Chapter 22
“How like a winter hath my absence been/From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year !/ What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!/What old December’s barrenness everywhere!…For summer’s pleasures wait on thee,/And, thou away, the very birds are mute…” ~William Shakespeare, Sonnet 97
Giles couldn’t say he was all that surprised when Joyce came knocking on his door. In fact, he was more surprised that it had taken her so long to come. It had been four days since the Cruciamentum, four days since he’d been fired from the Council.
Four days since he’d spoken to her at all.
He had prepared himself for this. “Come in.”
Joyce remained silent as she entered his apartment, looking around at the darkened interior. Giles appeared to have had more than a few sleepless nights, and she couldn’t profess to be sorry about that. She wasn’t particularly happy with him right now.
Of course, Joyce had tried to burn her daughter at the stake not too long ago, so she wasn’t inclined to throw stones either.
“Would you like some tea?”
“Sure.” Joyce watched as he went into the kitchen, carefully avoiding meeting her eyes. “How have you been?”
Giles chuckled bitterly. “About as you would expect.” He paused. “I’m so very sorry.”
“I know you are.” Joyce sat down, her tone almost conversational. “Buffy told me you’d been fired from the Council.”
He sighed. “I was. I will retain my position with the library, of course, so I’m not out of work at least.”
“Buffy also told me that you didn’t have a choice.”
“Spike would disagree with that.”
“Spike would probably be right,” Joyce replied. “I know you don’t want to see Buffy hurt, though, so I can only assume that you felt you were acting in her best interests.”
Giles only wished that was the case. “No, I wasn’t.” He felt the need to be completely honest, even though he would rather have avoided it. “I obeyed the order from the Council because this is the way things have been done for centuries. There’s really no other reason than that. Had I truly considered the cost of my actions, I would have refused outright.”
Joyce leaned back. “You don’t regret being fired?”
“Of course I regret being fired,” Giles said irritably. “I regret that the Council is populated with useless gits who seem to know nothing about what being a Slayer—or being a Watcher—really means.”
She nodded, satisfied. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
Giles set the tea tray down hard on the table, the warm affection in her tone startling him enough to cause him to nearly lose control of it. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that just because you made one stupid decision, I’m not going to give up on one of the best things to happen to me in years.” Joyce grew serious again. “But if you ever pull something like this again…”
She left the rest of the threat unspoken, but Giles really didn’t need her to finish it. The look of betrayal on Buffy’s face had been enough to discourage any similar actions in the future. The guilt was still nearly overwhelming. “I understand.”
Joyce smiled. “Good. As long as we understand each other.”
The expression on her face left no doubt in Giles’ mind that crossing her would be a very bad idea. Joyce could be very scary when she wanted to be.
~~~~~
Xander wandered into the Bronze feeling aimless. Everyone had somewhere to be tonight, or someone to be with. Willow was with Oz, Faith and Buffy were out patrolling, and he was feeling rather useless.
They all had their place within the group, except for him.
He paused, catching sight of a familiar bleach-blond head through the crows. Maybe he wasn’t the only one without somewhere to be.
Without thinking about why, Xander made his way through the mass of bodies to join Spike at the bar. “What’s up?” Spike held up his beer bottle in a silent response. “So how come you aren’t out with the Slayers?”
“They don’t need me tonight,” Spike responded. If Xander didn’t know better, he would have said that Spike was depressed. “I’m just the hired muscle, after all.”
Xander blinked. “What? No, you’re part of the team, Spike.” He sat down next to the vampire. “And trust me, I never thought I’d be saying that about a member of the undead.”
Spike shrugged, visibly trying to shake off his bad mood. “So what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out with the girls?”
“What girls?” Xander asked. “Buffy basically told me I’d be in the way, and Willow definitely doesn’t need me around her and Oz.” He hesitated, finally blurting out, “I’m sorry about the spell. You know, the hand and the pants, and I am really sorry.”
Up to that point, Spike had assumed that Xander wanted to forget about the spell and its effects as much as he did. Spike certainly wanted nothing more than to forget the whole mess. “Forget it.”
Xander, sensing his sincerity, breathed a sigh of relief. “Already done.”
They sat in a silence that wasn’t completely comfortable. Of course, it wasn’t entirely uncomfortable either. “You want to play a round of pool?”
Xander glanced over in surprise and then nodded, relieved to finally have something to do, even if it was playing pool with the undead.
Although, Xander thought he might actually end up liking Spike. He really wasn’t so bad for a vampire.
Spike allowed the boy to break. When his turn came up almost immediately, he quickly sank three in a row before deliberately missing a shot. Beating Xander at pool was a lot like taking candy from a baby. He might as well make it worth his time.
“So what’s up between you and Buffy?” Xander finally asked.
Spike frowned. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You guys were almost inseparable,” he pointed out. “And you haven’t been around the last few days.”
“Slayer doesn’t need me right now,” Spike muttered. “I’m still around.” He leaned back against one of the supports, watching as Xander took his shot. “What are you doing here by yourself?”
