Chapter 14: History
“Say over again, and yet once over again,/That thou dost love me…Who can fear/Too many stars, though each in heaven shall roll,/Too many flowers, though each shall crown the year?/Say thou dost love me, love me, love me-toll/The silver iterance!-only minding, Dear,/To love me also in silence with thy soul.” Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnet 21
“Are you sure you have to go?” Joyce asked. She was just starting to feel like her old self again and had been hoping she and Giles might act on her returning health.
Giles looked regretful, but certain. “I’m afraid I do. The Council may have information that I don’t have access to. At least it’s only three days.”
She smiled. “Well, I imagine that once you get back I should be feeling really good.”
Giles felt his blood heat at the promise in her voice. “Then you must let me know, and I will clear a day on my calendar for you.”
“You two need a room?” Spike asked, entering the Summers’ living room. He’d been helping Dawn with her homework in the kitchen while working on the books for the gallery. “Because there’s one upstairs.”
“We do not need a room,” Giles replied stiffly. “I have been meaning to ask if you wouldn’t mind keeping an eye out while I’m away, William. While I am certain that Anya and Willow are more than capable of taking care of the store-“
“They might end up killin’ each other over it,” Spike said with a grimace. “Those two ‘ve been getting on my last nerve lately.”
Giles made a similar face. “Yes, well, I noticed that myself. If you weren’t so busy at the gallery, I probably would have asked you to help Anya, quite frankly.”
Spike smiled, shaking his head. “Those two probably just need to have it out, get it out of their systems. Lock ’em in a room for a few hours an’ see who’s the victor.”
Joyce frowned. “Surely it’s not that bad.”
“It’s that bad,” Giles asserted.
Spike rolled his eyes expressively. “An’ they keep tryin’ to drag poor Harris into the mess. ‘ve been at the Bronze twice the last week listenin’ to the lad bemoan the state of things.”
Joyce nodded sympathetically. “It’s horrible to be caught in between two people you care about.”
“Hey,” Buffy said, entering. “Giles, when are you leaving?”
“Early tomorrow,” he replied. “Spike has been kind enough to offer me a ride to the airport.”
“I have not!” Spike protested. At Giles’ look, he sighed. “But I will, if you promise to bring back somethin’ decent.”
“Whatever Customs will allow me to get away with,” the ex-Watcher assured him. “I should be going.”
“I’ll see you early tomorrow,” Spike called after him as Joyce walked the other man to the door.
He closed his eyes briefly as Buffy pressed a kiss to his lips. “Missed you.”
“You saw me at lunch, luv,” Spike reminded her with a smile. “An’ at dinner.”
“Yeah, but there were other people involved,” she said with a pout. “I was thinking maybe we could go out, patrol, without anyone else…”
Spike knew he needed to be up early the next morning to see Giles to the airport and take care of matters at the gallery. And yet, the idea of wandering the cemeteries with Buffy, stealing kisses, was very appealing. “Think that might be alright, luv.”
~~~~~
The ex-vampire would most likely have never run into Olaf the Troll if Xander hadn’t stormed into the gallery that afternoon with a desperate expression on his face. “Spike, I need you,” he announced without preamble.
Spike looked up from where he was arranging the display, cocking an eyebrow. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Want to tell me what for?”
“Women,” was all Xander could say for a minute. “Willow and Anya. They keep fighting, and then they put me in the middle. I need-“
“To not be surrounded by ’em,” Spike finished. “Right. Give me another couple hours an’ we can go out, get a drink or somethin’.” When Xander merely shifted his feet and gave him a pleading look, Spike sighed. “Right then. You can wait in the back office, if you like.”
Spike finished setting the stock, listening to Xander play the game he’d installed for Dawn on the laptop. He probably should have waited to rearrange the pieces until after closing, but it had been a slow day, and he didn’t much feel like hanging around the gallery late again. Xander’s need for some male companionship provided a good excuse to leave on time.
As soon as the clock struck six, Spike flipped the sign over to “Closed” and gave Buffy a call. Joyce thought his cell phone was such a good idea that she’d gotten the Slayer one for Christmas. “Hey, Spike. What’s up?”
“Gonna go out with Harris tonight, pet,” Spike quickly explained. “Seems he needs some guy time.”
