See Me, Feel Me

~*Prologue*~


Los Angeles: One Year Earlier…


~**~


Rain pelted the angular curves of his face, streaked down his cheeks and clouded his vision. He glanced warily at the others surrounding him as sounds of an unearthly nature emanated from the street ahead and the sky above.

A sinking feeling came over Spike as he watched Gunn stumble to stand by his side, clutching his body and grimacing in pain. Angel and Illyria’s gazes remained fixed on the massive army of demons that steadily approached.

The rag-tag bunch that made up Angel’s side of the battle hardly flinched or moved a muscle. The enemies on both sides regarded one another malevolently, as seconds ticked by in slow motion, the tension rising and building.

Things were going from bad to worse in a span of seconds. Angel’s jaw set in determination, his hand tightening around the sword he carried. In that instant, Spike knew what was going to happen next.

They were all going to die.

In the pouring rain.

In this alleyway.

Spike had never been more ready to die than he was at this moment. He had lived his life, was supposed to have been at rest months ago, if not for the buggerin’ amulet. But at this moment, facing the swelling army of demons that advanced toward Angel’s team, Spike knew that he couldn’t think of a better way to leave this world…with a loud and resounding bang.

What a way to go.

Not many humans, or vampires for that matter, could say they had died going out in a blaze of glory, not once but twice. It was a rare honour for a man like Spike, for a demon like Spike. His fists clenched at his sides and his gaze traveled toward the sky as a new and terrifying sound assailed his senses. Narrowing his eyes through the sheets of rain that clung to his lashes, Spike was momentarily dumbfounded at what he saw.

Dragon.

Glancing at Angel once more, Spike saw no fear and, for the first time in his unlife, felt a bit of admiration toward his grandsire. Of course he’d never admit it out loud, but he felt it just the same.

The poof might be a lot of things, things that Spike wouldn’t mind recounting and ticking off on his fingers endlessly and joyfully, but there was one thing Spike could admit that Captain Forehead possessed. Big stones.

Slowly, Angel took a step forward, his eyes never leaving the multitude that approached him and the remaining members of Angel, Investigations. He raised his sword slightly. Every muscle in his body tightened instinctively, every molecule aligned as he prepared for battle.

Spike battled with a fierce gamut of emotions as time seemed to stand still. He wanted to die. He was ready to die, but there was so much unfinished in his life, so many things left unresolved and his shoulders sagged a little at the thought.

Buffy.

The things he never got to say to her. The missed opportunities, the hundred thousand times he should have picked up the phone and called her, told her the truth. All of it was lost now, swirling and washing away just like the rain that seemed to pelt endlessly from the sky. He thought of her now, golden skin, blonde hair, striking emerald gaze…those eyes that seemed to draw a man in and dare him not to drown.

She was his damnation; his be-all end-all and he had only sat back and watched as she slipped from his fingers, moving onto another…to someone as pitiful as The Immortal. He had kept telling himself that it was for the best, that she didn’t need him gallivanting back into her life, just when she was finally living, really living…using the opportunities that Spike had given her upon his death in the crumbling cavern of the Hellmouth. How could he do that to her and still live with himself? Was it even justified?

Spike didn’t know and now it didn’t seem he had the time to right the wrongs, because the army of demons was advancing closer and precious time was slipping away.

It was time to fight.

The blood zinged through Spike’s veins, and if his heart could beat, it would have slammed against his ribcage with the force of a jackhammer. He clenched his jaw, tightened his fingers into fists and felt the old familiar tug inside of himself. The desire for a good brawl, an all-out fight. The thought made him stand a little straighter, and suddenly all was right with the world.

Spike was ready to go.

He turned to Angel, whose steely gaze had not wavered. Next, Spike regarded Gunn, who was having difficulties standing upright. The boy clutched at the mortal wound at his side and Spike could smell the blood that mingled with the pungent aroma of fear. He didn’t think Charlie would last more than five minutes, but it was alright…

Spike would fight for him.

“OK. You take the 30,000 on the left,” Gunn muttered weakly.

“You're fading. You'll last 10 minutes at best,” Illyria pronounced from behind Spike. Spike could feel the new energy that seemed to roll off of Gunn in waves and knew the boy wouldn’t back down…that it was in his nature to fight. A few things the two of them had in common, at least in Spike’s mind.

“Then let's make 'em memorable,” Gunn proclaimed evenly, the weakness that had pervaded his tone a moment earlier now replaced with unbending resolve. No backing down, no turning away now. Spike faced the approaching army, his spine ramrod straight, his mind clear and focused on the task at hand. The snarling throng of demons and creatures came to a standstill…and waited.

“In terms of a plan?” Spike asked only for the sake of something to say. He knew the plan, had known it the moment he’d stepped into the alleyway. This was going to end. Tonight. So Angel’s response didn’t surprise him in the slightest.

“We fight.”

“Bit more specific?” Spike asked with a frown. If he was going to die he wanted to know the quickest way to avoid it so he could get the most punches in before he went out all hero-like. Maybe that made him a little like the great Poof, but Spike didn’t care anymore…he just wanted a piece of the action…a slice of the pie. He couldn’t wait. Angel raised his sword and glanced at the sky, not even batting an eyelash at the rain that fell, clouding his vision. Spike knew what was coming next.

“Personally, I kinda want to slay the dragon,” Angel said slowly as all at once the demon masses began to attack. Spike stepped forward, fists raised, bouncing on the balls of his feet, ready to fight.

“Let’s go to work!” Angel shouted, lifting his sword and giving it a hefty swing at the demon that approached.

And at that moment…

All hell broke loose.


~**~


Two ethereal presences watched the scene unfold from above. The rain slicked street, the pall of foreboding that seemed to cling to every minute particle of matter that shaped and molded the world below…it was so heavy…so permanent.

But another distinct feeling seemed to pervade the scene; it was a new feeling…a strange one…especially since it emanated from an unlikely source. This could only come from one…but wait…it didn’t.

Instead it seemed to flow freely from the opposite end of the spectrum. There was love, mingled with slight fear, the heavy weight of the plea for forgiveness, and guilt…so much guilt. The emotion seemed to wrap around the ethereal beings, seemed to cloak them wholly and completely. One angel turned to the companion at its side and frowned, as if searching desperately for the right words to proclaim the oddity of the situation.

“This vampire…the one that acquired his soul through grueling trials…he does not fight to save the world…he fights to save himself,” the being pronounced, as if finally realizing for the first time.

It was astonishing, mind boggling…and absolutely wonderful. At last, redemption had been achieved and a reward would be waiting on the other side of the fray. It was justified, rightfully his. The angel’s companion nodded in agreement.

“A reward,” it echoed.

“He should have what his heart truly desires.”

“What he loves, what he wants most in this world.”

“But she rebuked him…”

“Only to proclaim her love in the final moments of his sacrifice.”

“Yet, he refused her love.”

“Only so that she would be allowed to move on with her life…truly a sacrifice.”

“How do we reward such a noble act?”

“We shall talk to The One Who Knows All Things…let The One decide…for it is not in our power to bequeath these things.”

“Agreed. The One will know.”

With one last look at the battle being waged below, the ethereal beings contemplated the scene, drew it inside of themselves. They witnessed bold sacrifices, noble deaths. Their eyes remained fixed on the golden-haired vampire, the deep gash that sliced the skin of his left cheek, the blood flowing mixing with the rain that fell from the sky. They saw the spark alight in his azure blue eyes and heard the words his heart cried out.

Doin’ this for you, pet. I love you…

The angels turned to each other, the peaceful calm of their shared gaze rippling over them as knowledge became clear and bright. A reward. It was acceptable. He had died, not once, but twice to prove his love. He had paid the price for redemption with his own blood and these noble acts could not be left unheeded.

He would be rewarded.


~**~


Spike could feel it once again. His bones were disintegrating, muscle liquefying, skin dissolving until it was the texture of tissue paper. There was a burning sensation that roiled from inside his body. It started at the top of his head and undulated down to the tips of his toes. He was burning up…turning to ash.

It was just like the first time… his back against the crumbling walls of the Hellmouth, hand clasped tightly in hers as the flames licked at his skin, and burned hers as well.

He remembered it so clearly as he stared into her eyes, saw the tears swimming behind the emerald depths, and finally saw what he waited so long for. Her love, shining so brightly, so beautifully and then the painful sting of knowledge, knowing that it was too late…that she had waited too long.

A sudden pang pierced his body, greater than the pain that the amulet was providing with its warm golden laser-like beam. This pain was different and it hurt so much more.

She loved him.

But she had waited too long.

And when the words had finally escaped from her mouth and glided over Spike, they had sounded hollow in his ears and the old doubt came creeping back, sneaking in. He knew the Hellmouth wasn’t the time or the place, but he couldn’t help the bitterness that he felt, wanted to push it away, to pretend it wasn’t there, but he could not help himself and before he knew it the words were leaving his mouth of their own volition.

There was no way to stop it.

