Last Wish

¤

Buffy arrived at home, having bought ice cream, stubbornly ignoring the memories the isle had given her of that last morning before her memory came back to her. God, she had been high on pure energy and happiness. “Stubbornly ignoring” it was. Now she put the ice cream in the freezer and headed into the living room, where she found Ath sitting on the couch with her eyes closed.

Buffy stopped by the table, waiting for a reaction. It came in the form of Ath’s eyes opening, her gaze meeting Buffy’s calmly.

“I do feel better,” she said with a smile.

“I’m glad,” Buffy replied, returning the smile and coming to have a seat next to her.

“I lied before,” Ath stated and Buffy raised her eyebrows. “There’s no sorority.”

“Yeah. I actually asked someone about that and he said that there’s never been any of those at my college so I figured there was something you... didn’t wanna tell me?”

“Can’t,” Ath corrected.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” Buffy wondered and Ath smiled broadly.

“No,” she confirmed. “Not exactly.”

“Did mom give you the grand tour?”

“Complete with basement and all bathrooms,” she nodded, making Buffy smile again.

“I have the strangest feeling we’ve met before,” she said.

“I’ve never been to Sunnydale,” Ath replied. “Have you lived here long?”

“A few years,” Buffy shrugged. “Where you from?”

“Oh, all over.”

“Really? I’ve always wanted to go there.”

Ath smirked, drawing her legs up and wrapping her arms around them.

“Why did you say we should put cucumbers on our eyes?” she asked, Buffy laughing.

“Bad joke,” she said. “Then again...”

Two hours later they were smeared with Reddi Whip all over their faces. Towels on their heads and cucumbers just being cut. They were in the kitchen, the ice cream standing on the counter to thaw out a little. Buffy was laughing, telling Ath about one of hers and Willow’s earlier adventures at the Bronze. Excluding the vampires, of course.

“Willow sounds like fun,” Ath said, grabbing a slice of cucumber and – as with everything else she touched – turning it around and around between her fingers, holding it up to get a better look and then slipping it into her mouth.

“Willow is fun,” Buffy replied. “I guess we’ve just been busy lately. With various things. Haven’t had that much hang-out time.”

“Oh?”

“We will, though. Things are brightening up.”

Ath’s eyes went to the Slayer’s.

“Oh?” she repeated.

“I don’t wanna bore you with details.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Sorry, that was code for Really-Don’t-Wanna-Talk-About-It.”

Ath smiled, though her gaze didn’t leave the Slayer’s face as the latter turned back to the cucumber.

¤

Calor muttered to himself as he gazed toward the front door of the dorm he had been told hosted a certain Buffy Summers. It had been dark for an hour. It was getting chilly.

“Dear darling little brother.”

“Oh, great,” he sighed, turning his eyes skyward as he added: “Checking up on me, Ath? I do not need your input or your opinion. I feel you’ve done quite enough.”

“I apologize,” she said, coming up behind him and having him jump high with surprise. “I’m here to do a lot more.”

“What! Father did not tell me of you falling from grace... Interesting.”

“I didn’t fall... Well, not from grace, anyway.” She smiled, looking him over with a frown. “Your clothes don’t fit you.”

“Oh, do shut up.”

She giggled.

“I am still upset with you,” he warned, making her give him a friendly shove.

“I’m still getting used to the five senses, myself,” she stated. “How about you?”

“I’m marvelous! A bit cold. A little agitated. And I have the strangest stabbing feeling in my stomach, but other than that.”

Ath furrowed her brow.

“Have you eaten anything today?” she asked.

Calor looked wondering for a few moments, then his face brightened up.

“I forgot about eating. Have you eaten?”

“I have.”

“What’s it like?”

“I can’t describe it, you have to try it.”

“You speak as an earthling.”

“I know. Isn’t it delicious? Come on.”

“Come where?”

“There’s someone I want you to meet.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him with her. “What are you doing out here anyway?”

“I’m waiting for the Slayer. She lives right over there.”

“Ah,” Ath said.

“Is that supposed to tell me something?”

“No. But I can tell you that the Slayer won’t be walking through that door tonight. She’s staying with her mom for the weekend and will trot back to school tomorrow morning.”

“Please, do not have this end with you having met her,” he muttered and she smiled widely, merely pulling him along.

¤

Buffy approached the entrance to Spike’s crypt. She made herself focus, and felt every last insecurity slip away. At least every other last. She drew a breath and walked through the door. The crypt was empty, dark. She looked around and then headed up to the nearest of the three candelabra, striking a match and beginning to light the candles. When she was done she moved over to the niche, lighting those as well. Finished with the task she paused, wondering why she had bothered.

Heading up to the loveseat she gently touched the fabric; images, sensations of the first time she had kissed him trickling through her... She squared her shoulders.

Where is he? she thought, turning from the piece of furniture and walking up to the ladder.

“Spike?” she called down.

He might be sleeping. And if he is I can yell till I’m hoarse... Better climb down.

And she did, continuing into the room on light feet.

“Spike?” she whispered. “Are you here? Why the hell am I whispering?”

“Yes, why the hell are you?” he asked, making her twirl around as he came up to her.

Her mouth nearly fell open. He was wearing one of the sweaters she had bought him. It was light-blue. A bold choice on her part, since he never wore anything light in color and since he had specified no pastel – she nearly smiled at that memory, but willed it down promptly – the color had been such a perfect match with his eyes that she hadn’t been able to resist. Now, that part to him looked at her with such a vacant expression it sent a shudder through her.

“You’re... wearing...” she mumbled and he cocked an eyebrow. “That,” she said. “I... bought that.”

“No, you didn’t,” he replied.

“Yes, I did.”

“No. I got this,” he stated and she crossed her arms over her chest, beginning to get irritated.

“Spike, I bought that for you. It took me twenty-five minutes to decide whether I should or not, whether you’d wear it or not, but then I pictured you in it and I knew I had to...”

He tilted his head a little to the side.

“Buy it?” he filled in with a sudden familiar twinkle in his gaze and she couldn’t keep down the emerging pout on her mouth.

“Yeah,” she muttered.

She despised the rising satisfaction at having him look at her in that way again. The coldness had evaporated; there was life there once more.

Damn it!

“It’s done. Riley agreed,” she said and he grew serious in an instant.

“Great.”

“Isn’t it?”

He eyed her; then smiled a slight smile.

“Yes, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” She glanced at him before she headed for the ladder saying: “I should go.”

“Patrolling beckons.”

She turned to him, looking him over before she replied:

“I have a rep to rebuild.”

He smirked at that and she beat her response down before ascending the ladder. She walked outside, feeling the lightheadedness dissipate as she got some fresh air. Air was good. And then Spike came up at her side. She gave him a look.

“What?” he asked. “Don’t I get a last wish?”

“Your last wish is to go on patrol? With me?”

“There’s something I need answered,” he said.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea...”

“What? Killing things together? Isn’t that what we do best?”

She pushed back the smile, again threatening to occur, and looked away from him; fastening her gaze straight ahead.

“What is it you need answered?”

“When it’s answered – I’ll tell you.”

“I hate it when people do that! Say something like that and then say that they won’t tell me what it is. You really shouldn’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Etiquette! What if it isn’t answered?”

“Then I won’t tell you.”

“But...” She stopped herself, not able to find the words that could persuade him he was wrong. “Fine. Let’s find something and kill it and then we can finally have some sort of closure.”

He cocked an eyebrow, observing her for a moment before asking:

“Is that what you need, Slayer?”

“It’s what I’m getting,” she replied, tone laced with a warning not to push it and he smirked, backing off.

There was something else there now, when he looked at her. Something soft somewhere that he didn’t particularly enjoy. But then she looked at him and the softness spread like rings on water and it turned into pure desire, making him want to grab her and get every last piece of clothing off her and... then it changed again; her profile making him grow thoughtful as he remembered watching her fall asleep. As he thought of having her in his arms as they danced at the Bronze. As he could practically feel his fingers slipping through her soft locks.

“Demon,” he said, breaking away from further musings and she turned her head to where he was looking; then moved her gaze to the opposite side of the clearing they were in, saying:

“Vampire.”

“I’ll take the larger one,” he said.

“Yell if you need help.”

He was about to respond to that, but she ran off, meeting the attacking vamp and he muttered before approaching the oversized demon. They sidestepped each other a few times and then went head first into battle mode.

Buffy met the punches of the vampire easily. It was a fledgling and as such was pretty much done for. However, reaching for her stake she received a massive blow to the chin, which had her spin around and fall to the ground.

“Ow,” she murmured, spotting her dropped weapon lying a few feet away and beginning to crawl towards it.

The vampire landed on top of her heavily, pinning her down. She fought to get loose, reaching for the stake and being only an inch or so away from it. Making her hands into fists she beat them upwards and back, hitting the vamp in the face. It growled with pain and she smiled to herself. Good. Then its fingers slid over her neck, moving her hair away and she clenched her jaws together.

