at long last ...

He crashes back against the cabinet, dazed, confused. And her first words, her reproach to him ... yet again, she has forgotten what he is, she forgets that he is a monster, that he is evil, and her reproach is to the man ... “Ask me again why I can never love you” ...

Only later does she remember to remind herself that he doesn’t know any better, that he is worse than an animal ...

It helps, a little. But not much. She hates to feel vulnerable, to lose control, to feel threatened, and that night Spike did more than attack her physically ... he damaged, irretrievably, a little bit of her faith in herself and her abilities ...

“Buffy, are you all right?”

Buffy roused herself at Giles’ voice. “Yeah, sure, I’m fine.” She stretched her back, shook her hair back, concentrated on the road.

Giles regarded her silently for a moment. “Buffy, I wouldn’t have suggested doing this if I didn’t think you were strong enough to do so,” he told her. “A year ago, I don’t think I would have asked you to face Spike. But you’ve regained so much of your inner strength lately that I felt it was time. But if you feel differently ...”

“No,” she said forcefully, as much to herself as to Giles. “I’ll be fine. We need to do this. He may be able to help us.”

Silence reigned again for a few minutes.

“So. You’ve known about Spike for two years?” she finally asked. At Giles’ nod, she continued; “And Angel has known as well.”

“Angel knew for about a year before he told me,” Giles replied absently, staring out the window.

“Who else knows?”

That got his attention. His head whipped around to look at her, and a look startlingly like that of a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar crept over his face.

“Um. Well. I suppose - Dawn also knows.” The words came out slowly.

“DAWN knows?” It was the last person that Buffy would have expected, but ... Dawn had once had a very close bond with Spike, one that Buffy had never been able to understand. “How?”

“Last year, when she was staying with your father - she dropped in on Angel unexpectedly. Spike was there.” A sound suspiciously like a snort came from Giles. “I believe that it was an encounter that Spike was lucky to survive. Dawn, well, shall we say she wasn’t very happy with him.”

“No,” Buffy muttered in amused agreement. Since Dawn had found out about Spike’s actions during that last night he was in Sunnydale, Buffy couldn’t remember hearing Spike’s name cross her sister’s lips once.

The two lapsed into silence again for the remainder of the trip. As they pulled up outside Angel’s latest headquarters, a refurbished warehouse in a newly fashionable area of the city, Buffy found that she was actually feeling nervous. It had been almost a year since she had last seen Angel, but she knew that the butterflies were caused more by the thought of facing Spike again, than by seeing the person she had once believed was the love of her life.

“We’re just going to pick Angel up, then go over to Spike’s,” Giles told her as she tried to manoeuvre into a too-small parking space.

“Now you tell me,” Buffy mumbled as she gave up on trying to park and stopped, half in and half out of the spot. Slayer skills did not include the ability to reverse park. She twisted to see Angel, protected by a blanket, sprint to the car and leap into the back seat. She bit back a chuckle. Angel hated being out in sunlight, aware that running around under a blanket looked somewhat undignified. Now, he huddled into the centre of the back seat, arranging the blanket over any exposed skin.

“Buffy. Giles.” he greeted them once he was settled.

“Angel,” Giles replied in kind, and finally Buffy gave in to a much-needed eye roll. Laconic much?

“Good afternoon, Angel,” she said uber-polite. “How are you today?”

He shot her a confused look. “I’m - fine, Buffy. How are you?”

“I’m fine, Angel. Thank you so much for asking.” Her point made, she turned around the face the road again. “So. Where to now?”

Angel and Giles exchanged bemused looks, then Angel directed her through the warren of streets of downtown LA.

“Did you manage to reach Spike?” Giles asked, twisting in his seat to face Angel.

“I couldn’t get hold of him,” Angel answered, tilting to the left to avoid a stray sunbeam as they rounded the corner. “But he should be home at this time.”

Buffy’s hands clenched on the steering wheel. This was surreal. How had her day gone from morning-tea-ritual-at-the-Magic-Box to visiting-vampire-who-attempted-to-rape-you-five-years-ago?

With a start, she realised that Angel was instructing her to pull into an underground parking garage underneath an enormous, modern glass-and-steel apartment complex.

“Spike lives here?” she asked in disbelief, craning her neck to look up the glittering expanse of building as they drove past and into the parking area.

