Chapter 19: December/January 2005
Wesley sat out on Nika’s front steps, cup of coffee in hand, waiting for the sun to rise. He had been awake for hours now, holding Nika and waiting until it felt late enough to get out of bed.
It had been a mistake of course—calling his parents on Christmas Eve. He’d thought to get the obligatory semi-annual call out of the way. If it was over and done with, he wouldn’t have to feel guilty about not having done it sooner. Wesley had no desire to dampen the holiday cheer with the inevitable gloom speaking with his father invariably left.
Conversations with his father always left a bad taste in his mouth, however, and last night was no exception. He’d returned to Nika’s house, after having retrieved an overnight bag and completing his familial duties. Wesley thought he’d hidden his melancholy from the others well, and perhaps he had. Spike and Enid hadn’t seemed to notice that he was out of sorts, although it was always hard to tell what Spike noticed, as he didn’t always comment on it. He smiled, and managed to make small talk, but otherwise stayed to himself, nursing fresh wounds.
Eventually the vampire and the older woman retreated to the basement, leaving him alone with Nika. “What happened?”
There was no preamble, and so she’d managed to startle the truth out of him. “I spoke with my father this evening.”
Nika sighed. “Oh, Wesley.” She pulled him to his feet. “Come on. I think we should go to bed.”
He allowed her to lead him into her bedroom, feeling a sudden burst of rage at his father for managing to bollocks up this night that should have been perfect. Yes, he had made the decision to call, but would it kill the man to acknowledge that his son wasn’t a complete screw-up?
Nika seemed to be reading his thoughts. “I am going to put a hex on that man,” she said fiercely. “Every time you talk to him it’s like this.”
“Like what?” he asked dully.
She hissed in frustration. “Like this. You get so—depressed, I guess.”
Wesley shook his head, wanting to deny her words, but they were true to a certain extent. His father did have the unique capacity to reduce him to a shaky adolescent at the best of times. “I’ll be fine.”
Nika didn’t seem to hear him. Instead, she pushed him down on the bed, unlacing his shoes for him. “Nika, you don’t—”
“Let me make love to you tonight, Wesley,” she said, interrupting him. “Let me show you what you are.”
So he’d let her. With gentle hands Nika had undressed him, removing his sweater and the t-shirt he wore under it, staring in frank admiration at his chest. The hunger in her eyes had stirred him enough so that he’d begun to respond, to return the favor.
They had undressed one another, feeling no hurry. There was no urgency in their movements. Then again, their relationship had never been based on a burning passion, though that was a part of it. Instead, it was based upon a solid friendship and a love that ran so deep there was no bottom. They loved in a way that only the broken can.
She spoke to him as they made love, her hands never at rest. Sometimes in Welsh, sometimes in English, she told him how wonderful he was, how beautiful, how important. Nika promised him that they would have a life together, that it would be everything such things were meant to be.
Nika managed to salve his wounded psyche and make him feel like a giant among men—not a small feat.
Which was why this morning, Christmas morning, he was out on her front stoop wondering what on earth he’d ever done to deserve her.
Wesley wasn’t fool enough to think of pushing her away for her own good, of course. He was also too selfish to willingly give up one of the few wholly good and pure things he’d ever had. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder why on earth a woman such as Nika would want a man whose belt was notched with failures.
“Bore da, Wesley,” Enid said from behind him. He turned to see her shutting the front door silently, holding a cup of coffee in her hand.
“Bore da, Enid,” he replied evenly, carefully, not wanting to allow any of his thoughts to color his words. His father would tell him he was being hopelessly melodramatic, and Wesley thought his father might just be right in this instance.
Enid’s sharp eyes, much like Nika’s, seemed to look right down into his soul. “While this is a beautiful morning, one might wonder why an active young man such as yourself is not unwrapping his Christmas presents this morning.”
The double meaning in her words was obvious, and Wesley wasn’t quite sure how to respond. He certainly didn’t expect double entendre from a grandmother. “She’s sleeping.”