He heard a scuffling sound. “That’s good. Have either of you seen Anya or Willow?”
Spike knew that tone of voice. It wasn’t good. “No. Why?”
“No reason,” Buffy said vaguely. “Look, you two should go out and enjoy yourselves. Maybe Tara and I will catch up with you there later.”
“Buffy-luv? What aren’t you tellin’ me?”
“Well, I think there was a fight at the Magic Box, but we’re handling it.” Buffy sounded decidedly rushed at this point.
Spike frowned, and pulling the phone away from his mouth, called out, “Harris? Were Red an’ your girl up to the blood-shed part of the arguin’?”
“No, just the ‘put Xander in the doghouse’ part,” the young man said rather cheerfully. Two hours of Doom had put his day into better perspective.
“There any blood, pet?” Spike asked Buffy.
“No, no blood,” she said distractedly. “You guys really should go enjoy. If I need you, I’ll call.”
Spike was about to say something else, but Buffy cut him off. “Really gotta go. Love you!” He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it.
“Is everything okay?” Xander asked.
Spike shook his head bemusedly and flipped the phone closed. “Guess so. Slayer said to go have a good time, so let’s go.”
~~~~~
Xander would have called any night away from the women a good time at that point. Willow and Anya and their little games were driving him crazy, and he viewed Spike as his only escape. And not just because Spike was of age and would buy him beer, either.
“It’s just that they keep putting me in the middle,” Xander explained, idly munching on a blooming onion petal. Since Spike had purchased the drinks, it was only fair that he get the food, and he liked blooming onions as much as Spike did. “No matter what I say, it’s wrong. I’m taking a side. I don’t want to take a side!”
Spike raised an eyebrow. “You told them that?”
“Yes,” the other man replied glumly. “And they said they weren’t putting me in the middle, they just wanted my opinion.”
“Flattery never got anybody anywhere,” Spike said wisely. “My advice? Every time they try somethin’ like that, leave. They’ll get a clue after a while.”
Xander snorted. “I wish it was that easy. Whose side am I supposed to take? Willow’s my best friend, and Anya’s-“
“The love of your life, an’ the one you’re sharin’ a bed with,” Spike interrupted. “Which means, if you ask me, you take her side if you don’t want to be sleepin’ on the couch.”
It was advice that actually made sense, but Xander still wasn’t convinced. As much as he loved Anya, he’d known Willow since they were in kindergarten. Siding against his best friend, even for his girlfriend, just went against the grain. He watched as Spike snatched the last bit of fried onion, and jerked his head towards a pool table. “Come on, mate. What you need is a game.”
Xander winced, remembering the last time he’d played pool with the ex-vampire. “I’m not putting any money on this one, Spike.”
“Ponce.”
“Shut up.”
Three games later, Xander had managed to win one, but only because Spike had finally taken pity on him and missed a couple shots to give him the chance. They had reluctantly passed over their cues to the next group waiting in line for a table, and had headed back over towards the bar.
“So, you think you could buy me another beer?” Xander asked hopefully.
Spike shot him a sour look. “You do realize you’re askin’ me to contribute to the delinquency of a minor, don’t you?”
“Hey, I’m a working man,” Xander protested, somewhat heatedly. “I should be able to enjoy a working man’s beverage.”
“Yeah, you keep tellin’ yourself that,” Spike mock-sneered, enjoying baiting the other man. It was a relief to be away from all those women for once. After they had both gotten split in half by Toth, a subtle change had occurred in their relationship; instead of being mere acquaintances, connected by circumstance, they were actually friends. They hadn’t hated one another for a long time now, but they seemed to have clicked at a level that only men experienced. For all their love of the women in their lives, they had each needed a friend of the male persuasion.
After all, who but another guy understood that an evening out could include nothing but fried food, pool games, and commentary on anatomy-and be a great evening?
It might have continued to be a great evening, complete with snarky commentary, but for the fact that Spike nearly found himself run over by a hulking figure. “‘scuse me,” he grumbled, tired of people running into him. Just because he was on the average side of tall-
Glancing up, Spike felt the blood drain from his face. “Oh, boy.”
“You can say that again,” Xander muttered next to him.