Xander flushed. “If you haven’t noticed, Cordelia still hates me, which means I have nowhere better to be tonight.” He straightened, fidgeting with his pool cue. “How do you do it?”
“How do I do what?” Spike asked impatiently.
“It’s just that everyone has something,” Xander explained. He had no idea why he was telling Spike this, other than the fact that the both of them were at the Bronze alone. “Buffy and Faith are both Slayers, Giles has all that knowledge, Willow ‘s got her magic. Everyone has something except for me.”
Spike shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. He knew what it was like to feel as though you had nothing to offer the rest of the world. Those weren’t memories he particularly cherished. Of course, Spike couldn’t say he cherished many memories at all.
“You make the best of what you have. Not much more you can do.”
“But—”
Spike interrupted him impatiently. “Look, you’ve got guts, Harris. Not many people would go out night after night like you do, trying to help. So take what you’ve got and be happy with it.”
Xander appeared unhappy that there was nothing more to it than that. “Isn’t there anything I can do to be… ”
“What? Cool?” Spike rolled his eyes. “It’s all about figuring out who you are and what you want, mate. You figure that out, and everyone else will fall into step as well.”
Xander shook his head. “That’s easier said than done.”
“You’re telling me,” Spike muttered, too low for the boy to hear. It was always easier said than done.
~~~~~
The truth was that Spike hadn’t seen much of Buffy since her birthday. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see her, it was that he refused to go to her. Spike wanted the Slayer to come to him.
He’d told her to stay put. Spike had wanted to make sure she was okay—and she took his help and threw it back in his teeth. Buffy had been very clear about not needing him. He was equally certain that she did need him, but he suspected that she would be happy to never see him again.
Well, Spike wasn’t having any of that. He’d had enough of being Love’s Bitch with Cecily and Drusilla. He would make sure Buffy lived through the apocalypse, but other than that he had no interest in the Slayer.
But if that was true, then why did his heart ache so badly?
Spike was just a little drunk when he unlocked his door. It wasn’t like he was trying to drown his sorrows—it was more that he needed the distance that the numbness of intoxication brought.
Distance from his current situation, distance from his memories, it was all the same.
“You don’t look real steady on your feet,” Faith said, coming up behind him.
Spike tried to turn quickly to face her, but his balance was just a little bit off. “Bugger off.”
“I would except that I’m sleeping here,” Faith replied, following him into the kitchen. She and Buffy had managed to get in quite a few kills, and she was feeling hungry and horny.
Faith knew exactly why Spike had been drinking. It was probably for the same reason that Buffy had been bitching on patrol. The other Slayer had gone on and on about how bossy and demanding Spike could be, about how he hadn’t come around, about how he was never around when you needed him and how he stuck his nose in where he wasn’t wanted.
Even Faith could see the contradiction in that complaint.
Of course, Buffy’s loss could definitely end up being her gain.
She kept an eye on him while peering into the fridge. “So what’s your problem?”
“None of your business,” was Spike’s rather surly answer.
Faith gave up on the fridge and started going through the cupboard. She could have sworn she had a package of microwave popcorn somewhere. “Maybe you’ll feel better if you get it off your chest.”
Spike snorted. “No thanks. I’m not in a sharing mood.”
Faith bit back a sigh as she realized that she’d eaten the last bag the other night. Good thing there were other hungers she could satisfy. “Maybe you could try something else then.”
“What’s that?” Spike asked.
She’d always found that the direct approach worked for her. Faith straddled his lap before he realized what she was doing. “Maybe I can take your mind off of things.” Her lips came down on his immediately. Faith figured that if she didn’t give him a chance to think about it—just to react—they might both get lucky.
It had been a long time. Too long, in fact. Spike couldn’t help his immediate reaction, which was to deepen the kiss and pull the Slayer closer. Faith was grinding against him, and his jeans were getting uncomfortable.
The heady feeling of warmth, of being touched for the first time in a long time, of having a warm, willing girl in his arms—it went straight to Spike’s head. Mix that with the alcohol, and it was understandable that it would take a while for sense to penetrate.
Spike managed to push Faith off of him, stumbling to his own feet, just before they reached the point of no return. “We can’t do this.”
“What are you talking about?” Faith was pissed as hell that Spike had called a halt to things. “That was good. You can’t tell me you weren’t enjoying yourself.”
He shook his head, trying to clear it. “Not the point,” he responded. “I told you I wasn’t going to do this with you.”
“Is this about Buffy?” Faith demanded. “She totally ditched you!”
Spike growled, knowing that this situation was partly his fault. He’d invited Faith to live at his place thinking he could keep things platonic, even knowing that she would most likely make a move. He should have pushed her away immediately, rather than letting it get as far as he had.
They were both keyed up now, and Faith wasn’t going to come back down anytime soon. “It’s not about Buffy,” he insisted.
“Yeah, well, that’s not what it looks like to me,” Faith hissed. “So Buffy gets you too, huh?”
“I never made any secret about the reason I came to Sunnydale!” Spike responded, his voice growing louder. “I was hired for a purpose.”