“No you don’t, but thanks for saying it.”

A brief flicker of pain crossed over her features and it killed Spike in those remaining moments as the earth trembled beneath their feet, as the walls came crashing down around them. And then he shouted at her to go, to run away. She hesitated for the slightest moment, as if she were afraid, terrified to let him go. In that moment, Spike knew.

He had been wrong.

She did love him and it showed…it showed in her faltering footsteps, the hesitation etched over the beautiful features of her face, the way her mouth opened and closed as if struggling for the words to say to make everything all right. Another tremble from below shook the cavern and the fleeting moment had passed, for a split second later she had turned on her heel and run from the cavern, leaving Spike all alone and with new knowledge burning him in ways the amulet could not.

But now he was burning again and this time there was no one there to hold his hand, no one there to say the words he’d been dying to hear. Angel had been decapitated by one swift motion of the dragon’s wing. Gunn’s neck had been twisted by a demon and Illyria lay broken and bleeding a few feet away, her blood, red tinged with blue, funneled onto the wet pavement, mixing with the rainwater that swirled around her.

And Spike was burning.

The dragon had taken one deep breath and before Spike knew it he was ensconced in a column of flame so hot that the pain barely registered. All he knew was that he was on fire, his body turning to ash and once again one last thought remained tightly affixed in Spike’s mind…

Buffy…

Her name, his last fleeting thought…and then darkness…as the lights went out…as the sound disappeared…

And he was nothing…

And then he was free…


~**~

End of Prologue

TBC…
 

Chapter One

~*Broken*~


~**~


London, England: One Year Later…


A lengthy amount of time had passed since the collapse of the Sunnydale Hellmouth. Buffy guessed about a year, but knew that it felt like longer. So much had changed in that space of time.

Slayers were coming into their power all over the world everyday. Her friends had scattered to the four winds and contact had been virtually lost. It hadn’t taken long. Mere weeks. First Willow and Kennedy and then Xander shortly thereafter.

Buffy knew the whereabouts of her Wiccan friend, who was off gathering up new Slayers all over the country. But she hadn’t a clue regarding Xander. The shadows of sadness, despair and loss had clouded the features of her young carpenter friend. The pain could not be so easily hidden, even if he did have only one eye.

Buffy had received the news shortly after she and Dawn had relocated to England. Xander had disappeared. Without a trace. He’d just packed what little belongings he’d managed to salvage from Sunnydale and disappeared to parts unknown, without more than a phone call or even a note.

Hearing this news had broken Buffy more than she had ever imagined it would. Her oldest and dearest friend was suffering and instead of taking comfort in those who were almost like family to him, he’d run away. It was not like Xander to do such a thing, but circumstances were drastically different now. Everyone was learning new ways to cope. This was Xander’s.

But Buffy knew that her coping measures had not changed. She had moved on in the only way she knew how…by distancing herself as far away as she could from the source of her pain. It had helped, but only for a short while.

Once the Watchers Council had been rebuilt and Buffy had taken her place there, she had focused on getting Dawn into school as soon as possible. She so desperately needed her sister to thrive in this new ‘normalcy’ they’d been given. She reminded Dawn of this almost daily. Don’t take what you have for granted, because in a split second it could be so easily taken away.

Dawn only shook her head at her older sister, seemingly absorbing the advice, but also allowing it to go in one ear and out the other. Buffy knew the score and Dawn reminded her of this as well. It seemed Dawn couldn’t let anything go. She constantly brought up memories from the past, memories that were better off buried and forgotten.

Buffy simply avoided her sister’s questions. She hated that she had distanced herself so much from Dawn, but the more she pulled away, the easier it became to survive. In Buffy’s mind, the more the sadness pervaded in her life, the harder it was for her to move on.

And that was all she really wanted.

Buffy was damn tired of sadness. She’d had her fair share for seven years in Sunnydale…happiness was of the good.

Too bad it hadn’t been so forthcoming.

Because everyday Buffy still found herself thinking of him.

Always thinking of him.

He haunted her dreams, stole her thoughts away in waking hours and had managed to set up shop inside of her brain. She constantly thought of him and constantly battled the tears she wanted to cry.

Buffy had not grieved, at least not in the way she was supposed to.

She still had trouble believing that she could feel love for him.

It wasn’t love, couldn’t be love.

Then why had the words slipped so easily from her mouth that day in the Hellmouth? Why had she taken his hand in hers? Why had she allowed herself, for one moment, to burn alongside him?

Because you love him, her evil mind had taunted.

No. I. Don’t.

Yeah Buffy keep telling yourself that. Maybe it’ll be real this time.

So she chose to shun the thoughts away, banish them from her mind, push them so far down that it was almost impossible to resurrect them again. At least that’s what she was trying to convince herself of these days.

Too bad it wasn’t working.

It was becoming a daily battle. Get up. Shower. Dress. Go to work. Think of Spike. No…no thinking of Spike. And when the tears threatened, Buffy swallowed them, bottled up her emotions and pretended that it wasn’t grief she felt, pretended that she didn’t miss him, didn’t want him.

Of course she didn’t love him.

Right?

Months passed this way for Buffy. She knew she was dwelling in the land of denial, she knew that it was probably going to kill her, but for the life of her she couldn’t seem to escape it. She was drowning in sorrow and it was eating her alive, piece by piece. Not that she’d ever admit out loud. No, not Buffy…not the strongest, longest living Slayer to date…not her.

But people started to notice.

Dawn had inquired in her own brash way, just flat-out demanding to know what the hell was wrong with her. She wasn’t going to let Buffy get away with an ‘I’m fine’, as if the two words could tie everything up so neatly. Buffy had been avoiding her questions, dodging them and managing to get away with it as school and friends stole away more and more of her younger sister’s time.

Giles had even noticed a change, which shocked Buffy, as her Watcher was so wrapped up in his new life, his new duties as Head of the Watchers Council. But he had noticed and approached her. Buffy found that the lies came easily and that people believed you if you told them what they wanted to hear.

Buffy had been getting by…but barely.

That was, of course, before the dream she’d had a month ago.

She could only recall bits and pieces of it, but the most significant parts remained imprinted on her memory.

A dark street, rain pelting from the sky in sheets.

A shadowed band of fighters gathering together and standing against a vast army, too numerous for the rag-tag bunch to fight.

And something about a dragon.

That part was the hardest for Buffy to figure out.

So, she’d half-heartedly attempted to talk to Giles about it. He’d been properly British and evasive, not giving her any advice that she didn’t already know. And then she’d tried contacting Angel at Wolfram and Hart…to no avail.

This was what had started the worrying, because Angel was on his way to England and he had something important to tell her.

She prayed to God it didn’t have anything to do with what she thought it might.

Because she was shattered now and she didn’t know if the pieces could be so easily picked up if something catastrophic happened…not now…not this time.

So Buffy prayed for good news, but didn’t expect any miracles. This was her life and it always seemed to be ruled by Murphy’s Law…what could go wrong, would go wrong.

Still she prayed.


~**~


Spike could sense the darkness. The last thing he remembered was the intense heat of the dragon’s fiery blast…and then silence and now this place. He briefly remembered a freeing sensation…briefly remembered making peace with something or another and now…just darkness.

Even with the assistance of acute vampire sight he couldn’t make out his hand in front of his face. Assuming he still had hands, or a face for that matter. A cursory pat-down assured Spike of his physical being. But now to get out of this place, or at least get a little farther in discovering where the hell he was.

Walking wasn’t helping. He wasn’t getting anywhere. If he was, he couldn’t be sure of the distance he’d traveled or if there was even a destination to begin with. And now he was right pissed off and in desperate need of a fag.

Answers would have been delightful right about now.

A sudden burst of illumination flooded the space that Spike was inescapably trapped in. He reacted with the basest of human instincts without even realizing it. He took a step back and held his breath. The light filled the room to the point where it was so blinding that Spike had to shade his eyes from the intensity of it.

If Spike concentrated enough he could almost detect the presence of another being in this prison-like place, and the feeling was getting stronger. Except the feeling wasn’t giving him human-type vibes.

No…this was something else…something entirely different.

Spike wasn’t afraid. More or less, he was intrigued.

“Who’s there?” he called out into the darkness that was quickly turning into light. “Better show yourself…don’t take too kindly to beasties!”

The light began to dim, to part, as if it was a curtain and soon a figure emerged. The intensity of the light momentarily blinded Spike, which made it more difficult to determine who or what now occupied the room. He blinked rapidly and tried to get a better look. Soon the light was sapped from the room, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

The figure wasn’t just an anonymous presence anymore…it was a person…a woman and she was walking toward him with slow sure steps. All it took was one glance and Spike knew who she was.

His mum.

She hadn’t changed a bit since the last time he’d seen her almost two hundred years ago. Thank bleeding God she wasn’t a vampire anymore…a choice Spike still regretted even after all the time that had passed. It wasn’t something that could be as easily dismissed as water under the bridge.