“Ah, I see,” she replied, a twinkle in her eyes. “And you do not know quite yet how she prefers waking up: in her lover’s arms, or in a cold bed.”
Irritation flashed across Wesley’s face at her needling before he could stop it. “I’ve been awake for a while.”
Enid nodded, in what seemed to be satisfaction, whether because he hadn’t risen to her bait or for some other reason, he couldn’t tell. She sat down carefully on the step and patted the space beside her. “Sit.”
Though her tone was gentle, Wesley knew she wasn’t going to take no for an answer, and so he sat obediently. “You never met Danny did you?”
Wesley had known this was coming. By unspoken agreement, Nika rarely talked about her dead husband, after that first time they’d spoken of him. Others hadn’t had so many qualms, however. He had met a few of their friends over the course of knowing Nika, and they had all told him how wonderful Danny had been, what a beautiful couple they had made. The implication being that he was nowhere near as wonderful, nor should he hope to compete. Lorne had been the first to reveal that not all had been perfect between them, but he couldn’t hope for the same from Enid. He didn’t dare hope for the same.
“No, I never did. I believe he was killed about a year before we met.”
Enid nodded. “You would not have liked him.”
A pair of startled blue eyes swung around to stare at her sharply. “What—”
She smiled, pleased to have shocked the man out of his state of icy isolation. Nika had told her Wesley had the nasty habit of folding in on himself, and she’d seen it for herself the previous night. When she’d asked Spike about it later, after they’d both gone downstairs, he’d looked thoughtful and concerned. “Dunno what’s up,” he had admitted. “If I had to guess, it was the annual call to the old pater, though. Wesley’s sense of duty won’t let him write the old bastard off, even though he should.”
Well, Nika had told her about Wesley’s past, enough to let her know that he’d been smacked around by life more than a bit. In her mind, it was all to the good. “Did you think I was going to sing a eulogy to him? Tell you that you couldn’t hope to measure up, but that I hope Danika will be happy with you anyway?”
The expression on his face was enough of a reply. She made a sound of disgust in the back of her throat. “Bah. Don’t be an idiot, cariad. Danny was a nice enough sort, but not at all good enough for my granddaughter.”
“I don’t—I don’t understand,” Wesley said cautiously. “Her friends…”
“Do you see her friends here?” Enid asked. “No. I see you, and I see Spike. You are her friends, and you are as unlike Daniel as night and day, thank heaven.”
Wesley started to shake his head as though to argue, and Enid continued, hoping to put a certain ghost to rest for once and all. “My Danika was a girl when they met, and a solemn child. No wonder, with all the heartache she’d known. Daniel was bold and handsome, always singing and dancing.”
Enid pretended not to see Wesley’s wince. Wesley was coming to the rapid conclusion that Enid had been right; he wouldn’t have liked the man. It sounded as though Danny was the sort of person that Wesley had always wanted to be as a young man, and the sort that had always shunned him.
“So. He saw her, and he wanted her, and Nika wanted him right back,” Enid stated.
“They weren’t in love?” Wesley asked, interested in spite of himself. This was Nika they were talking about, and he hungered for knowledge about her. He couldn’t know enough. He wanted to understand her as well as she seemed to understand him.
Enid snorted. “Oh, they were in love. Daniel loved her, in his own way. But life was a game to him. He’d never experienced any sorrow, or heartache, and he never took anything seriously. At the time, perhaps Nika needed that. He, at least, taught her how to play. Later, when they discovered he could not father children, he did not understand how much pain that brought her.”
Wesley shook his head. “Surely they could have adopted, or chosen another option,” he said. “There are other ways to have children. I hardly think Nika would have minded.”
“No, she would not have minded.”
Her tone told Wesley everything he needed to know. “He didn’t want children.”
“No,” Enid confirmed. “He would have given them to her, had he been able to father them, but he was unwilling to go any further to help her. Daniel was too busy being a policeman and fighting demons to see that Danika was slowly crumbling. He did not know how to help her bear her burden.”
“So he ran away,” Wesley said softly, remembering what Lorne had told him so recently.