And the troll boomed, “I want ale! And babies!”
~~~~~
Buffy and Tara had gotten done with their first classes of the semester and headed straight over to the Magic Box. Tara’s description of Anya and Willow’s behavior had the Slayer thinking that mediation might be in order. (Though, to be fair, she was a bit biased. Willow was her friend. Anya was, well, Anya.)
Upon arriving, it seemed their worst fears had been realized, since the Magic Box was in shambles and neither Willow nor Anya were anywhere in sight. So it was with understandable consternation that Buffy answered Spike’s call, trying to talk to him while searching for clues as to what had happened.
The Slayer was actually rather glad to hear that Spike and Xander were going to be spending the evening together, probably at the Bronze. It meant that she had to worry about the whereabouts of two less people, while she and Tara followed the trail of destruction.
It was a rather obvious trail.
~~~~~
“Yeah, babies,” Spike said, frantically trying to think of a way to distract the great hulking troll in front of him. “You know, the problem is that we just had another bloke in town-looked a lot like you, in fact-an’ he cleaned us out of babies.”
The troll frowned. “You have no more babies? Are you certain?”
Xander, who sometimes caught on quickly, nodded. “Yep. We’re fresh out. But we could probably get the ale. They have whole kegs behind the bar.”
At this, the troll perked up considerably. “Good, but I will need something to eat. Pork, perhaps.”
“You know, pig we got,” Spike said, grabbing Xander’s arm and beginning to back up slowly. “We’ll just see about gettin’ you a nice, big roasted pig. How’s that?”
The troll seemed intent upon the ale at that point, and willing to take Spike’s assurances of pork at face value. “We need the Slayer,” Xander said.
“No kiddin’,” Spike muttered in reply. “Look, I’ll call Buffy, you go pull the fire alarm.”
“Fire alarm?”
Spike shook his head. “You see people runnin’ for the door? Only way to get ’em out of here is to do somethin’ drastic.” Xander moved off through the crowded club while Spike speed-dialed Buffy’s number. “Luv? We’ve got a problem at the Bronze.”
Buffy was decidedly short. “Can’t you handle it, Spike? Tara and I are trying to track whatever it was that came after Anya and Willow.”
“Well, see, I think we might have whatever it was in the Bronze,” Spike said, laughing a little. Only in Sunnydale. “‘s a troll. He’s ’bout 7 feet tall, big, an’ he’s carryin’ a hammer. I wouldn’t’ve tried to take him when I was a vampire.”
“Oh crap,” Buffy replied. “Okay, look-” There was a moment of silence, and then she swore, using words Spike rarely heard out of her mouth. “I think the path of destruction is going back towards the Bronze anyway. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
Spike hung up just as the fire alarm started going off. Sure enough, the people started streaming towards the door, cutting a wide path around the troll, who had managed to find his way to the kegs. He was holding one barrel upside down and letting the beer literally pour down his throat, and Spike spared a moment to watch admiringly.
“Spike!” Willow and Anya pulled up next to him, followed closely by Xander. “Oh, boy,” Willow said.
“You two ladies know anythin’ about this?” Spike asked, having his suspicions.
“What?” Willow asked, sounding affronted that he would even think such a thing.
Anya gave her a dirty look. “Willow was trying to do a spell, and she released Olaf in the Magic Box. He destroyed a lot of valuable property.”
“Anya distracted me,” Willow protested, unwilling to take all the blame. “During a crucial part of the spell, might I add?”
“I wouldn’t have had to distract her if she hadn’t been stealing!”
“I wasn’t stealing! I was borrowing! For Buffy!”
“I wish Buffy was here right now,” Xander mumbled, fervently hoping he didn’t get pulled into their argument again.
Buffy and Tara skidded to a stop inside. “Whoa. Big troll.” Buffy blinked. Spike hadn’t been kidding. Not that she was scared, exactly, but even the Slayer hesitated in the face of such a formidable (and rather hulking) opponent.
Besides, she was really tired of getting beaten up.
Xander was a little surprised at the promptness with which his wish had been granted. “Buffy.”
“Yeah, I’m here,” Buffy said, looking around. “Can anybody tell me who’s responsible for this?”