He’d selfishly turned her into a monster and than had paid for his choice by having to ram a stake through her heart…his own mother. How could he have been so bloody foolish?

But here she stood, just a few feet in front of him. Her cornflower blue eyes were still as vibrant as he remembered, her hair that lovely honeyed shade of blonde. Gone were the ravages of the illness that had plagued most of her life, now she was beautiful, healthy and happy.

He could almost remember the feel of her arms around him back when he’d been a boy, could almost remember the lilted tone of her voice as she’d sung him to sleep.

Early one morning just as the sun was rising…I heard a maiden sing in the valley down below…

Spike shuddered as the familiar song washed over him and realized he wasn’t hearing the sound in his mind, but that it was coming from his mother’s lips as she approached.

The song provoked so many awful memories and even though the familiarity and the simplicity of the tune was not meant to cause harm, Spike couldn’t help the chills that ran up and down his spine even as his mother sang sweetly to him.

Now she stood so close and her arms were reaching out. Spike found himself falling into her embrace as easily as he had when he’d been a little boy. She wrapped her thin arms around his body and pulled him close.

“My boy,” she whispered wistfully, “my darling William. You’ve arrived, at last.”

For the first time in nearly two hundred years Spike was rendered speechless and the Big Bad persona he’d worked so hard to craft for himself was melting away just as easily as butter on a hot skillet. It was his mum for Christ’s sake…

He lifted his head from her shoulder and frowned down at the smiling face of his mother.

“Mum…where am I? What’s happening? Why are you--?”

The questions that spilled from his mouth were halted by the insistent pressure of his mother’s finger to his lips. She said nothing more, just held him at arm’s length and studied him with a discerning eye.

“You’ve changed William,” she murmured finally, the raspy aged sound of her voice penetrating his senses.

The tone was heartbreaking, as if she were disappointed. The frown that furrowed her brow spoke volumes and Spike found himself ashamed. He hung his head in defeat, unable to find words to dispute her statement.

“But you’re still my son,” Mother said plaintively, once again reaching out a hand to cradle his cheek. “You’ll always be wonderful in my eyes.”

This statement caused Spike’s head to lift slowly, to tilt, as he studied his mother. His eyes narrowed and briefly he wondered if this was really happening. He couldn’t think of anything to say, as if all words had escaped him.

But he knew that he had to make amends, finally say aloud what he hadn’t gotten the chance to say all those years ago. He cleared his throat and then met his mother’s kind eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mother. For what I did…for what I turned you into,” he whispered, his voice husky from the tears that clung to his throat. Anne shook her head slowly, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth as she gazed adoringly at Spike.

“You have atoned, William…my beautiful boy…a champion,” she said soothingly, the pride that laced each word she spoke seemed to warm Spike from head to toe. He was basking in the lovely warmth of his mother’s love.

He was truly in heaven. He’d been having his doubts, but now he believed. Somehow, some way, The Powers had finally seen to it that Spike be allowed to pass through those pearlescent gates. This…seeing his mother…solidified everything now.

Suddenly, Spike had questions…so many of them. It was as if she sensed it, for another smile lighted his mother’s features, as if she could hear his thoughts, as if she understood.

“Time William…there’s plenty of it…we will address your questions. Walk with me now, son. There is someone I want you to meet.”

“But mum…I…I don’t understand--”

She cut him off again with a finger pressed gently to his lips.

“Lots of time, dear boy. We must walk now…The One is expecting you.”

“The One?”

“All will be revealed, William. You must put your trust in me.”

She held out her hand and without a moment’s hesitation, Spike threaded his arm through hers and then allowed her to lead him further into another far off light that seemed to beckon to him. He didn’t know where they were going, had so many questions, but was willing to implicitly trust the only woman who had ever loved him unconditionally.

He had no choice in the matter.


~**~


Angel’s plane was late.

Stupid airports.

Stupid airplanes.

Buffy had been pacing the confines of the waiting area that flanked the arrival gate at Heathrow airport in London. Angel had called to confirm his arrival, but hadn’t anticipated the two hour delay with his flight…which was so often the case these days. Buffy almost wished he hadn’t bothered to call at all. She just wished he hadn’t bothered…period.

Air travel was so unpredictable and Buffy couldn’t, for the life of her, figure out what had possessed Angel to fly commercially to London. He had all the resources of Wolfram and Hart at his fingertips, the corporate jets, the swanky expense account…yet he had chosen to fly commercially.

Buffy hadn’t quite put the pieces together on the sudden change in her ex-lover. His decision to run the L.A. branch of Evil, Incorporated had been a move that shocked Buffy to her core. Angel aligning himself with the forces of darkness? What was he trying to pull? Did he really think he could harness all of the injustice that seemed to flow freely from that place? Had he even made a difference at all?

Buffy didn’t know and didn’t care. Angel’s well-being, the choices he made were no longer her business. He had seen to that himself by cutting her out of his life, by running away. So whatever he chose to do with his unlife was his own cross to bear. These were the facts of life now and Buffy had learned to accept them. She had moved on.

After Sunnydale she had made a promise to herself. A vow. The old would pass away, the new would begin. No longer was Angel the great true love of her life, she had surpassed that emotion long ago.

She viewed him merely as a friend now and in some secret place inside of herself had already given her heart to another. Whether she chose to believe in the emotion behind that was something she still hadn’t allowed herself to fully comprehend. Whatever she had felt for Angel was gone, it was over.

Buffy belonged to no one now, yet she still felt a tug on her heart strings as if she did belong to someone…it was all too confusing for her muddled brain to wrap around.

For the moment she chose to be passive, neutral. Feeling nothing. Slowly succumbing to the numbness was getting easier with each day that passed. It was nothing like the numbness she had felt post-resurrection…no…it was bigger and permanent.

It was forever.

At least it would have to be, because Buffy couldn’t see any other way of living her life. Allowing herself to become a vacuous black hole was the only alternative. If she fell victim to her grief, to her sadness, then she didn’t think she would be able to make it one more day. So she lived…for Dawn…for whatever the hell it was that supposedly made life worth living…even if it cost her the capacity to feel.

This was the self-inflicted price she forced herself to pay.

Nothing was going to bring him back and it hurt too much to even think about what giving in would do to her fragile soul.

So, she chose to remain numb.

And she didn’t want to see Angel…

Incoming flight from Los Angeles now arriving…

Buffy was pulled from her reverie as the disembodied voice of the announcer rang out from the speakers of the P.A. system, bringing her attention to the din around her. Slowly, she got to her feet and waited, arms folded stiffly over her chest.

She didn’t smile, didn’t allow a flicker of emotion to cross over her passive features. This meeting was not about two old friends reuniting…it wasn’t about two former lovers making a desperate attempt to salvage an old flame.

It was business.

After long moments of watching random people file from the gate, Buffy finally caught a glimpse of Angel as he trudged wearily into the waiting area, eyes searching the room until they finally connected with hers. He did not smile, which was customary, rarely could Buffy ever recall Angel’s smile. His features mirrored her own…cold and unfeeling. Yet…

Buffy tilted her head and studied Angel’s large hulking frame as he closed the distance between them. There was something different about him…something Buffy couldn’t put her finger on exactly, but bothered her just the same. He had a new look in his eyes.

Eyes that had once been dull and lackluster from years upon years of brooding now shone with a new light that Buffy had never seen before. He looked the same, dressed the same, but ‘different’ seemed to be stamped all over him, Buffy could feel it. Pinpointing what exactly ‘different’ was had become an entirely different story.

Finally they faced one another and the carefully constructed conversation that Buffy had played out in her mind suddenly disappeared. Angel attempted a smile, but it was half-hearted at best. Finally he spoke.

“How are ya, Buffy?”


~**~

The cab ride to her apartment was silent. Angel kept his eyes trained on the scenery that flew by his window and Buffy stared ahead blankly. All the years they had known one another had seemed to evaporate in the blink of an eye. They were strangers now and Buffy found that she wasn’t the least bit unsettled about it. Maybe it was meant to be this way. But still…

Buffy couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that Angel had changed. It wasn’t obvious on the surface, but seemed to radiate from within. It was an entirely different vibe separated from the soul-having.

Shaking herself mentally, Buffy pushed her thoughts away. It didn’t matter if Angel had changed, nothing mattered anymore. She just wanted to get this visit over with and get Angel back on a plane headed to Los Angeles as quickly as possible. She wanted to resume her life, wanted the past to be over and done with. Banished.

The cab slowly turned into the parking lot of Buffy’s apartment complex, where she and Angel disembarked in silence. He carried a duffle bag, his coat folded over his arm. No words were exchanged between them as Buffy led him inside the tiny one bedroom apartment, closing the door softly behind her.

He didn’t have a chance to set his bag down, didn’t have a chance to sit before Buffy addressed him.

“What do you want, Angel? Tell me you didn’t fly all this way to congratulate me on Sunnydale,” Buffy began her voice steady and unwavering. Her tone was businesslike and brusque. Angel shuffled his feet, his eyes traveled to the floor.

