Chapter 15: September 2016
“Buffy, I need to talk to you.”
The Slayer hated it when Spike used that tone of voice. It was a clear indication that she wasn’t going to like what he had to say. She turned to look at him. “Yeah?”
The house was empty. Meg was at school for the day, and neither of them had anything pressing to do. It should have been comfortable—just another afternoon spent in each other’s company. Spike had been unusually quiet the last few days, ever since the parent-teacher night at school. Although Buffy had noticed, she was accustomed to the vampire’s occasional moods.
The look in his eyes told her it might be more serious than she had thought. “Spike, is everything okay?”
Spike stared at her, trying to find a way to explain what he needed, what he wanted. “No, not really, luv. Look, I—can we sit down?”
Buffy took the plate with the salad she’d been preparing for herself and sat down at the kitchen table. “What is it?” Her tone was flat, her eyes wary. She suddenly felt the need to brace herself for the worst.
“I think I might need to leave, Buffy,” Spike said quietly, cursing himself even as the words left his mouth. He knew that he wasn’t beginning well.
Buffy’s eyes widened and then narrowed. “What do you mean ‘leave?'”
“People are starting to notice that ‘m not agin’,” Spike replied. “Sooner or later they’re gonna start askin’ questions we can’t answer.”
The Slayer shook her head. “People see what they want to see, Spike. I don’t think—”
“Meg’s teachers are already starting to talk,” Spike cut in. “I overheard ’em talkin’ the other night. Meg did too.”
It was the hurt in his tone that caught Buffy’s attention and slammed the lid down on her irritation. “What did they say?”
“Said they knew I wasn’t her father because I looked too young. Said I was probably one in a string.” Spike shook his head. “It wasn’t that so much, luv. It was the fact that they’re right. In a few years, I really won’t look old enough to be Meg’s dad, an’ it won’t be just the teachers commentin’ on it. Few years after that, and Meg’ll start to look older than me.”
Buffy shifted in her chair uncomfortably. “So? Spike, it doesn’t mean anything. People talk. It gives them something to do.”
“What happens when it gets too obvious to hide?” Spike pressed. “What are we goin’ to do then?”
“We’ll figure something out,” Buffy said, an edge of desperation entering her tone. She wasn’t sure that she liked where this conversation was headed.
Spike shook his head. “No, Buffy, it’s more than that. I’m never going to look any older, an’ you will—”
“Are you saying you don’t want to be with me anymore?” Buffy asked incredulously. If there was one thing in her world that had always been sure, it was Spike, and now he was suddenly—not. He was talking about leaving, and—
“No!” Spike shot back. “This isn’t about you, Buffy. It’s about me.” He heaved a deep sigh. “I’ve been thinkin’ about this for a while, pet. I want—I don’t want to be immortal any more.”
Buffy blinked. “Spike, you’re a vampire. That’s pretty much in the job description.”
“There are ways,” he said evasively. “I want to start lookin’ for them. I want—”
Buffy was shaking her head emphatically. “What kind of ways, Spike?”
“Heard of a demon in Africa that grants wishes,” Spike said. It wasn’t something he’d looked into extensively. There were always rumors going around the demon world. Although Spike had never heard of a vampire becoming mortal, the whispers had seemed to indicate that there were ways. It wasn’t until recently that the half-formed desire had blossomed into need, however.
“What else?”
“There’re some spells,” he replied. “Pretty dark stuff, though. ‘s not somethin’ I’d want to try, but I want to look into it. I thought—”
“No.”
Spike blinked. “What?”
“No.” Buffy’s face was hard. “Let me guess. Most of these methods you’re looking at are dangerous enough that you’re scared you wouldn’t make it through.”
He was about to disagree but found he couldn’t lie to her. “There’s a chance,” he admitted.
“Then no.” Buffy looked angry. “You’d risk your life just to avoid a little gossip?”
Spike stood, frustrated. “That’s not it! Are you not listenin’ to me? What do you think it’s like for me, watchin’ everyone I love get older while I’m not changin’?”
“Spike—”
“To know that I’m goin’ to lose you again?”