“Yeah,” Angel answered, oblivious to her surprise. He climbed out the car, relegating the blanket to the floor with ill-concealed disgust.

“Wow,” Buffy said under her breath. She had expecting something dank and mouldy, like his old crypt, not a spacious and expensive-looking apartment.

Silently, the three entered the mirrored lift and Buffy watched Angel push the button for the fifteenth floor. Whisper-quiet, the lift rose and after a few seconds the doors slid open to reveal a hallway boasting plush carpets, a deep couch, and four heavy wooden doors leading to the apartments.

Angel led the way to the farthest door and rapped his knuckles against the solid wood. Flanked by Giles and Angel, Buffy’s heart rose to her throat as she heard movement behind the door. Any second now ...

And then it swung open.

It wasn’t Spike.

TBC

CHAPTER THREE - SPINNING AROUND

This person standing it front of her - it couldn’t be Spike.

He looked nothing like the arrogant peroxided vampire she had once known so well.

The tousled hair - longer, darker, no longer slicked back but falling in soft, dark gold waves all over his head.

The clothes - a soft grey long-sleeved T-shirt that clung to his torso, and a pair of well-worn, supple denim jeans. Bare white feet, peeking out at the bottom, made him seem vulnerable.

The look in his eyes - she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but something there was different. Darker. Deeper. They flicked from Angel to Giles to her, and stayed.

The expression on his face - uncertain, slightly anxious. There was a stillness about him that was all wrong.

But as she looked closer, she saw past the superficial changes ...

Those enviable cheekbones - they were as familiar to her as her own. The full lower lip, the hard planes of his chest visible in the way his shirt draped against his body, the scar on the eyebrow, the hollow in the cheeks, the sharp jaw line. The same porcelain skin and long dark eyelashes. The graceful slouch in the doorway, the head tilt. The long-fingered hand gripping the doorframe ...

She swallowed hard and looked back into those blue eyes.

*****

He clutched the doorframe, the fanciful thought flitting through his mind that if he let go then he would fall. He was aware of the two figures on either side of the tiny one in front of him, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

“Buffy,” he breathed. A whisper of sound. She was here.

He had thought that he remembered her perfectly, that she was engraved in his memory, but now, when she stood in front of him after so long, he saw how flawed his memory had been. He’d forgotten so much - not the colour of her eyes or the natural pout of her lips, but her defiant stance, her delicate scent, the grave expression in her eyes.

His gaze collided with hers, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He was drowning in her ...I’m drowning in you, Summers ... drowning in the feelings and emotions that only she could evoke. Had she come to stake him? He found that he didn’t really care. Once, he had believed he knew every thought and emotion that she experienced. Now, he knew better, and was unable - didn’t dare - to read anything from her expression or in her eyes.

Time seemed to slow, whispering past, just the two of them standing in the middle untouched and unbreathing ... no one else around.

The spell was broken by Giles, who cleared his throat and glanced over Buffy’s head to Angel.

“Perhaps Angel and I should wait over there,” he suggested, gesturing behind him to the sofa outside the lift doors. “Let you two - catch up...”

He trailed off as he realised how inappropriate the words were, but to his surprise Buffy nodded.

“Give us five minutes,” she directed, and silently Giles and Angel moved away.

No sound had crossed Spike’s lips since he had opened the door except her name, and he said nothing now as he stepped aside, allowing her to enter his apartment.

Buffy stepped inside and looked around curiously. A large room, with neutral painted walls, polished wooden floors, and at the window wooden Venetian blinds that were tilted to allow light but no sun to enter. A modern, stainless steel kitchenette in one corner, an enormous bed in an alcove, a large flat screen television in front of one of those black leather recliner chairs. A sofa tucked to one side. A single door, leading to what she presumed was a bathroom.

The only thing here that reminded her of the old Spike was the incongruity of dozens of candles scattered around on every available surface. And - she looked closer and couldn’t restrain a smile. It was the ancient ‘Kiss the Librarian’ mug on the kitchen counter, cracks in the handle showing that at some point it had broken and been carefully glued back together. Aside from the mug and the candles, there was nothing personal in the room.

She turned to face him. He stood in front of the now-closed door, watching her silently, expectantly. Waiting - for what?

She gave him a half-smile. “I’m not here to stake you Spike.”