“Cutting to the chase, I see,” he mumbled to himself. Finally he looked up, meeting Buffy’s eyes. “I didn’t fly out here to congratulate you. I have news, like I said on the phone.”

“Will we be getting to that part anytime soon?”

Angel sighed, lifted his eyes to the ceiling and then leveled his gaze evenly with Buffy’s.

“What I’m going to tell you might not be something you want to take standing up.”

“Try me.”

Angel sighed again and turned, walking to a nearby chair and settled himself uneasily into it. Buffy followed suit, realizing that he wasn’t going to continue if she didn’t do as he asked. She swung her neutral gaze to Angel once more. He lifted two fingers to the bridge of his nose, pinching it as his eyes squeezed shut.

It was at that moment that Buffy pinpointed the source of the niggling feeling of ‘different’ about Angel. Her eyes narrowed in on his chest and her heart nearly ceased beating at what she saw.

Angel’s chest…it was rising and falling.

Angel was breathing.

Her body seemed to have a mind of its own as she got to her feet. Her steps carried her across the room until she stood before Angel. Her common sense flew out the window as she crouched to his level and reached out her hand.

He didn’t make a move to stop her, didn’t lift a hand to halt the rising of her arm. Instead he waited as her hand inched closer, rested on his chest and remained there. Through the thin cotton material of the shirt he wore Buffy could feel the beating of his heart. A gasp left her mouth as she rose, stumbling backward on feet that couldn’t seem to keep her upright.

Angel was breathing and his heart was beating.

He was human…

Buffy’s mouth opened and closed as she struggled with words that formed in her mind but had trouble escaping her mouth. Angel got to his feet and closed the distance between them, resting his hands on her shoulders, shaking her a little.

“I know you’re frightened and I know I have a lot of explaining to do--”

“You’re damn right you do!” Buffy shouted.

She hated the wavering sound of her voice as the words left her mouth, hated the helplessness she was feeling. It had been too long since she had felt anything. The emotions were foreign to her.

Taking a step back, Buffy shook his hands from her shoulders, wrapped her arms around her body and stared at Angel in open-mouthed horror. Angel’s body seemed to sag as he lowered his eyes, avoiding her penetrating glare.

“Guess I’ll start from the top,” he mumbled, shuffling his feet. “But first there’s something I need you to know.”

“How about starting with the whole suddenly-I’m-human-again thing. I think that would be of the good.”

“There’s that…and there’s something else. If you sit down--”

“Damn it, Angel…just quit with the evasive and get to the point!” Buffy shouted, her body starting to shake visibly from anger, confusion and frustration.

Angel’s head whipped up abruptly, anger flashed behind his eyes and his jaw set firmly.

“Fine,” he said tightly through clenched teeth. “The point…getting to it now. Los Angeles…” he stopped a moment, as if collecting his thoughts and then began again. “Los Angeles is decimated…think earthquake but to the tenth power. Wolfram and Hart declared all out war against me…against what I stood for. I fought back. But I wasn’t alone.”

Buffy chuckled bitterly.

“Of course not…you had Gunn, Fred, and Wesley…so what. There was an apocalypse, no big. You beat it, right?”

Angel sighed again and ran a hand over his hair, avoiding Buffy’s gaze.

“In a manner of speaking,” he hedged. “But there’s more.”

“More?”

“Yes.”

Buffy waited in silence, a battle waging inside of her mind. It was taking a gargantuan effort to stop herself from lunging at Angel, to stop herself from throwing him to the floor and beating the answers out of him. She bit the insides of her cheeks, flexed her fingers and balled them into fists.

“Tell me.”

Angel continued.

“I didn’t have the whole team. Long story short, Wes and Fred were gone. Gunn was barely hanging on and the other--”

“Wait,” Buffy held up her hand to stop him. “The other?”

Angel averted his eyes guiltily.

“That’s the thing. He didn’t want me to tell you.”

“Who didn’t want you to tell me what?” Buffy asked. Angel was silent and Buffy crossed the room, faced Angel and fired her question again.

“Who, Angel? Who didn’t want you telling me what?”

“Spike.”

A wrecking ball could have crashed through the walls of the apartment at that moment and Buffy wouldn’t have noticed it. The earth could have opened up beneath her feet and swallowed her whole and she wouldn’t have batted an eyelash. Her mind was desperately trying to piece together this new bit of information. She thought she’d heard Angel say that Spike had been in Los Angeles. Which meant only one thing…

Spike had betrayed her.

He hadn’t stayed gone like he was supposed to.

Instead he had left her alone, left her to carry the burden of guilt on her shoulders. He’d led her to believe that her words of love hadn’t meant a thing and he’d allowed her to continue living without him in her life.

Spike had been alive. The whole time.

And he hadn’t bothered to tell her.

With tears swimming in her eyes, Buffy took a step closer to Angel.

“Where is he, Angel?” she rasped, the tears that clung to her throat causing her voice to waver, to tremble.

Angel hesitated briefly, but then made the mistake of meeting Buffy’s eyes. Her pain struck him sharply in the chest and momentarily robbed him of the air he now breathed out of necessity. He had to answer her, he had no choice.

“Spike is gone, Buffy. He died. Hell, I died,” Angel pronounced with feeling. Buffy shook her head, she didn’t understand. She hated the tears that were now streaming freely down her cheeks, hated the tightening in her chest.

“I need to know Angel,” she whispered huskily. “I need to.”

“I know, Buffy.”

“What happened in L.A. and why are you human?”

Angel took a breath and slid a palm over his face.

“Shanshu prophecy, Buffy.”

“Shanshu, huh?”

“Prophecy. Basically one vampire with a soul saves the world…said vampire with a soul gets to become human.”

“But Spike--”

“Wasn’t the qualified party,” Angel finished tightly. “He’s gone, Buffy. Saw him dust myself.”

“He never told me,” Buffy breathed raggedly. “He never…oh God…”

Buffy’s words broke up as the emotions that had been simmering somewhere near the surface began to spill over. She sank to the floor weakly, and lowered her face to her hands.

“He never told me,” she sobbed, repeating the sentence over and over again.

Nothing made sense anymore.

It was lost…all lost.


~**~

End of Chapter One

*to be continued with chapter two: destiny*…
 

Chapter Two

~*Destiny*~


~**~


Spike glanced around the room his mother had led him into with curiosity. It was a plain room with white walls, no furnishings. Not a sound could be heard, just silence and an underlying current of peacefulness that Spike had difficulty getting used to.

He was not used to silence, to peace. It seemed violence and anger had ruled the better part of his life. For over a hundred years he had cut a swath through Europe, with blood and destruction close at his heels. Those days had never been peaceful.

Spike couldn’t think of a time in his life that hadn’t been tumultuous in one way or another. But here, in this place, there was calm, the concept was completely foreign to the vampire known as the ‘Scourge of Europe’.

Again, Spike found himself wondering if he had truly been allowed into heaven; because this place wasn’t like any heavenly dimension he’d ever heard of. Now that he’d been led from the darkness he was able to assess his appearance fully.

His body showed no signs of the recent traumatic event he’d been through. His clothes were intact, including the ever-present black duster. He had no injuries, at least not physical ones. In fact, Spike hadn’t felt this good in years.

At that moment, Spike realized he was alone. His mother had disappeared the moment they’d entered the room, and he couldn’t help the pang of sadness that struck him sharply at the realization. He’d never grasped fully how much he truly missed his mother until the moment she’d stepped from the light and showed herself to him.

With a shrug, Spike ascertained that it was probably for the best. He’d said what needed to be said, had gotten to see her again, even if it was only for mere moments…and that mattered more than anything in the world.

Feeling twitchy and a little bored, Spike began to pat the pockets of his leather duster in search of a smoke, when a sound brought his head up abruptly. The sound was strange…almost like a creaking or groaning. Spike’s eyes narrowed as he took in one of the walls before him. It appeared to bend, move at its own will until a door took shape.

Bloody terrific, Spike thought to himself. What now?

The door opened slowly and a male stepped over the threshold, and closed the door behind him. Spike took in the white robes, the golden waves of blonde hair and the blue eyes and almost laughed aloud. So it was true after all…angels really existed. He’d had his doubts. The angel faced Spike and a soft, beatific smile curved over his features. He clasped his hands together and lifted his eyes skyward, as if saying a prayer. Spike stared at the angel through narrowed eyes. Before he could ask any questions, the angel spoke.

“My name is Gabriel. We’ve been expecting you, William. Welcome,” the angel greeted, lifting his arms and stretching them outward. Spike frowned at the white-robed Gabriel.

“Gabriel huh? As in Angel of Death Gabriel?” he asked. Gabriel shook his head as musical laughter emitted from his throat, the golden waves of blonde hair swaying over his shoulders

“No, no. I am not this Angel of Death you speak of. I am merely a guide, a humble servant to ‘The One’. I am to take you to your destination.”