Buffy could see fear in his eyes, and she suddenly realized what that meant to him. The fear of losing her was so great that he would rather die first. Spike would rather risk death than have to watch her die again. This was something he’d been thinking about for a long time.
There was a part of her that wanted to tell him that they would fix it. She would help him find a way to fix it. The other part of her was scared to death of losing him—or of having him change beyond all recognition.
“What about me, Spike?” she asked. “You’re talking about becoming human. What happens if you die? Or if you come back completely different? You promised you weren’t going to leave me!”
Spike knew he was fighting a losing battle. “Buffy, I need to find out if I can do this. I need—”
“No.” The word left no room for argument. “The risk is too big, Spike. You can’t leave.”
His eyes glittered dangerously. “You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do, luv. We might be married, but I’m still a free man.”
“We’re partners,” Buffy shot back. “That means we make decisions together, and I’m saying no on this one. Let people talk. What they say doesn’t matter anyway.”
Spike shook his head. “It will,” he replied. “One of these days it will. What happens when we can’t hide this anymore?”
“We’ll deal with it then,” Buffy said stubbornly. She wanted to live in the land of denial for a while longer.
Spike shook his head. “Not good enough.”
“Don’t you dare even think about going through with this,” Buffy said furiously. “What do you think it would do to me to lose you? I can’t.”
It was a stalemate, with neither of them willing to back down.
Spike whirled, stalking out of the kitchen without replying. He wasn’t willing to promise that he wouldn’t investigate the possibilities. It was too important to him. Buffy was unwilling to listen, unwilling to see that he couldn’t stand still while everything around him moved and changed. He couldn’t stand to lose everything he’d built.
Buffy would just have to get used to the idea.
~~~~~
Hannah twirled her stake impatiently. There had been word of a number of deaths lately that seemed to suggest in influx of vampires into the area. Of course, it was all rumor and gossip at this point, and she hadn’t seen a single member of the undead to confirm the reports.
It was really pissing her off.
She glanced over at her slaying partner. Spike had been quiet all evening, barely even saying hello. It was a sure sign that he and Buffy had been arguing, and Hannah had to wonder what had brought it on this time. It wasn’t like Spike and Buffy fighting was anything new, but when it wasn’t important, Spike usually grumbled about it.
Silence was a bad sign.
“What’s up?”
Spike glanced over at the girl. “What?”
“What’s wrong?” she asked patiently. “You’ve been in brood-mode all night.”
He glared at her. “I don’t brood.”
Hannah knew that would push his buttons, and she grinned at him. “It sure looks like brooding to me.”
“Sod off.”
Their relationship was an odd one, a fact of which Hannah was well aware. While Wesley and Nika easily filled parental roles, and Buffy was more of an aunt, Spike was something else altogether. Ever since Dawn and Connor had moved to Cleveland , the vampire had acted like something of a big brother. He was more of a peer than a superior.
It might have had something to do with the fact that Spike was the one Hannah most often patrolled with. Wesley came out with her, of course, as did Buffy and even Angel, but Spike was the one who had her back most nights.
Hannah often thought that they were like the partners on the cop shows. The older cop and the rookie—a little like siblings, a little like friends. It was hard to explain.
“You and Buffy have a fight?”
“None of your business.”
Hannah knew it was serious when Spike used that tone with her. He never used that tone unless he was really and truly pissed off, although she was fairly certain he wasn’t angry with her. “Fine.”
There was a long pause. “What would you say if I said I didn’t want to be immortal any more?”
Hannah blinked. It wasn’t a question she’d been expecting, and somehow she knew it was directly related to whatever had gone down between Spike and Buffy. “I’d say it would make sense. I mean, everybody you know is mortal, except for Angel. And who’d want to live with him forever?”
Spike chuckled at that. “Yeah, pretty much.”
Hannah hesitated. “Are you going to do something about it?”
“Buffy doesn’t want me to.”
It wasn’t an answer to her question, but Hannah had a feeling that was all she was going to get out of Spike for the evening. He could be pretty close-mouthed when he wanted to be. “I think you should talk to Wesley.”
Spike gave her a sharp look. “Why?”