Enid nodded. “Daniel ran, and he got himself killed.” She gave Wesley a serious look. “I do not tell you this because I wish you to think ill of his memory, but because I believe that even as Nika needed Daniel so many years ago, now she needs you. She needs a man who understands sorrow and hurt and grief, one who will help her bear those burdens, and whose burdens she can in turn bear. Do you understand?”
“You’re saying—” Wesley faltered. He thought she was saying that he and Nika were meant to be together, that he was right for her. He could hardly think it to himself, let alone say the words aloud.
“That I believe you to be a good man, and a gentle one.” She smiled gently. “You are not a warrior, Wesley, but a soldier. A man who fights because he must, and yet longs to be able to go home at the end of the day.” Standing, Enid set her mug down on the stairs and took Wesley’s head between both hands. “You will live long, and you will know joy, cariad annwyl.” Bending down, she kissed his forehead in benediction.
Wesley swallowed hard as she held him, held him the way he could never remember his mother doing, nor anyone else. “And Wesley?” she murmured.
“Yes?”
“Call me nain.”
~~~~~
Spike was woken by the shrill ring of his cell phone. With a curse, he reached over to pick it up. He could never quite remember to turn it off before he went to bed. Not that the thing rang constantly, but it always seemed to go off when he was trying to get some sleep. He supposed it had something to do with Murphy’s Law.
“H’lo.”
“Merry Christmas, Spike.”
He blinked the last of the sleep out of his eyes and sat up straighter. “Buffy?”
“Yeah.” Some of the cheerfulness in her voice was now replaced with caution. “Is this a bad time?”
“No, luv. Just a bit surprised to hear from you is all.” He paused and considered. “That, an’ I was asleep.”
“I’m sorry I woke you up,” she replied.
“I’m not,” he said, before he could bite back the words. Of course, it was true. He wasn’t sorry to hear from Buffy at any time of the day or night. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure how much of his heart he really wanted to reveal to her.
But he could hear the smile in her voice when she replied, “I’m glad I’m not bugging you. I just wanted to say ‘Merry Christmas’ and make sure you’re still coming down next week.”
“Yeah, luv. Talked to Connor the other day, an’ he’s catching a lift from me. Couldn’t disappoint the Niblet.” There was a hesitation, and then he said, “Or you.”
There was a silence on the other end, and Spike could almost picture the Slayer at her most indecisive—biting her lip, eyes focused on the middle distance. “I wish you could be here.”
Spike had no idea how to respond to that, other than to say, “Christmas is a time for family, Slayer.”
“And you’re not family?” she asked. “I know that’s the way Dawn thinks of you. And I do too.”
Spike was now officially confused—if he hadn’t been before. It wasn’t as though Buffy was sending him mixed signals. No, her signals had all been quite clear, and seemed to consistently read “I want you with me.” That was part of the problem. Buffy wasn’t known for sending clear signals.
In the past, the Slayer had said “yes” one minute, and “no” the next. She would come looking for him one hour, and leave him bleeding in an alley just a short time later. Part of their dance was all about her not giving him a clear indication of where he stood, making him guess, making him sweat. (Except that vampires don’t sweat.) Spike wanted to ask what the bleedin’ hell had changed, because the rules were different, and he wasn’t even sure what the game was supposed to be.
“‘ve got my own family here, pet,” he said, in gentle rebuke.
He heard her sigh. “I know, Spike. I just—I wish we had the same families, you know?”
“I know, luv.” Spike leaned back in his bed and thought about what he would have given to be a part of her family at one point. Now, he had his own, and had no desire to give that up. Even for Buffy. Especially for Buffy. “I’ll be up next week. Tell the Bit happy Christmas from me, yeah?”
“Sure,” Buffy replied, sounding sad. “I’ll see you soon, Spike.”
“Yeah. Soon, Slayer.” He hung up the phone and then scrubbed one hand over his face, wondering if he was doing the right thing. He still wanted her—wanted her even more than he thought possible in moments like this, when everything seemed possible. He couldn’t leave Wesley though. He couldn’t. No matter how much he might still love Buffy, Spike knew that his first loyalty was to his family in L.A. It had to be, for his own sanity.