“Right, Gabriel. But before we get to the guidin’ there’s some things I need to know. I’m stayin’ put until you start talkin’,” Spike crossed his arms over his chest, making it very clear where the ethereal being stood. Gabriel nodded in agreement.

“Of course. I understand. You have questions. Let me assist you in any way I can,” he replied, the smile still firmly affixed over his angelic features. Spike eyed Gabriel warily and then began to pace the room.

“First off, where the bleeding hell am I? Who are you? And who is ‘The One’?” Spike fired off each question rapidly. The angel seemed to think them over and then lifted his gaze to meet Spike’s.

“William, you have been rescued from an uncertain fate and have been allowed to pass into a heavenly dimension, just one in the hundreds of thousands that exist. ‘The One’ has taken a special interest in you. Of that you should be proud, humbled.”

“What or who is ‘The One’?” Spike asked.

Gabriel smiled brightly once again, lifted his eyes skyward and then met Spike’s gaze once again.

“The One is above all things, revered, worshipped. You have been chosen, William. You have a destiny.”

“A what?”

“Destiny.”

Spike thought this over for a moment and then swung his gaze to Gabriel.

“So what is this destiny, mate? Is it a reward? Because I’ll tell you, I’ve been waitin’ a bleeding long time for my reward. Saved the world twice, ya know,” Spike boasted proudly, waggling two fingers in the air to get his point across. “So you can tell the soddin’ Powers that I--”

Spike was cut off when Gabriel lifted a hand, shaking his head.

“The Powers That Be are an entity unto themselves. We do not answer to any Powers. We only answer to ‘The One’.”

Spike opened and closed his mouth in astonishment, momentarily robbed of any words he wanted to say. The Powers that Be were not involved in Spike’s being brought to this place. To say he’d been thrown for a loop, was putting it lightly.

“Come now, William. The One waits to see you. We must go,” Gabriel urged.

With a shrug, Spike began to follow his unlikely guide. He still hadn’t come any closer to having his questions answered, but he didn’t think that was likely to happen anytime soon. So he would have to wait until he finally saw this ‘One’. Maybe that was where all the answers were.


~**~


“Drink this,” Angel urged, holding out a glass of water to Buffy who sat dejectedly on the sofa.

She took the glass he proffered and lifted it to her lips, downing the water in one swallow. Angel sat down beside Buffy and rested a hand on her knee, turning his concerned brown eyes in her direction.

“A little better now?” Angel asked.

Buffy could only nod.

“Good.”

They sat in silence for long moments. Angel almost sensed Buffy’s need to collect her thoughts, wrap her mind around the heavy news he had just laid on her. But Buffy was far from complacent. She needed answers and she needed them now.

Angel was the only source for these answers; it was something she detested, loathed. She didn’t want to need Angel for anything anymore. Things were not the same as they had once been between them.

But he was all she had.

She glanced in his direction and he nodded imperceptibly, knowing her craving for the truth. He began to speak, not leaving out a single detail. All Buffy could do was listen.

Angel explained about the amulet, its powers and who it had actually been meant for. The senior partners at Wolfram and Hart had cooked up the master plan, but hadn’t expected things to go the way they did.

Angel himself was supposed to have been the one to wear the amulet, not Spike. But when it turned out differently, the senior partners worked around it and got what they wanted…at least to an extent.

They never expected for Angel to put the pieces together, never expected him to infiltrate the Circle of The Black Thorn and so they had waged all out war. Spike had jumped in without hesitation and Buffy couldn’t help the tiny knowing smile that curved over her lips at that revelation.

Her Spike…he’d always loved a good brawl. She was sure he hadn’t even thought twice about backing out. Complacency wasn’t in his nature. He was born to fight, had always been fighting in one way or another.

He’d gone out fighting and it was the most natural thing in the world.

A lump rose in Buffy’s throat, and tears welled behind her eyes. She felt as if she was truly alone in the world, wandering lost and afraid on a path that seemingly led to nowhere. The questions she’d been asking herself about her feelings for Spike would never be answered.

When he’d died he’d taken with him the only chance Buffy would have ever had to really share something with someone. Maybe she would have been able to resolve the inner conflict inside that raged like a wild animal. It clawed at her insides, tore her apart.

Now she would remain torn, bloodied and raw from pain that would never heal. Spike had never given her a chance and it would remain that way forever. A truly selfish act that Buffy could never forgive.

Was this to be her destiny forever?

The not-knowing was becoming a burden, and already it was weighing heavily on her shoulders.


~**~


The unlikely pair entered another room, this one larger and more cavernous than the one before it. Gabriel turned to Spike expectantly.

“Wait here. ‘The One’ will appear to you soon.”

Spike nodded and watched the angel disappear down a shadowed hallway to his left. He then swung his gaze curiously around the new room he’d been led to. The walls were lined with stained glass windows, at least a hundred on each side.

Each window was painted with various religious icons, as if the room was meant to appeal to all faiths, all walks of life. There were crosses, cherubs and prophets…Spike made sure to keep his distance from the crosses, he wasn’t taking his chances.

The room was sparsely furnished, save for the dais that was front and center, the focal point of the room. A throne made from pure gold sat atop the dais, it was carved with ornate designs and studded with jewels. Whoever sat in that chair definitely commanded a certain authority; it screamed of royalty.

Spike darted a glance around him. When he was assured that he was completely alone, he quickened his footsteps until he stood near the throne. His body was poised to sit in the mighty looking chair, a devilish grin spreading across his features, when a sound thundered around the room. Spike stiffened at the sudden break in the silence and narrowed his eyes. Slowly, he backed away from the throne and waited.

Spike had seen enough brilliant shafts of light in the time he’d been in this place, so he wasn’t the least bit surprised when a bright illuminating beam of light filtered from the ceiling. He found himself holding his breath a little as the light filled the room. It seemed to shift, to move and when a figure emerged Spike knew that it had not come from the light, but was a part of it.

The figure shape-shifted and molded into the guise of a human and Spike did a double take when the form showed itself to be female. A beautiful female at that. Well hell, he’d lucked out on this one. Not only had he finally arrived in heaven, but found himself with the good fortune to have it run by a woman.

Seemed right fitting, it did. Spike knew the score, knew how it was going to be. He was going to be rewarded with being love’s bitch…for a bleeding eternity.

Hell of a way to go Spike ‘ol boy…hell of a way to go.

The woman’s beauty was more than breathtaking. Spike could definitely see why her people worshipped her the way they did. He was entertaining getting down on his knees for a brief moment himself, but managed to curb the impulse when she approached him, a soft smile lighting the perfectly crafted features of her face. Spike couldn’t help himself; he raked his eyes over her body with interest. He might be love’s bitch, but he was still a man, a man who appreciated a thing of beauty when he saw it.

His eyes admiringly took in the soft molasses waves of hair that easily hung just a shade below her hips, which were just as inviting as well. She had a thin waist, the perfect hourglass figure, complemented by firm full breasts and a flat stomach.

So this was ‘The One’.

‘The One’ indeed, Spike thought lustily.

She caught the look in his eyes and Spike managed to skirt his gaze away from the penetrating orbs of her deep brown eyes. It was like she knew his secrets and this unsettled him a bit. So he kept his eyes averted, head lowered.

“William, I presume.”

It wasn’t a question, but a statement. ‘The One’ knew who he was; Spike could feel it, sense it. He didn’t have anything to hide from her, because she knew it all. Spike kept his head lowered, addressing his answer to the floor.

“Spike actually,” he answered cockily.

‘The One’ laughed, it was a beautiful throaty laugh, but Spike found that the lustful notions he’d been entertaining moments before had dissipated, replaced by the warm rush of her love…her maternal love.

Bloody hell.

“Lift your head, Spike. I want to see those beautiful blue eyes I have heard so much about,” she commanded gently.

Spike obeyed, he didn’t think he could deny her anything. He lifted his head and stiffened as she closed the distance between them. Slowly, she lifted a hand and touched his cheek, pressing her palm against the smooth pale skin and resting it there.

“I see you, Spike,” she whispered. “Your eyes are the windows to your soul. Your soul speaks volumes to me even though it is brand new.”

She motioned with her hand for him to follow her and Spike found that his feet began to move as if they had a mind of their own. He followed her to the dais and stopped as she settled her body gently onto the surface of the throne, the folds of her brilliant white robes pooling at her feet. She gazed serenely at Spike, a knowing smile curving over her perfectly shaped lips. The glint in her eye suggested she knew what Spike wanted before he did.

“Speak. I know you have questions,” she murmured with a gentle wave of her hand.

“Who are you? Do you have a name? Why am I here?”

Spike was a little embarrassed at his obvious exuberance, but was relieved when a joyous laugh erupted from the angelic beauty’s throat. He lifted his head slowly when she began to speak.

“I have many names, Spike. But you can call me Althea,” she began. She gestured with her hand to indicate the room they were in and continued.