“Don’t think so,” she said, rising on all fours and shrugging the demon off of her. “But thanks,” she added as she grabbed the stake and spun around, “that gave me the adrenaline I needed.”

“Buffy!” Spike exclaimed behind her, her arm getting ready to throw the stake into the heart of her assailant.

She turned her head to the bleached just in time to see a large chest take up all her view. She frowned, looking up at the demon Spike was supposed to be getting rid of as it pushed her to the ground with one large paw of a hand. With that it took off into the trees, the vampire close on its heel.

“Bloody...” she muttered, sitting up and spitting a few strands of grass out of her mouth, looking up and meeting Spike’s gaze as he came up to her. Holding her hand up, showing off a brand new cut, she said: “Bloody.”

He smiled a little, reaching out a hand and she took it, letting him help her to her feet.

He kept her hand in his, turning it over to get a better look at the wound.

“It’s deep,” he said.

“It’s a scratch,” she stated.

“It’s bleeding.”

“Thought you’d like that.”

“You got it for me? Shouldn’t have,” he said and suddenly she smiled.

He stared at her, not prepared for it whatsoever. Seemed she hadn’t been either as she pulled her hand out of his grasp and took a small step back, growing self-conscious as her face became serious.

“Did you see what I saw?” she asked.

“The demon helping the vamp? Yeah, I caught that,” he nodded, eyeing her.

“I need to talk to Giles. I’ve been so out of it I barely know what’s what... with Adam and everything.”

“Right,” Spike nodded. “Adam. Big Bad and all that.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I mean... you could come with, but...”

“Alright then.”

She paused.

“Alright then,” she agreed, both of them beginning to walk.

“But my crypt is closer. I have some stuff there; I could...”

“What are we doing?” she stopped him, halting and facing him as he did the same.

“Getting you fixed up; is what we’re doing. You’re dripping all over this nicely paved path here,” he said, gesturing to where they were standing before grabbing her by the arm and leading her back the way they’d come.

Soon enough she brought her arm out of his grip; still, succumbing to the idea of stopping the blood-flow and kept walking aside him, glancing at him once in a while, trying to straighten herself, him and this whole thing out. Failing miserably, at that. She was thinking that if she could only somehow know exactly what she felt around him, then maybe... But it was all a blur. A warm, fuzzy, chilled, creeping, terrified, subdued, upfront blur that made her head spin. And her knees weak. And every time he looked at her... she didn’t want him to stop.

Stop! she hissed at herself. Thank God I won’t have to deal with this for much longer. Oh, what am I doing with him? What am I doing going to his crypt? His crypt! The man lives in a crypt, for crying out loud! And he wears that idiotic leather thing and he bleaches his head white! His age sure doesn’t show in his taste. ...Hmh, doesn’t show anywhere.

She smirked to herself, then blushed just as fast and drew a slight breath to stop the trail of thought from progressing.

They reached his abode, and he entered it. She hadn’t noticed how far they’d gotten. Shaking it off, she followed him inside.

“Take a seat,” he instructed, slipping the duster off as he went into the kitchen area.

Where does he come off, with all this self-assured smiling and directing and taking-charging? she grumbled, walking up to the loveseat and sitting down with a sigh.

She looked at her hand and grimaced.

“Dripping’s the word,” she mumbled, pressing her other hand over the wound and making a face of pain.

“Not for long,” he said, having a seat beside her with the supplies.

She looked at his face as he gently made her move the hand covering the cut. He glanced up, noticing her questioning expression.

“I won’t bite,” he assured and traces of a smile appeared in her eyes.

He began the cleaning; her jaws tightening being the only sign of the stinging she was suffering under. Her gaze didn’t leave his face. He was concentrated. His hands moving to grab the tape he needed to keep the lesion closed. Fastening two pieces he grabbed the square piece of bandage and some more tape to stick it on with. Finishing he softly stroked her palm with his fingertips, meeting her gaze. She felt a strange tremor go through her. Its force beckoning to be reckoned with.

Then he let her go, looking away.

She stared at him, her heart beating heavily in her chest.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

He rose, giving a one-shoulder shrug, gathering up the stuff left over and taking it back to where it belonged. She got to her feet as well. He came back, stopping as he saw her get ready to leave. She rested her eyes in his, hers narrowing as she observed him for a moment, then said:

“I don’t understand you.”

“Asking me to explain?”

“Drop it,” she snapped. “You walk around being all Slayer-gonna-get-it and when push comes to shove,” she held up her hand, “this is what I get?”

“I’m thinking I should stay on your good side, since you’re holding the bloody key to my release and all,” he retorted, her eyes widening.

“That’s not why you came patrolling with me,” she disagreed.

“You’re right, it’s not.”

“So did you get your answer?”

He glared at her, loathing filling his gaze before it slowly dispersed and left was only defeat. She couldn’t recall ever seeing that expression on him before.

“Suppose I did,” he muttered, his eyes going to her hand and then he suddenly smiled, shaking his head.

“So tell me,” she urged.

He met her gaze again, holding it so intensely that she could barely keep her eyes in his.

“Fine,” she said, “don’t tell me. I have to go...”

“So do I, apparently,” he stated. “Why is that?”

She cocked an eyebrow; then merely crossed her arms over her chest, impatiently.

He felt annoyance bubble to the surface. She could wear that indifference as easily as she’d like, but he could tell there was more underneath than what met the eye. If he so had to pry it out of her, he would get to it.

“Why should I leave?” he asked again.

“Because I can’t. I’m bound to this town. Find a way to break my shackles and I promise I’ll go,” she replied.

“Why should I leave?” he repeated.

“Well, why the hell shouldn’t you? Is there anything tying you to this place?”

“No, nothing. I’ll miss it, though. You’re robbing me of my home; you do realize that, right?”

“This isn’t your home,” she said.

“It isn’t? I live here, I eat here; I bloody steal, lie and cheat here... I consider this my home, Slayer. I have all my friends here. Some of whom you’ve met, some of whom you haven’t. I’m not sure how to part with them.”

The memory of him sharing a deep kiss with a vampiress came before her eyes and she blinked it away, sudden jealousy rising without warning as she drew conclusions of exactly what he was talking.

“Send a card,” she said, her eyes growing hard.

He tilted his head a little to the side, wondering how far he should press this.

“So impersonal,” he replied.

“Call them up.”

“From a phone?”

She merely gave him a look and he smiled a sleek smile.

“Throw a party, whatever is the demonic way,” she said; his smile widening.

“Might be a good idea,” he nodded. “Invite all the special people who’ve enriched my stay in Sunnydale. We could have a sleepover, my bed’s large enough.”

She clenched her jaws together.

“Thought you didn’t need buffers anymore,” she remarked icily.

“Thought you agreed that was none of your business,” he shot, feeling his self-control slipping as the agitation was gaining.

“Oh, so what? You decide to parade all of this in front of me? Parties and sleepovers and beds!” she exclaimed.

“It was your idea!”

“Not the last two! Then again, I’m sure you’ll have to have many pajama parties to cover all the special friends you’ve made. God knows you kept me up an entire night, how many wouldn’t it take to saturate your hunger for a year!”

“You kept me up, Slayer. I never had someone so eager between the sheets.”

“Shut up! Shut your mouth or I’ll do it for you!” she screamed, stalking up to him.

“I’d actually like to see that.”

“And to think – I did this. It’s the biggest mistake of my life and in a week it’ll be erased for good! You’ll be out of my life and I’ll never have to think about you ever again! I’m going crazy! I can’t buy ice cream without thinking about you!”

“You think it’s easy for me? Everywhere I’m used to going to get away from you – you’ve been! With me! I’m bloody sick of it and yeah, it’ll be good to get the hell away from this town when every time I see you I feel like I’m waking up from a really bad dream.”

“Oh, that’s nice!”

“My life, Buffy! My existence that ended being familiar the moment you stepped through that door that night. God, I resisted you. I resented you. I didn’t want any of it and still you managed to make me weak to the point of wanting to stop time, if it meant you wouldn’t go away. I don’t know when, but I fell for you like it was the easiest thing in the world!”

He said the words, and moments later grasped the truth of them.

He had.

He had fallen for the Slayer, for her, for Buffy.

He was in love with her.

She stared at him. Stunned. Then doubt crept over her.

“It wasn’t real,” she said, voice lowered. “It wasn’t me.”

“It was,” he replied, still processing and yet feeling as though he finally understood what this was all about. For him, at least. “It was always you, love.”

“Don’t call me that,” she objected, voice strained.

A part of her couldn’t believe it, another was a knot so tight she was scared it might splinter into a thousand pieces, and a third wanted to smile at him. Really smile. But she couldn’t. The shock was too new, the art of mastering the situation not yet hers to own. And she was suddenly furious. He had no right! He had no right to tell her this, to actually claim that he...!

“You can’t love,” she got out, her gaze growing colder by the second and he stared at her.

This again?

“Is that what you need to believe?” he asked.

“It’s what I do believe,” she stated. “A week with me and a night in the sack won’t change you,” she added. “You’re a killer.”

