Chapter 6
” Love has gone and left me and the days are all alike;/Eat I must, and sleep I will,—and would that night were here!/But ah!—to lie awake and hear the slow hours strike!/Would that it were day again!—with twilight near!…” ~Edna St. Vincent Millay, “Ashes of Life”
It had been nearly a week since Buffy had seen Spike, and she desperately wished that she didn’t care. Of course, wondering where Spike was did take her mind off of missing Angel. It was really a no-win situation.
Buffy really didn’t care where the vampire was, or why he hadn’t shown his face. It was just that he’d repeated over and over how he was sticking around, and that he was getting paid to protect her. His absence seemed to indicate that he’d been all talk and no action, despite his help with Angelus.
She was still dreaming about Angel, nearly every night. They were always in the sunlight, and Angel was never Angelus, and he always swore his undying love. Buffy wasn’t sure what to make of that.
At seventeen, she could hardly comprehend loving someone else as much as she had loved him. Buffy felt as though her life was over. Hadn’t she done everything now? She had died, she’d loved a man, and she’d had to kill him. What could possibly top that?
Everyone was being so careful around her. There had been a dozen instances where Willow or Xander, or even Giles, had stopped what they were saying mid-sentence in order to avoid any reference to Angel or Angelus. Cordelia was the only one who didn’t guard her tongue, and Buffy sometimes found herself absurdly grateful for that.
She also knew that she was being extremely bitchy, and she couldn’t seem to help herself, so Buffy avoided everyone. It was easier that way, and it was easier not to see the others acting all couple-y while she was alone.
The Slayer was always alone. She’d learned that lesson pretty well this last year.
“What are we fighting tonight? Vampires or just inner demons?”
Buffy paused, recognizing the mocking voice immediately. “What do you want, Spike?”
“Told you, I’m here to make sure you stay alive.” He emerged from the shadows, right at her elbow, and Buffy wondered how he’d disguised his presence from her.
Buffy gave him a sour look. “Then where have you been for the last week?”
“Miss me, pet?”
“Don’t call me that, and no, I didn’t miss you,” she snapped irritably. “How are you going to help me if you’re not around, though?”
“Who said I wasn’t around?” Spike asked, smiling.
Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve been spying on me?”
“Hardly,” he scoffed. “I told you I’d be around, Slayer. It’s your own fault for not realizing I was there.”
Buffy didn’t particularly like that idea. She didn’t much like taking the blame for anything these days. Even the slightest hint of reproach was enough to bring her defenses up. “You were stalking me.”
He smirked. “Just call me your own personal bodyguard. Not every girl has one.”
“Stay out of my way, Spike!”
“Not in your way.”
“Fine.” Buffy marched off, knowing full well that Spike was ambling along behind her, keeping up but appearing to move at his own speed. It was really annoying her. She whirled to face him, her anger boiling over. “I hate you!”
Spike lifted an eyebrow. “Okay,” he agreed pleasantly.
“Why do you have to do that?” Buffy demanded. “Why do you have to be so—so—”
“Tolerant?” he asked.
“Insufferable!”
“That’s an awfully big word, luv,” Spike said. He was infuriatingly calm, and Buffy suddenly couldn’t take it any longer. Her fist flew out, catching him by surprise. The Slayer wasn’t prepared to have him hit back, his punch catching her on the cheek, her head snapping back. “Don’t do that unless you’re ready for the consequences,” he warned, his voice low.
Somehow his warning just fueled her rage, and Buffy flew at him. Her anger hampered her slightly, but after the first few minutes she realized that Spike wasn’t going for the kill, or even a disabling blow. Instead, he seemed intent on keeping the fight going for as long as possible.
She wasn’t striking to hurt, and neither was he; they were almost sparring, even as Buffy found herself growing tired.
The Slayer wasn’t sure who disengaged first. One minute the punches and kicks were still flying, still being blocked, and the next minute they had stopped, a few feet away from each other. Spike was wearing his usual mocking smile, and he raised an eyebrow. “Ready for another round, or shall we call a truce?”
“You could have killed me,” Buffy pointed out.
“Several times, in fact,” Spike agreed. “That would defeat the purpose of making sure you stay alive.”
She watched him for another moment before relaxing her guard just slightly. “Yeah, I guess so.”
Spike watched her, amusement warring with interest in his eyes. The fight had been exhilarating. He’d never fought a Slayer before, although he’d wanted to. Even sparring with one would have been pleasurable, but he’d never been certain that he could trust the Watchers’ Council to let him be afterwards. The last thing he’d wanted was to be pressed to answer questions he had no intention of answering.
“You going to stop being such a bitch?” Spike asked conversationally. From his tone, he might as well have been asking about the weather.
