Chapter 9: December 2003
Wesley stared at the door, feeling conflicted. Over the last months, he had been at Nika’s house often, but he’d always had a reason. He needed to speak to Spike, he needed the vampire’s help, he needed Nika’s skill at first aid… The list could go on, of course. He’d never simply stopped by, however.
The reasoning was simple. Once he stopped by for no reason at all, a line would be crossed. They would go from acquaintances and business partners to friends, at least in Wesley’s mind. He hadn’t any intention of making friends with either of them.
On the other hand, Spike always had something decent around to drink, and Nika was good company, and if he stayed in his apartment, Wesley knew he’d end up drinking alone. He was tired of that. Tired of the emptiness. Tired of various members of the gang coming to him for help. If he wasn’t there, he didn’t have to say no, and he didn’t have to say yes.
Wesley knocked on the door softly, an almost sheepish look on his face when Nika opened it. “Hi, Wesley,” she greeted him. As always, she looked happy to see him. Happy, bordering on delighted. “Come on in. What brings you by tonight?”
“Oh, well, you know,” he said evasively. “I just thought I’d—”
“Stop by?” she asked, sounding amused. “It’s okay for you to drop in, unannounced. Neither of us really mind. There doesn’t even have to be a monster to fight.”
He dropped his head, and then looked up at her. Blue eyes met gray, and he finally smiled. “You’re right, of course. I simply wasn’t sure…”
“Be sure.” Nika slipped her hand through his arm and pulled him into the kitched. “Come on. I’m making curry tonight.”
Wesley’s face lit up. “I like a good curry,” he confessed. “Though I haven’t been able to find a place around here.”
She smiled. “That’s what Spike says. But he likes mine, so hopefully you will too.”
“What do I say, Nika-luv?” Spike emerged from the basement, looking utterly at home. His hair was still mussed, his t-shirt was untucked, and his feet were bare. Wesley thought it a most domestic scene.
He envied that. He envied them—their easy camraderie, so like what he and Cordelia had shared at one point in time. In spite of his limp and his changed loyalties, Spike was confident in a way that Wesley had barely managed. There had been a point, perhaps before Angel had gone dark on them, that Wesley had been that comfortable and content with his place in the world. Not that he had minded the promotion, but the position of leadership had in some ways cut him off from the others. It was the leader who had to make the hard decisions, the decisions that were right, even if they weren’t always “nice.” Wesley had made those decisions in Pylea with the rebels, had needed to warn Gunn after he withheld information, and finally had made the decision to try and thwart the prophecy.
The more command-level decisions he’d made, the more isolated he had felt. Finally, when he had to make the decision of whether or not to try and save Connor by taking him, Wesley hadn’t trusted any of them with that determination. He was their leader; he was the one who had to make the hard choices.
What he’d never realized was the price for his failure if he made a mistake. Wesley’s father had always warned him of his potential for utter inadequacy. Turns out his father had been right.
“So what are we doing tonight?” Nika asked, checking on the rice. “Movie?”
Spike pulled a face. “None of that sentimental shite. I mean it. Only bloody thing on this time of year is that ridiculous Jimmy Stewart movie, an’ ‘m not watchin’ it.” He turned to look at Wesley. “Back me up, mate.”
Wesley blinked, having been pulled forcibly out of his thoughts. “What—? Oh, you mean It’s A Wonderful Life?”
“Yeah, that one,” Spike agreed. “Sentimental tripe, if you ask me. Want a beer?”
Wesley nodded, accepting the Newcastle Brown that Spike handed to him. He had to hand it to his fellow Brit—Spike knew what kind of beer to keep on hand. He glanced over at Nika to see what she would have to say about Spike’s opinions on the old Christmas favorite.
“No one asked you, did they?” happened to be Nika’s sweet reply. She dished up the rice and then the curry in huge bowls. The rich smell filled the kitchen, making his mouth water. He couldn’t remember eating that day. Cordelia had been the one who looked after all of them, making sure he ate—
He was thinking of her too much. He was thinking of all of them too much. He supposed it was that time of the year.