“So are you,” he pointed out, his face setting into the same quiet disdain she was showing him.

“Not that kind.”

“What kind is that?”

“I don’t feed off of Innocents!”

“Is that what this is about?”

“No, it’s not. It’s about me not trusting you. I could never trust you.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

“You think?” she asked, one of his eyebrows rising. “I’m leaving.”

And then he was before her, grabbing her and pulling her close. She drew a breath, her head tilting back so that she could look into his eyes. With her hands against his chest she felt a longing start that was so deep it made her legs quake.

“This,” she murmured. “What I’m feeling. It isn’t love.”

“You’re feeling,” he said. “That’s a start.”

“Let me go.”

“Mean it,” he urged, eyes attentively in hers.

She wanted to demand it once more and mean every word, but couldn’t.

He waited another few moments, and then his lips found hers, kissing her harshly, his tongue finding hers and her hands grabbing fistfuls of his T as she pushed herself closer to him. He backed her slowly up against one wall, her hands moving to his upper arms as she wanted him nearer. Then he slid one hand over her stomach and down, snaking it inside the hem of her jeans and in the next moment her eyes shot open, her mouth leaving his as she tilted her head back. She moaned, his lips against the side of her throat as his fingers kept moving inside of her.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, feeling her tremble as the climax began to build. “Tell me this is what you want!”

She drew a sharp breath, then opened her eyes and met his gaze.

“Yes,” she breathed, her mouth catching his again.

He yanked her pants open as she tore at his T, getting it over his head. He got her pants off her, his eyes now in hers as he unzipped his pants, pushing her against the wall and grabbing her legs, making her wrap them around his waist as he pressed against her. Then he entered her, his mouth finding hers as he kissed her again.

It was rough, and quick, their groins grinding together and then reaching the peak at the same time. Cascades of pleasure pouring through them as they met each other’s gaze once more.

She clung to him, staring down at him and wanting to tell him about what torment she was under, what confusion, what uncertainty of everything she knew being right.

“Buffy,” he murmured and the craving was reborn.

She kissed him then, deeply, hungrily.

He got her sweater off her, licking his way down over her left collarbone, removing her bra and having his tongue circle one of her breasts. The rush of rapture was back, her hands burying themselves in his locks as she stood on both feet, him kicking his pants off fully and then twirling her around, dropping them to the floor where she landed back first on one of the cushions. He was inside her again, her hips meeting his thrusts and their mouths exchanging breaths as their bodies unraveled their secrets.

¤

She woke up five hours later, having slept for no longer than thirty minutes and feeling completely dazed. Something had woken her, but she wasn’t sure what. What day was it? She racked her brain, but couldn’t answer the question. Then she realized that she was cold, and that was what had woken her. She looked down at her naked frame and frowned before she remembered. Closing her eyes she cursed herself silently, sitting up slowly and turning her head to look over her shoulder on the sleeping vampire next to her.

This is insane, she thought for the thousandth time. What you just did is sick! You had no excuse this time! He’s a liar! There’s nothing good in him, Buffy; he’s just playing tricks. Look what it got him – he’s having the chip removed! He’ll be back to slaughtering as fast as you can blink. He doesn’t have a conscience. He doesn’t have a soul. He’s just a mirage, all of him. Nothing about him is real. He’s a reflection of someone else.

Her mind kept on churning this speech through her head, but her eyes took in the subtle sculpture of his cheekbones, his jaw, the fullness of his lower lip and the scar at his left eyebrow. A face she had feared, and loathed, and which had repulsed her with all that it stood for. And now she didn’t want anything to happen to it... she just wanted to look at it.

You need to get your butt out of here, her mind declared, having her rise slowly. Look away from him and you’ll see it’ll be easier.

So she did, and in a way it was.

In another, it made it harder.

She gathered up her clothes, putting them on carefully. Her pants were busted, but stayed up. The thought of why they were in that state sent an urge to wake him through her so powerful she almost jumped over the loveseat to land on him.

But the voice of reason was stronger, and it pointed her feet in the direction of the door.

She exited, feeling evil.

He doesn’t love you, her mind said practically. Perhaps something in him believes it knows what love really is. Perhaps he’s twisting it around. Whatever it is that’s within him – it isn’t love like you know it. Don’t even begin to believe that it could be, because then you are lost.

She felt more and more miserable the closer she got to Revello Drive and when she finally climbed in through her window and splayed herself on her bed it was as though she had gone completely numb.

Things Unspoken

¤

Buffy sat up with a jerk as her alarm went off. She looked at it and whined. She’d slept for two hours. Great. This should be a fun day. Practically falling out of bed she dragged herself into the bathroom, turning the shower on and waiting for the water to heat up. She didn’t even want to look at herself in the mirror, knowing she would look at least half of the equivalent of how she was feeling.

She didn’t want to be there.

She wanted to go... no, scratch that, she wanted to run back to him. She had a billion questions she needed answered and he was the only one who could answer them.

But she couldn’t run back to him. She couldn’t even walk at a leisurely pace.

She had to go to school. She had to face her responsibilities. She had to pretend as though last night hadn’t happened.

He’s in love with you, a part of her kept chanting.

No, he’s not, another kept answering.

She stepped into the shower, turning the water from hot to cold and drenching herself in it. Getting out she was shivering, but ignored it, brushing her hair with harsh movements, skipping makeup all together and wrapping a towel around herself she headed back into her room. Putting on a skirt and a top she grabbed her jacket and headed downstairs. She was surprised to hear laughter at seven o’clock in the morning.

Ath looked up as Buffy entered the kitchen, a smile still on her face. A young man turned from where he was seated, smiling as well. Buffy furrowed her brow. The two of them bore a remarkable resemblance.

“Morning,” Buffy greeted, still unsure of what to make of this.

“Buffy,” Ath said. “Please, I would like you to meet my brother, Cale.”

The young man got off the stool, reaching out a hand and she took it, shaking it slowly.

“Anything the matter?” he asked as she kept eyeing him.

“Sorry... I feel like I’ve seen you before.”

“You did,” he replied, letting her hand go. “Yesterday. You told me where the dorms were.”

The pieces fell into place and she smiled.

“Right,” she nodded.

“I didn’t know he was showing up or I would’ve told you sooner. He came here last night... Your mother was kind enough to offer him half of the couch.”

“An offer I could not refuse,” Calor filled in, Buffy’s smile widening.

There was something about those two that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“Cereal?” Ath asked, grabbing the box and a bowl, but Buffy shook her head.

The last thing on her mind was food.

“I’ll just have some juice,” she said, pouring herself a glass.

“You need to eat something,” Calor said. “One of the things I find most important for well-being on this... continent... is a healthy meal. Breakfast is said to be crucial to the rest of your day.”

The Slayer cocked an eyebrow.

“Well, I’ve already crucially ruined the whole of this day, so there’s no use trying to repair it,” she said. “I have to get off to school,” she added, putting the finished juice down and grabbing her pocketbook. “It was nice meeting you, Cale. Ath, need any help snooping around campus for the best candy-machines or least quiet study-halls, I’m your gal.”

“I’ll remember that,” Ath smiled.

And with that Buffy left.

Calor sunk back down on the stool.

“Nice going,” Ath remarked.

“What?” he asked innocently.

“I know you worry about her sometimes, Cale, but do you have to be so obvious? In this realm strangers are obtuse and often glaring, you can’t be so blunt.”

“Blunt?”

“Quote-un-quote: ‘Breakfast is said to be crucial for the rest of your day’. What is that?”

“She’s troubled.”

“And who does she have to thank for it?”

“I did not mean for her to be troubled.”

“No... You meant for her to see that if her circumstances had been different she would have fallen for the vampire she has sworn to want eternally really-dead. Not troubling at all.”

“Alright, alright,” he muttered sullenly. “She has always risen from the ashes before, this will be no different.”

“Honey, once love burns you... Actually, I don’t know how to end that sentence,” Ath said, getting off the stool as there was a knock at the door.

Calor gave her a dark look, but she merely smiled, opening the door and being met by the sight of a short mortal, oozing nerves-on-end. His eyes grew slightly when they landed on her.

“Hello,” she said.

“H-hi...” he replied, glancing over her shoulder. “Is Buffy in?”

“No, she just went to school. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be sorry. I mean, I’m sorry. I told her I’d be coming over yesterday, but I didn’t get a chance to. I just wanted to see... if you were... okay.”

She smiled suddenly.

“You must be Jonathan! I’m Ath,” she said, shaking his hand. “Buffy told me I have you to thank for a lot.”

“I should be thanking you,” he shook his head, smiling a little as well. “Not for dropping at my feet all... the way you were, but for scaring away a girl that I’ve learned is absolutely crazy. By crazy I mean... mad.”

“Really?” Ath asked. “You’re welcome, then.”

“Yes. I know it’s early, I need to go... Have a meeting.”

“Sure. Come by later, if you want. I’m attempting to bake cupcakes today; perhaps I can treat you to one if I succeed.”

