Chapter 4.13
Buffy turned back over in a bed that suddenly seemed huge and empty. Her eyes flicked open, seeking the illuminated display of her radio alarm. 2.04 a.m. Two minutes since she had last looked. When she had made to follow Spike, Lily’s hand had fallen on her arm in the gentlest possible touch. She could easily have shaken free and gone after him, but she’d found that in a matter of days she’d come to trust the old demon implicitly when it came to matters of the heart.
“Stay,” she had suggested. “He go. Blow smoke. No say things he no mean when he come home.”
It had taken Buffy a few seconds to realise that the empathic demon had meant that Spike was leaving so that he could blow off steam. It was evident that they had some serious talking to do, and apparently Spike had been trying to avoid making the experience more unpleasant than was necessary. That was just peachy, but even Spike had to have run out of steam after three hours. Buffy threw back the freshly laundered bed linens. She walked over to her wardrobe, and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and hooded tracksuit top, pulling them on over the camisole and boxers she had put on when she made her way to bed over an hour ago.
Just in case, she scribbled a quick note, setting it on her pillow and then shifting Mr Gordo so that his weight would prevent it being blown away by a stray breeze from the open window. She didn’t dare shut it in case Spike returned while she was away. Even though he apparently had had a key to the house for some time, she knew that if he returned in the early hours of the morning he’d choose the method of entry least likely to disturb the house’s other occupants. Slipping on a pair of running shoes, whose Velcro fastenings seemed to tear through the silence that enveloped their abode; she grabbed a stake from the trunk beneath her bed and slipped out through the window.
She didn’t know if it was instinct or habit that drew her steps to the cemetery that housed Spike’s old crypt. Pushing open the door, she found the upstairs much as they had left it when they had cleared out the things that Spike had considered worth taking to his new apartment. She drew a gentle hand across the back of the armchair that Spike had favoured. Still her slayer senses tingled and that part that was particularly attuned to the blond menace told her that he was close by.
She crossed to the ladder that led down to the area Spike had professed to be unsafe after the blast she had set off on the occasion of Riley’s last visit. Cautiously, testing each step before she put her full weight on it she made her way down into the lightless subterranean room. Her eyes failed her. No matter how long she waited they were unable to penetrate the gloom, so she relied on her slayer senses instead. No other creature drew breath in the vampire’s former lair, and her senses told her that there was only one vampire here, and yet an unfamiliar scent pervaded the entire cavern. She edged slowly toward the area where her slayer sense told her the vampire was, never lifting her feet merely sliding them forward meagre inches at a time.
After three or four feet she ran into something solid. Reaching down, she felt with her hands until she was able to confirm that she had reached the collapsed bed that she and Spike had managed so conspicuously to avoid. A tentative crawl across its surface confirmed that it was still empty. On the far side, Buffy regained her feet and began to inch forward once more, inwardly cursing her lack of foresight in not bringing a flashlight or even some matches she could have used to light the remaining candles. She fumbled blindly over piles of rubble, reduced to crawling over the uneven surface until she was almost at the edge of the room. Her senses screamed at her that he was nearby and yet she couldn’t find him.
And then, as she made her way across the rubble on her hands and knees she felt something that didn't seem to fit. Tentatively she probed the area that had given beneath her before pulling away. Her hand was damp and not entirely cold. Kneeling she sniffed until she was sure that the scent matched that which now filled the lower area of the crypt. Her hand reached out again, touching the foreign surface once more. The texture was all wrong too. She imagined that this was what an elephant would feel like if you were to feel it, not the flexible and tender flesh of its trunk’s underside, but the tough weathered hide that protected its flanks. Moving her hand around she found that whatever it was only an area about twice the size of her fist was exposed. The rest, whatever it might be, was covered by rubble.
Buffy sat back on her heels to consider what she knew. Something that still retained some of the warmth of life, but which no longer drew breath was at least partially buried under what had to be a fresh rock fall. Somewhere nearby, her senses told her that Spike lay either passed out or otherwise unable to contact her. Buffy began to peel away the rocks one by one, throwing them as far behind her as she could. Damn vampire.
Just when there’s an argument in the offing he goes and gets himself hurt.
It took Buffy twenty minutes to clear the rocks that covered the demon corpse. Then, it took her five minutes to drag it off to one side. The thing must have been about eight and a half feet tall and weighed almost four hundred pounds. If Spike wasn’t under here she was so going to kill him when she found him. Moving back she felt around the area where the demon had originally been lying. The first touch of denim had her working her way frantically up his body, brushing aside the few rocks that remained to bar her way. Pulling him up by the lapels of his coat, she managed to get him into a fireman’s lift, taking him up the ladder and outside into the moonlight.
When she laid him down on the grass outside her crypt, she flinched at the trail of blood from his temple back into his hair. A black streak amongst the silver threads. Cursing herself for leaving the house so unprepared, she searched his pockets, sending up a silent prayer that his phone would be on him and working. When she found it she contemplated her options. She was reluctant to ask Xander for help. Thankfully, she now had another option. She dialled the number from memory, not needing to consult the directory, which by all accounts would be cryptic at best.
Unsurprisingly, since by her best estimate it had to be at least quarter to three, the answering machine kicked in. The pre-recorded message was the one that had been on the machine when they bought it. Spike had refused to be coaxed into recording one. “Wes, pick up. I know you’re there.”
Surprisingly enough even though she waited there was no reply. Maybe the former watcher was a really heavy sleeper, or Buffy smiled at the possibility that he hadn’t made it home yet. Lori and Marie had both still been in Lily’s apartment when the girls had left Wesley there. Maybe the ex-watcher was going to end up with more reasons to stay in Sunnydale than anyone had anticipated.