“She is!” Both Willow and Anya spoke at the same time, pointing at each other.
Buffy’s glare went straight to the witch. “Willow?”
“It wasn’t my fault!” Willow protested vehemently. “There was a spell, and-and she interrupted.”
“Anyanka!” All heads turned to look at Olaf.
Anya looked over at Willow. “I think you should do the spell to get rid of him now.”
Willow started to frantically read the spell from the book she was carrying. “Stop!” Olaf shouted. “Anyanka! You told the witch to do that to me! You’re always determined to ruin all my fun. Just like when we were dating.”
There was a moment of stunned silence. “You dated him?”
“You dated a troll?”
The questions came from all sides, even as Spike stifled a surprised snicker. “He wasn’t a troll when I dated him,” Anya said uncomfortably. “He was just a big, dumb guy, and he cheated on me. So, I made him into a troll, which, by the way, is how I, uh, got a job as a vengeance demon.”
“I didn’t cheat on you!” Olaf protested vociferously. “Not in my heart! It was only one wench, and there was much mead involved. Then I wake up as a troll! You did this, Anyanka, and you will die.”
“An’ yet bein’ a troll seems like a good thing,” Spike commented cheerfully.
Olaf gave his observation due consideration. “I adjusted. And then what happened?” The anger was back as quickly as it had dissipated, and the troll glared at Willow. “Witches! Filthy, disgusting, dirty witches trapped me in that crystal for centuries. A curse on all witches! All must die!”
Things got pretty confusing after that. Willow tried to do the spell as Buffy attempted to stop Olaf from doing any lasting damage to people or property. Anya, Tara, and Xander pulled back, trying not to get trampled, while Spike eyed the action, waiting to get involved.
They might have been able to stop Olaf right there, but the troll started swinging his hammer around with abandon, creating some major structural damage. The hammer struck one of the columns supporting the upper level, and sent it crashing down.
One of the beams pinned Buffy. Another piece of falling debris struck Spike in the back, pushing him to the floor. In the interlude, Olaf escaped.
Well, “escaped” was probably putting too positive a spin on matters, since they hardly had him trapped to begin with.
Tara helped Buffy move the beam, and Buffy hurried over to help Spike up. “Are you okay?”
“‘m fine,” he grunted, sounding very put-out. Spike stifled a cough, and muttered, “Dust.”
Buffy gave him a worried look and then turned towards Willow and Anya. “You guys go see what you can do about finding a spell that will put the troll back where he belongs. I’ll see if I can track him down.”
As the girls left, Buffy turned back towards the ex-vampire. Tara looked torn between following her girlfriend and staying to help Spike and the Slayer. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Buffy asked urgently.
“A bit bruised, but I’ll be alright,” he assured her. “You want me along for the ride?”
Buffy did, but the way Spike was standing suggested that the hurt was a little more serious than “a bit bruised.” She shook her head regretfully. “I don’t think so, Spike.” The Slayer frowned again as he started coughing, feeling as though she was missing something, and not having the time to get to the bottom of it. “Make sure Tara gets back home safely?” she asked, and then gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I’ll stop by later.”
Spike watched her go, and then faced Tara’s serious eyes. “You’re sick.”
“‘m not sick!” he protested. “It’s not just dust, Spike.” Tara fixed him with a glare. “How long have you had that cough?”
Spike sighed, and then started coughing again. He’d been handling it, but the evening’s exertion had irritated the cold he thought was under control. It had been a few weeks, but he’d been too busy to think about it much, and it seemed to come and go. Plus, he’d been too busy to do any kind of training, which meant he wasn’t exerting himself all that often. “Few weeks on and off,” he finally admitted reluctantly. “‘s been getting better.”
“No, it hasn’t. If it was getting better, you shouldn’t still have it.” She took his arm, getting ready to walk out of the demolished, but thankfully empty, club. “You’re going to see the doctor tomorrow.”
“Now, Tara-“
“Don’t ‘now Tara’ me,” she said firmly. “You’re really good at taking care of everybody else, but you suck at looking after yourself, Spike.”
Her blunt words had him looking at her in surprise. “What happened to the shy girl I met a year ago?”
Tara’s return smile was sweet. “She made some friends. It makes a world of difference.”
