Chapter 7
“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,/And sorry I could not travel both/And be one traveler, long I stood/And looked down one as far as I could/To where it bent in the undergrowth…I shall be telling this with a sigh/Somewhere ages and ages hence:/Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—/I took the one less traveled by,/And that has made all the difference.” ~Robert Frost, “The Road Less Traveled”
Willow had been spending the bulk of her time with Oz over the last week. Although she’d have loved to sit down with Buffy and indulge in some girl-talk, the Slayer hadn’t been around much. Even when Buffy was there, she’d been quiet, uncommunicative, and often bitchy.
Willow was trying to be understanding, but the end result was that Oz was becoming more of her best friend than Buffy. Oz was sweet and understanding and solid.
And the smoochies were really, really nice.
They were out walking one evening, without giving a lot of thought to what might be lurking in the shadows when they found themselves faced with a couple of vampires. Oz put himself in front of her immediately, and they both pulled out stakes, but Willow was more than a little nervous.
“Maybe we should run,” Willow suggested.
Oz shook his head. “We won’t be able to outrun them.”
She fumbled in her purse for a cross, hoping that the vampires would realize that they weren’t going to be an easy meal and leave. Before she could find it, however, one of the vampires disintegrated. Oz stepped forward to stake the second, taking advantage of its momentary surprise. Willow heaved a sigh of relief as she recognized their rescuer. “Oh, hey, Spike.”
She saw a flash of surprise cross his face. Willow wondered what it was about kindness that he found so shocking. “What are you two doing out after dark?” he asked. “It’s not very safe.”
Oz shrugged. “We thought we’d take a walk.”
Spike almost looked like he was going to argue with that, and then he closed his mouth with a snap. “Might be wise to stay in after dark for a while,” he advised. “We still haven’t tracked down all Angelus’ minions.”
“We’re used to dealing with vampires,” Willow replied. “It’s not like you can really avoid them in Sunnydale.”
Spike shrugged and turned to leave, apparently feeling that his work was done. “Hey, Spike! Did you find a place to stay?”
The vampire turned back, still with that same expression of surprise. “Yeah, actually. Meant to thank you for the reference.”
“No problem,” Oz said easily.
“Where is it?” Willow asked. She asked the question because it seemed polite and because Spike pricked her curiosity. “I mean, I was just wondering if you found something that worked for you.”
“Suits me fine, ducks,” Spike replied. Giving them an almost hesitant smile, he asked, “Do you want to see it?”
“Sure.” Oz shrugged. “Uncle Ken sell you the place off Elm?”
Spike quirked an eyebrow. “Yeah, that’s right. You know about that?”
“He was having trouble unloading it,” Oz replied. “People don’t seem to be moving to Sunnydale all that often these days.”
Willow frowned. “I don’t see why not.” She stopped. “Except for the whole death-rate thing. That’s pretty bad.”
“There was a death in that house,” Oz explained. “Bad enough to move to Sunnydale, but no one wants to buy a house where there’s been a murder.”
“True enough,” Spike agreed, watching as they fell into step next to him.
Willow was thinking that over. “Wow, so you really bought a house? You must be planning on staying for a while.”
Spike shrugged. “Got a job here, haven’t I?”
“The apocalypse could happen tomorrow, though,” Willow argued. “I mean, not like I want it to, or like I want you to leave, because I don’t. You seem really nice, so I’m glad you’re staying, and you probably saved our lives, so—”
“Will,” Oz said softly, breaking into her nervous rambling. Spike’s lips twitched in amusement as he watched the girl blush.
“Oz! Why didn’t you stop me sooner?”
The boy shrugged. “You’re cute when you ramble.”
Now Spike did laugh. “No harm done, pet. To answer your question, though, I’m a bit tired of moving around. It’ll be right nice to have a place to settle for a while.”
“That’s good,” Willow said, meaning it. It wasn’t just that Spike was helpful, but she’d enjoyed his company when he’d gone with them to the Bronze. Not that Willow was attracted—Oz was quite enough for her—but he was nice, even if he didn’t seem to know what to do with them sometimes.
They were standing outside in front of his townhouse, and Spike hesitated. It had been a long time since he’d had a place to call his own, longer still since there had been anyone to show it off to.
Actually, there never really had been anyone at all.
Spike had been very careful about his acquaintances over the last century. They were mostly business contacts, with the occasional one-night stand. There had been a few people he might have called friends, if he hadn’t been constantly on the move.
“Come in,” he finally said, unlocking the door and allowing them to enter first.
Willow wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it was all very oridinary. Lots of leather, maybe, but that wasn’t surprising. The furnishings were all in darker colors, but it wasn’t oppressive. “This is nice, Spike.”
“Yeah?” He sounded almost relieved. “I’ve never had free reign with a place.”
“It’s nice,” Oz stated. “Two bedrooms, right?”