Buffy hesitated at her other possible course of action. Anya did have the keys to the DeSoto, and unless Wes had admitted to being able to hotwire the car, which she rather doubted (where was Giles when you needed him?) Buffy had expected to have to call her anyway. Nevertheless, there was a world of difference between asking her to leave the passenger door of the car unlocked and stick the keys in the glove compartment and why was it a glove compartment? Why not a map compartment or a sweet compartment? Okay. Focus. Asking Anya to get up at three, drive a car with a blacked out windscreen to a graveyard and help her carry round a literal dead weight probably wouldn’t go down very well.
That left just one option.
She got him back inside and stayed put. If she texted Dawn she would get the message when she got up. Of course, she wouldn’t actually be there to make sure Dawn got up. With a sigh she explored the options on Spike’s phone until she found how to set the alarm. She’d just have to call the house early enough to make sure Dawn got to school on time. She pushed the cell phone into the pocket of her sweatpants.
“What is it with you and the sleep of the knocked unconscious?” she muttered as she hoisted him over her shoulder again, thankful that this time she only had to get him to the sofa. Laying him down on his side as near to the back of the sofa as possible, she stripped off his duster. She curled up next to him, pulling his arm around her waist and then draped his coat over them both like a blanket.
If the awkward vampire wouldn’t wake up so they could go home she would just have to visit him in his dreams instead.
SECTION 5 - WELCOME TO MY NIGHTMARE
Welcome to my nightmare
I think you're gonna like it
I think you're gonna feel that you belong
We sweat laugh and scream here
'cuz life is just a dream here
You know inside you feel right at home here
Welcome to my nightmare
Welcome to my breakdown
Yeah
(Alice Cooper, Album - Welcome to my Nightmare)
Chapter 5.01
Buffy followed the sound of the voices through the indistinct, yet somehow barren landscape. Every step seemed to be a tremendous effort. Her body was almost paralysed with fear, and yet the emotion was not her own. She could make out six or seven distinct voices. Four were cruel and taunting. One seemed to be filled with sadness. One alternately screamed in pain and pleaded for mercy. One seemed mostly neutral with a side order of curious, as if the person he addressed were some soap opera character, who had acted against expectation and he wanted to know how things were going to turn out.
"You killed me for her, but you’ll die alone," Drusilla taunted.
"She can’t love you. She told you what she really thinks." This voice was Spike’s own, the slightest lisp telling her that he was in game face.
"You don’t have a soul. There’s nothing good or clean in you." Her own voice, each word accompanied by the sound of flesh hitting flesh, provided counterpoint before the vampire continued. Buffy forced her feet on, but always the voices seemed to come from just around the next corner or just over the next rise.
"You might have her fooled for now, but what happens when she sees what you’re like inside? When she sees into the darkest corners of your mind? When she sees how much you want to make him scream."
"It’s no more than he deserves. He betrayed her. He’s a danger to both her and her sister." This was the sad voice, the accent not unlike Giles’ but the voice so much softer.
"All true, boy." An Irish brogue. "But they’re not the only reasons you want to kill him. You want to hurt him because he was there before you. Because she cried out beneath him as he spilled warm seed inside her. Because she never flinched away from his touch as if it would defile her or tried to hide him away from her friends. Because she took him home to Joyce. One up on even me, but then you always were a mother’s boy, weren’t you, William."
"If you can’t both learn all the bad as well as all the good and love each other still then all you’re left with is a world of pain." This was Lorne, though why he should be there Buffy had no idea.
"Do you think your broken dolly can love you?" the vampiress taunted. "No one ever really loved you. Not even your mum."
"That’s right, Dru. What was it you told me she said… Should’ve bashed his useless brains out as soon as he slithered down her leg and spared herself the agony of puttin’ up with him for twenty odd years. Didn’t think I knew about that, did ya?"
"Naughty daddy. You said you wouldn’t tell."
"You should have known Dru would hear every word, whether she was in the room or not, and she knows how much I appreciate a good joke. Come on. How pathetic d’ya have to be t’ want to share yer eternal existence with yer poor old mum.
I mean, killin’ them’s one thing. Turnin’ them. That’s just too much, or maybe you did want to get back under her skirts? Didn’t she say that, as well? You got a taste of Dru and it made you wonder what yer dear old mum had been hidin’ under her petticoats? D’you still keep her picture? Oh, dear, tomb go boom, to use the local vernacular. That didn’t help the squaddie’s case any either, did it? Looked a mite like Joycie, didn’t she? Until you staked her?
Look at her." Buffy became aware, once more, of the sound of flesh on flesh. Somewhere in the background, her voice told Spike that she would never be his girl. "A few years and I reckon you’ll finally near enough get yer wish. If ya can keep her that is. The nose is different and the eyes aren’t blue, but she’ll look close enough in the dark, don’t you think? Specially if she grows back those curls ya liked so much. I kinda liked it when she was on top. ‘Course she didn’t have the practice then that she has now, but then you don’t look to be havin’ so great a time. Nearly did for ya, then. Good job ya’d bought that phone so ya’ could ring yer wrinkly Samaritan. Or was it? Wouldn’t she have been better off if ya’d just had the decency to stay put till sunrise? Anyway, where was I? Practice. You saw to that. Taught her things as would’ve made a Whitechapel hoor blush back in the day. Just like you wanted to teach yer dear old mum, huh?"
"It wasn’t like that."
"It wasn’t like that… or you just don’t want to admit even to yourself it was like that? Why would she lie? She knew you. She listened to your drivel and she knew it was like that. She knew what you wanted."
"That thing wasn’t my mother."
"And you’re not William and I’m not Liam, I suppose? Is that what you tell yourself? No, William, that was your mother and you killed her twice over.
Even if she could accept what you want to do to Soldier Boy, she’ll never love you when she finds out about that. Not even the old bat could love you, so why should she?"