Nika plunked his bowl down in front of him, and then went to sit herself, a beer sitting in front of her place as well. She looked over at him. “So, what do you think, Wesley? Great American classic or sentimental shite?”
He hesitated. There was a part of him that wanted to agree with her, whatever her opinion might be. It was juvenile—to agree with a person one was attracted to in order to gain favor. He was no longer so callow, nor was he willing to give up anything to be with anyone. No matter how much you gave, you ended up with the short end of the stick, in Wesley’s experience.
“I would have to agree with Spike,” he finally said, regretfully. “I’m afraid it’s a bit too optimistic for me.”
Spike was already digging into the curry with apparent relish, talking around a mouth full of rice and chicken. “See, luv? ‘m tellin’ you, the people who wrote that movie had no idea what they were talkin’ about. You can do everythin’ right, you can give your best, an’ all you’re gonna get is the tip of someone’s boot.”
Wesley found himself nodding, half in agreement with the vampire, half in appreciation for the meal. If Nika kept feeding him like this, he might decide to never leave. She looked over at him. “So life sucks, and then you die?”
“No sucking goin’ on here,” Spike pointed out.
Nika rolled her eyes at the bad pun. “Okay, then. Life’s a bitch and then you die?”
“Something like that,” Wesley said softly, thinking about the last couple of years. He took a pull on his beer. “As much as I hate to admit it, I have to agree with Spike. Jimmy Stewart might have been able to do his best and be satisfied, but I have found that the best you have is seldom good enough.”
Nika shook her head. “And yet another vote for ‘life’s a bitch and then you die.'” She thought for a second. “Okay, Spike—question. If you had to pick a motto for your life, what would it be?”
Spike thought for a second, chewing. “What do you mean?”
“If you had a phrase to describe your life, what would it be?”
It didn’t take quite as much time as either Nika or Wesley thought it would. “You give someone your heart, an’ they’re gonna trample on it.”
Nika blinked. It was hard to put a positive spin on that one. She had once played the motto game, many years ago with Danny and some of their friends, back when he was in college. The trick was to come up with something that encapsulated your life experiences without giving too much away. If you weren’t playing with close friends, it could get uncomfortable. If you were playing with people who knew you well, and whom you knew in return, it was well worth the price of admission.
This week had marked the year anniversary of when she and Spike had made love. There was a particular closeness that characterized ex-lovers who had remained friends. She was grateful that they’d managed to not just retain that closeness, but to build on it in the last year. Now, she thought it might be time to hook Wesley into the circle. He was already more than halfway there, but still cautious.
“Wes?” she asked. “What about you?”
“A motto?” Wesley paused. He knew the truth would make him vulnerable. He wanted to throw caution to the winds, but it wasn’t in his nature. And yet—”You will always fail, and to fail means to lose everything you hold dear.”
Spike’s eyebrows went up, even though he knew half of that already. Really, Wesley’s motto wasn’t so different from his own. He looked at Nika. “What’s yours, then, luv? Can’t just leave us hangin’ like that.”
Nika gave them a wistful little smile. “My motto? Everyone you love dies.”
“An’ you thought we were morbid,” Spike said.
“I’m not morbid!” Nika replied, a trifle upset. “At least, it doesn’t have to be morbid. If you know you don’t have much time with someone, then you make the most of the time you do have.”
“Point,” Wesley replied.
Nika shrugged. “Besides, it’s the truth. Everyone dies, including the people you love.”
Spike nodded. “True enough,” he murmured, thinking of watching Buffy fall from the tower, watching his mother turn to dust… “Right. Question for you lot. You could go back an’ change one thing, what would it be?”
Wesley found himself surprised that the vampire was getting into the game, but seeing the look on his face, he began to understand. Spike was comfortable with both of them, and he trusted them with his answers. You couldn’t ask the questions until you were ready for the answers—other people’s and your own.
