Chapter 12: January 2017
Wesley’s SUV was impossible to miss, parked as it was outside the school. Wesley himself was standing next to it, leaning up against the door. The license plate was something of a joke between him and her dad, since it read DMNHNTR. Nobody was ever quite sure what to make of it, and they usually wound up thinking that Wesley was some kind of video game freak.
He straightened when he saw her come out of the doors, and Meg knew that all was not right. Her dad should have been the one to come and get her if everything was okay. Or they would have come together.
She tossed a quick goodbye over her shoulder to her friends and hurried to meet him. Wesley bent to meet her, and Meg felt his strong arms come around her in a tight hug. “Dad?”
“He’s with your mum,” Wesley said softly. “I think they need some time where it’s just the two of them.”
Meg pulled back slightly. “But he’s okay?”
“Spike will be just fine,” Wesley assured her. “I promise. I thought you might like to stay with us tonight.”
Meg nodded, trying hard to hold back tears. She knew that things weren’t right. Her dad might be alive, but he should have been there. “Okay.”
Wesley frowned and pulled her to his chest again. “Meg, I promise that there’s nothing bad going on. Spike just got a bit banged up, that’s all. Your mum is going to help him feel better.”
“Did he get what he wanted?” Meg asked.
Wesley hesitated, not knowing how much the girl was aware of. “He’s—well, he’ll be able to attend all your football games now.”
“He’s not a vampire?”
“No, he’s no longer a vampire,” Wesley replied.
Meg breathed a sigh of relief. She knew that was what her father had wanted. She’d been there to overhear the teachers talk at the parent/teacher night. Buffy had gone off to speak with one of the other moms, and she and Spike had been waiting.
“Have you seen Meg’s dad? What a hottie!”
“Mrs. Summers definitely was robbing the cradle the day she got him.”
“There’s no way he’s Meg’s biological father. He’s too young.”
“Maybe he’s just well-preserved.”
There was tittering at that comment. “Meg does call him dad.” This was said in a dubious tone, as if the speaker knew very well that they probably shouldn’t be gossiping like that.
“Huh. If he’s her real father, I’ll eat my hat. The child probably has attachment issues. As young as he is, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s merely the latest on a string of men. I doubt Meg even knows who her real father is, and I’ll bet it won’t be too long before this last is gone too. I know that type.”
Spike had hurried her away at that point, the expression on his face a mixture of anger and guilt. He’d told her later that none of it was true, and that they were just jealous of her mom.
Meg could have told him that.
The girl was fairly sure that if that last teacher hadn’t spoken, her dad probably would have brushed it off as sour grapes. Instead, the words had cut deeply, in places where he was most vulnerable. From discussions and arguments Meg had overheard, she had a pretty good grasp on what her dad was most afraid of.
Spike often said that she reminded him of Joyce; Buffy’s mom had been able to see beneath the surface as well.
Meg wasn’t sure what she felt about her dad not being a vampire any longer. She wasn’t sure sure it mattered, as long as he came back, and he was still her father.
If Spike was happy, she was happy too.
~~~~~
Wesley drove in silence, Meg buckled into the passenger seat beside him. This wasn’t how he’d planned his homecoming. Although he didn’t begrudge the girl’s presence, there were a number of things he needed to take care of at home, and it might have been easier had she not been there.
It had been Nika’s idea, at least. Wesley knew that he’d be in trouble if he surprised her when she had other plans. His wife was one of the most flexible people he knew, but even she had her limit.
He’d called Nika from the airport once the plane had landed, informing her that they were back in L.A. and he would be home after dropping Spike off with Buffy.
“How bad is it?” she asked.
Wesley hesitated, glancing over at Spike, who appeared not to be listening to the one-sided conversation. “It’s not good, Danika,” he replied, his tone conveying the gravity of the situation. “We would have been home a few days ago, but Spike became ill, and we had to stop over in Holland .”
“You could have called,” she said, the reproach in her tone painful to his ears.
He sighed. “I could have,” he agreed. “Spike refused. He’s afraid of Buffy’s reaction, to be honest.”
“Her reaction to what?”
“The fact that he’s not a vampire, I believe.” Wesley wasn’t sure he quite understood Spike’s motives. The vampire—or rather ex-vampire—had known that things would change. He’d seemed to want it. With the return of the soul, however, something had been laid bare. Some old wound had been unearthed, and Spike had become certain that Buffy wouldn’t want him any longer.