Buffy glared at him again. “I’m not—” She stopped, knowing full well he was right. She turned on her heel and walked off, unsurprised when Spike fell into step next to her. “Did you find a place?”
Spike glanced over at her in surprise. It looked like they were starting their conversation over again, this time politely. “I did.”
The short answer left little room for reply or question. Buffy finally said, “I think I’m going to head home.”
“Would you like me to walk you?”
Buffy very nearly snarled at him, telling him she didn’t need his protection. Then she bit her tongue. While every one of her other friends had been dancing around her grief, treating it like the elephant in the room, Spike seemed to be facing it head on. At least he wasn’t treating her as though she was made of glass. It was a nice change.
“I guess. If you want.” It was a rather noncommittal answer, but it must have satisfied Spike since he kept walking with her.
They were both silent on the walk home. Buffy had to admit that she felt better. Some of the anger she’d felt had been released during her impromptu battle with Spike. The grief was quiet for the moment, if only because she was tired.
Spike walked her all the way up to the door, and then stood there, watching her. “Do you want to come in?” Buffy finally asked.
He shrugged. “I could.”
The Slayer didn’t know how to deal with him, how to take his short answers and long silences. “Mom knows, by the way.”
“Knows what?” he asked with a frown.
“About you lying to her,” Buffy replied, smiling when he looked slightly embarrassed. “She wasn’t mad, though. I explained what was going on, and I guess she went to talk with Giles.”
Buffy had no idea why she was telling him all this, why it would matter that he knew. Spike was an anomaly. Even more than Angel was, she thought.
“It’s good that she knows the truth,” Spike finally said. “I’m glad she wasn’t mad at me.”
The last statement was almost a question, and Buffy shook her head in response. “She wasn’t.”
They might have stood there, watching each other, all night. Something about their furious sparring—or was it a real fight?—had fundamentally changed how they viewed each other. For Buffy, at least, it was because Spike was the only one who hadn’t taken any shit from her. He was the first to hit back when she had struck out in anger.
Angel had never done that.
Spike, for his part, found the girl fascinating. She was so full of fire, he had no idea how she’d managed to fall in love with Angelus. It wasn’t that Spike had kept an eye on his grandsire, or even that he’d cared to know what the bastard was doing—but he’d known. They had both drifted through the world like shadows. Spike liked to think that Angelus had heard about some of his exploits, just as Spike had known that Angelus was still brooding over his past sins.
He didn’t really like the girl, but he felt sorry for her. Spike had to keep reminding himself that she was young—barely more than a child, and she had just lost her first love. He’d been there and done that. He remembered what those first awful days had been like.
Spike remembered how long it had taken him to not feel a hot rush of anger every time Drusilla had crossed his mind. It was no wonder the Slayer was acting like such a bitch—he’d probably been a right bastard himself.
The door opened, startling both of them out of their thoughts. “Are you two going to stand out there all night?” Joyce asked, sounding amused. She glanced over at Spike. “Do you want to come inside, William?”
He did and he didn’t. Spike was suddenly afraid of getting too close. “No, thanks.” Turning abruptly, he called out a goodbye over his shoulder before Buffy could stop him.
Not that he thought she would.
“Spike!”
He hesitated, and then turned slightly. “Yeah?”
“I owe you a drink.”
Spike nodded slowly. “Suppose you do.”
“Tomorrow night?” Buffy asked. “Around ten, at the Bronze?”
“Sure,” he replied, and then, shoving his hands into his pockets, he disappeared into the night.
Spike had been a shadow for so long, he wasn’t sure what it meant that he’d started feeling solid again.
~~~~~
“Why didn’t you invite him inside, Buffy?” Joyce asked reproachfully.
Buffy couldn’t believe she was taking the blame for Spike’s reluctance to come into the house. “I did ask him,” she replied. “He just didn’t want to, that’s all.”
Joyce frowned. “Does he have a place to stay? Because if he doesn’t—”
Buffy cut her mom off. “He said he found a place, Mom. Oz was helping him.”
“That’s good.” Joyce still appeared to be thinking about Spike and his abrupt departure.
Buffy bit back a sigh, wondering why Joyce seemed to like Spike. “Don’t worry about him, Mom. Spike can take care of himself.”
Joyce shook her head ruefully. “I’m sure he can, sweetheart, but—” She didn’t finish her thought. “Maybe you should invite him over for dinner sometime.”
“Vampires don’t eat,” Buffy replied as patiently as she was able.
Joyce frowned. “That doesn’t mean he couldn’t join us,” she replied. “I’m sure there’s probably something that he likes.”