“One thing?” Nika asked. “I don’t know. I suppose—” She fell silent, considering her answer carefully. “Danny and I saved for years to buy this house, and we finally managed about a year before he died. He wanted to go on a vacation though, back to Wales, and then to Europe, but we didn’t have the extra money. I told him we could go after we bought the house, but now I wish we had gone. Those memories would have been nice to have, and we could have bought it later.”
There was a melancholy sort of silence at the table before she turned to Wesley. “What about you, Wesley? What one thing would you change?”
What would he change? There were so many things, so many mistakes. What if he hadn’t disrupted Angel’s attempt to help Faith? What if he had been a better Watcher to her, and she had never gone off the deep end? Or perhaps it might have been better if he’d never come to L.A. in the first place, or if he’d never taken Connor, or simply if he had told someone else about his suspicions. Or maybe he should have acted on his attraction to Fred that much earlier, and beaten Gunn out. Maybe that would have changed everything.
“‘s alright, mate,” Spike said softly, interrupting his stream of regret. “Not the end of the world if you can’t pick one.”
Wesley shook his head. If he had made a different choice at any point along the way, he wouldn’t be here, sitting at this kitchen table, with Spike and Nika. He wished things had turned out better, but he wasn’t sure that he would have traded his place here for all the tea in China.
On the other hand—
“I had an opportunity to study languages, rather than going to the Watcher’s Academy.” Wesley remembered those days, even if they weren’t much happier than his present course. In those days, his father had ruled his life, his destiny had been pre-ordained, and he had been terribly lonely. “I wish I would have taken it. I wish I could have stood up to my father.”
Spike nodded, appreciating Wesley’s choice. They both had special regrets. “I would have made sure Doc took the dive off the tower with me, so Buffy didn’t have to die. I’d make sure she didn’t have to die.” He paused, and then added in a voice that had an edge to it, “Or I’d’ve made sure she stayed in the ground. Either way.”
There was another pregnant pause as they all considered Spike’s regret. Wesley had heard most of the story, both from Spike and from Angel. Not that the older vampire had been all that forthcoming about his meeting with the Slayer, but he had known Buffy was back. From what Spike had said, it was a difficult transition for her to make. And no wonder. In Wesley’s mind, if he knew he could be that happy dead, he would be seriously tempted to get himself back there.
The others turned their heads to look at him, and he realized that it was his turn to ask a question. Wesley wasn’t sure what he wanted to ask, seeing as how he would have to answer the question himself. Finally, he said, “Your happiest moment.”
Spike was the first to respond. “When Buffy invited me into her house again.”
Nika smiled. “The day Danny asked me to marry him.” She suddenly grinned, her smile lighting up her whole face, and then she giggled. The sound called forth smiles on the men’s faces as well, and she closed her eyes, remembering. “There were five other girls in the town I lived in who had their eye on Danny, and they were all prettier than I was. To be honest, I didn’t think I had a chance with him. He was so tall and strong and handsome, and there were so many other girls who would have loved to snag him.
“He gave me the ring, and I asked him to take a walk with me. I made sure that every single one of those girls saw us and the ring that day. I will forever remember the sight of their jealous faces.” There was such a smug, self-satisfied look on her face that Spike chuckled, and Wesley couldn’t help but laugh a little himself.
“Did they make your life miserable?” Wesley asked. “Afterwards?”
Nika shook her head. “No, they knew Danny would speak to their parents if they did. But before—it got bad a few times. It was worth it though, in the end.” She looked at Wesley. “What about you, cariad? What was your happiest moment?”
Wesley hesitated, trying to think, trying to remember a moment when he was most happy. It would have been before—before Connor, before Billy even. Maybe before he’d even known Fred. He frowned slightly, thinking, and then he said, “There was a girl who liked me. I think—I think perhaps even loved me. We went to a party together, and I knew she was with me, and I thought she was the most beautiful woman there.”