Wesley’d had his work cut out for him, just convincing Spike to go straight home. Yet it seemed as though Spike had wanted to be persuaded. As though he wanted badly to return to Buffy, even though he was sure that the outcome would not be good.
Perhaps if they had been able to hop on a flight right outside of the cave, it might have been easier. As it was, Spike had needed two days to rest up before he was healed enough to travel farther. They had flown back to Morocco and had gotten a flight to England , but there was a layover in Amsterdam .
By the time they arrived in Holland , Spike had been running a high fever and had been nearly delirious. Wesley had made the decision to stay for a few days to allow the ex-vampire time to recover. He would have called Nika and Buffy at that point, but Spike was coherent enough to demand that he not, and just sick enough to believe that any calls to Buffy would result in her telling him not to return.
Spike had exacted a promise not to make contact until they were back in L.A. , and Wesley had been worried enough about his mental state that he’d agreed.
Wesley didn’t explain any of it. There would be time enough later, and this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have on the phone. “I’ll be home shortly.”
“Why don’t you pick Meg up and bring her over,” Nika suggested. “It sounds as though Buffy and Spike are going to need some time to themselves .”
Wesley hesitated. “Are you certain?”
“Of course,” Nika replied stoutly. “Just because she’s here doesn’t mean we won’t have time to get reacquianted after the children go to bed.”
That had been that, and Wesley was thankful that Nika was as sympathetic as she was.
When Wesley and Meg entered the house together, there was chaos. The twins immediately ran to hug him, both speaking a mile a minute. Wesley could hear Nika’s voice in the kitchen, her tone one of frightened concern, Enid replying in a calming manner.
“Enough,” Wesley said, bending to hug both boys. “I can’t understand a word you say when you speak so quickly and all at once.”
The twins gave him identical sheepish grins. “Sorry, Dad,” they said in unison.
He shook his head. “Now, slowly, and one at a time.”
“Sam got hurt!” Davey blurted out before Will could speak.
Wesley frowned. “Who is Sam?”
“Hannah’s boyfriend,” Will explained . “He got beat up really bad and Mum’s worried that the boys might be after Hannah again.”
Wesley sighed. There was never a dull moment. “Alright, then. I’ll go speak with them. Do you have homework?”
“Mine is done,” Will said quickly.
Davey frowned and stared down at the ground. “Yeah.”
Wesley ruffled his son’s dark hair. “Do your best, Davey, and I’ll see what I can do about helping you after dinner.”
Davey nodded, clearly not pleased that school had even been brought up so soon after his father’s return. Wesley knew he needed to make a point of spending time with both boys in the next few days. “Meg, do you have homework?” he asked.
She nodded, subdued. “Yeah. I can help Davey too, Uncle Wesley.”
“Thank you, my dear,” he said quietly. “Go on with you lot now.”
All three children retreated into the twins’ bedroom, and Wesley went into the kitchen. Nika met him at once, and they shared a long embrace. “I missed you horribly.”
“I missed you too, love,” Wesley replied, meeting her lips with his own. Their kiss held the promise of much more to come, but for the moment they were bound by other duties. Wesley turned to see Hannah and a young man watching them with mixed interest and embarrassment. “How have you been, Hannah?”
She hugged him, unashamed of her affection. “Good.”
“There was some trouble at school today,” Enid correcting her, smiling at Wesley in greeting. By unspoken agreement nothing was said of Spike, not with a stranger present.
Wesley raised an eyebrow. “So the twins told me. What happened?”
“It was my fault, sir,” Sam said quickly.
Hannah frowned at him. “No, it wasn’t, Sam. They were being idiots.”
Wesley sighed. “Why don’t you begin at the beginning, starting with introductions. “
Hannah and Sam quickly explained what had happened, correcting one another any time someone got off track with the story. “It’s really not Sam’s fault, Wesley,” Hannah said earnestly.
“I dare say it isn’t,” Wesley replied. “Although I’m not sure the school would feel the same way if you had been caught.” He frowned, thinking quickly. “I don’t want either of you going off by yourselves while you’re at school,” he finally decided. “If you’re with each other or in a group, I doubt they’ll try anything.”
Hannah looked indignant. “I can take care of myself!”
“I know you can,” Wesley replied. “But if you were to get in a fight with these boys, you might do more damage than could be easily explained. I would prefer to avoid that sort of problem.”