But he wanted her so bad.
~~~~~
This particular year, Christmas at the Summers’ residence was more subdued. It probably had to do with the fact that Dawn was old enough to appreciate sleeping in, rather than waking the entire house in her haste to unwrap presents. It was a leisurely morning, with everyone finally showing up around noon.
Buffy had cooked (she’d recently seemed to get the hang of it), and everyone ate until they were too full to move. Presents were opened, conversation was made, egg nog was consumed. It was really a lovely day.
But Buffy still felt Spike’s absence.
It was ridiculous to miss him so badly when he’d never really spent a Christmas with them. Even the Christmas after the gang brought her back from the grave, she had made it clear that he wasn’t welcome. Remembering that now, Buffy felt a flush of shame. She’d wasted so much time.
Sitting out here on the back porch, where she and Spike had shared so many silences, so many conversations, she remembered why it was that she missed him. She recognized the dull ache that had been with her for three years. She had explained it away as fatigue, being sorry she was alive, the most recent breakup with the most recent boyfriend.
She now realized she’d missed him this whole time.
“There you are, Buffy,” Giles said, coming outside, a glass of brandy in his hand. “I wanted to speak with you.”
Buffy looked up at him, smiling. “‘Bout what?”
“About what I worked out with the Council,” he replied, sitting down beside her. “I think we might have managed to arrange something out that will be beneficial to all involved.”
Buffy looked skeptical. “And that would be…”
“As I mentioned, I have noticed that the activity around the Hellmouth has been greatly reduced these last few years. It is my belief that it is becoming dormant, and that the demonic activity will eventually shift to somewhere other than Sunnydale.” Giles gave her a compassionate look. “There is no reason for you to stay here anymore, should you not want to.”
Buffy blinked. “You’re saying I could leave Sunnydale.” She took a deep breath. “But the Council doesn’t have anything to do with that.”
“No,” Giles agreed. “What the Council does have is the ability to declare you retired.” At the look on Buffy’s face, Giles explained. “Faith has been showing continued improvement over the last few years. It’s my understanding that she will be up for parole shortly. The Council will make sure that it’s approved. Faith will be the Slayer, as she was meant to be. And you will receive a pension from the Council. Of course, should you choose to continue to pursue your Slayer activities, no one will mind, but it will no longer be required of you.”
Buffy felt as though she couldn’t breathe. This was everything she had ever wanted, and she couldn’t believe it. “Giles, are you sure? Is Faith ready?” Buffy shook her head. “Who’s going to be her Watcher?”
Giles held up a hand to stem the flow of questions. “I doubt that you are aware that the Council has gone through quite a turnover in the last year. Several of the older—hmm, shall we say stuffier?—members have recently passed away or stepped down, leaving more forward thinking individuals. A number of whom are, quite frankly, good friends of mine.”
He sighed. “As for Faith, Angel assures us that she has changed, and I’ve spoken to her myself. I feel that she could take over as the Slayer and do an adequate job. The job of Watcher for Faith is still open, though they have asked me to help select a candidate, hopefully someone like her first Watcher, with whom she got on quite well.”
Buffy looked over at him. “Giles, is this the right thing? I mean, it’s not like I want to retire completely. I just want—”
“Options?” he asked gently. “There is nothing wrong with that, Buffy. While I will never be sorry that Willow brought you back, I will say that it was asking too much of you.”
Buffy nodded slowly. “Yeah. It was.”
They sat in silence for a while longer before Giles asked, “What will you do?”
The Slayer sighed. “I’ll have to talk to Dawn, but I think I want to sell the house, or maybe rent it out. Now that I have the choice, I think I want to move back to L.A. Dawn likes it there, and we both have friends there.”
“I assume you are talking about Spike,” Giles said carefully.
Buffy shot him a look. “Yes. I’m talking about Spike. You should know that I asked him to look after the baby if anything happens to me.” Giles looked shocked, but Buffy ignored him. “He keeps his promises, Giles. No matter what, you have to give him credit for that.”