Spike met his eyes, and they both understood one another. There was a kind of pleasure you felt while escorting such a woman, knowing you were the only person she wanted to be with that night. It had happened so rarely for both of them, that they understood perhaps better than anyone. The sweet things in life always tasted better to those who’d only feasted on the bitter.
“You should stay here for Christmas, Wesley,” Nika said quietly. When he looked at her in surprise, she added, “It’s just Spike and me. We won’t mind.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“Wouldn’t have asked if it was an imposition, mate,” Spike said softly.
Looking from one to the other, he finally nodded. Last Christmas—and Boxing Day—had been spent in a drunken stupor, trying not to think about being alone. It had been like trying not to think about a polar bear—the more you try not to think about it, the more intrusive the thoughts become.
“Good,” Nika stated. “You haven’t had my scones yet, and I only make them on special occasions.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” Wesley replied.
“You’ll want to stay here overnight,” Spike said. “We open our gifts at midnight.”
Wesley wasn’t given a chance to argue. All three of them started cleaning up the kitchen, Spike and Nika arguing amiably over what movies they were going to watch. Spike wanted something with lots of gore, Nika wanted romance, and Wesley kept insisting he didn’t have an opinion every time they tried to get him in the middle.
In the end, they ended up watching Terminator, since it had both gore and romance. Somewhere in the middle of the movie, with Nika curled up on the couch next to him and Spike sprawled in the armchair, an unfamiliar feeling swept over Wesley. He must have gotten an odd look on his face, because Spike looked over at him in concern. Lifting his scarred eyebrow, he silently asked if the ex-Watcher was alright.
Wesley nodded, as he wasn’t hurting. It was more like—
He was happy. Content. Satisfied with his lot in life. He felt good. It had been so long, he hadn’t even recognized the sensation at first. Relaxing back into the couch, Wesley gave into it. Tomorrow would be soon enough to worry about becoming too attached to this place and these people. He would think about it tomorrow.
~~~~~
Mike slammed the hood down on the old truck and wiped his hands on the rag looped through his belt. “And that’s all there is to it. She should run like a champ for you now, Dawn.”
Dawn leaned on the hood of her (new) old truck, feeling greatly satisfied. Mike was a year older, and had the reputation around school of knowing his way around an engine. They had started talking one day, and Dawn had told him about her old beater of a truck, mentioning that she wanted to know how to do some basic repairs. He had offered to teach her what he could. Dawn wasn’t sure what he was getting out of the deal, but Mike wasn’t complaining. Nor was he demanding any kind of payment, which was a good thing. Dawn had had her fill of guy troubles for a while after that stupid football player. The gossip had finally died down, but it hadn’t been pleasant.
“Thanks, Mike,” she said sincerely. “I really appreciate it.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he replied easily. “I like working on cars, especially like this one. You have to have a computer and special equipment to work on the newer ones. With a truck like this, you can do a lot of the minor repairs, and even some of the major ones yourself.”
She shrugged. “Which is a good thing since I spent all my money getting this hunk o’ junk in the first place.” But she said it affectionately, patting the hood. It felt good to own something like this, to be that much closer to independence.
After Spike had left, Dawn had decided it was time to take charge of her own destiny. If Buffy could be so stupid as to hurt Spike that badly, it was time she started taking care of herself. Dawn had stopped stealing and started working. Babysitting, helping at the Magic Box, whatever small job came her way, she took it. The truck had been cheap, and it had started up immediately after she turned the key, two major points in its favor. According to Mike, she’d gotten a great deal. Even if the body wasn’t in great shape, the owners had put in a new engine recently, and they’d kept it in great shape.
She stole a glance at Mike. Her truck wasn’t the only thing in great shape around. “So what are you doing for Christmas?” her friend asked, leaning next to her.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “Probably just hanging out, you know. That kind of thing. You?”