For seconds silence reigned, as if Spike or William had nothing more to say in his own defence.
"Stop it!" The voice was almost a whimper. "You can’t do this. I’m human."
"Wouldn’t give a damn if you were a bloody panda bear in disguise, mate. You’re goin’ to tell me everythin’."
"The chip…"
"I’n’t there no more. And even if it was this is just a dream."
"Buffy’ll kill you for this. It’s who she is. She kills scum like you who harm humans."
"That’s as may be. But I’ll find out who’s behind all this and see them in their grave first. And that hang up you have ‘bout bein’ human? Wouldn’t that require a heartbeat? Always said you weren’t all that bright. It makes the torturin’ so much easier when you know you don’t have to sweat whether they’re goin’ to die or not. Who knows maybe if I get bored I can use that plastic stake you liked so much."
"You’re an animal. You think she’ll ever love you when she sees what you’re capable of."
"Least I’m doin’ it to keep her safe. An’ even if I lose her because of it… that’s a price I’ll pay." There was the slightest tremor in the older vampire’s voice and Buffy was frozen in place. The sense of terror was so strong.
"The most terrifying thing he’s ever done is let himself hope that you could love him." The gentle clamour of ice-cubes against glass brought Buffy’s head around and she found Lorne standing next to her, drink in hand.
"I do."
"Do you?" the anagogic demon asked. "Can you say you love him, even though he’s hidden so much of what he is from you? Can you see the worst there is to see and not have it change how you feel about him? He doesn’t think so. He thinks he’s already lost you."
"I don’t know what else there is to know, but I’ve come to terms with what I know of his past."
"That’s not what he’s worried about. Not really."
"So what is he worried about?"
"He looks like a man. For you, he’s made himself act like a man, but he’ll never think like a man."
"I know that."
"He’d kill that ex of yours and sleep better at night for it, if it wasn’t for your feelings. He doesn’t care whether he’s up against humans or demons, well, other than in terms of whether they’re a challenge or not. He doesn’t care about good or evil, or whether the people you’re up against are just misguided. For him there are only two sides in any argument; "us" meaning anyone he cares about, and "them" meaning anyone that in any way threatens the "us"es."
"And? There are plenty of men who think that way too."
"And he believes that when you see who he truly is, once you truly experience how he feels no remorse for anyone who stands in his way, that you’ll turn away from him."
"I can’t promise unconditionally that I won’t. That doesn’t mean that the reasons I fell in love with him just cease to exist."
Lorne shrugged and took another sip of his drink. "Every time you’ve made a choice you’ve chosen humans over him. And yet, it’s not in his nature to let this thing go. They took away his identity, made him feel violated and it’s been eating away at his soul for years."
"He does-."
"Can it, sugar. You can’t tell me that guy could love you the way he does without a soul. Maybe it’s not the same as a human soul, but I thought you were starting to see past the whole Humans First party line. You think having a soul’s so great, then take a look over there." As the demon nodded of to his left and ahead of the pair, Buffy could see herself straddling Spike as she beat his face into a pulp. Yet, her fists were kinder than her words.
She had denied everything he had struggled so hard to become, trying to break him back down until he was nothing more than the unfeeling, loveless beast she had once thought him to be. She had had to, because in the early hours of the morning when she’d acknowledged her fears she’d known that she was no longer capable of love. She’d often wondered whether her soul had failed to make the return trip, if that was what was missing, why Spike’s chip didn’t register her as human.
She had to believe that he was less than human, that his feelings were of no worth, because otherwise the way she’d treated him could never be forgiven.
And she’d been so wrong… about all of it.
Buffy set off at a run, but no matter how hard she tried, the figures didn’t seem to get any closer.
"You can’t stop it." Lorne seemed to amble along side her. "That memory is a part of him, and whether you like the word or not, it’s burned into his soul. That is more real to him than you are."
"I have to stop it. It’s wrong. She’s wrong. I was wrong."
"You know that. But a part of him will always believe that you were simply treating him as he deserved. He believes he’s unlovable, that even when he was human his personality was so inherently flawed that no woman could ever care for him."
"What about his mother? Before, Dru and Angel were talking about her. Surely…"
"Not why I’m here, sweetcheeks. I’m not really me you know, I’m not even really him, though he brought me here in the first place. He’s too busy tormenting himself to be explaining things through me. I’m just your sounding board. You want to find out about his past you’re going to have to speak to him."
"But I can’t get to him. He’s always just out of reach."
"Then I guess you’ll just have to hope he wakes up, pumpkin."
"What do you mean hope? Why shouldn’t he wake up?"
"Don’t tell me you’re lying in his arms and you can’t tell he’s terrified? Hell, even I don’t need a tune to tell me that."
"I can feel it. I can feel it stronger than all my own emotions, but what’s it got to do with waking up?"
"Sugar, you’ve seen what he’s doing to himself? Well, he’d rather stay here like this than wake up and have that fear of losing you become reality…"
Chapter 5.02
"No-o-o-o!" Buffy sat straight up, looking for the source of the scream that had brought her so abruptly back from the Land of Nod, only to realise that that the voice had to have been her own. Shoving her embarrassment to one side, she fumbled through her pockets until she found Spike's phone and opened it up to check the time. Quarter past six. If she had to guess, she would say that Anya would probably be up soon, if not already. Buffy had a feeling that she liked to eat breakfast with Xander, not realising that the carpenter more often than not had second helpings at Revello Drive, so long as he wasn't running late.
Rapidly processing her options, she tried the number in the directory for C & L. A childish voice answered, earnestly repeating the numbers she had dialled.
"Hi, Rosa. You sound as if you've been awake for hours. It's Auntie Buffy. Are you all having breakfast with your grandma?"