“And a study,” Spike said. “I don’t need that much space, but it could come in handy. The garage was a big plus.”
Oz looked about as interested as he ever did. “I heard about that car, man. You mind?”
“Not at all.”
In two seconds, both men had pretty much devolved to the same level as far as Willow could tell. She never could understand what it was with men and cars. Seriously, what was the big deal?
Willow wandered after them, watching as Spike excitedly related engine details. He might as well have been speaking a foreign language, but it made him seem more real at the same time.
She perked up when Spike said, “Yeah, I’m meeting her at the Bronze tomorrow night. Hopefully she’ll accept a truce.”
“Who? Buffy?” Willow asked. “When did you see her? She hasn’t been around all week.”
Spike glanced up, shrugging. “Ran into her while she was patrolling. We got into it, and then we called a draw.”
“You and Buffy fought?” Willow nearly squeaked. “Like really fought?”
“I wasn’t trying to do her any harm,” Spike was quick to assure her. “It was sparring, really, although I was relieved she didn’t have a stake in hand.”
Willow frowned. “But I thought you were on her side.”
Spike raised an eyebrow. “Well, yeah, but I’m not going to stand there and take her punching me in the nose, am I?”
“Huh.” Oz frowned. “Buffy hasn’t been herself lately.”
“Well, with Angel and having to kill him and everything she wouldn’t be,” Willow said, quick to defend her friend. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. Buffy just needs time and understanding. Not fighting,” she added, glaring at Spike as sternly as she could manage.
“And sometimes a person needs to work off a little steam,” Spike shot back. “Probably won’t happen again, though. Slayer was downright friendly when I left tonight.”
Willow nodded. “See that it doesn’t. Buffy has to fight enough people. She doesn’t need to be fighting her friends too.”
“Oh, I’m not her friend, Red,” Spike said. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”
Willow thought about arguing with him and then decided to back off. She got the feeling that Spike would insist very loudly that he didn’t have friends, even if he did. The vampire acted like a tough guy, but she had the sneaking suspicion that he was pretty much like everybody else under the surface.
It just made her like him all the more.
~~~~~
Spike arrived at the Bronze early, more out of force of habit than from any real desire not to keep the Slayer waiting. The visit to the Watcher and then the run-in with the Slayer’s friends had proven interesting. He still wasn’t quite sure how to take their kindness. What did a bloke do with people like that?
It had been years since Spike had cared how others saw him, but he was beginning too. Not much, mind. Not really. Just enough to return kindness with kindness. That wasn’t so much, nor was it difficult.
He took a seat at a table with a good view of the door, tapping a staccato rhythm with thumb and fingers. Spike was, if he had to be quite honest, just a little nervous.
It wasn’t that he had any feelings for the Slayer. If he cared at all it was because he’d been paid to do so. Granted, there was some slight sympathy towards her because she’d had Angelus to deal with and she’d lost her first love. He understood that sort of pain, and he could empathize.
No, what Spike was nervous about was the fact that she was going to ask questions that reconnected him to memories he’d longed to forget. Spike had no desire to bare his soul for her, but he’d recognized a stubbornness in the bint that would make evasion difficult.
Spike had also recognized a kind of heartlessness in her. If he pissed Buffy off enough, she’d use whatever emotional ammunition he gave her to flay him verbally. It would be a careful line to walk to give her enough information to make her understand, and yet not so much that she could use it against him.
“Spike.”
He looked up to see her standing in front of him. Her face was closed off again, and Spike knew that this evening was probably going to be less than pleasant. “Slayer.”
“What do you want?”
“Skip it,” Spike replied. “What I want, you’re not old enough to buy.”
Buffy sat down at the table across from him. “Okay. So spill.”
“Not the way it works, pet,” Spike said evenly. “You don’t get my entire life story. What you get are answers to your questions if I feel like giving them.”
“What, like you’re worried what I think about you?” Buffy scoffed. “Please, Spike, you’re a vampire. The news couldn’t get much worse.”
“Not everything’s about you, Summers,” Spike spat back at her. “Sometimes it’s about me not caring to share. Ever think of my tender feelings?”
His tone was mocking, but the words were real enough, and Buffy could see their echo in his eyes. Spike was keeping her at arm’s length, which was fine. It wasn’t like she wanted to get all that close to him herself. “Fine. What was between you and Angel? Why would you even agree to come here? And what was all that stuff about him torturing you?”
Spike managed to shrug nonchalantly. “Angelus was my sire’s sire,” he replied. “Meaning he made Dru, and then Dru made me.”
“He told me about Drusilla, but he never told me about you,” Buffy objected.
Spike laughed. “What did he tell you about her?”
“Angel said Drusilla was his greatest crime.”
“And I was his worst,” Spike murmured. “The gypsies made a mistake, Slayer. They wanted revenge for the death of one of their own, and they got the wrong guy for the crime. If I’d been thinking straight, I’d have run as fast as I could for the other side of the world. As it was, once they’d cursed me, I went straight back to Dru.”