“We can stick together,” Sam said quickly. “I don’t mind.”
Wesley’s lips twitched. “No, I’m certain you don’t.” He fixed Sam with a look. “I won’t have you getting Hannah into trouble, do you understand? If I find out you’re leading her astray, I’ll put a stop to your seeing each other immediately.”
Sam nodded, while Hannah just sighed. She had no doubt that Wesley would do exactly as he promised, and with good reason. It wouldn’t do for anyone to get too curious about her ability to beat up the entire football team.
Hannah had heard the stories. Bad things could happen when Slayers were attacked or surprised by mere mortals.
“That being said,” Wesley continued. “If they threaten you again, or if you’re attacked, you have every right to defend yourselves with whatever means necessary.”
Nika nodded. “Good. Now that we’ve got that settled, I think it’s time for dinner. Sam, are you staying?”
Sam hesitated, knowing that Wesley had just gotten home. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“It’s no intrusion, lad,” Enid said. “We always have room for one more.”
They always had.
~~~~~
Buffy held him until the sun had gone down and the room darkened. He had stopped shaking some time before, but she was so grateful to have Spike back in her arms, Buffy didn’t want to let him go.
“Do you want to get cleaned up?” she finally asked softly.
Spike was silent. “I guess.”
“Do you want to eat first?”
“I’m really not that hungry.”
“How long has it been since you’ve eaten?” The pause that followed her question told Buffy what she needed to know. “You need to eat, Spike.”
“Fine.” He didn’t sound all that happy about it.
Buffy sighed, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t bothered putting any gel at all in it, and the curls felt soft under her fingers. “I love you.”
“Do you?” Spike asked in return, sounding none too sure of the fact. “I’m not—I’m not the man you married.”
“You look like the guy I married,” Buffy said with a raised eyebrow. “Maybe we ought to double check, though.”
At the confused look on his face, she grinned at him. “First we get you cleaned up, then we get you fed.”
Spike frowned. “Buffy—”
She took his face in her hands. “I’m sorry.”
He blinked. “For what?”
“For not giving you my full support.”
“You—you were worried,” Spike said. “I understand. Buffy, I—”
When he stopped, Buffy stroked his cheekbones with her thumbs. “What is it, sweetie?”
“I get it now.” Spike swallowed hard. “I get why you couldn’t be with me. What I can’t understand is why you’d be with me now.”
Buffy’s eyes narrowed in determination. “Actually, Spike, you don’t understand anything. I love you, which is why I’m with you now. I think that had something to do with our wedding vows.”
He frowned. “Buffy-luv, I can’t do this.”
“I don’t want you to do anything,” Buffy replied quietly. “Do you remember when I came back from the dead?” At his nod, she took a deep breath. “You were the only thing that made sense to me. You were the only person who didn’t push me to be or do something I couldn’t be or do right then. You didn’t put any demands on me. You were just there. Let me do that for you now.”
Spike’s eyes welled up again, and she leaned forward and kissed him gently. “Do you still love me?” she asked.
“More than life.”
“Then that’s enough.”
Buffy took him by the hand and led him up the stairs to their bedroom. Without words, she pulled his shirt off over his head, her lips tracing his jawline, his collarbone, gliding over his chest. She could feel his muscles trembling under her ministrations, and she ran her hands gently over each new injury, each fading wound.
“I love every part of you,” she murmured. “Every day that you were gone was too long.”
Spike drew in a great shuddering breath, and Buffy could feel the beating of his heart under her hand. “Didn’t know why you’d want me, pet,” he whispered. “I’d felt like I’d been turned inside out, an’ I couldn’t see you lovin’ me.”
“Why wouldn’t I love you?” she asked, her hands going to his belt, unbuckling it.
He put his hands on her shoulders, stilling her movements. “I feel so dirty, Buffy, like I’ll never get clean. Never thought it would be like this.”
Buffy met his eyes, and she could see the pain deep set. “I know.”
“How could you?”
“Because I felt so empty after I got back, and I never thought I’d be complete again. You loved me even when I wasn’t all there.”
“I loved all of you.”
“And I love all of you.”
He let her finish undressing him then, let her climb in the shower behind him. He stood underneath the pounding spray and let the water wash over him as Buffy’s hands caressed his body.
Spike let her make love to him, finally managing to respond. It felt empty somehow, as though she wasn’t really making love to him, to this new thing that he’d become. How could she love him?
How could she love him when he hated himself?