“And that’s all you are,” she replied. “Just the hired muscle. You think you found a place here? You’re expendable. You’re the vampire mercenary. They’ll get rid of you in a heartbeat if that’s what it takes.”
It took every ounce of Spike’s hard-won control to keep from attacking her—and to keep from showing his hurt. Faith was hitting every raw nerve he had. Instead of snapping her neck like he wanted, Spike turned and stalked down the hall to his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.
Once inside, he took several deep, unneeded breaths, knowing that he needed to calm down. Spike could hear some shuffling and then the slamming of the front door. He had a feeling that Faith had left, and it was unlikely that she’d be coming back.
“Good going, mate,” he muttered, suddenly angry with himself. “You’ve really bollixed up this situation.”
It was too close to dawn to go hunting. Spike wanted to do some damage, and it just wasn’t possible, not unless he wanted to destroy his own place.
He was better than that.
Spike would take a cold shower and try to sleep. It was too much to hope for that the lingering alcohol in his system would have a soporific effect. He was pretty much sober at this point, more was the pity.
Although, he did have a bottle of Jack in the cupboard.
~~~~~
Giles had been very firm in his instructions. Buffy was to go over to Spike’s house, inform him that they needed his help, and drag him back over to the school if necessary. “This is a serious matter, Buffy. If we do not have Spike’s help, there’s every possibility that we will not be able to stop this apocalypse.”
As she stood in front of Spike’s door, Buffy thought that she probably should have made Giles go. He was still feeling guilty enough over the Cruciamentum for blackmail to work.
It was mostly her own sense of guilt that made her want to avoid the vampire. Buffy knew she’d been pretty harsh with him. Spike had been doing his job, and she had lashed out because of her own pain. It had been Giles and the Council she was angry at, not Spike.
Of course, that didn’t mean she wanted to apologize.
Buffy finally took a deep breath and knocked on his door. She waited, frowning when she realized that no one was going to answer. Pounding a little harder, Buffy wondered if something had happened to him. It had been a few days since she’d seen the vampire. What if someone had come after him?
What if he was dust?
She was about ready to start pounding for a third time, a little more frantically, when the door swung open to reveal a bleary-eyed Spike. “What do you want?”
“I came to see you,” Buffy replied, her eyes narrowing. “Are you drunk?”
He shrugged. “I was. Think I’m sober now, though.”
Buffy frowned. “Where’s Faith?”
“How the bloody hell should I know?” Spike demanded. “She left last night. Doubt she’ll be back anytime soon.” He hadn’t moved out of the doorway, standing just far enough back to avoid the late afternoon sun. “So what do you want? More heavy lifting?”
“There’s an apocalypse coming,” Buffy replied, unsure of herself . She had never seen Spike this hostile before. Angry, yes. Sarcastic, of course. But she was getting the sense that he would have just as soon never seen her again.
After his gift, she found that strange.
Spike stared at her and then sighed. “Fine. I’ll be at the library tonight.”
He would have shut the door in her face, but Buffy was faster. She got her foot in the doorway, preventing him from closing it. “What is up with you?”
“It’s none of your bloody business,” he snarled. “So sod off.”
Anger reared its ugly head. Buffy shoved the door in, causing Spike to stumble backwards. “What the hell is your problem?”
“Bugger off, Summers !” Spike shouted. “You’re not wanted here.”
Buffy pushed him back into the living room, although not hard enough to hurt him. She did, however, want him cornered. “Is this about the other night? Because I’m sorry, Spike. I said some things I didn’t mean.”
“Don’t give me that,” Spike shot back. “Don’t you dare throw me a bone like I’m some stray dog. You think I’m here for you? Well, I’ve got a nice, fat bank account and a fast car in the garage that proves otherwise. Soon as the apocalypse is over, I’m out of here! I’m not Love’s Bitch any longer.”
It was that last, seemingly unrelated, comment that clued Buffy in to what this was all really about. Her own words echoed in her head—she’d told Spike she didn’t need him after he’d promised to be there for her. Really, it was no wonder he was so royally pissed off.
“Okay, I’m only going to say this once, and so you’ll just have to listen up,” Buffy said, pushing him back on the couch so that she was standing over him. “I’m sorry for what I said. It wasn’t nice, and I didn’t mean it, and I do need you. And not just for backup. So if you’ll pull your head out of your ass, maybe you’ll actually hear what I’m saying.”
Spike didn’t want to. He didn’t want to listen to Buffy’s apology. He really, really wanted to stay angry. It was easier to not hurt when you were angry. “Fine,” he replied sullenly.
Buffy was mad enough to spit. She thought about popping him in the nose, but didn’t think that would do much good under the circumstances. “Fine. Go shower, and then we’ll head back to the school. The sun should be down by then.”
She stepped away to allow Spike to rise and then abruptly changed her mind. “You know what? Forget it.” Buffy grabbed a fistful of his shirt. “You are the most infuriating—guy!”
“Maybe if you weren’t such a bitch,” Spike snarked back.
Buffy’s eyes widened. “You—you—jerk!”
And then, of course, she kissed him.