“And this place is my kingdom, my home. I rule with love, with peace. The souls that reside here have been chosen, selected for special purposes. Some have done good deeds, some have given their all and very few have sacrificed themselves to save the world. You are among those elite, Spike. That is why you are here, because I wished it. Because you are special.”

“I do what I can I suppose,” Spike chuckled, a hint of arrogance seeping into his tone.

“You are alone,” Althea proclaimed suddenly, which caused the laughter to die in Spike’s throat. She was hitting a little too close to home now and Spike’s eyes narrowed instantly.

“Could say that,” he agreed with bitterness. “Was never one you could take home to mother.”

“She spoke the truth that day,” Althea proclaimed again.

“What do you know about it?”

“I know Spike. I know you.”

“But how can you--”

“I am ‘The One’. That is my power. I see, I listen, I am aware of all things. I know your heart’s desires, your deepest wishes, and your most secret of longings. You cannot hide, Spike. You wish to be with her, this woman…this Buffy.”

The moment Althea spoke the Slayer’s name, Spike felt himself come a little undone. So much time had passed since he’d arrived in this place that he had barely allowed his thoughts to glide over Buffy. But now that her name had been spoken, it was all he could think of. It was almost too much to bear.

“What do you want from me?” Spike questioned harshly.

“I want to give you what your heart desires, what you wished for in your dying moments in the place called Los Angeles,” she answered.

Spike found himself momentarily dumbfounded and a little peeved. Althea seemed to pick up on his emotions, because she rose from her throne and once again came to a standstill in front of him. She gazed imploringly into his eyes and it got to the point where Spike began to get uncomfortable. It was like she could bloody see right through him. Damn unsettling was what it was.

“You wish to rest. I feel it, Spike. I know you’re weariness; it tumbles from you in waves. You crave peace, but you are filled with restlessness just the same. A soul drenched in blood, in pain and misery toils unrelentingly.”

“Huh?”

“I hear singing,” Althea murmured as her eyes fluttered shut.

Spike stared at her warily, having a hard time keeping up with the nonsensical words she was saying.

This bird’s off her nut, he found himself thinking. But he was riveted just the same.

She waved a hand and a shimmering portal of sorts appeared before them. It looked like a puddle left behind by the rain, undulating like waves on the ocean. Images appeared inside of it, sound soon followed.

Let me rest in peace, let me get some sleep.
Let me take my love and bury it in a hole six foot deep.
I can lay my body down, but I can't find my sweet release
So, let me rest in peace…

Spike squeezed his eyes shut as the familiar song washed over him. The sound of his voice singing the words cut him deeply in a place where the scars had not healed fully, his heart. Althea opened her eyes and met Spike’s confused gaze.

“I feel your love for her. I feel your confusion and your pain. That is why I brought you here, to reward you, to finally give you the peace you crave.”

“The reward,” Spike murmured, “been wonderin’ about that.”

Althea slowly strode back to her throne, and sat. She leveled her eyes warmly on Spike and smiled.

“This reward is not what you are expecting,” she replied cryptically.

“What are you on about? I’m gettin’ what’s comin’ to me, love.”

“In a manner of speaking,” she answered airily.

“Now wait one bloody minute!” Spike cried out.

“Patience, Spike. No need for shouting…you underestimate the value of what I am about to give you.”

Spike thought this over for a moment and then nodded in agreement.

“Right then. My apologies. Go on.”

Althea settled her hands delicately in her lap and closed her eyes, as if summoning inner strength or saying a prayer. Spike could only watch nervously. He thought he could stay one step ahead of the bird, but the effort was proving to be futile.

So he waited, even though the endeavor was seriously testing his patience. He didn’t like where this seemed to be heading. Finally, the goddess opened her eyes, turning to level her gaze on Spike.

“You have shown to be a true warrior, a hero. Redemption has carved and molded you into the man you are today. But you are only one half of a whole. I shall restore the missing half…but for a price.”

“Price?” Spike cried out shrilly.

“Spike--” Althea warned.

“Always a bleeding catch,” he mumbled and then gestured for her to continue.

“I am returning you to this Buffy. You are to be her guide. She is in turmoil, in despair. The heart and soul that was once so strong now wilts like a flower that has been robbed of sunlight. She has lost her resolve and without these things she cannot fulfill her duties as ’The Chosen One’. I sense the importance of this in your world. You must rescue her; return her to her former self.”

“But how?”

“By observing, listening. You must give her the chance she was never allowed in the first place.”

Spike made a sound of frustration in his throat and shook his head.

“That’s bloody impossible! Couldn’t get through to the bird when I was right by her bleeding side, how’s it you expect me to thump it into her skull now?”

“Spike, there will be no…what is that word you said? Oh…thumping. There will be no physical contact between you. You must get through to her with words, only with words. You will be a force in her life, but one that she cannot touch, cannot impact. You are to serve as a guide and nothing more.”

“I don’t believe this,” Spike mumbled mostly to himself. “You’ve turned me into a soddin’ guardian angel!”

“A guardian angel…of course,” Althea murmured with a smile. “What a lovely choice of words.” She got to her feet and clapped her hands resoundingly. “So it is settled, then. A guardian angel for Buffy. That will be your reward, Spike.”

Spike almost hated the gleeful tone of her voice, because he knew that once he strongly dismissed these crazy notions she wasn’t going to be so happy with him anymore. The idea was insane, ludicrous.

A bleeding angel…they might as well have turned into him into the great Poof, about what it amounted to. No, Spike wouldn’t stand for it, not now, not ever.

“No Althea. It’s not settled; in fact it’s not even bloody close to settled. Don’t I get a say in this at all?”

Althea shook her head and laughed gaily.

“It is done, Spike. You will depart immediately,” she cried and then turned on her heel and began to walk away, giggling to herself like a child. Spike could only watch her go, his mouth hanging open stupidly.

What had he gotten himself into?


~**~

Later that night…


Buffy climbed into bed and pulled the thick comforter to her chin, shivering slightly. The more she lived in London the more she hated it. It was habitually rainy, damp and cold. It seemed to seep through her skin, penetrate her bones and no matter how hard she tried she could not shake it.

However, the chill she was suffering on this night had nothing to do with the weather or London’s horrible climate. No, it was different and it was all Angel’s fault. For some reason Buffy could not bring herself to blame Spike. She wanted to, oh she wanted to, but found she couldn’t. She could be angry at him, though. Pissed off. Which she was.

Damn Spike for leaving her to feel this way! Everything inside of Buffy felt empty, as if something had taken up residence inside her body and stripped her of everything. She was hollow. She was nothing.

And Spike was gone.

He’d lied to her, kept secrets from her. This didn’t sound like a man who loved her at all. She wasn’t even sure if she returned that love but she should have been allowed the chance to. Everyone deserved a second chance, didn’t they?

A single tear escaped from Buffy’s eye and slid down her cheek. The moment that Angel had told her that Spike had been alive was the moment she had started to feel something again, as if a spark had been reignited within her. The spark was hope and it died a quick death once she discovered that Spike had sacrificed his life without a single thought about her.

Served her right, she supposed.

All the bad things you did had a way of coming back to you. It was karma…or something. Maybe she was just getting what she had coming to her.

These thoughts didn’t comfort Buffy and they didn’t make her hurt any less.

She just wanted Spike back, wanted to apologize, to tell him the things she never got to say. And this time when she uttered those three magic words, she wanted to be sure that it was right and that it was the truth.

It was the least she could do for Spike.


~**~

End of Chapter Two

*to be continued with chapter three: shadow*…
 

Chapter Three

~*Shadow*~


~**~


Buffy couldn’t sleep.

There was an approaching thunder-storm brewing outside and the repeated flashes of lightning danced behind her eyelids, making it impossible to sleep. Slowly, she got out of bed and padded out of the room and to the bathroom across the hallway.

Moments later, she was in the kitchen waiting for the tea kettle as thunder echoed around and shook the tiny apartment. Buffy briefly hoped that the storm wouldn’t wake Dawn, she wasn’t in the mood for company…much preferring the sanctuary that the alone time offered.

The storm was the furthest thing from Buffy’s mind as she settled at the kitchen table, hands wrapped around a mug of tea and thoughts wrapped around the events of earlier that day.

Angel’s visit had left behind an emptiness, a void, that Buffy feared would never be restored. The gash across her heart had only just begun to heal feebly, but with Angel’s words the proverbial salt had been poured into the open wound. It was open now, and it burned, it stung.

The emotions that she had valiantly managed to push away and bottle up had suddenly risen to the surface in catastrophic waves, the force so strong that Buffy feared she would topple over from the intensity of it all.

Spike had been alive. The whole time.

The more Buffy repeated this to herself the harder it was for her to believe. Even when the words had left Angel’s mouth, they had struck Buffy as lunacy. The tears she had cried had been the product of disbelief and confusion. Now all that was left was the black hole of nothing that had seemed to set up habitation in her soul.