~~~~~
Buffy let herself into Spike’s apartment as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb him should he already be asleep. “Hey, luv.”
Not asleep, then. Spike was sitting on the couch, legs splayed out in front of him, chest bare. He looked positively delicious. “Hey, yourself. You okay?”
“Never better,” he managed, though Buffy didn’t believe him. “You get Olaf all taken care of?”
Buffy smiled cheerfully. “Yep. I even got a nifty new hammer to play with. Willow magicked the hammer right out of his hand, I grabbed it and knocked him out, and then we sent him to the land of the trolls.” She winced reflectively. “Not before Xander got his arm broken, however.”
“Harris was hurt?” Spike sat up straighter. “If I’d come-“
“Before I got there,” Buffy assured him. “And Xander’s okay, and at some point Willow and Anya made peace. I’m not sure how that happened, and I don’t think I want to know.”
“Good,” Spike said, settling back down on the couch.
Buffy made a turning motion with her hand. “Let’s see that bruise, mister.”
Spike sighed and moved so that she could see the large bruise already beginning to form on his side, and Buffy ran a gentle hand over it. “Oh, Spike.”
“I’m fine, luv,” he assured her.
“Maybe, but you’ve got to be more careful,” she admonished. “What would I do without you?”
He frowned. “I’m fully capable of takin’ care of m’self, Slayer.”
“And you’re also breakable,” she replied heatedly.
“We’re all breakable.”
With tender hands on bare skin, Buffy leaned down to place a kiss on the purple area. “Then I’ll kiss it and make it better. How’s that?”
“Much better.” They kissed, and Buffy felt a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room, suddenly afraid.
Call it a Slayer’s instinct. It made her grip him that much tighter.
~~~~~
Spike took a deep breath. “And again.” The next breath had him coughing again. It seemed once he started, it was impossible to stop. It frightened him, in a way. He remembered his mother’s deep, hacking cough and wondered if this wasn’t the same thing.
“Well, it sounds like you’ve got yourself a nice case of bronchitis,” the doctor said. He hung his stethoscope around his neck. “I’ll get you a prescription for some antibiotics, and you should be feeling better in no time.”
“Bronchitis?” Spike asked, pulling his t-shirt over his head.
The doctor nodded. “Well, it’s that time of year. Have you ever had it before?”
“Uh, on occasion,” Spike hedged, not knowing if he had, but figuring it was close enough to the truth.
“And have you been under a lot of stress lately?” The doctor was an younger man, probably not that much older than Spike (as he appeared, anyway). He’d given his first name as Brad and had generally seemed rather laid back.
Spike smiled ruefully. “You could say that.”
Brad nodded. “That makes sense then. Stress will tend to attack you where your body is weakest. I wouldn’t be surprised if you wound up with the same thing the next time you’re under a lot of strain. My advice? Next time you’re not feeling well, come in a little sooner.”
Spike chuckled sheepishly. “Yeah, I’ll do that. Thanks, mate.”
“No problem.”
Spike took the prescription and met Tara outside the office. She raised an eyebrow in question. “‘m fine,” he said, trying to sound annoyed. “Got to get the pills an’ then we can head back over to the shop.”
Tara looked quite pleased with herself. “So I was right.”
“You were right, I was bloody wrong, an’ I will listen to you at all times in the future,” Spike said. The light in his eyes told the blonde witch that he was teasing. Spike only listened when he wanted to.
She thwapped him on the chest. “Oh, hush. Next time, don’t wait so long before asking for help,” Tara admonished.
“Don’t have to ask for help while I’ve got you lookin’ out for me,” Spike teased.
“Well, it’s a thankless job, but someone has to do it,” Tara replied, unperturbed.
Spike smiled. “We take care of each other, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Tara replied, thinking that she’d gotten a really good deal when she’d exchanged her brother by blood for Spike.
~~~~~
Giles took the cup of tea Joyce was offering. “Well, I’m grateful you were able to do some clean up anyway,” he said wryly. “Though I shudder to think how much damage might have been done were I gone any longer.”
“We might have had time to put it back to normal,” Buffy pointed out, taking a sip of her hot chocolate.
Joyce sat down with her own cup. “I don’t understand why the Council would make you go all the way toEngland when they couldn’t tell you anything.”