"Mommy's here and gramma's here, but Unker Clem's not up yet. Gramma says he's a lazybones."
"I guess your mom'll be leaving for work soon?"
"Uh huh. She likes to get there real early."
"Can I speak to your grandma, then?"
"Mm-hmm." Buffy could hear the sound of the child's footfalls as she dashed across the room with the telephone. "Gramma, Auntie Buffy wants to talk to you."
After several phone calls and a not inconsiderable amount of work on her and Wesley's part, the vampire was once more ensconced in Lily's spare room, the place Buffy judged least likely to be under any sort of surveillance. Wesley had managed to find the pair of cut-off jeans that the vampire had mentioned using for swimming trunks and had made a circuitous journey to Lily's leaving his bike outside Xander and Anya's to pick up the DeSoto and borrow the orbs again, then onto Revello to pick up the clothes that Dawn had picked out for her sister. Then, he had had to wait at the cemetery gates until Buffy came to meet him. After that, the pair had picked up the vampire and taken him across to Lily's.
A quick clean up had revealed various bruises on his back and the back of his head as well as the bleeding wound at his temple. At a guess, he'd grabbed that thing from behind, and it had managed to bash him into the wall a few times before he'd finally managed to snap its neck. The damage the walls had already taken had probably been compounded when the thing finally fell over, causing the rock fall. Now that Rosa had been temporarily packed off to her mother's apartment again in the company of her private tutor, Buffy and Wesley were preparing for what could only be termed an experiment.
Buffy paced the living room, phone in hand. "Angel, so help me, if I find out that you know more about this than you've said, I'll... well, I don't know what I'll do, but you won't like it."
"Buffy, you have my word. When Dru brought him back, they both said he didn't have any family. It's possible they were lying. I mean, back then, if they hadn't said they were already dead, I would probably have made him kill them."
"So you don't know anything about him siring his mother?"
"Siring his mother? No one sires their mother."
"In his dream you or Dru said he killed her twice over. The only way I can make sense of that would be if he sired her and then killed the vampire she became, but you say she was already dead.
What about a picture. Did he have any photographs of her?"
"Yes, he had one with the two of them together. That's right. I remember now. He said it was taken when she was first diagnosed. If you knew what you were looking for the first signs were already there, but she was still a striking woman."
"An-gel. Diagnosed with what?"
"Consumption. TB. In those days, it was incurable. Degenerative. It was a bad way to go. Drowning in your own blood."
"Did she look like mum?"
"What? No, I don't think so. She was like Spike, all planes and angles."
"What about colouring, and her hair? Did she have curly hair?"
Even over the phone she could hear Angel sigh. "Buffy, it was a black and white photograph that I probably saw half a dozen times, if that, and in those days women her age always wore their hair up in public. I think she might have been fairish, but I really couldn't say for sure. Why are you asking all this, and more to the point, why aren't you asking Spike?"
"It's complicated. Why don't we explain in person next time we're down?"
"Buffy..."
"Angel, it's between us. I'm not going to go into things with you when I haven't had a chance to speak to him."
"What's going on, Buffy?"
"Back. Off. Angel. I'm not going to discuss it over the phone, but I need to speak to your guy, Leon, too."
"It's Lorne."
"Lorne, fine. Put him on the phone... Please?"
"I'll patch you through to his room. Can't guarantee he'll pick up, though."
"He will if I keep calling until he does." Angel shook his head as he transferred the call. His grandchilde was rubbing off on Buffy in the worst possible way.
"Did you get them?" Buffy asked as a rather stubbly Wesley made his way into the apartment's family room.
"We've got half a dozen different ones we can try. All signed for, but so long as we don't break them Anya says she won't charge us. She was also able to suggest a few incenses we might try. And she didn't bat an eyelid when I gave her the note rather than explaining aloud."
"Just so long as she didn't palm you off with any slug candles." Buffy's response was accompanied by the smallest of teasing smiles.
"So? Are we any farther ahead than we were before I left?" Wesley asked as he sipped at the extra strong black coffee Lily had made for him.
"I'm not sure. Angel says he thought Spike's mother died of TB before Spike was turned, but that maybe she was alive and Spike lied to protect her, but he said in the photo Spike used to have that you could see the signs if you knew what you were looking for. Lorne said he and Spike talked about the claim while they were both prisoners. Nothing specific, though. Just some stuff about how there's a similar sort of thing empaths do where he comes from.
Apparently, it's not all that popular because it quite often ends up with one half of the couple killing the other, or them both going mad or just hating each other. As to specifics with me and Spike, all Spike apparently ever said was that it didn't matter if Dru carved chunks out of his flesh until the scars were gone it wouldn't make a difference. He said even if we had to do the ritual all over again, we would, because neither of us were going to let the other go. So how he got from there to where he is now, I don't have a clue." Buffy shook her head.
"There are doubts and fears in everyone's subconscious that they may not even admit to their waking selves let alone to any others. There's also an old saying, 'Love makes cowards of us all.'"
"Sounds like Shakespeare."
"Probably is," answered the former watcher with a shrug.
"Spike would know." Buffy replaced her own coffee cup back on the counter untouched. "I'd best get changed, and then I'll get him sorted out. I'll come get you when I'm ready."
Buffy knew that the way she pulled the quilt up over Spike's bare torso was pointless. Without a warm body cradled against him, quilt or no quilt he would just get to room temperature and stay there. Somehow, though, it would have been wrong to leave him uncovered. She surveyed her own reflection in the mirror. Dawn had raided her exercise gear, finding a matching crop top style sports bra and skimpy cotton jersey shorts. Buffy figured it was about the best compromise between maximum skin contact and not giving Wesley an eyeful that she was going to get. She'd managed to manhandle Spike into the cut-off denims. At the foot of the bed, she'd laid out the crystals Anya had sent on top of a silk scarf Lily had provided. A couple of incense cones burned in two small saucers to either side. The pillows from the bed were scattered to one side of the fabric square. It was time to fetch the watcher.