The Watcher was about to argue, but shut his mouth. Buffy was right, of course. Spike did keep his promises. “I hope you will both be able to work something out to your mutual satisfaction,” Giles said. “And I hope you’ll be happy, Buffy. The pension the Council is offering isn’t much, but it’s enough to help you out at least.”
Buffy smiled. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time, Giles. It’ll work out.”
“Indeed,” he replied.
And they both remained seated, immersed in their own thoughts.
~~~~~
Spike pulled up in front of Buffy’s house right on time. He and Connor had left L.A. right after sunset with, amazingly enough, Angel’s permission. The other vampire had actually been rather cordial on the phone, not even threatening to stake him once.
Spike had nearly asked Connor if his father had gotten body-snatched.
Waiting until the boy had dismounted, he swung his leg over the bike, watching as Connor copied his movements when he tucked the helmet under his arm. “What time do you want to leave?”
Connor considered for a moment. “Whenever,” he finally said. “But I promised Dad I’d be back before the sun rose.” He grinned suddenly. “He’s just trying to put off the inevitable.”
Spike raised an eyebrow and headed up the walk. “Inevitable?”
Connor shrugged. “Sure. He thinks if he starts giving me more freedom and gets off my case, I won’t move out.”
“You two doing alright, then?” Spike asked. “I might not always like him, but I don’t want to cause any trouble ‘tween you two.”
Connor gave Spike one of his quick, rare grins. “We’re fine. Dad knows he has to let go sometime, and he won’t always like my friends. Cordy’s really good about getting him to loosen up.”
Spike nodded, glad that he and Wesley’s relationship with the boy wasn’t causing trouble between he and his father. “From what I’ve heard, I ‘magine she would be.”
He had to admit that he liked the lad. The boy was a deft one with weapons of any kind, and was good in a fight. More than that, he made Dawn happy, and for that reason alone Spike would have liked him.
If Connor broke her heart, it would be a completely different story.
Spike rang the doorbell and then stepped back, letting Connor stay in the lead. He wasn’t sure who would be answering the door, nor what their reaction to him might be. Spike wasn’t a coward, but he understood the benefits of having a buffer. Buffy was the one who answered the door, however, and she greeted her sister’s boyfriend with a hug and a quick peck on the cheek. “Hey, Connor. Come on in. Dawn’s waiting anxiously for your arrival.”
Connor blushed at the attention, gave her a shy smile, and ducked inside to find Dawn. Buffy’s eyes stayed on Spike. “Hey. I’m glad you could make it.”
“Yeah, me too,” Spike replied, stepping inside.
They stood like that for a while, neither knowing what to say, and yet neither wanting to break eye contact. It seemed enough just to look, the sight of the other like a draught of water after a long trek through the desert. “Spike!”
Dawn broke through their stasis with her cheerful greeting. “You made it!”
“Sure I did, Bit,” he said, managing a warm smile for the girl. “Promised, didn’t I?”
She grinned. “Then get in here. No point standing around in the hall waiting. There’s food in the living room. Buffy even figured out how to make a blooming onion for you.”
Spike’s head snapped around to stare at her, a note of wonder kindling in his eyes. Buffy looked uncharacteristically shy in response. “Well, I tried. No one’s been allowed to touch it yet, so I don’t know how good it’s going to be.”
“I’m sure it’ll be perfect, luv,” Spike said, and the feeling in his eyes sent shivers up and down Buffy’s spine.
The evening went reasonably well. Buffy had sat Xander down and had a very serious talk with him, which meant he was actually being cordial to Spike. Of course, cordial for Xander meant that he mumbled “hello” and proceeded to ignore the vampire.
No one else seemed to be having an adverse reaction to Spike’s presence. Willow and Giles both greeted him genially, before returning to their conversation. Dawn was happy to have him, as was Buffy, but the Slayer noticed that Spike was soon looking uncomfortable, as though he couldn’t wait to escape.