“He likes blood,” Buffy said, hoping that would end the conversation. At the same time, she had to wonder what Spike did like. Angel had given no indication of eating any sort of human food, but if there was one thing that Buffy knew for certain about Spike it was that he was nothing like Angel.
Maybe that’s why it was easier to be around him in some ways—even though he was connected to Angel, thinking about one didn’t connect her to memories of the other in her mind. These days, thinking about anyone or anything reminded her of Angel—how he’d killed Willow’s fish, Xander’s constant I-told-you-so’s, Cordelia’s insistance on uninviting him from her car, Giles and his burning baseball bat, her mother’s face when he told her—
The list went on and on, but with Spike there was none of that. No memories, just the weird knowledge that he was there to watch her back.
And she still knew next to nothing about him.
“Maybe we could have him over,” Buffy said. “I’ll ask him what he likes tomorrow night.”
Joyce smiled at her. “Good. I’m sure he must be lonely, being new in town. I remember how difficult it was for me to settle in.”
Buffy opened her mouth to tell her mother that it wasn’t the same for vampires, and then she stopped. She didn’t know that for certain either.
These days, the Slayer wasn’t sure of anything.
~~~~~
Spike had promised to drop by, and he figured it was time to keep his promise. The Watcher opened his door slowly, then stepped aside to allow him to enter. “Spike.”
“Watcher.” Spike stood just inside, waiting for an invitation to take a seat.
Giles was still watching him. “Is there something I can do for you?”
Spike shrugged. “You could offer me a drink.”
In spite of himself, Giles found a smile forming. “Of course. Please, sit down.” He peered a little more closely at the vampire. “You look like you’ve been busy,” Giles commented, referring to the bruise lining his jaw.
Taking the drink Giles had prepared, Spike took a seat on his couch. “Just a little sparring session with your Slayer. The girl has quite a punch.”
“You fought with her?” Giles asked, anger coloring his tone.
“She started it,” Spike said evenly, his lips quirking with quick humor. “It was just a sparring session, Watcher. She wasn’t hurt, and I walked her home after.”
Giles’ curiosity got the better of him. “What did you think?”
“She’s good,” Spike replied. “There’s room for improvement, of course, but she’s got a lot of power.”
“Can I ask why you were fighting?”
Spike grinned. “She said I was being ‘insufferable,’ and then she hit me.” He was suddenly completely serious. “I’ll take a lot, Watcher, but I’m no doormat.”
“No,” Giles agreed. “I wouldn’t think so.” He sighed. “She’s taking Angel’s death hard.”
“First love,” Spike said, and sympathy laced his voice. “We all mourn in our own fashion, Watcher.”
“I take it you found a place,” Giles said, not knowing how to respond to Spike’s assessment of Buffy’s mood. Not that he disagreed with the vampire, but he had his own grief that he had no desire to dip into.
Spike shrugged. “It’s not bad. A townhouse not too far from here, and it’s got a garage. I needed somewhere to put my girl.”
Somehow Giles knew that Spike was referring to his car. “So you’re really staying?”
“I am,” Spike replied easily. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a chance to stay in one place for a bit. Might be a nice change.”
“How long have you been traveling?”
“Since I was turned,” Spike replied, throwing back the rest of his drink and getting to his feet. He felt the sudden need to leave, knowing that the Watcher was going to start probing in areas Spike preferred to let be. “I should be going.”
“Wait, Spike,” Giles said. “You’ve really given me very little information about what’s to come.”
“You know as much as I do,” Spike responded gruffly. “Told you, there was supposed to be a souled vampire on hand. Angelus didn’t work out, so I got called up.”
Giles had no idea why he did it, but his voice was soft as he said, “Or maybe you were the one who was needed now, and not Angel.”
“We’ll never know, will we?” Spike asked. “Look, Rupert, I’m here. That’s all that really matters.”
The vampire was gone in the next moment, leaving Giles to his own thoughts. He’d been doing his own research into William the Bloody over the last week and had made some interesting discoveries. Although the Council had often dismissed the stories about the mercenary vampire with a penchant for rescuing innocents as a figment of the imagination, Giles was now certain that some of the stories were true.
Perhaps all of them were, which would indicate that Spike was even more of an enigma than he’d thought. After all, both souled vampires had seemed to disappear into history, but in very different ways. There was no word about Angelus, but William the Bloody had become larger than life.
If Spike was telling the truth, and he had been recruited as a substitute for Angel, Giles had to wonder why Angel would have been called upon first. Especially since Spike’s soul was apparently anchored.
Giles turned back to his books thoughtfully. He would need to go through the Watchers’ diaries again. Surely there would be some mention of Spike. Giles was insanely curious as to why two vampires, both cursed, would react in such different ways.
It was a mystery, and it promised to occupy his time admirably.