“Because I think he’d understand,” Hannah replied. She knew not to say more than that.
The vampire was silent. “Maybe I’ll do that. You won’t mention this?”
“Hypothetical question, remember?” Hannah said. “Hypotheticals don’t mean anything.”
He gave her a wry look. “No, they don’t.”
Both of them saw the small knot of vampires at the same time. They were gathered around a grave, obviously waiting, and Hannah and Spike grinned at each other. It was the real reason that they connected. No one loved the hunt more than they did.
This was what they had both been born for.
~~~~~
“You want to do what?” Wesley asked, staring at his partner in surprise.
Spike set his jaw, ready to argue if necessary. “I don’t want to be immortal.”
Wesley frowned. “Then you want to be human.”
“Not particularly,” Spike replied. “Just don’t want to live forever.”
Understanding was beginning to dawn. “Have you talked with Buffy about this?”
“She said no.”
Wesley had wondered. As close as he and Spike were, it was easy for him to sense when the vampire wasn’t in a good mood, and he certainly hadn’t been tonight. When he and Hannah had returned from patrol, both of them with grass stains and dirt all over, the Watcher had sensed that something was off. Since Hannah had been downright cheerful with the night’s work, Wesley had to assume that Spike’s problem wasn’t work.
Although, Spike rarely had a problem with work. If the vampire was out of sorts, the root of it could usually be found at home.
“I see. You’ve decided not to listen to her, then?”
Spike shrugged, standing and pacing in the confines of the study. This was Wesley’s inner sanctum, where no one came without an invitation. It was where they had had innumerable conversations, where they had planned a hundred battles. It was the place where they had reaffirmed their friendship again and again.
Now Spike was relying on that bond for something he could not get himself.
“This isn’t about her. This is about me.”
Wesley nodded slowly. He had to say that he wasn’t terribly surprised at Spike’s announcement; he’d felt it coming for a while. Spike never had been one to take what Fate handed him lying down.
Wesley sighed. “She’s going to be angry when she finds out you’re going ahead with this anyway,” he pointed out.
“I don’t care,” Spike replied stubbornly. “She doesn’t understand, Wesley. She can’t.”
“I’ll make some inquiries,” Wesley finally promised. “However, if it’s merely what other people are saying that concerns you, we could talk to Willow . Perhaps she could cast an illusion of some sort, one that would cause you to appear as though you’re aging.”
Spike shook his head. “If it was just people talkin’ that I was worried about, I wouldn’t be here. You know that.”
“I do.” Wesley stood, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Whatever you decide, Spike, you know I’ll help.”
A smile touched his lips. Spike still remembered the days when it was the Slayer who was always right, the Slayer who received the support of everybody else. There were still moments when Wesley or Nika would surprise him, reminding him that he was their first priority.
Wesley’s loyalties were with him—Spike. It was a good feeling. “I ‘preciate it.”
“You’ll need it,” the Watcher said.
Spike’s eyes were rueful. “I know. Buffy won’t make this pleasant.”
~~~~~
Spike entered his silent house. He could sense their presence. Meg was deeply asleep, and he stopped by her room. She was a perceptive girl, and he knew that she had sensed the tension at the dinner table.
The vampire had never thought much about children one way or another before Buffy had gotten pregnant. Well, other than the fact that they made a good snack. She continually surprised him, however. The way she had changed, grown—
His daughter made Spike want to change and grow too, just to keep up with her.
He brushed a strand of dark hair out of her face and pulled the blanket up around her again. Pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, he left her room and entered his.
Buffy was in bed, her back to the door. Spike could sense the fact that she was awake, but she wasn’t moving. He frowned slightly and undressed, slipping into the bed next to her, reaching out to touch her.
He felt her stiffen and then pull away, still under the pretense of sleep.
Withdrawing his hand, Spike stayed on his own side of the bed. The thought came that he could give up his idea. He could talk to Willow , have her cast the glamour. He could accept the idea that he would not age, while everyone around him did.
Spike could set aside his own desires once again.
His face hardened in the darkness. He could—but he wouldn’t. He wanted this—needed this, and he wasn’t going to let Buffy stand in his way.