She laid a gentle hand on his arm. “You want to go out to the back porch?” Buffy offered. “You look like you’re dying for a cigarette.”
“Figuratively speaking,” he admitted. He followed her through the kitchen, watching in amusement as she grabbed the plate with the blooming onion to take out back with them.
Outside, Spike breathed a sigh of relief and lit up. While no one had gone out of their way to make him feel uncomfortable, he still felt as though he didn’t quite belong. There were times with Wesley and Nika that he forgot he was a vampire—or at least he forgot it was supposed to make a difference. The memories were too close here. These were the people who had consistently treated him like shit, even when he wasn’t doing anything to deserve it.
Spike felt like he didn’t belong here. Which meant he didn’t belong with Buffy.
Hiding his melancholy mood behind cigarette smoke and appreciative bites of Buffy’s blooming onion, he sat with the Slayer in silence.
“Can I ask you for a favor?”
Spike glanced over at her, taking his time before answering. She was always wanting a favor. “What would that be, pet?”
Buffy glanced over at him and then away again, out into the yard. “Would you ask Nika if she’d like to be midwife to a Slayer? I’ve been looking into things, and I think I really want to use a midwife. You know, do the whole thing the natural way.”
“I’ve heard that can be a mite painful,” Spike said dryly. “Might turn you off havin’ any more kiddies.”
“I’m not going to have any more children, Spike,” Buffy replied quietly.
Spike looked concerned. “Here now, this isn’t about thinkin’ you won’t live long enough, is it?”
“I don’t have a death wish, if that’s what you’re asking,” she replied. “But a normal guy can’t handle the Slayer, Spike. And non-normal guys are both rare and typically unable to have kids. Therefore, probably not having more.”
Spike wasn’t sure what to say to that. Her reasoning seemed both logical and innocuous, not due to any kind of death-wish, or contemplation of her own mortality. It was the meaning of “non-normal guys” that made him wonder. Was she trying to tell him something, or was he reading into her statement a meaning that wasn’t there?
“Well, long as you’re plannin’ on bein’ around a good long while, s’pose I can ask Nika to midwife for you,” Spike conceded. “But, luv, you know she’s in L.A. That’s goin’ to make things inconvenient for one of you.”
“I’m not planning on being here for the birth, Spike,” Buffy said evenly.
Spike raised an eyebrow. “You want to have the baby in L.A.?”
“No, I want to move to L.A.”
Hell had just frozen over. “You—L.A.—” Spike took a moment to find his tongue. “You’re movin’?”
“Giles gave me the thumbs-up,” she explained. “Hellmouth activity is way down, Faith’s going to get out on parole soon, and I’m being given the okay to retire. I even get a pension.”
Spike blinked. “An’ you’ve decided to come to L.A.?”
“Dawn likes it there,” Buffy said. “And I have friends there.”
He nodded. “Yeah, you do at that. So you’re gonna be close.”
“Very close, I hope.” The silence stretched out between them as Spike tried to figure out what exactly Buffy was saying. Was she moving to be closer to Dawn, because it was really what she wanted, or did it have something to with him? Could it possibly have something to do with him?
“That’ll be good,” he admitted.
Her hand found his in the darkness. “I want to get to know you again,” she said softly. “I missed you.”
Because it was dark, and because he didn’t have to see her face, see the derision or the anger, Spike replied with the truth. “My feelings haven’t changed, Buffy. Thought they might someday, but I was foolin’ myself. It can’t be like it was though.”
“No, it can’t,” she agreed. “Can we just be friends for a while? I mean, the kind of friends where everybody knows about it, and we just hang out, like it was for a while. I—You remember when I would have those nightmares?”
“I remember,” he replied gently.
Buffy turned and faced him for the first time. “I felt safe with you. You were the only one who could make the nightmares go away. It wasn’t just me using you, Spike. It meant something.”
“No, Slayer,” he corrected her. “It meant everything.”
She didn’t reply in words. Instead, she kissed him, her lips wet with her own tears. It was a gentle kiss, tentative, and hopeful. And when it was over, they sat close, shoulders touching, like old friends or lovers.