“Sounds... great,” he said. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

She closed the door, turning to meet the raised eyebrows of her brother.

¤

Spike reached out for the one who was supposed to be lying beside him, or so his memory was telling him; becoming fully awake as the spot next to him was vacant. He sat up, looking around, perplexed.

“Buffy?”

He saw her clothes were gone and put one hand over his face.

“Bloody hell,” he swore, voice muffled. “Bloody hell!” he repeated, rising to his feet and beginning to pace.

What did I do? What does this mean? Nothing. It means nothing. It means I’m loving someone who can’t ever love me back.

He stopped at that, his gaze catching at a speck of dust slowly drifting through the air.

How could I fall for that sniveling, half-witted, goody-goody! How the hell did this happen!

And then he remembered her smile from the night prior, that brief moment of what seemed as nothing but honesty. That was who he had seen glimpses of for a long time... The girl he knew he had desired since he first laid eyes on her. But this love...

He pictured her before him, angry spitfire of a young woman. Or with that look of pure passion in her gaze. Or with that smile...

It was there alright, the wanting to be near her that was so strong he felt he should be able to touch it.

Fool, a voice taunted. You think she’ll ever see you as anything but what you are?

“She did once,” he stated defiantly.

Beginning to get dressed he glared at the sunlight falling in through the large windows. What wouldn’t he have given for a rainstorm, or an eclipse; or someone making the sun set early, just for this one day? He could take the tunnels, but that’d only get him so far. She’d be in school and there were hardly any spots there shaded enough for him to seek shelter in.

He had to see her.

Patience, a new voice urged. Be patient. If you rush this, you know what you’ll do. You’ll get impatient, like you always get, and bloody well ruin it.

He clenched his jaws together, finally giving in and heading downstairs. Crawling onto the bed he lay on his stomach, closing his eyes and willing himself back asleep.

¤

“Yes, it is sad when a pet dies, it is,” Buffy nodded, listening to the stream of sympathy pouring from her math professor. “Well, thanks,” she said as the teacher finally wiped the hovering tear from the corner of her eye and went back to her desk. “Jeez,” Buffy mumbled.

“Hey,” Willow said, coming up to walk beside her down the hall.

“Hi,” Buffy smiled wearily.

“You okay?”

“No, not really.” Willow waited for her to elaborate, and Buffy sighed. “Last night...” She trailed off, meeting her friend’s inquisitive expression. “I couldn’t fall asleep,” the Slayer finished.

“I hate it when that happens,” Willow stated. “You up for lunch?”

“No, I think I’ll grab an apple and go sit outside. In the sun.”

Willow raised her eyebrows, then smiled.

“I’ll join you.”

“Okay,” Buffy nodded and they headed for the cafeteria.

Ten minutes later they were seated on the grass. Willow took a bite out of her sandwich, Buffy eyeing her apple suspiciously.

“I hear they drench them in acid, to keep bugs off,” she muttered.

“Well, not acid,” Willow smirked.

“You seem chipper.”

“I am. I am chipper. Everything’s just... coming along quite nicely, I’d say. School, magic... Yesterday Tara and I met up and tried to work this mojo, but it didn’t work, so instead we did this other thing, and it totally worked and it was so exciting.” Buffy blinked; eyes still on her apple; Willow furrowing her brow. “Earth to Slayer.”

Buffy turned her gaze on her friend and looked regretful.

“Sorry, Wills... I’m having difficulty with the concentrating today.”

“’Cause of the lack of sleep,” Willow said, Buffy feigning innocence and nodding a little. “Buffy, what’s wrong? Don’t think I can’t tell when something’s wrong, since when could you resist a green apple?”

Buffy grumbled, putting the apple down and running her hands through her hair; frustrated.

“Spike’s getting the chip out and then he’s leaving Sunnydale for good,” she stated, Willow stopping her chewing to stare at her. “I set it up with Riley. It’s decided.”

“You’re going to de-chip Spike?” Willow asked. “Won’t that make him able to... bite?”

“Yes.”

Willow’s stare grew a few degrees hotter and Buffy had to look away, down at her hands, her fingers not able to stay idle as they began to pluck at one corner of the magazine she had brought with her.

“You’re setting him loose?”

“He’s not an animal, Willow, don’t talk like that!” Buffy said.

“Buffy!” Willow exclaimed.

“I can’t kill him,” Buffy murmured.

“No, not with the chip in his skull, but if you get it out...”

“Willow!” Buffy exclaimed.

Willow grew quiet at that, her gaze turning searching and then her eyes widened.

“I see,” she said silently.

“No... it’s not like that either,” Buffy mumbled.

“What then?”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“I.e. setting him loose.”

“I can’t have him here. I can’t have him around me.”

Willow put her sandwich down.

“It’s that bad?”

“Worse.”

“Buffy, sending him on his way might work in theory, but don’t you think if he goes away and you haven’t put it behind you before he goes... that it might be really hard for you to do it if he’s gone? I mean, you’ll always wonder.”

“Wonder what? When he’s out of my life I won’t be reminded of him...”

“Honestly, do you actually believe this’ll help? And if you do let him go, what’ll it do to you to know that you sent him out there again? He’s dangerous. And I know you. It’ll eat at you until you have to track him down and then what?”

“I’m not going to look for him!”

“This isn’t the way.”

“Then what! What am I supposed to do!”

Willow looked at her for a long moment, then said:

“You told me you were falling in love with him...”

“I am not in love with Spike!”

“Then what’s this all about?” Willow smiled in that patient way, which suddenly made Buffy feel stings of aggravation all over. “You know how I feel about this. Spike’s tried to kill all of us more than once. But there must be a reason for you acting like this. Find out what the reason is, Buffy, before it’s too late. That’s all I have to say. Eat your apple.”

Buffy sat back against the large trunk of the tree they were under, picking up the apple and once more eyeing it before she took a large bite out of it.

¤

She sat in her English Lit. class trying to be objective, letting all the different things she had seen and heard and felt over the course of the past two and a half weeks interplay. She let herself remember the slow but steady opening up of him which she had successfully established when she had been the younger version of herself. All the emotions she had held for him then were still in constant motion within her now, battling furiously with those that resided there from years of seeing what he could do, what he would do to her if he ever got the chance.

The younger her had trusted him, she realized this. The younger her had seen him save her life too many times to believe that he actually wanted her dead.

Her hand went unintentionally to her shoulder and she wondered if there was a scar, she hadn’t checked.

The current her brought up the fact that him not hurting her was no reason to trust him. There were sides to him darker than anything she could even imagine. He was vicious, calculating and for certain smarter than he seemed. He had most probably taken advantage of the situation as much as possible just to spin her head around.

But why would he do that? He would gain nothing from it; as apposed to leaving her to bleed to death would have gotten him plenty. Then again with the chip... And last night, he had patched her up as well, after saying that he needed to stay on her good side since she possessed the power to free him of his bonds... But then he had said he was in love...

She glanced at her hand, the only thing showing for it now being a quickly fading white streak on her skin. It would be gone by evening.

He’s a demon, her mind stated.

That he is, she thought.

¤

“Hi,” she greeted Giles at five o’clock in the afternoon, shoving a box into his chest as she entered his apartment, saying: “I brought the doughnuts.”

“Lovely,” he said, closing the door and following her up to the couch, where she took a seat. “Tea?”

“No, thanks,” she shook her head. “It’s not really a social call. I have something to tell you and also something to ask you. Which one do you want first?”

Giles sat down on a chair, looking around for a place to put the box and finally resigning to placing it on the floor next to him. Buffy waited for him to reply.

“I suppose the former.”

“Last night I was out on patrol and nearly killed a vampire, but a demon jumped in and saved it.”

“A demon?”

“Overly large, horns everywhere, demon by birth.”

“And... you say it saved the vampire from being slain?”

“That it did. Then they merrily took off into the woods together.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, the merrily might have been exaggerating just a tad – but together they were. I don’t know if they were together as in the biblical sense, I think they were both male. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, just seem like an odd couple.”

“Buffy.”

“I’m sure.”

“This is quite extraordinary.”

“Adam’s behind it.” Giles raised his eyebrows. “When I lived with Spike, a few vampires came over to say hello, wanted to knock me around and all things nice. They were babbling about gathering their forces, Adam being about to lead them to glory. Very grand.”

Giles stared at her.

“And you saw it fit to tell me now?”

“I didn’t put it all together until now,” she replied calmly.

“We need to locate Adam.”

“No kidding.”

“We should round up everyone right now and have them come over here so that we can formulate a plan...”

“Adam’s been silent for a while... Riley’s out of town for the next few days, I say we should wait for him. He knows the Initiative like the back of his hand. We may not be as tight as we were before, but I know he wants to stop this just as much as I do.”

“You’ve had a falling out?”

Buffy smiled a little, giving a shrug.

“We’ll work it out,” she said, clearing her throat.

“Well, this is a large step forward. We may know what Adam’s design is.”

“War.”

“Do you think?”

“With him having inside access to the Initiative... Who knows what sort of weapons he can get his hands on?”