“Yes, well, information on Glory is probably in places that will take them a while to access,” Giles prevaricated. “I’m sure they’ll have something for us shortly.”
“You didn’t say anythin’ ’bout Dawn, did you?” Spike asked. “Or me?”
Giles sipped. “Yes, well, I had to tell them about the Key, but no. I did not tell them that it was Dawn.” He glanced over at Joyce. “You know about this?”
She nodded. “I figured out some of it for myself. Buffy and Spike filled me in on the rest.”
“An’ did you tell them anythin’ about me?” Spike persisted. “Bastards aren’t goin’ to show up at my door, are they?”
Giles sighed. “I doubt they’ll show up at your door anytime soon, but I did tell them about you. They were quite fascinated with the effects of the Mohra blood. Apparently, it has never been used in quite that fashion before.”
“Wouldn’t suggest it be used in quite that fashion again,” Spike replied sharply. “Bloody pain in the arse it was.”
“Yes, well, I don’t think you have to worry about the Council taking any more than a cursory interest in you, Spike,” Giles assured him. “Quite frankly, now that you are an ordinary human, there’s not much you can do for them.”
“But Dawn is safe, right?” Buffy asked. “I mean, the Council doesn’t know?”
“No, and you’re right. I think it’s best that they don’t.” Giles sighed. “The Council would likely not understand.”
Dawn, listening on the stairs, didn’t understand either. Nearly everyone she loved was talking about her like there was something wrong, or off as Spike would say. She’d asked Spike and her sister about that not too long ago, when her mom was experiencing the dementia from the tumor, and said all those awful things. They had promised her that everything was okay.
They had promised, and now Dawn was pretty sure they had been lying. It felt like a betrayal of the worst kind.
~~~~~
“It’s good to have you back, Joyce, even if it is half-time,” Spike said warmly. “Place feels wrong without you here.”
She smiled at him warmly. “You’re sweet, Spike, but you’ve really done a wonderful job. I couldn’t have asked for the gallery to be in better hands.”
The flush of pleasure that crept into his cheeks made her smile widen. It was always nice to compliment Spike, simply because you knew how much he appreciated the praise. “Did what I could.”
“You’ve kept things going,” she replied. “And now, have you thought about what you might like to do, other than working here?” At Spike’s surprised expression, she hastened on. “Not that I want to lose you, but I’m not so foolish as to think I can keep you indefinitely.”
Spike smiled, and then admitted quietly, “Sent off a manuscript to a few editors, actually. Giles knew one of them from his days at university.”
Joyce had to say that she was pleasantly surprised. “William! I didn’t realize you were writing!”
He shrugged, looking embarrassed. “Didn’t want to say anythin’ until I knew it was goin’ to work out. Still don’t know if anybody’s goin’ to want it, but at least ‘ve given it a shot, yeah?”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll do wonderfully at whatever you put your hand to,” she assured him.
Spike got a little smile. “Also thinkin’ about teaching maybe. Give me summers off to write.”
Joyce’s bright smile was all the reward Spike would ever need. “I’m so very proud of you, William. You’ve really done so much.”
“Couldn’t have done anythin’ without you an’ Giles,” Spike replied. He glanced up at the clock. “You sure you can handle it for the rest of the afternoon? I can stay.”
“No, you go get Dawn,” Joyce insisted. “You deserve some time away from here.”
“Right then,” Spike agreed. “I’ll see you later, right?”
She smiled. “I think it’s going to be a pizza night, quite frankly.”
“Sounds perfect.” Spike got into the Desoto and plugged in one of the Clash CDs Giles had given him for his birthday, singing along until he pulled up outside of the school. He didn’t have to wait long before Dawn slid into the passenger side.
Spike gave the girl a concerned look when she didn’t do more than give him a mumbled hello. “Niblet? You alright?”
“I’m fine.”
Spike frowned. “Niblet-“
“I’m fine.” This time her tone was even sharper, and Spike matched it.
“You know, pet, if you need you talk, you know ‘m here.”
“No, you’re not,” Dawn replied angrily. “You’ve been lying to me, all of you.”
“Dawn-“
She turned to stare at him. “I want the truth, Spike.