Wesley sat cross-legged on the floor, to one side of the square whilst Buffy knelt opposite him with the pillows positioned to cushion her fall if as they hoped she fell unconscious. Lily had also come through to the bedroom and she sat perched on the bed stroking Spike's hair as she would for a poorly or fretful child.
"Okay, Wes. Do your watcher thing..."
"Alright, I suggest we start with this one. It's purported to be useful in cleansing one's aura, so it may facilitate our efforts to free Spike from the more troublesome elements of his subconscious."
"Can't hurt."
"Okay, I want you to look into the crystal. Try to find any flaws any impuritites, anything that makes it unique..." Wesley's voice was a soft, deliberate monotone as he tried to get Buffy to slip into a hypnotic trance, so that he might be able to exert some sort of conscious influence over both how soon she fell into a REM state and hopefully also the content of her dreams.
Two hours later, you didn't have to be an empath to sense Buffy's frustration. They had tried using every crystal Wesley had brought back, in combination with three different varieties of incense, the last of which Wesley suspected was probably illegal except under doctor's orders and still Buffy couldn't seem to concentrate enough to go under.
"We all should take break," Lily announced. "Rosa and her teacher come down soon for lunch. I make tea for us now, get snacks, so Rosa no need see William like this."
Buffy sighed. "She's probably right. We don't seem to be getting anywhere." She straightened up, stretching muscles tired from sitting so long in one position.
She slid onto the bed, sitting up against the headboard with her legs stretched out in front of her, her hand moving automatically to caress the other figure on the bed. "So, was this a stupid idea?" she looked at Wes. "Maybe I should just have got Willow to do her dream-walking thing like she did with me? Come to that, Willow reckoned the Spike approach involved slapping me silly? We haven't tried that, yet."
"I don't think physical violence is the answer, somehow. And I doubt Spike would be overjoyed at Willow getting an insight into his innermost psyche. Nor would she be able to allay his fears. Perhaps once we've had a break, you should just try to sleep normally. You said you had only managed a few hours sleep."
"I'm the slayer, Wes. Three, four hours sleep is as much as my body needs. Any extra is a bonus, and it's not really the most restful situation in the world." The pair lapsed into silence, punctuated only by the rasp of Buffy's fingers running through Spike's hair and the rattle of china from the kitchen.
Buffy's attention was so focussed on the blond next to her that she didn't notice the slight shake of her head that Lily gave Wes as she passed him the first cup from the teapot.
"Is herbal blend. Best to drink while hot," the old demon told the slayer. Buffy took the china cup and saucer, and after a small sip decided that Lily's tea-making skills were roughly on a par with her cooking skills in general. She decided she really didn't want to find out what it was like once it cooled if Lily thought it was worse, so she drank the rest of it down as quickly as possible. She placed the cup and saucer down on the bedside cabinet and returned her attention to the sleeping figure next to her.
"At least," she thought, "he doesn't seem to be dreaming all the time." Spike seemed once again to be sleeping normally, though she was only assuming that his eyes would move beneath the lids, since any other time he'd been dreaming she had also been asleep, and this morning it had been too dark when she awoke for her to check. As her eyes started to drift shut, she peeled them open just enough to give the Quarnoth demon a suspicious look.
"What did you put in my tea?"
"Is not tea. Is dried fungus. I take sometimes when no can sleep. No so much as this. Slayer take many doses to make sleep."
"Fungus? You gave me a fungus overdose?"
Wesley sniffed at his own cup. "Mushrooms, Buffy. Skullcap mushrooms if I'm not mistaken."
"Skullcap? That name's supposed to reassure me?"
"It's only fatal in relatively large doses. And as you were saying, you're the slayer. Now just concentrate on soothing thoughts." This time as Wes's voice made its gentle suggestions Buffy seemed to drift off into a gentle sleep. "Try to think nice thoughts about Spike. Remember how happy you were at the ice-rink, how the pair of you were holding hands all the time, that first time you were in LA, how he even lit his cigarette with one hand so he didn't have to let go, how he carried you down the stairs last night over his shoulder. Remember talking about how well he knew your mother. Remember all the times he's made you smile, or laugh. Remember the look on his face when you touched his cheek, back at the Hyperion. Remember how happy he looked with Rosa and how much she loves him..."
As he talked the watcher scooped her up in his arms to lay her on top of the cushions on the floor. They didn't know if it would work, but they were hoping if they could avoid physical contact between the couple until Buffy entered a REM state then she would be in her own dream landscape. Then, if Wes moved them so that they were in contact once more, they hoped Spike would be drawn into her dreams. There were no guarantees, but it was the best shot they had. Between that and the physical contact that would allow her to read his emotions Buffy was going to try to bring him home.
Chapter 5.03
"For he to whom a watcher’s doom
Is given as his task,
Must set a lock upon his lips
And make his face a mask."
Spike spoke the words in that soft educated tone that she had heard so rarely.
"I don’t recall anyone setting a lock on Giles’ or Wes’s lips… or Travers’. Plenty questions from those watcher’s lips," Buffy interrupted. Her own lips pressed against the plane of Spike’s shoulder blade as she curled around his back, legs intertwined beneath the silken covers.
Laying aside his copy of the ‘Complete Works of Oscar Wilde,’ Spike smiled and rolled to face her. "I don’t think the Council of Wankers were in charge of the prison, pet." He propped up his head with one hand while the fingertips of the other traced back and forth across her forearm where it rested above the covers, raising goosebumps on her flesh.