He looked blank for a split-second, then breathed out in a ghost of a chuckle, rubbing his hands through his hair. “Wouldn‘t have surprised me.” A beat. “Wouldn’t have blamed you.”

He moved a few paces into the room, tentative. “So why are you here?”

Buffy turned away from him, taking a few minutes to get back her composure, perching on the arm of the black leather chair before looking back at him. “Giles - he’s found something, we need to talk to you about it.” She waved a hand impatiently through the air. “He can tell you about that. I needed to talk to you first.” She paused, looking at him again, still standing just inside the door. He was motionless, calm, completely unlike the Spike she had known so well. “I haven’t heard anything about you in five years, Spike. Then, out of the blue, Giles is suggesting we talk to you. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what you’ve been doing. I don’t know anything. And I need to know.”

His eyes shot to hers. “Rupert didn’t tell you?”

Buffy shook her head. “He didn’t tell me anything. He said - it wasn’t his story to tell.” Her gaze remained on him, waiting. Silent.

“No. Well.” Finally, he was pacing, fidgeting. “Better make yourself comfortable, then.”

Buffy slid into the chair, curling her legs up under her. Her eyes didn’t leave him.

“To begin at the beginning ...” He lowered himself onto the sofa, then almost immediately got to his feet again, pacing in tight controlled circles in front of her. That was familiar. The graceful, predatory prowl. In stark contrast to his halting, reluctant words. “The beginning - that night, the night that I - attacked you ...”

Cold tile, cold skin ... shame, confusion ... disgust, horror ... always the horror ...

“Afterwards, when I went back home ... I don’t really know what was going on in my head. I can’t remember ... it was all confusion. I remember feeling guilty. I was - horrified by what I had done. Angry at myself. Angry at what I had done to you, as well as angry that I felt guilty about it. Cause if I was a monster, then why was I guilty? It meant that I wasn’t really a monster ... but then, only a monster would have done what I had. It was going round and round in my head, first one feeling, then the other, then back again, round and round...”

He took a deep breath before continuing. The words were coming easier now, flowing from him in confession. “I decided I had to do something, change things, change myself, in a way that you would recognise. I was so sure that there was something there, you see, something that you refused to acknowledge. I thought that if I could change the one thing about me that was causing you to hold you back, then everything would be fine.

“So I went to this demon I had heard about. In Africa. I wanted to - I wanted a soul. So that I could walk up to you and say ‘Here I am. Not just an evil soulless thing, you see. As good as your precious Angel‘.” He stood up straight as he said this, hands raised at his sides in supplication. “I thought it would make you see - that I had really changed. Before. That having a soul made no difference to my feelings for you. Just allowed me to become something that you could admit to loving ...”

He sat down again, collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut. “Oh, God ...” Covering his face with his hands, he was silent for a long minute.

Buffy could only stare at him in silence. Spike went to get a soul. For me. He wanted a soul ... he got a soul ... She felt almost light-headed. She had thought her day was surreal before ... Could this really be happening?

Just as Buffy began to feel as though she would have to say something to break the suffocating silence, Spike lifted his head and continued speaking, his eyes averted, staring at his hands. Jerkily, as though he was reciting. “To cut a long story short. I found this demon. Got through the trials. Got back my soul. I don’t remember too much about it. Or afterwards. I was out of it for months. Hallucinating. It was about a year later I came back to myself. I was in Morocco. Squatting in a deserted building somewhere. Surviving on butcher’s blood. Don’t really know why I bothered. Suppose the survival instinct is still strong. I think - I think I didn’t want to die on my own. Die alone. Again.” He swallowed hard. Another useless breath. “I had this one thought - to come back here. I got this idea in my head - go to Angel. Didn’t know what he would do. Didn’t really care. One way or another he would help me - help me live with my soul, or else put me out of my misery. Didn’t really care.”

He paused again, rubbing his hands over his face and hair in a gesture that was becoming familiar. Buffy kept silent, still digesting his words. Got his soul, got his soul. She tried to imagine what it must have been like, and knew that she could never comprehend the pain and the anguish that must have caused. It went against everything she had ever believed, and in spite of herself she felt stirrings of respect for the vampire in front of her.