He shrugged. “My grandma is in Texas. We’ll probably go there. It’s usually fun.” Mike hesitated. “You want to go to the movies sometime?”
“Sure,” Dawn replied. “Though, I swear, if you start spreading nasty rumors about me, I’ll kick your ass.”
Mike smiled. “I wouldn’t dare. The rumors have died down now, though. And most people didn’t pay any attention to them in the first place. I mean, it’s not like anyone ever thought they were true.”
“Oh? The girls didn’t think I was a ho and after all their boyfriends?” Dawn asked with an edge of bitterness to her face. “I know they aren’t saying that anymore, but I wish—”
“What?” Mike asked. “What do you wish?”
Even if it was a bad word, Dawn still used it. “I wish Spike could have been here.”
“Spike?” Mike sounded amused. “That sounds a little scary.”
Dawn smiled. “He can be. He’s like an older brother, you know? Spike took care of me while my sister was gone a couple summers ago. He’s in L.A.”
“You miss him,” Mike said.
Dawn nodded. “Every day.”
“You still see him?”
She shook her head. “No. Not anymore.” Dawn didn’t say that she might not see him ever again.
~~~~~
Buffy sorted through the mail slowly, her pile—all bills—mounting. It was nearly Christmas, and she didn’t see why bills had to keep coming. Wasn’t this the time of the year to be all forgiving and hopeful? Hopeful was one thing she was not when it came to thinking about how she was supposed to pay her bills and make Christmas merry.
She stopped abruptly at one letter, addressed to Dawn in familiar handwriting. Buffy had been terribly curious the first time one of the letters had come, a little over a year ago. She’d had her suspicions about who was sending the letters, but she wasn’t sure. When she finally did ask her sister, Dawn had told her that it was Spike, but her sister hadn’t volunteered any information as to his whereabouts.
The Slayer had to admit that it was a relief to know that he was okay, or at least that he was still undead. Even though she’d tried very hard not to think about it, there had been several nights where she’d woken up dreaming of that night in the alley. Every time she had that dream, she would lie awake for the next few hours, wondering if he’d made it out of there before the sun came up. Knowing he was writing to Dawn was reassuring.
Of course, as soon as she thought that, Buffy remembered that it should have been a relief to have him out of Sunnydale. It should have been a relief to know that he was dust. After all, evil vampire.
Fingering the envelope, Buffy allowed herself to remember. She remembered Spike’s words to her after she’d come back from the dead, remembered how happy he’d looked to see her alive. She remembered the look on his face the first time they’d had sex, thinking they were making love.
She forced the thoughts back into their usual box. Dawn came in the kitchen a few minutes later, looking pink-cheeked from the slightly cooler weather they’d been having. “Hey, Buffy.”
“Dawn? You got a letter today.” She held out the cream colored envelope to her sister, watching as Dawn took it, giving Buffy an odd look.
“Thanks.” Dawn hesitated, obviously torn about something. “Do you think?” She stopped herself. “Nevermind. It doesn’t matter.”
Buffy schooled her face into a properly concerned expression. It was still so hard to make that particular face, still hard to be concerned about anyone’s pain but her own. “What is it, Dawn?”
Dawn wanted to ask if she could try to call Spike in L.A. She wanted to ask if she could get in her truck and drive down to see him. She wanted to ask that her family be as complete as possible, since it might be a long time before they could all be together again. Dawn wanted the moon, the sun and the stars, and she knew it.
Actually, all she really wanted was to see Spike again, but that wasn’t going to happen this century, not under her sister’s roof. Suddenly Dawn was overwhelmingly angry, hurt, disappointed—almost out of nowhere. “It’s nothing,” she replied, the bitterness back in her tone. “It wouldn’t happen anyway.”
Dawn wished she could make Buffy pull her head out of her ass, but that wasn’t going to happen either. In fact, at the rate they were going, it might not ever happen.