"That’s what they are though, or what they train them to be. An individual prison guard for every slayer, walling them round with duty and obligation till they can barely see the sky."
"You didn’t do so bad with Rupes."
"Ah, but you only saw him after I broke him in a bit, not in his ‘The World is Doomed’ phase. But, no, he came out alright in the end."
"So? Does this mean you’ve had enough of making me read your homework for one night?" An asymmetrical smile settled on his features, and Buffy felt her stomach tighten at the warmth within his eyes.
"But they sound right when you read them," Buffy mock pouted even as she shifted closer. "All these dead, English guys don’t sound right in an American accent. And it’s kinda sexy. You know what they say about making learning fun."
"Anglo-Irish." Spike’s thigh pressed between hers as their hips shifted ever closer.
"Picky. Deceased poets of transatlantic origin, then. Satisfied?" Buffy deepened the pout, knowing that Spike would find it all but irresistible.
A wicked grin lit up his face, and the butterflies in Buffy’s stomach started doing the lambada. "Not nearly," the vampire responded. He leaned in to take her lower lip between his, nibbling gently until her smile prevented her from maintaining the mock pout.
"You’re so beautiful when you smile,"
"Thanks," Buffy answered in a slightly sarcastic but teasing tone. "And I guess the rest of the time I look like hell."
"Nah, least ways not since you ditched the cow hat and the stripey polyester. Just, when you smile, it’s like the whole world is brighter."
Buffy looked perplexed. "I don’t know whether to hit you for the first bit or kiss you for the second."
In a heartbeat, Spike had rolled them both so that he looked down from above her. The warmth in his eyes turned suddenly sultry, dark and dangerous. "What’s wrong with both? You know I like it rough sometimes."
Buffy’s eyes clouded over with sadness. "Rough is fine, but if I hit you anywhere outside of a sparring ring again, then that’s abuse. You deserve better than that. I won’t willingly hurt you again."
"A little slap isn’t exactly goin’ to hurt." Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Okay, yes, it will. That’s the point, but it doesn’t do any harm."
"Listen to me, Spike. How I treated you before was wrong. I don’t want…" Buffy paused, unsure how to express herself and in that moment, fear ran through her body as if her arteries had turned to ice. If Buffy had retained her knowledge of the waking world she might have realised that Wesley had just moved her body. As it happened, coherent thought had nothing to do with it.
She sucked in a deep breath, hissing as the borrowed emotion sent adrenaline coursing through her veins. After that, her reaction was instinctive. Her arms and legs reached around the man above her, pulling him down until his cheek rested against hers. Her body wrapped itself tight around him, and her hand stroked patiently through his hair as she whispered what she hoped were soothing words into his ear. She unconsciously avoided any declarations of affection, knowing that only when she knew and accepted the worst about him, would he accept the validity of her claims.
"Shhh, baby. You’re mine, and I won’t let you go. You saw our future. You saw where we’re going. There’s some bad stuff we’ve got to go through; some stuff we need to deal with. I don’t have guarantees, but I want to try. I think we can make this work." Gradually the fear she sensed eased from excruciating to merely paralysing. Buffy’s fear began to rise to meet the semblance of Spike’s that she could feel within her. The thought that he might slip from her grasp was too much for her to bear.
"Will, I need you with me. I need you so much. For better or worse, we are joined. We are one, and if you don’t come back to me, I will never in the rest of my life feel like a complete person again." The fear didn’t leave, or even lessen any further but it was joined by a dawning hope.
Buffy shifted her head just enough to give her the angle she required to sink her teeth once more into his flesh at the join of shoulder and neck. "Mine," she reminded him forcefully.
Spike seemed to respond more positively to the primal gesture than to any of her other overtures so far. Yet, he hesitated before he made his response, and Buffy held her breath as she waited.
"Always, my love."
Tears slowly pooled in Buffy’s eyes as she used the hand that was enmeshed with his blond curls to pull him back until she could look in his eyes.
"I’m going to hold you to that, you know?" she half-asked and half-told him.
"I hope so, pet. I hope so."
"Never leave me." Buffy pleaded before she claimed his lips in a desperate kiss. Somewhere in his subconscious the words triggered thoughts of his mother, that particular scar to his psyche being so recently reopened. He stiffened in Buffy’s arms, half expecting the arms and legs that enfolded him to, somehow in the way of dreams, metamorphose into those of his parent. He pulled back away in anguish and saw only Buffy gazing back at him with love and concern. Now that his senses were no longer awash with his own fears, he could feel her emotions radiating into every pore in his body through their connection.
"Spike, would you just hold me?" Buffy asked hoping for the best, and yet still worried by the nagging sensation that when she awoke he might be gone.
"As you wish, love. As you wish."
Buffy sighed her contentment. Perhaps the hardest part still lay ahead, but for now he was home again.
"Is done."
"What? You’re sure?" Wesley asked laying aside the cup of Earl Grey that Lily had brewed after carefully rinsing out the teapot. "It’s only been seconds since we put Buffy next to him."
"He is less…" the demon shrugged in lieu of the word, which temporarily eluded her. "She is at peace. She knows he come back."
Chapter 5.04
Willow slid her book bag under the table and gave Tara’s hand a gentle squeeze. The blonde looked up from the text she had been immersed in and gave the newcomer one of those smiles that made her heart skip a beat. She stood up and welcomed the redhead with a hug. In an area like the public library, that was as much of a display of affection as either girl was comfortable with.
"How’re we doing?" Willow whispered as they took their seats side by side at the table.