Buffy wrapped her hands tighter around the mug of tea and slowly lifted it to her mouth to take a tentative sip. Angel was gone now. It pained her to think of him boarding a plane, flying all this way, only to unload this awful thing on Buffy. Did he hate her that much? Did he have to mock her with his sudden return to living flesh?

That was the crux of the situation.

Angel was human, and Spike had been reduced to mere ashes in a death far more heroic and valiant than Angel could have ever fathomed. He hadn’t said the words out loud, but Buffy sensed an arrogance about Angel now. As if in the cosmic on-going battle between the two vampires, Angel had come out the winner. But not in Buffy’s book. As far as she was concerned they could both rot in hell.

It served them right.

But the soft spot she had long ago reserved in her heart for Spike, seemed to always hover at the surface of her anger. It had taken her a long time to really assess her actions those last weeks in Sunnydale when Spike had resided in her basement. More times than she could count she had stood up for Spike, defended him. Even when her friends had become adversaries, even when Giles had tried to dispose of him via Robin Wood, Buffy had stood her ground.

She needed Spike.

She’d believed in him.

But Spike hadn’t believed in her.

This sad truth hit home with such violence, that she shuddered from the force that threatened to cut her in two. Spike hadn’t believed in Buffy enough to tell her that he had returned. He had stupidly assumed that Buffy wouldn’t need him, wouldn’t want him and that she would shun him from her life, discard him like a used Kleenex and forget all that they had.

Spike was a stupid, stupid man.

And Buffy was even more stupid.

To let something that precious, rare and beautiful slip through her fingers had probably been her most colossal of mistakes. It had taken a year of lost, forgotten memories and a healthy dose of reality for Buffy to come to that conclusion. All this time she’d been burying her emotions, and not asking herself the right questions.

It wasn’t a question of whether or not she had truly loved Spike when she’d said the words to him. No. It was a question of why she hadn’t sat up and taken notice long ago, even in her darkest hours following her resurrection.

Buffy had loved Spike all along.

Probably from the moment they’d met.

The force of this realization sent Buffy vaulting upright from her chair, upsetting it. Standing frozen in the middle of her kitchen, Buffy clasped a hand to her mouth and battled the tsunami of emotions that suddenly surged around her. She was in love with Spike, had always loved him.

Denial had been a swift and powerful emotion, but easier to come by than acceptance. Buffy had not accepted, could not have accepted, the fact that she could fall in love with an evil, soulless thing. But it happened. Without her knowledge, without her awareness. And now he was gone, truly gone and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about her new emotions and feelings.

He was gone.

Buffy’s body trembled and her knees buckled as realization, instant and brutal assaulted her. She fell to her knees, lowered her head and allowed the sobs to overwhelm her. Her shoulders shook with the intensity of her emotions and all she could do was helplessly let them wash over her.

How was she supposed to go on now?

What was left of her life now that he couldn’t be a part of it?


~**~

Spike could see her, but she could not see him. He’d been transported to this place only moments ago, but just in time to witness the scene unfolding before him. The trip had been a little unsettling. Traveling…no… more like being flung from the heavenly dimension back onto the earthly plane…had altered Spike’s equilibrium severely. But he’d managed to pick himself up and get his bearings again. At least until he’d realized where he’d ended up.

Buffy’s apartment.

Bloody hell.

Another moment had passed and he came to another realization. She was crying and obviously in serious pain. He’d nearly fallen over when her thoughts seeped into his subconscious. He could hear what she was thinking. It was a little disconcerting. Something Spike found a little hard to get used to…but not that hard. Hearing the thoughts of this complex and confounding woman had been an unlikely gift, a gift Spike would have loved to have back in Sunnydale.

Can’t have it all,Spike thought wryly to himself.

For now some serious adjustments were going to have to happen. Spike wasn’t entirely comfortable with this new gig…yet. Somehow, some way he was going to have to learn the ropes, stumble his way through this guardian angel thing. Seeing Buffy dissolve into tears right in front of him was not helping matters. His heart went out to her and he wanted to hold her; felt it within the fibers of his being.

“She can’t see you, you know,” a voice contradicted from seemingly out of nowhere. Spike’s head whipped around and in the murky darkness tried to make out a face to go with the voice.

“Who’s there?” he asked slowly.

Suddenly a figure emerged from the shadows and stepped into the half light surrounding Spike. He was a tall man, wearing a long black trench coat that fell to his knees, similar to the black duster that Spike wore.

He seemed to radiate a certain serenity that not only exuded from within, but surrounded him completely. Spike found himself momentarily speechless. What was happening now?

“Who are you, mate?”

The man reached out a hand and gestured for Spike to take it. The two men shook awkwardly.

“My name is Colin. Althea sent me to help you learn the ropes, show you around a little bit,” the man stated matter-of-factly.

Spike studied the man with scrutiny, not sure if he could trust him or not. With a shrug Spike decided he’d give the bloke a chance. What was the worst that could happen?

“Name’s Spike, mate. What exactly am I doin’ here? ‘M not exactly cut out for this guardian angel nonsense.”

Colin smiled and shook his head slowly.

“Neither am I, neither are any of the others that are chosen to be guides. It is something we grow into, pull around ourselves. You learn,” Colin explained simply.

Spike folded his arms over his chest and regarded the angel beside him through narrowed eyes, lips pursing slightly as he seemed to take everything in.

“Not much for the learning, mate. Like to live life on my own terms.”

“Foolishly, is what I’ve heard,” Colin replied with a shrug.

“Hey!” Spike shot back.

Colin tipped his head back with a laugh.

“It’s the truth. Almost fell over when I heard Althea had chosen none other than a vampire to be one of the enlightened ones,” the other angel snorted. “It’s not something that happens all the time.”

“That’s vampire with a soul to you, mate,” Spike grunted.

Colin only nodded, a small smile curving over his lips. Spike had the distinct feeling that the angel at his side was a little disconcerted with the fact that Spike was a vampire and also a guardian angel. It seemed to be Spike’s lot in life to go against the grain, to be different. He almost preferred it that way.

Spike again turned to face Buffy, who had curled herself into a ball on the floor, slight shivers shaking her body as she continued to sob. Spike was all seriousness as he turned to Colin at his side.

“So what do I do, mate? She needs me. I can hear her thoughts, but I can’t touch her?” Spike questioned.

“It is our way. We can only listen, interpret. But we cannot interfere.”

“Can they see us?”

“Only if you want them too.”

“But no touching.”

“Right.”

Spike contemplated this for a moment, gazing unwaveringly at Buffy. She was a Slayer, she should have innately picked up on his presence by now. Spike knew that she must be in some serious pain if her Slayer tinglies were on the fritz. Something was wrong, didn’t fit. Lifting his nose to the air, Spike detected a new scent in the air…it was familiar and it made him uneasy.

Angel.

Of course.

The Great Poof had paid Buffy a visit. Recently. Spike might have been turned into this ‘enlightened one’ but he was still a vampire and was able to pick up on the scent of his grandsire from a mile away. Except the scent was different…human, and it didn’t match Buffy or Dawn’s scent.

Spike couldn’t make heads or tails of it. He’d watched Angel die, had seen him reduced to ashes before his eyes. How was it possible that the Poof had survived?

Spike couldn’t rightly put a finger on what was different at the moment and didn’t really want to. Somehow, some way, Angel had found a way to get to Buffy, and judging by the tangled web of thoughts that flowed freely from her brain into Spike’s, she was not happy. He wanted to know what made her so sad.

There would be time for that later. Colin was pulling him away, saying something about places to go and Spike could do nothing but follow along. Even though his heart yearned to be with Buffy, to comfort her, he knew that he could not help her. Not now.

But soon.

Spike would be back.


~**~

Somehow the two had ended up on a high rise office building that overlooked the city of London. Spike wasn’t the slightest bit apprehensive about heights and looking over at Colin, sensed the angel wasn’t either.

Staring down at the city below, Spike suddenly felt insignificant. Tiny, miniature. Life teemed unendingly down there. The cars looked like bugs crawling along the many winding throughways of the bustling city. The air was clearer from where he sat and his thoughts seemed to stray away from the chaotic and settle into peacefulness.

“Up here is where we can truly gain perspective,” Colin murmured at Spike’s side.

“Perspective of what?” Spike asked with a frown, continuing to stare down at the city below.

“Life. Humans. Who they are and what they want,” Colin answered.

Spike concentrated and soon began to hear the steady hum of the thoughts of the people below. He couldn’t make out anything clearly. The wavelength was uninterrupted, constant, but not overwhelming.

“What does this Buffy mean to you?” Colin suddenly asked, catching Spike off guard for a moment. He couldn’t help the smile that lifted his mouth, though.

“That’s a long story, mate,” Spike murmured.

“I’ve got all the time in the world,” Colin replied, shifting his position slightly to face Spike. “Sounds like you do too.”

Spike looked down, his eyes fixating on the rush of life below. He contemplated the scene silently for a moment and then lifted his head, eyes fixed on the skyline ahead.