“I told Angel everything - everything that had happened,” Spike said, glancing quickly at Buffy before looking back at his hands. “Almost did get staked, then. And again, when Rupert came after Angel contacted him. I don’t know what stopped them - still don’t know. But - they decided to help me instead. Angel has been ... I couldn’t have survived without Angel’s help. I don’t know how he coped for so long on his own after he was cursed with his soul. The horror, the self-loathing ... it eats you up. I finally understood everything you had been trying to tell me. There was no way I could ever face you again. I made Angel and Giles promise that they would never tell you ... they promised, on the condition that if you ever asked then they would have to let you know. I never expected you would ask ... you must have been thanking your lucky stars that I had finally left you in peace ...”

His voice trailed off, and for a long time there was silence. Then Spike spoke again.

“I’m glad you’re here now,” he said softly. “I need to say something to you, Buffy. I know you could never forgive me, I don’t expect that. But I do need you to know how sorry I am about what I did - what I tried to do. Nobody should ever go through something like that, and the fact that I did it to you, to the person that I loved ...” He spread his hands helplessly. “I just need you to know that I’m so sorry.”

“I do forgive you,” Buffy said, surprising herself. She forgave him? When did that happen? “I hadn’t - up until just now. I would have thought it was impossible - but now, it doesn’t hurt any more. I can tell that you are sorry. I think I knew you were sorry at the time. And so - I do forgive you.”

They regarded each other in silence for a moment, relearning all that they had forgotten. A soft knock at the door roused them, and Spike got to his feet.

“Angel and Ripper must be wondering if we’ve killed each other,” he said wryly, and sure enough the expression on Giles’ face when he opened the door was one of relief.

“It’s all right, Rupert, everyone’s still alive,” Spike said, gesturing the two into the room. “So how bout you tell me what’s going on.”

Giles glanced between Buffy and Spike, checking that everything was all right before speaking.

“We think there’s a new danger threatening the Hellmouth,” he finally said. “It’s something to do with the Order of Aurelius. We need to know if you’ve heard anything, picked up any news or rumours.”

Buffy held up her hand, reluctant to interrupt but needing to ask. “Why would Spike know any more than Angel?”

Giles turned exasperated eyes towards Spike. “I thought you’d explained everything.”

Spike leaned back on the sofa. “Didn’t quite get that far before you came on the rescue mission.” He glanced at Buffy. “We’ve kept news about my soul quiet. I spend most of my time on the streets, so to speak, and anything useful I hear I pass on to Angel. That kind of thing.”

“Like a double agent?” Buffy asked, and his lips twitched.

“Something like that, yeah.” He turned back to Giles. “And in answer to your question, no, I haven’t heard anything. But then the fact that I’m chipped would probably stop me getting the latest newsletter or an invite to a family reunion. I’m almost a much of a black sheep in the family as Angel.”

“Marvellous,” sighed Giles. “So we have nothing.”

“Maybe there is one thing.” Spike paused for a moment, considering. “Maybe. I did hear of a few vampires back in town. Or coming to town. Old family members. Including Drusilla. I hadn’t thought before, but sounds like a good old get together.”

“Then let’s recap,” Buffy said. “We have an ancient prophecy. We have signs to show that it’s coming to pass. We have insane vampires heading into town. But we have no idea how to stop it or even when it’s going to happen.” She looked around. “Did I miss anything?”

“No, I think that about sums it up,” Giles replied dryly.

“Well, we can be pretty sure it’s going to be in Sunnydale, at the Hellmouth,” Angel volunteered. “Maybe we should all head over there, see if we can find anything that’s going on.”

Giles looked almost eager. “That would be extremely helpful. Can you leave things here for a few days?”

Angel and Spike exchanged glances, then both nodded.

“I need to make a few calls, get a few things together. We’ll make our own way down, meet you there,” Angel suggested.

“Excellent.” Giles stood, efficiency personified. “Do you need us to arrange somewhere to stay?”

“I’ve still got the mansion there,” Angel said. “We can bunk down there for a few nights.”

“Very good. Why don’t we see you at Buffy’s at about half past-nine. Well then.” He turned to Buffy. “Shall we head off?”

“Very good,” she echoed, feeling as though she was in some kind of alternate universe. One, Angel and Spike in the same room and not trying to kill each other. Two, Giles treating them both as equals. Three, a prophecy that has Giles in a spin. Coupled with the story she had just heard, she was beginning to feel a bit light-headed. She turned to her Watcher. “Why don‘t you drive home, Giles.”

TBC

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