Tara picked up the muted cell phone in front of her and checked for messages. "Still no word from Buffy and not too much headway with the research, but I did get all the notes I missed photocopied and I’ve read through them. I found one spell that’ll disable any bugs or cameras, or I think it will. It was originally used to prevent magical scrying, but I think it’ll work. Unfortunately, it might disable all the phones in the area as well, since I don’t see how it would tell the difference between the microphone in the phone and any other listening device. And it would be a bit of a give-away that we knew we were being watched or whatever so I think we’d have to discuss it with the others before we try it."
Willow looked slightly uncomfortable and seemed to hesitate for a fraction of a second before she decided not to say anything. Tara, however, was busy extracting the relevant book from a small stack on her right and opening it up at the page she had book-marked. By the time she passed the volume over to the redhead Willow had schooled her features back to normal.
"You think it would be bad if they knew that we knew?"
Tara shrugged. "It might provoke a confrontation. I mean Spike seems to favour that approach anyway, so maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing, but we need to be ready for whatever they might throw at us before we do anything like that. And that means Buffy has to find a way to convince Spike not to unleash the dogs of war on some guys that’re just doing what they think is right."
"But if he didn’t have any warning he wouldn’t have any dogs to release."
"But then we’d potentially be sitting ducks. They could just pick us off one by one. You know what they did with Oz. Anyone who’s different is fair game, anyone who doesn’t conform to their definition of human. When all’s said and done the only person out of us all with no magical ability, nothing that makes him out of the ordinary, is Xander. Everybody else, there’s some sort of supernatural justification for them to just do whatever they want."
"But Riley’s our friend… sort of. He wouldn’t-. He tried to help Oz escape."
"He’s not Spike’s friend or Clem’s or little Rosa’s. How much sympathy would they get? And besides, there’s no way to know that Riley would be in charge. If somebody more senior tells them to jump, it’s not really going to make a difference whether Riley jumps with them if there’s forty other guys."
"You don’t think we could warn them off or something."
Tara shook her head. "If we were enough of a threat to scare them away, we’d be too much of a threat for them to leave alone."
Willow’s face crumpled slightly, "You think?"
Tara shrugged. "Kinda moot, anyway."
"Well… maybe… maybe not…" the redhead twisted awkwardly in her seat and made what Tara had christened her cookie face, because generally it meant that at some point in the near future the redhead would be doing some baking. "Maybe they might already know."
"Will?"
"Well… I might have sent Sam an email last night."
"You might have? Or you did?"
Willow’s vaguely apologetic grin widened and her eyes dipped to the floor. "Did," she mumbled in the direction of her shoes. Then she seemed to rush to her own defence the words tumbling over each other. "But it was only to save there from being trouble. I thought if we told Riley that we knew about the surveillance and that we wanted it stopped, and that we knew that he’d messed with Buffy and Spike, that he would think twice about coming back and that way Spike wouldn’t kill him or at least get him killed and Buffy wouldn’t have to kill Spike ‘cause she’s all happy with him but if he helped kill people then she would still have to... you know, and I didn’t want that so… email."
"Oh, Will." Only two words, but they conveyed a wealth of disappointment. "We’d best head over to Clem’s and see if we can talk to Buffy or that Wes guy or someone about this away from all the bugs and stuff." The blonde started packing away the bulky tomes that she’d only fairly recently hauled from the house on Revello to the library, in hopes of several hours uninterrupted research.
"So? You had fun last night at your "family" thing?"
"Not too bad. Spike was right about the cushion thing though."
"And the whole deal about the bike?"
"It’s cool. Buffy’s going to try to meet me from school so we can go shopping for leathers and boots and stuff… unless she can’t leave Spike." Her gait as they made their way through the cafeteria bore an uncanny resemblance to that of one John Wayne, but Brandon was way too polite to comment.
"And why wouldn’t she be able to leave Spike? He seemed plenty old enough to look after himself to me." Brandon asked.
"Actual years or mental years?" Dawn stuck to the story that had been in the note which Wes had given her this morning, allowing any watchers to think it was a message from Buffy. "He cracked his head on the corner of the bath last night. They said to keep waking him up and stuff through the night in case he had a concussion, but I don’t know whether he had or not, so she might be able to come and she might not. She’ll text as soon as she knows one way or the other if she can leave him."
"So have you got anything planned if she can’t make it."
"I thought I might try to score a night at the Bronze either way, seeing as how I got an A on my Shakespeare essay. There’s a band on tonight, a couple of the guys that used to be in Dingoes with Willow’s ex. So, maybe she’d go if we asked."
"Well, we could go, like together, on a date, without your sixteen chaperones, if you wanted."
Dawn grimaced slightly. "No bike gear, no ride. No ride, no date. Buffy’s kind of paranoid about the crime rate. She won’t even let me walk back from Janice’s without her or Spike or Willow meeting me if it’s after dark."
"No offence to your sister, but I think I might be more of a deterrent than her or Willow. I can leave the bike at your house, walk you there, walk you home and then pick up the bike again to go back home."
Dawn considered. "She just might go for that."
"So you think you stay in Sunnydale, Wesley?" Lily asked as they whiled away the time until the re-emergence of Spike and Buffy.
"I’m really not sure, right now. It’s good to feel part of something again, to be fighting the good fight. I just don’t know about the move into retail. And to be even more precise to be moving into retail where I would be spending all day every day with someone only three years out of high school."
"But Anyanka is old soul."
"I just don’t know. It’s still a case of spending an awful lot of time alone with one other person. I mean Cordelia and I eventually became friends, but that was because our whole lives ended up revolving around the work we did. It gave us common ground that we wouldn’t otherwise have and I think it would be safe to say that Cordelia is mature beyond her years. And the fact that there were always at least three of us and we weren’t in one room together all the time helped a great deal.
On the other hand, her friend came to visit. She was in the office one day. She spent the entire time whining about her ex and how much she had loved him and how badly he had treated her, moping around asking inane questions, spilling her coffee in the computer. Harmony. Never has a girl been so inaptly named -."