“In light of that, is it truly wise to wait for Riley?”

“Perhaps not. But we need him. He’s the only link we have to Adam. And he can answer any question we may have about the Initiative.”

“I guess you’re right,” Giles murmured, taking his glasses off and beginning to polish them thoughtfully. “And what was it you wanted to ask me?”

She hesitated, then gave a shrug and said:

“Spike said something to me that I haven’t been able to get out of my mind... We were talking about demons... and humans... and how humans have a soul where the demon... doesn’t.”

“Yes?”

“Well, how does that work, exactly?”

“It’s not an exact science.”

“I realize that,” she replied, “but widely scoped. I mean, a vampire remembers the human’s life, right?”

“Yes, it does, but its feelings are twisted around. It cannot feel remorse, Buffy. It is driven by its need to take life in order to preserve its own existence. There is no humanity left in a demon. They see the world as their own territory to dominate and if anyone oversteps their boundary they will make sure to get rid of them. They are selfish creatures.”

“But...” Buffy said, regretting it as Giles fixed his gaze in hers questioningly. “Well, it’s just... they can find a... mate and stay with her... or him... for a long period of time.”

“Yes, of course. They often shun loneliness.”

“But...” Buffy said again. “Well, isn’t being lonely one of the deeper human emotions?”

Giles frowned.

“Where is this going?” he asked and Buffy smiled.

“I was just wondering. ‘Cause I argued the side you’re arguing and Spike... Well, he argued another.”

“And which was that?”

She shrugged.

“I think I might like some tea,” she said and Giles got to his feet.

“Of course,” he said before heading into the kitchen.

She sighed, leaning back against the couch and knowing that she had to make a phone call.

¤

“Angel Investigations.”

Buffy bit the inside of her cheek hard, then she smiled, saying:

“You should spruce that up a little, answer like that and people won’t know what to reply.”

She heard him smile and hers widened.

“Buffy.”

“Angel.”

“This is unexpected.”

“Interrupting anything? Any important investigation going on?”

“No, not right now. The lines are busy, though, it’s just a matter of time.”

“I’m glad things are going well. ...They are going well, right?”

“Absolutely. And everything’s well with you?”

She grew tentative, not exactly sure where to start.

“’Course,” she finally said, choosing the easy way out. This wasn’t something you spoke of over the phone anyways. “I was just having a conversation with Giles and I felt I had to call you to settle the argument.”

“Okay... What was it?”

“Well... We were talking about demons and humans and ways of life and things like that and... he claimed that a vampire doesn’t have feelings. None whatsoever. That they’re sociopaths with no care in the world, except for themselves – don’t take any of this personally.”

“I won’t,” he assured, smiling again. “And what’d you say?”

“Well, things have been... a little crazy lately and I really need your perspective on this. We never talked about it. I was never... curious before, I guess, ‘cause you had your soul and I didn’t have to think about it. But now... I’d like to hear your side. I always figured you weren’t linked to the demon. Are you... linked to it?”

There was a long silence and she almost asked if he was still there, but then she heard him shifting in his seat.

“It’s very complicated,” he murmured.

She slowly sat down; being in her bedroom at the dorm she had a seat at the edge of her bed.

“Could you try?”

“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, Buffy. When I lost my soul... all the things I did to you...”

“This isn’t about that,” she cut in. “Please, Angel, I know you. This won’t give me the wrong idea. Hopefully it’ll give me some idea. Don’t worry; just tell me.”

Another pause, and then he said:

“When the demon enters you all your problems go away. They suddenly seem like nothing at all. You feel completely free. Everything’s new; everything’s an adventure, even the hunt, the feed. You’re reborn. You don’t care about caring because everything tells you not to, and why should you have to? Taking what you want, getting what you want, going where you want, being whomever you choose... It’s incredible. The demon of a vampire is a dark creature, Buffy, you know that. Some are more twisted than others. ...They want blood, seek it, and the vampire depends on it.

“When I was cursed with my soul my conscience came back and everything I’d ever done as the being I now was... It was horrific. I could barely move. The soul is stronger than the demon, and I don’t know why. ...It keeps the demon in check. But they are linked. Angelus knew everything about Liam’s life. When I came back I knew everything about the demon...To be honest, though, I don’t know if it varies from vampire to vampire what happens to you. A human with a soul as thirsty for blood as the demon is, might not change at all just ‘cause the soul reenters him. And a demon that is as strong as I know mine is might not be capable of wanting any emotion close to it...”

He trailed off and Buffy swallowed.

“Did you ever feel anything as Angelus?”

“I did,” Angel said. “The feelings I chose to let in. Loyalty... pride... a need to be honest with those I kept close... Not Spike, necessarily, but you can’t blame me for that,” he added, laughter in his voice and she smiled weakly.

“No...” she mumbled her agreement. “...Did you love?”

“As Angelus? No. Not like Spike loved Dru. I couldn’t. I desired, had to have... needed to own. But I detested the feeling that came with love. That clingy, have-to-be-where-you-are situation. I depended on me and wanted to be able to come and leave at my convenience, not someone else’s.”

He stopped there, being met by silence.

“Okay, I’ll rephrase it then,” she finally said, voice lowered. “Do you think you could’ve loved someone... like you loved me later... if Angelus had wanted to?”

“If he’d given into it, yes,” Angel said without hesitation and she blinked.

“You’ve thought about this a few times, haven’t you?” she then asked.

“A hundred years or so,” he confirmed.

“Right,” she mumbled.

“You have to understand, though, that a demon is in no way... stabile. Any emotion it suffers, it suffers to its bitter end. Love is no different than hate in that context. Treated unwisely... it will, without a doubt, spin out of control. I guess, for that reason, I’m grateful I never chose to feel it as Angelus.”

“But, then, if there’s no trust... And how could I?”

She trailed off, blinking and squeezing the phone so hard it creaked in her grasp.

“Buffy... is everything alright? You sound strange.”

“I feel strange,” she murmured. “I have to go. Study.”

“Buffy...”

“Angel, I’m sorry. I can’t talk right now. I have to go.”

She hung up.

She wanted to focus on the last part of Angel’s disclosure; but the statement, that had verified what the younger vampire had professed, weighed heavier.

This doesn’t prove anything.

It was the first thought that came into her head, and it faded just as quickly.

Oh, my God.

That was the second one, and it stayed on a while longer.

Why had she never discussed this with Angel before? For years she’d been so sure of her view being the only way to go. That light was light and dark was dark and there was no middle-ground. Just as Giles had said: they think they feel something, but they really don’t. Or they even might, just so far from reaching what humans would feel that it couldn’t even be called a resemblance. Why hadn’t she asked Angel? It was something that should be important to her...

No, it had never been important to understand the other side, she concluded. Demon equaled bad ninety-eight percent of the time, so ninety-eight percent of the time it was a no-brainer. But now those two percent were glaringly obvious.

Angel should know. If anyone should know and be honest about it with her, it was him.

She glanced at the clock on her bedside table. It just clicked over to show 06:55 p.m. She looked out of her window. It had been dark for nearly half an hour.

She got to her feet, not yet sure of what she intended to do, but knowing she couldn’t stay inside any longer. Patrolling would help. Grabbing the doorknob she opened the door and halted as her gaze landed in Spike’s. He lowered the arm which had been about to knock.

“What’re-what’re you doing here?” she stuttered.

He cocked an eyebrow.

“I’m not here for class, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he replied dryly.

“Then you shouldn’t be here, should you?” she said meaningfully, her eyes following a girl who strolled past them, arms full of books and a frown occurring on her brow at the sight of the leather-clad bleached blonde.

“Would you believe it if I said I was in the neighborhood?” he wondered, the trace of a smile tryingly appearing around his mouth.

“Spike! You think I don’t have more important things to do than fight with you? You think this is the peak of each day – see you and throw insults at each other until one of us explodes or...”

“Or?”

“Stop it!” she hissed, glaring at him. “Go away.”

“Mh, like you did,” he mumbled and she paused, feeling guilty.

“Fine, won’t you come in,” she said, grabbing his coat and dragging him in through the door as a second girl was giving him an odd look. “Exchange student,” Buffy smiled at her. “Thinks I’m an R.A,” she added, shaking her head and the girl smirked.

Buffy closed the door and turned to him.

He smiled a little. She didn’t like the smugness on him. And she didn’t like how she liked having him in her room, nor did she enjoy the creeping anticipation overcoming her as he eyed her softly. He thought he knew exactly where he had her, didn’t he? Well, she’d show him.

“Now go,” she said.

He cocked an eyebrow, then sighed, heading passed her to the door.

“Not that way,” she protested, taking hold of the lapels of his duster and making him stop, their noses practically touching as he looked down at her. Oh, God... “Through the window,” she murmured.

He studied her, then moved a hand up to her cheek, brushing his fingers up over it and into her locks. Her grip on the leather hardened. He could hear her heart beat quicken. He brought his thumb to her chin and made her tilt her head to the side, moving his head forward slowly to let his mouth connect with her thumping pulse. She drew a trembling breath as he parted his lips, kissing the spot softly.