Buffy frowned. “I don’t see—”
“Angelus knew what had happened, knew I’d basically taken his place, and instead of sending me on my merry way, he got out the chains. I won’t go into details, but it wasn’t pretty.”
Buffy was still trying to figure out what he meant. “That’s what you meant by torture.”
“That’s right. Three bloody years of it. And I think that answers just about all your questions.” His voice was tight, and Buffy realized that she was probing old wounds that were probably still raw.
“I still don’t see why he wouldn’t have at least mentioned the fact that there was another vampire with a soul,” Buffy objected. “How do we even know for sure that you have one?”
Spike smirked. “The fact that your throat is still intact is probably a pretty good indication,” he replied. “What? Did you expect Angel to confess his sins to you one by one? Let me guess, you found out about Dru after she showed up, and then you had to force it out of him.” The expression on the Slayer’s face was confirmation enough. “There you go. Why would he tell the girl he loved that he’d done unspeakable things to a person in his same shoes?”
“He didn’t have a soul then!” Buffy replied. “He wasn’t good!”
“Was he ever?” Spike asked. “Look, Slayer, I get that you were in love with him, but you won’t catch me singing his praises. I’m sorry for you, but I’m not sorry he’s dead, and now you know why. I’ve wished him dust for a hundred years. It’s a little hard to change old habits now.”
Buffy wanted to strike out at him, but she couldn’t. Angel had hurt him. It would be like getting mad at Giles for hating Angelus. Even though she wanted to, she couldn’t.
“Mom wants to invite you for dinner some night,” Buffy said, changing the subject.
Spike blinked. “What?”
“She wants to invite you for dinner,” she repeated. “She said it was because you were new in town, and she knew how hard that could be. You really don’t have to come, though.”
Spike shook his head wonderingly. “Your mum is really something, you know?” He laughed. “Tell her I’d be happy to accept her invitation.” He grabbed one of the cocktail napkins on the table and scribbled down a number. “Give me a call and let me know when. Or if you need a hand. I’ll be around, but you can reach me there if you like.”
Wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible, Spike moved away from the table, losing himself in the crowd and exiting out the back. He thought he’d done fairly well, had avoided handing her more ammunition to use against him. The Slayer didn’t trust him yet, and probably never would. Angel was still a paragon of virtue in her eyes, and would probably only become more so as the days and weeks passed by.
It was always like that with the dead. It became easier to hold an idealized view of them, even though it wasn’t accurate.
Buffy was young. It would be easier still to place Angel on a pedestal reserved for first loves who suffer tragic fates.
Still, his job wasn’t to like her, it was to keep her safe. He’d proven a number of times that he could do just that, no matter what his personal feelings on the matter might be.
~~~~~
The Slayer didn’t like what she was seeing.
Even though she’d tried very hard to discourage it, Joyce had insisted on having Spike over for dinner, and had actually gone to the trouble to procure blood. Buffy had expected him to be just as annoying with her mom as he was with everyone else. With dinner out of the way, Joyce would never have him over again, and that would be that.
Buffy just didn’t understand what everyone else saw in him.
She couldn’t deny that Spike was really nice to her mom, going so far as to pull her chair out for her at dinner. Not that he did anything of the sort for her. Spike even ate her mom’s food and complimented her on her cooking.
Spike told stories about being in Africa, after Joyce mentioned that she was thinking about displaying tribal art in the next showing. He even, if Buffy wasn’t reading the signals wrong, flirted with her mother , and Joyce preened under the attention.
In the end, Buffy finally decided that she’d had enough. Announcing that she needed to patrol, she got up from the table.
“I’ll go with you,” Spike offered, beginning to stand.
“No,” Buffy said shortly. “Stay. You seem to be having a good time.”
Spike gave her a sharp look, his head slightly tilted. Buffy was certain that he was looking right down into her soul. “Alright,” he said finally. “I don’t mind staying. I’m sure you can handle yourself.”
Buffy knew that was probably meant to be a subtle dig, so she just gave them both a tight smile and walked out of the house.
She really, really didn’t like Spike, Buffy decided. Actually, she resented the hell out of him. What gave the Powers the right to take Angel and replace him with Spike? If they could do that, then why the hell couldn’t they have made Angel’s soul secure or something?
It wasn’t fair. She had to kill the man she loved, and Spike got everything he wanted. Spike wanted revenge, and he got it, at the price of her happiness.
Buffy, of course, was conveniently forgetting that she was the one who had staked Angel.
Her eyes narrowing, Buffy made a resolution. Spike might be there to help her. Her Watcher, her mom, even her friends might like him, but she didn’t want him around. The less she had to see him, the better.
In fact, if she could get Spike to leave town altogether, that might just be best. After all, when hadn’t she been able to handle an apocalypse on her own?