"That’s our Harmony," Buffy cut in from the doorway. "Or should I say Spike’s Harmony."
A voice echoed through from the bedroom. "I heard that… And that was a long time ago… And-and there were mitigating circumstances."
Buffy mouthed the words, "Rebound. A hundred years worth of rebound."
"Spike was the wicked ex we heard so much about?" Wes asked incredulously.
"Touchy subject, but occasionally fun if you want to watch him squirm," Buffy admitted. "Em, we were kind of wondering what happened to our other clothes?"
"I know you sleep for while and they all dusty, so I wash and mend." Lily indicated two neatly folded piles of laundry and the hanger that hung from a hook on the back of the door into the living room over which Spike’s duster had been draped, sponged down and crossbow holes neatly stitched.
"So, how is Harm these days?"
"Oh this was some time back, probably a year and a half to two years ago, but she didn’t really part with the Angel Investigations team on the best of terms. Something about how she tried to use us to buy into some food-bank scheme that some ex-pyramid salesman had organised. Cordelia let her go, but I think if she ever came back to LA she would be doing her best to avoid us all."
Once again, the voice sounded from the bedroom. "Are you going to fetch me some trousers or should I come out there and get them so you can continue your little snigger session unabated?"
"Don’t you dare!" Buffy shouted and grabbed the pile of Spike’s clothes. "Someone stripped off before they realised they didn’t have anything else to put on." She strode to the bedroom doorway, tossed the bundle in and returned to her spot at the entrance to the family room.
In the meantime, Lily had her own question for Wes. "You have PI licence?"
"Well, yes. When we set up on our own after Angel fired us all I applied for my licence. In fact, no one currently working there has one now."
"You want to stay in Sunnydale, Marie get you work. She take work where maybe demons do bad things and human take blame. Sometimes the DA office, they hire detectives to find witnesses or find out what really happen. If detective no know demons, he no use in this town. He no know what possible, what not possible, who lie, who tell truth."
"But surely, most of this wouldn’t be admissible as evidence."
"Marie say, ‘always know the answers to all the questions, if you can. Then, even if you can’t actually prove the truth, you can often prove where something is a lie.’"
"That makes sense," Buffy admitted. "What d’ya think, Wes? Beats the pants off retail in my book."
"I must admit being my own boss has a certain appeal. I’ll certainly bear it in mind. It does sound rather more interesting than being a purveyor of slug-scented candles."
"Tell me about it." Buffy expressed her sympathy.
"Perhaps I should speak to Marie about what sort of opportunities there might be. Maybe I should make an appointment to see her at her office?" Wes asked.
"I speak to her when she home tonight. Get her to phone you," Lily assured him.
"Wes, I’ve got one more huge favour to ask." Buffy did her best puppy dog look. "Me and Spike need some alone time to sort things through, but I was supposed to take Dawn to buy bike gear after school. Is it possible you could pick her up from school and take her to the store, grab something to eat, and then drop her at home? We can give you Spike’s Visa card."
"Spike has Visa?"
"Actually, he’s very recently become an additional cardholder on my account, what with his stunning lack of credit history, but it works and since I forgot to include my purse in the list of things for Dawn to give to you this morning it’s all we’ve got. The only thing he can’t do with it is make cash withdrawals."
"Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, I guess."
"Huh?"
At this point Spike appeared behind her in the doorway, his arms wrapping around her waist. "That was a yes, pet. So I suggest you put some proper clothes on before he changes his mind and we’ll take him to pick up his bike."
"Isn’t it rather hypocritical to send me to pick her up on a motorbike when you’ve expressly told her she can’t go on Brandon’s until after she has all the gear?"
"Probably," the vampire conceded. "But, then, we trust you. We don’t trust Evel Knievel junior. That and it’s just about spitting distance."
"Ew, your English is gross," his fiancée complained.
"I thought you were going to get changed?" he countered.
"That’d be difficult with you attached at the waist."
Spike released his grip, and went over to settle matters with Wesley whilst Buffy donned some more appropriate clothing.
Spike shoved the piece of plastic into Wes’s hand along with enough cash to cover meals for two. "Get her the best stuff she’ll actually wear. What I mean is if she goes for the leather trousers that have the lacing up the side rather than the ones with all the padding on the knees and stuff, that’s fine if it means she’ll wear them more of the time. And if she doesn’t want actual biker’s boots then I don’t mind so long as the ones she gets are sturdy enough for the job. Just imagine it was your daughter you’re kitting out.
An’ feel free to get something for yourself as a thank you for today. I mean, if you don’t see anything, fine, we’ll probably pick you up a bottle of something decent, but since you're going there anyway, if you see something that takes your fancy, some panniers, maybe a spare helmet that isn't bright pink… As long as it’s not a whole new bike. I think Buff might get upset if her wedding fund went down by the cost of a Fireblade."
"I suspect she would, but, really, it's not necessary. It's the least I can do considering the free board and lodging and the fact you made a point of asking me to come."
"That wasn't a favour to you, watcher. That was us taking advantage of His High and Mighty Angelicness acting like a total git. If you stay, it's goin' to be bloody useful for us to have you around."
"You have to admit there were grounds for his behaviour."
"For the instantaneous gut reaction, maybe. For the stubborn, aggrieved martyr act the wanker's been holdin' onto ever since, bugger that." Spike might have made some effort to improve relations between himself and his grandsire, but that didn't mean he was afraid to speak up when he thought he was at fault.
"Yes, well, still, the welcome's appreciated."
"Yeah... well, anyone as can help keep her safe and well 'll always get a welcome from me."
Willow and Tara made the turn onto the block where Lily lived just in time to see the DeSoto’s taillights disappearing in the distance.