“Oh, my God!” Willow’s voice suddenly exclaimed, the redhead having entered the room without the two taking any notice, and then a heavy book connected with Spike’s head. “Get away from her you dirty, low-life, scoundrel of a vampire or I swear I’ll beat you into a bleeding pulp!”

He let the Slayer go, trying to avert the blows, but that was one ticked off Wicca.

“Willow!” Buffy exclaimed. “Will!” she repeated, grabbing the book in midair and taking a hold on the redhead.

Willow met her gaze, saw that there was no blood running down her friend’s neck, and began to calm down. Then she looked at Spike.

“Well, I shouldn’t have to say sorry. Chip or no chip, one never knows with you.”

“I guess that’s fair enough,” he muttered, moving one hand to rub his sore scalp.

Buffy massaged the bridge of her nose, not sure whether she wanted to burst out laughing, or if she just wanted to fall asleep and never wake up again. Finally she looked at Spike, meeting his gaze. He seemed as though he wanted to say something, but couldn’t.

“I should...” he then murmured with a gesture to the window.

“No, no, we’re not inhospitable,” Willow said. “And the book-to-the-head treatment is reserved only for special guests. Please, use the door.”

He hesitated.

“Please,” Buffy said, “use the door.”

There was a streak of warmth in his eyes and then he walked up to it.

The streak of warmth stayed with Buffy long after he had left.

“Willow...” she began.

“No need to explain,” Willow intercepted.

“I wanted to say thanks.”

“Who said Math and Science never comes in handy?” Willow quipped with a smirk, patting the book. Then her face grew solemn. “Buffy, what are you doing?” she asked.

“I...” Buffy tried, but she couldn’t get any further than that. “What are you thinking?”

“I think you’re about to break the heart of the sweetest, most generous and caring guy you’ve ever known. Riley loves you, Buffy. How can you do this to him?”

“It wasn’t my doing! Spike came in here and... and...”

“I saw the look on your face.”

“What are you talking about?” Buffy asked, blushing, though she tried to beat it back.

“You were completely rapt! And don’t give me that expression; you didn’t even hear the door opening. I’m beginning to agree that getting Spike out of town might not be such a bad idea after all. You can’t trust him, you know that, and why would you get yourself into something you can’t trust? The whole thing is volatile, and sure to blow up in your face. So snap out of it already!”

Buffy gritted her teeth, sidestepping the need to argue the point.

“I don’t know how,” she then muttered silently.

“It’ll reveal itself,” Willow said. “Hopefully in the nearest of futures. I’m going to Tara’s.”

“You’re spending a lot of time there.”

“Well, she has a single room and Miss Kitty’s there...”

“How is Kitty?”

“Cute and cuddly and playful. We made this ball of yarn float around the room. She loved that.”

Buffy smiled.

“I’m glad you have Tara. I know I haven’t been around much lately.”

“Yeah... I’m glad I have Tara too. But I do miss you sometimes.”

“Girl’s night in. We’ll plan it this weekend,” Buffy decided, Willow smiling her agreement.

Buffy put on her jacket and grabbed her stake.

“Patrolling? Isn’t it a little early for that?” Willow asked as they headed out the door.

“I need to walk,” Buffy replied. “Clear my head.”

“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you.”

They parted, Buffy walking downstairs and out through the front door.

“I’m bleeding,” Spike’s voice stated behind her.

She didn’t even turn her head, merely kept on walking.

“Serves you right,” she said.

“For what?”

“Showing up unannounced. At my dorm.”

“It’s college! People are used to oddities.”

She turned around at that, looking him over.

“You, my friend, are not an ‘oddity’. An ‘oddity’ is a girl dressing like Marilyn Manson and listening to pop from the sixties. You are like a poster-add for the eighties.”

With that she spun back around and commenced walking.

“If you think hearing you insult my appearance is my idea of a day’s peak, Slayer... you might be a little right; that was kind of...”

“What are you doing following me around?” she stopped him. “Don’t you have anything better to do than this? And can’t you see I’m working?”

He walked ahead of her, blocking her path and making her stop again.

“You’re a coward,” he said.

“A what now?”

“You can’t admit it, can you?”

“Admit what?”

“That this...” he said with a look between them, “it’s been coming for a long time.”

“You are so full of yourself,” she shook her head. “Now, get out of my way.”

“I’ll move when you tell me last night meant nothing to you.”

She clenched her jaws together.

“I don’t know what last night meant,” she mumbled. “I don’t know what the past two weeks meant!”

“You do know,” he said. “You just haven’t made up your mind yet.”

“And I suppose you have. Boom, just like that, you go from hating me to loving me?” she asked.

“Maybe it’s that simple.”

“Nothing’s that simple.”

“Buffy...”

“Don’t,” she stopped him as he was moving a hand to touch her again. “I’m messed up as it is. I can’t see straight when you... do that.”

He smiled then, backing off.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he said, turning and walking away. “You know where I live.”

She watched him go.

Was he right? Had it been coming for a long time? No. She hated him at first sight. Well, he scared the hell out of her at first sight. Not that he was so scary to look at... but that air of self-assurance. The cockiness. The lack of fear of failure. He had always had a strength surrounding him that didn’t come from recklessness, but from the fact that he didn’t consider it to be that. He saw it as rebellion, as setting his own limits and then breaking them. She wondered if he had ever practiced any form of self-control.

Wasn’t that what he just did? she asked, glancing the way he had gone and suddenly, inexplicably, smiling to herself.

A walk, she then instructed, to clear her head.

Reaching

¤

I am not going to have gone through everything I did with Angel and have it all end up with me developing some sort of morbid infatuation with another vampire! Those three years I spent with Angel taught me how to love, how deep in love a person can actually be. If I’m gonna turn around and decide I wanna be with a vampire after all, I’ll go to him. I’ll go straight to L.A. and tell him...

Her train of thought paused there.

She had been walking for two hours. Clearing her head had turned into bringing up every possible reason she could have to never go near Spike again. And now she had finally gotten to the top of the list, bringing out Angel...

What am I doing? she asked herself for the millionth time.

She pictured herself arriving in L.A., the large building hosting Angel Investigations being right there, before her. She walked in through the door and Angel was there, looking up and spotting her he would grow wondering, and she would simply run up to him, hug him tight, be near him...

And then she thought of going there, to then come back to Sunnydale. Entering the crypt, now abandoned. Spike gone.

She tensed, and with that small sensation she knew she couldn’t do that.

Angel will always be there, she told herself. He’ll always be a part of my life. But...

Everything was so different with Spike. Every touch, every look, every gesture was so different. The man that he was, was so different.

And so, for this night, she made up her mind; hurrying her step as she began to near Revello Drive. There were a few things she’d need.

¤

“Buffy?” Joyce said, coming into her daughter’s room.

Buffy turned around, smiling at her mother.

“Hi, mom.”

“My, I’m sure seeing a lot of you.”

“Not tonight you’re not. Can’t stay. Just realized I forgot my comfy pj’s,” Buffy explained. “And what’s with the raised eyebrows every time I come home? I thought after Faith we agreed to see more of each other.”

“I’m sorry, honey,” Joyce laughed. “Of course I love having you around, but you keep showing up at the oddest hours, without telling me.”

“Spur of the moment homesickness.”

“Sounds more like pj-sickness.”

Buffy smiled, nodding.

“Where’s Ath and her brother? Is everything alright? I’m sorry that I just sort of dumped her... or them, I guess... on you, but...”

“Don’t worry about it. They’re both delightful! Cale and I had the longest chat earlier about the different epochs of Egypt and what impacts living by the Nile had on those inhabiting the city and area close to it. Truly intelligent young man.”

“Well... that’s great,” Buffy smiled. “I know we don’t usually invite complete strangers into our home.”

“They’re not strangers anymore,” Joyce said simply, smiling again. “Ath made cupcakes today. Delicious! A boy from your old high school came over for coffee, actually. John-something.”

“Jonathan?”

“That’s it. He took them to the movies. They should be home soon, if you’d like to hang around...”

Buffy’s smile appeared again.

“I should get going. I’m sorry.”

“Not to worry. I’ll see you this weekend?”

“I might have to study... I have so much catching up to do.”

“Naturally. So... I’ll see you on your next spur of the moment drop-by?”

“You bet.”

Buffy grabbed her pillow and walked up to her mom, kissing her on the cheek before exiting. Joyce frowned, but as she heard the front door open and close she didn’t get a chance to voice her question.

¤

Ath grabbed another handful of popcorn, swallowing them greedily and smirking at her brother, who looked disgusted. Jonathan picked up on it, too.

“You don’t like popcorn?” he asked.

“White, fluffy, tasteless things,” Calor muttered. “And still I feel as though I have a razor blade down my throat when I swallow one. I don’t like them, no.”

“Wow,” Jonathan said with a glance at Ath. “Heavy.”