“She’s a Slayer you know,” Spike acknowledged.

“Yes,” Colin answered. “I know all about Slayers. They are creatures chosen to fight the forces of darkness, yet walk through life alone. A terrible existence.”

Spike found himself nodding in agreement at the angel’s statement. He’d had plenty of time to reflect on his conquests over the years and the thing that struck him the most was how intimately he knew Slayers. Spike was probably the only vampire to know Slayers as well as he did. Definitely the only vampire to fall in love with a Slayer, that was for bloody sure. Except if you counted Angel. Which Spike emphatically did not.

“Yet you love her. Deeply,” Colin murmured. “It is difficult for me to understand how two diametrically opposed people from two different sides of the fight could find love in all the madness. It is astounding.”

“One sided, mate. Been one-sided and not bloody peaches, I’ll tell you. To love a Slayer is a task in itself, but loving Buffy…bloody impossible.”

“Still, your love is true and runs deep. She must be something special for you to have overcome such overwhelming odds.”

Spike smiled wryly, feeling a strange twist in his gut at Colin’s observance.

“Yeah,” he murmured, “she’s one of a kind, that bird.”

“I find you to be an anomaly, Spike,” Colin stated, which caused Spike’s head to whip around, a frown to crease his features.

“What’d you call me?” he questioned quizzically. Colin began to laugh, but kept his eyes averted from the vampire at his side, continuing to study the skyline of London.

“I only meant that you are different. You are not what I expected. Frankly, I was a little peeved when Althea sent me to you, but now I find that I could learn to get used to this,” he waved his hand in the air as if searching for the right word, “arrangement.”

Spike chuckled and reached into his leather duster, thrusting a cigarette into his mouth and lighting it.

“Could say the same about you, mate,” Spike said around the cigarette in his mouth.

“Then we have a little bit in common, don‘t we?” Colin allowed.

“S’pose we do,” Spike agreed.

“Are you ready for this?”

Spike knew exactly what the angel was talking about and nodded, inhaling deeply off the cigarette in his mouth.

“Was born ready, mate. I’m ready to learn, you ready to teach?” Spike questioned with a lift of his eyebrow in his companion’s direction. Colin didn’t reply, only nodded slightly.

“Right then,” Spike said finally, flicking the cigarette away and getting to his feet. “Show me the ropes, mate.”


~**~

Buffy had woken the next morning on the kitchen floor, muscles aching all over, and Dawn staring down at her as if her sister were insane. Buffy had gotten to her feet, mumbled some excuse to Dawn and then fled from the room, not offering any kind of explanation to her confused sibling.

Ensconced in the shelter her bedroom provided, Buffy stared at her reflection in the mirror above the vanity table. The last year had taken its toll and the damage was visible. Buffy traced the tiny lines beneath her eyes and noted the shadows underneath them. Her skin was pale, cheeks hollowed out from weight loss. Her hair was limp and dull, in need of a good washing and a trim.

When had she allowed herself to get this way, to let herself go?

A loud knock on the door interrupted Buffy’s reverie. She swung her gaze to the door and let out a long sigh.

Dawn.

She’d have to talk to her sister eventually, wouldn’t she? The knock sounded again and Buffy didn’t move. She returned her eyes to the reflection in the mirror and gazed ahead contemplatively, ignoring the insistent knocking on the door.

Finally, the door burst open and Dawn stumbled in, looking confused and a little pissed off. The two sisters regarded one another silently for a moment. Dawn folded her arms across her chest and frowned.

“I’m gonna be late for school, Buffy.”

“I-I know Dawn. Give me a minute, ok?”

Dawn shrugged, rolled her eyes and then turned to leave the room. Suddenly, something made her turn around and fix a gaze on her sister.

“I miss him too, you know.”

“What?”

“Spike. I miss him, too.”

Buffy sighed heavily, her eyes never leaving her reflection in the mirror. She couldn’t look at Dawn, couldn’t bear to see her own pain reflected in her sister’s eyes. It wasn’t fair that Dawn should share her sorrow, for Buffy’s pain was private. No one understood it, could comprehend it. Not her friends, not even her blood kin.

“Get ready for school, Dawn. I’ll be down in a minute,” Buffy answered dully.

“Fine,” Dawn said through clenched teeth and then strode from the room.

It took an enormous amount of strength, but Buffy managed to move her feet to the closet and select clothing to wear. In moments, she was dressed and ready to go. Her face still carried the shadows of pain, but the disguise Buffy wore for the outside world was easy to slip into.

She walked to the bedroom door and tightened her hand around the doorknob, closing her eyes briefly. Finally, she pulled the door open and stepped out of the room, ready to face the outside world.


~**~


“You lied to the woman you love,” Colin stated matter-of-factly as he and Spike emerged from the shadows and appeared in Buffy’s bedroom. Spike didn’t acknowledge Colin with his gaze, only stared ahead contemplatively.

“Did what I had to do, mate,” was Spike’s clipped reply.

“But you love her, Spike.”

“Didn’t seem to matter to her.”

Colin turned to Spike with a slight frown and studied his companion a moment.

“You are wrong, Spike. Can you not see her pain? She knows of your betrayal and it increases her pain tenfold. Were you not aware of this when you made the choice not to contact her?”

Spike lowered his gaze and scoffed, shaking his head.

“She wanted a normal life, mate. The choice was made long before I appeared out of that soddin’ amulet. She chose me to be the champion and I chose to let her move on with her life without me buggerin’ it up.”

“But you suffer for your choice, she suffers. You should have told her,” Colin argued.

“There was nothing else I could do!”

“You could have simply tried.”

Spike sighed in frustration, pressed his palms to the side of his head and grimaced as if in physical pain. Slowly he paced the confines of Buffy’s tiny bedroom, his mind churning in a constant state of distress.

“Buffy didn’t love me, Colin,” he finally acquiesced. Colin approached Spike and stood before him, studying the vampire intently.

“She said the words to you…that day. I simply do not understand you’re obtuseness, the simple refusal to see what is right in front of you!”

“You don’t know Buffy, not like I do!” Spike shouted, his temper rising. He was dangerously close to losing the fragile hold he had on his self-control. Colin reached out a hand and gripped Spike’s shoulder, the angel’s gaze peaceful and unwavering.

“I understand people, Spike. I understand human emotions, how fragile and tenuous they are. You hurt her…even after she finally said the words you wanted to hear. Was it not enough?”

“Nothing was ever enough for her,” Spike cried out emphatically, motioning toward the empty space before him which Buffy had occupied mere moments ago. “Nothing I could do or say to change her mind…about anything. She pushed and pushed…pushed me away, and all I did was give and give. There comes a point where you can’t bloody take it anymore…you just--”

His words halted abruptly as he squeezed his eyes shut. Emotions were rising dangerously close to the surface and Spike was having difficulty keeping them at bay. Finally, he turned to Colin, unable to disguise the sheen of tears that swam behind his eyes.

“I gave up, mate,” he murmured, his voice wavering from the tears that clung in his throat. “I heard her say the words,” he pointed to his head, “but they didn’t penetrate here,” he finished pointing to his chest. Colin shook his head vehemently and leaned forward to study Spike closely.

“But she said the words, my friend. That has to count for something.”

“Window dressing,” Spike spat.

Colin thrust his hands into the pockets of his trench coat and paced back and forth, a frown creasing his angelic features.

“I wish you could understand like I do,” he finally murmured.

Spike folded his arms over his chest and lifted his chin defiantly.

“Well, I don’t, mate. Buffy and I have a complicated, messy situation. No one can figure it out, least of all me. And definitely not her. So can we bloody drop it for the moment?”

Colin sighed heavily, lifting a hand to massage the muscles of his neck and then nodded slowly.

“For now. But you were chosen for a reason, Spike. Althea has special plans for you and I think Buffy plays a part in the grand scheme of things, whether you like it or not.”

“Don’t I get a choice in this?” Spike asked.

Colin shook his head.

“I’m afraid not.”

“Figured.”

The two men fell silent as the weight of the earlier conversation settled heavily between them. Spike shoved his hands into the pockets of his duster, feeling a little awkward and unsettled. This situation was starting to veer dangerously out of control.

Throwing his crazy relationship with Buffy into the mix was complicating things even more. Spike wasn’t in control anymore, he was grasping at straws. He didn’t want anyone’s help, had never relied on anyone or anything in the nearly two hundred years he’d been walking the planet. He couldn’t deny it anymore, though.

Spike needed help.

He wanted to resolve things with Buffy, make peace and maybe hope a little for forgiveness. But the forgiving was going to have to go both ways. Buffy wasn’t completely innocent in all of this. Spike made a decision in that moment. He would ask for help. He would try to make things right. He would once again fight for Buffy, for their love…

Even his life depended on it.

Hell, he’d done it twice already…


~**~


End of Chapter Three

*to be continued in chapter four: conversations and dilemmas*
 

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