She smiled brightly at that and Calor rolled his eyes at her, sinking further into the seat and glaring at the large screen before them. He hadn’t thought he would have such a hard time following the events of man – after all, he had been doing just that since the dawn of time – but being down here, up close to it, made it into a confusing blur of events that he couldn’t straighten out for himself. Like the concept of movies. What was the use of making movies about happy people when so many people were miserable? Why waste energy and money on creating something into which the unhappy people could flee for but an hour or two, instead of making something more lasting? Something that could make unhappiness a thing of the past? No, humans were a troublesome species. They truly were impossible to understand. They were complex in all their simplicity.

He did like Joyce, though, she seemed as though she could see what he meant when he spoke to her. As apposed to his own sister, who seemed to constantly be smirking at him. He didn’t like how he felt lesser than her on this plane. She seemed to have taken to this humanity a lot easier than he, and he felt as though he was always stumbling to keep up.

And then there was the Slayer business.

How was he supposed to stop her from removing the vampire’s chip? How was he supposed to prevent the vampire from leaving? How were these two beings supposed to coexist, if they couldn’t see the only way for them to do so?

Buffy, Buffy, he thought sadly. This was not how I meant for it to be. It was never supposed to be this hard. I thought I knew you... Thought I knew how you would react. I didn’t. I don’t.

So how was he to figure out how to fix this?

He sunk further into the seat and closed his eyes.

Moments later he was facing his father, who turned to him with impatience.

“Cale, stay where I put you. If someone were to find your body they would take you for dead.”

“Yes, I presume Ath never visits you.”

“Your sister does not visit me for selfish reasons.”

Calor grew silent, observing the elder. Then he said:

“I cannot do this.”

“Chaos is your only alternative. Will you leave the world to a demolition of your making?”

Calor wanted to throw something, but merely found himself opening his eyes again, back in mortal form and sitting next to his sister in a movie theatre showing pictures of what was supposed to be normal life, when it only seemed to him to be a pale reflection of it.

And so how shall I teach you to live, Buffy? To embrace life and all its quarks and happenstances?

¤

Spike splashed some water on his face, rubbing the skin dry with a towel and throwing it aside before he walked up to his bed. He looked it over, then thought it too empty and turned from it, heading upstairs.

‘Boom, just like that, you go from hating me to loving me?’

Her words kept ringing in his ears. They sounded true. The situation felt obscure and comical; ironic. He should know better. He should forget the buggering chip and leave now, while he still had a chance at a clear escape.

He smirked at that.

Well passed that point now.

He had felt longing much like this before, but not in one-hundred-and-twenty years had it scorched him from every possible angle. It was so wrong, and still felt so right. A beacon in a much too dark night. A ray of sunshine in a shadowed forest. It would end up leading him astray, he knew that. It would end with him standing in light and burning for it.

But what a way to go.

He sat down on the loveseat, sliding down and closing his eyes. He should go get food. The butcher would close in an hour and then he’d be left stranded. But he didn’t feel like moving.

The door opened and he furrowed his brow, not bothering to turn around as he could scent soft musk. A smile slowly formed on his mouth as he heard her feet approaching the place he resided. Then a pillow landed on the spot next to him, right before she walked around the couch and had a seat. He turned his head to her, questioning.

“Alright,” she said, “I’m intrigued.” His eyebrows rose. “I’m not saying... anything except I’d like to... stay here. Tonight. No smoochies, no feelys, no tries at any of that stuff whatsoever or I’m out the door.”

He kept on eyeing her, his gaze sliding down her form and a glitter appearing in them at what she was wearing. She had changed on the way, into her retrieved, very un-sexy set of pajamas. He thought they might’ve worked as a distraction from any thought of the night they had shared yesterday, but for the fact of how he wanted to get her out of them; thinking she was better than that. She grabbed the pillow, getting it out from under her and throwing it at him as she got to her feet.

“Do you have any of the water left?” she asked, walking up to the small fridge.

He put the pillow aside.

“No,” he replied simply.

“Figures,” she muttered, opening the door and looking inside.

Choosing to pour herself a glass of juice she came back up to him. Sitting down she took a sip, then met his eyes, which were observing her keenly.

“Remember when I was fifteen and liked having you stare at me?” she asked, a smile on his lips. “Remember when I grew out of it?” she added, the smile broadening. “I should’ve bought some art,” she sighed. “The walls are so bare. And where are the rugs? Don’t tell me you weren’t happy with them, ‘cause I know...”

“They’re downstairs,” he interrupted.

“Oh.”

They grew silent, her gaze taking him in as he did her.

“What’s your happiest memory?” she asked.

“What’s yours?”

“No, tell me.”

He cocked his head to the side, then smiled.

“Don’t think it’s happened yet,” he said.

She smiled back, then glanced away, down at her hands, the smile pulling back.

“Mine was with Angel,” she murmured, gaze back in his and his face quickly lost any emotion, apart from growing agitation.

“So was Dru’s,” he shot bitterly.

“Is that how it’s gonna be?” Buffy asked. “I’m gonna be compared to her...?”

“Am I gonna be compared to him?” he bit off. “I’m nothing like him, so if I am to be compared, you’d do best at buggering off, ‘cause there’s nothing here for you.”

“Why do you guys hate each other so much?”

“He’s a smug, intolerant, know-it-all; who bosses everybody around and makes their life a living hell!” Spike exclaimed.

“No, that’s Angelus.”

“And what’s with that? Having to separate between demon and soul, having to step back and go – oh, yeah, I bloody did this when I couldn’t see straight ‘cause I was too much of a blockhead to get that my actions might come back to bite me on the ass! Sodding poof, he is. And now he’s all broody and black-eyed and sad. Poor Angel has a bad demon inside and now he has to deal with it. Unbelievable what credits the wanker gets after what I’ve seen him do.”

He stopped at that, biting his tongue and closing his eyes briefly at her stricken expression.

“I’m... sorry,” he said slowly, meeting her gaze again.

“Don’t be. Angel said something to me that I think is true – that it varies who you become after you get your soul back. And it’s different from vampire to vampire what sort of vampire you are. Some demons are strong, taking over completely; even when the memories of the human they’re in linger they choose not to notice them. They don’t want them. If a demon’s willing to remember...”

Spike waited for her to finish as she trailed off.

“If I’m willing to remember...?” he said helpfully, smiling a small smile.

“Then you can tell me about what kind of man you were,” she filled in, avoiding the actual base of her thought.

“William is uninteresting, inadequate and, in general, he’s boring.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“I want to know where you come from. And you just said you shouldn’t have to separate between demon and soul.”

“I didn’t bloody well mean...”

“It’s like the first year of a baby’s life. It determines the rest of the life of the baby, right? So at your age, your first years as a human can count as the baby-phase. And... I want details. As for the uninteresting, inadequate and boring?” She smiled softly at that and he felt something click inside him, almost growing sheepish at the embarrassment he was going to suffer telling her of his mortal years. “Let me be the judge of that,” she now filled in her former sentence, and he grumbled in dislike as well as defeat.

“Is this why you came here, Slayer? Hear the story of my existence?”

“And then some,” she replied, making herself a bit more comfortable in anticipation for him to begin.

“There’s not much to tell... I was born in a small town, my parents moved to London when I was two, my father worked and my mother stayed home with me... I was quiet... closed off... Didn’t have many friends, always wanted them. I painted, I wrote, I went to school and about my business... I was pathetic.” He shuddered, deep in the retelling and barely aware of her anymore, she thought. “I had a close friend in a girl named Sarah. We grew up together. She was the one who introduced me to Cecily... God, I was a fool for that girl.” He smirked suddenly, then sighed. “At least it brought me to Dru. She saved me, you know? Got me the hell away from there. The stuffy British drawing rooms where men smoked their cigars and women coquettishly did as their husbands instructed. To think I wanted to be part of that whole bleeding farce! Dru made me see who I really was. Got me to realize my potential. With her I was... unstoppable. She lent me her power.”

“Her madness,” Buffy broke in and Spike focused his gaze in hers.

“They were good times.”

“Compared to now?” she asked.

“Now? Now’s very different, isn’t it?”

“You wreaked havoc among the European countries for almost half a century. Built up quite the reputation. Killed two slayers. And I’m supposed to sit here and believe that you could leave all that behind?”

“I left Dru behind, didn’t I?”

“She left you for a Fungus demon.”

“And why was it that Angel left you again?”

She glared at him, getting to her feet and facing him again just as he stood as well.

“We’re so good at this,” she muttered.

“Aren’t we, though?” he said.

“I just feel like this is all... make-believe. You look back over all the damage you’ve done and what do you feel? Not a biting on the ass, that’s for sure. There’s not even a nip!”

“Does it matter? In the big picture? If I swore to you I’m done with killing. If I’d give it up...”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” she shook her head.

“If I’d give it up?” he repeated, taking a step forward, making her take one back.

“How can I trust you?” she asked. “After everything you’ve done? To me, to the ones I love? How can I bring you into the middle of that group and say ‘Oh, and by the way...’?”

“’By the way’ what?”

She rested her eyes in his for a long moment, then shook her head a little.

“I don’t know,” she said.

Another few moments of silence and then he asked:

“Have you eaten? You hungry?”

She felt relief at the change of subject, raising one shoulder in a shrug, though the expression on her face showed him that she could definitively eat.

“I’ll go. Make yourself comfortable,” he said, grabbing his duster as he headed up to the door. “What’re you in the mood for?”

She smirked, then replied:

“Wings.”

¤

She was watching TV when he got back. She turned her head to him with a slight smile on. He seemed to grow tentative at the sight of it, bringing the bucket of wings to her and she looked up at him as she reached up to receive it. He held her gaze for another second, then turned and walked into the kitchen area. Getting the fresh blood he had bought out of its bag, filling up the stash he kept and closing the fridge door. He opened the plastic jar and vamped out as he put the edge of it to his lips, devouring his supper quickly.

Once he was done he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking over where she was sitting, back to him. He threw the jar in the makeshift trash-bin and approached her, shaking off his vampire exterior before reclaiming his previous seat. She didn’t look at him, merely held out a hand holding one of the pieces of chicken.

He grabbed it.

“What’re we watching?” he asked.

An hour later she giggled at one of the jokes in Who’s Line Is It Anyway? For twenty minutes he had barely been watching the show, but he smiled as she smiled. She turned her head to him, the amusement still in place, though it smoothed as she locked her gaze with his.

“You don’t like this show?” she wondered.

“Sure I do,” he replied.

“We can watch something else.”

“’S fine.”

She faced the screen again, bringing her legs up, folding them to the right, her toes touching his hand and she jerked them away. For a second he felt a sting, and then he heard her swallow hard and realized why she’d done the movement. It wasn’t like her, to be this afraid of herself. Did he really have such power over her? For a second the glimmer of that thought seemed ludicrous. Then he casually moved his hand, letting his fingers scrape the sensitive skin of her foot and she drew a slight breath, growing stiff as a board.

Then she moved her hand, slid it into his and removed his touch.

He smirked. She glanced at him, pulling her hand back, and then fastened her gaze back at the TV, successfully keeping down a smile.

“So,” she said, rising and walking up to the machine, turning it off. “Wanna play cards?”

“You think I’m ever gonna play cards with you after what you did to me last time?”

She pouted adorably, but he wouldn’t let that get to him. He wasn’t entirely out of it yet. He had his pride.

“It’ll give you a chance to win your rings back,” she tried and he shook his head. “Don’t be boring!”

His eyes widened at that.

¤

“Read ‘em... and weep,” she said, placing the cards on the coffee table between them.

He growled, throwing his cards down. She smiled widely.

“This is fun. Isn’t this fun?” she asked, reaching over to take her prize lying in front of him.

He grabbed her wrist in a tight grip, his eyes hard as steel. She met them without wavering, then pulled free. Holding her hand out instead. He gritted his teeth, picking the lighter up and placing it in her palm. She held it up, smiling again.

“It’s so rewarding, beating you at your own game.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, getting to his feet.

“Why is this thing so important to you anyway?”

“I got it fifteen years ago...”

“Got it?”

“I stole it fifteen years ago and it’s been with me ever since! Wanna know where I got the coat from?” he asked, the aggravation racing on deadly paths inside him.

“Where?” she smirked.

“From the second slayer whose neck I snapped,” he nearly growled.

Her merriment faded to nothing, and then her eyes turned cold as she stood.

He regretted it the moment the words went out of his mouth. Even more when she walked passed him and headed for the door.

“Buffy...”

“If I stay, I’ll kill you.”

He went after her, grabbing her wrist and she spun around, hitting him hard on the jaw. She had tears in her eyes; he could nearly touch the fury on her. She hit him again, and again, changing her fist for her foot and kicking him in the chest, making him lose his grasp and having him stumble backwards.

“Don’t... touch me,” she said, her tears running over. “I don’t wanna know you. I don’t wanna know what you’ve done. It’s so easy to pretend all that stuff away, say it doesn’t matter now... But it’s who you are!”

She turned at that, walking up to the door and disappearing through it.

He stared at the spot she had been in for the longest time.

That’s it? You’re not gonna fight? a voice inside asked.

Who am I supposed to fight? he asked back. Her?

¤

She was crying hard. It felt like it had been building all this time and finally she got to let it all out. She stumbled into a clearing and sunk down on the ground. She was so angry. She was so angry with him, with herself, with the feelings clawing inside her. With the confusion and the unwillingness to come to a final decision.

She wanted him gone, but at the thought another part of her trembled with sorrow and a fresh batch of tears appeared in her eyes. Goddammit! It was her stupid younger version that had gone and seen things in him that weren’t there! And even if they were, they were only there for moments at a time. He was what he was. Maybe she shouldn’t even want to change him. Stop killing – pah! She had actually believed him. When she looked into his eyes she had seen true sincerity in them, and she had felt like it was possible.

She didn’t want to acknowledge how much admitting that he was nothing but a common fiend hurt her. And she hated him for it.

She got to her feet, stumbling through the trees and then coming out on a well-known road, following it to her house. She chose the back entrance, feeling her disheveled appearance might make her mother pose a few unwelcome questions. She just wanted to sleep. Forget all about Spike and this nightmare. It was a disturbed attraction on her part, nothing more. Could never be anything else than that.

She halted as her gaze met Ath’s, seated on the porch by the kitchen door. Ath furrowed her brow quizzically. Buffy dried her cheeks, but the tears wouldn’t stop coming and she walked up to the porch steps, sinking down beside the other girl.

“Buffy, what’s the matter?”

Buffy looked at her, then a sob rose out of her throat and she buried her face in her hands.

“It’s too terrible,” she said.

“No, really... Tell me,” Ath encouraged, reaching out a hand and softly stroking Buffy’s back. “It’s okay. Tell me everything.”

“There’s this guy,” Buffy began, sniffling. “And he can be really... really great. He can be considerate and even... tender... But then he’s conniving and dishonest and I know I can’t trust him. He can be dangerous. I mean really dangerous. And I can’t help but feel like maybe somewhere in all that – is him. Not William, not Spike... just him. And I tried to reach him tonight but I did such a poor job at it and then he blew up and then I blew up and we started fighting like we always do... What kind of relationship can we have, anyway, when every other sentence is a scream of anger?”

She drew a breath, shaking her head.

Ath looked at her, then said:

“Spike sounds as though he might not have the clearest view of himself... And if he doesn’t know himself, then how can you know him?”

“Well, he thinks he has a clear view of himself so he won’t listen to anything I say. He’s such an idiot! Why would I wanna be with such an idiot?”

“Yes, why would you? Shouldn’t you be with someone a little less... out there? Someone who knows exactly who they are and where they’re going? Someone who will always love you?”

“I have someone like that,” Buffy mumbled, beginning to feel drowsy from the slow movements of Ath’s hand. “He’s a nice guy. A wonderful guy! I can see myself with him.”

“Then maybe it’s time you go to him, instead of trying to help this Spike out with whatever issues he needs resolving? That isn’t your job, is it? If he wants them resolved he needs to be the one to do it.”

“He should. He should do it himself,” Buffy agreed. “It’s not in the job description to hang around his crypt all night and listen to him vent.”

“That’s right.”

“That is so totally right!”

“Good. Now, go to bed.”

“Okay.”

As the Slayer disappeared upstairs, Ath wrapped her arms around her knees, turning her eyes to the stars up above and smiling a little. She had enjoyed the evening. There was a new emotion being born within her, and she liked the process. It was fascinating and exhilarating. And scary, she supposed. Jonathan was such a special character. She wondered if it had been by chance that he had found her.

Her mind drifted to Buffy.

It’ll get better now, she thought.

“Well?” Calor asked, coming out onto the porch.

“Half of the work is done,” Ath said.

“You didn’t tamper with anything, did you?”

“Of course not!” she replied, offended. “I am one who learns from your mistakes. It’ll be entirely her decision. I just helped with the sorting out of all those emotions fluttering around inside her. Humans are so messy.”

“Yes, they are, aren’t they? Jonathan in particular. I caught so many different vibes from him tonight I thought I was going to throw up.”

Ath merely smirked.

“He was a bit nervous,” she agreed. “But it was... kinda cute.”

“You can’t get mixed up with a mortal,” Calor said.

“So you’ve told me, five times!” she exclaimed. “I’m only three seconds younger than you, thank you very much, I know the laws of our nature just as well as you do.”

“But you really can’t get mixed up with this mortal. It might change...”

“I know,” she said, rising and walking passed him inside.

“Messy is the word,” he sighed, looking skyward meaningfully before following in her footsteps.

¤

Buffy entered her bedroom, closing the door silently behind her and turning around to see her pillow on her bed. She hadn’t even realized she forgot it. But now it was here.

“Oh,” she grumbled, walking up to it. “Why’d he have to do that?”

Her eyesight was blurry, she was so tired; and then she fell on the bed, asleep the next instant.