Chapter 16: October 2014
Buffy stood outside the door of the room they’d set aside. Wren had told her in no uncertain terms to stay out, warning her against disturbing their concentration. It had been hours, and they still hadn’t emerged to let her know everything was fine.
Everything had to be fine.
If she closed her eyes, she could still see the rough, wooden plank emerging from his chest. Still see the look of surprise on his face, followed quickly by his eyes rolling up into his head. Watching him pass out had been a relief in a way, since it meant that he wasn’t going to dust.
It had been instinct alone that had caused her to take advantage of La Muerta’s momentary distraction, shoving her stake through the vampiress’ chest, darting across the floor of the warehouse to reach Spike.
Her first inclination had been to remove the wood, but Angel had stopped her. He’d been doused in slime, but warned her that pulling it out could cause a splinter to lodge in his heart. It wasn’t safe.
Buffy was just grateful that Spike had been unconscious while they transported him back to Wren’s house. She hoped that he wasn’t in too much pain.
The Slayer wanted to be by his side when he woke up. She had a special medicine of her own to offer.
A weary Willow opened the door to the bedroom where they’d placed him. “Hey, Buffy.”
“Did you get it?” she asked hurriedly. “Is he awake yet?”
Willow shook her head. “We think the danger is past. Spike should heal just fine, but it’s going to take some time.”
“He hasn’t woken then?”
“No. It’s probably better,” Willow commented, echoing the Slayer’s own thoughts. “He’s going to be in a lot of pain when he does.”
Buffy chewed her lip. “Can I see him now?”
“We’re done.” Willow laid a hand on her friend’s arm. “He’s going to be fine.”
Buffy shook her head. “I was angry at him when we went in, Willow . Usually we tell each other to be careful or—” She broke off. “What if he—”
Willow hugged her tight. “I know, Buffy, but he’s going to make it. That’s what you have to concentrate on right now.”
“I almost lost him,” Buffy replied. “Will you call the others?”
“Sure,” Willow said, watching as Buffy brushed past her to enter the room.
Wren was putting the finishing touches on the bandaging around his chest. “I’ll be done in just a moment.”
“Thank you,” Buffy said. “I’m sorry about earlier. It’s just—”
“You had lost a friend, and you were going into battle,” Wren replied, straightening and stepping back from the bed. “We’ve worked with a Slayer for years now. Faith wasn’t so different.”
There was a time when Buffy would have found that an insult, but these days she could take it as a compliment. “Thanks,” she repeated awkwardly.
She watched as Wren left the room, taking the bandages with her. Buffy stood next to the bed for a moment, wondering if she shouldn’t wait until Spike was awake to try this. It wasn’t an ideal situation. Normally, she got nearly as much pleasure out of his biting her as Spike did.
He always had known how to make things good for her.
Buffy walked over to the door and locked it, less because she was ashamed of what she was doing than because she knew the others wouldn’t understand. Well, some of them might, but there were things she never wanted to discuss with Angel, her love life being one example. She didn’t want to risk being interrupted.
Spike’s jeans were still on, and Buffy knew she probably ought to remove them. For now, though, she went looking for the knife he kept in his left hand pocket. It was an old habit, stemming from one of his early jobs with Wes. The whole mission had nearly been blown for want of something sharp, and Wesley had given Spike a knife to prevent it from happening again.
With a quick movement, Buffy ran the blade over her wrist, making a shallow cut. It wouldn’t do to lose too much blood if Spike wasn’t even up to swallowing. She opened his mouth just slightly and let the blood dribble in, waiting to see if he’d swallow.
After a breathless moment, Buffy watched as his face changed, and he latched onto her wrist. He didn’t drink for long before withdrawing, his eyes fluttering open. “Must be bad,” he croaked out.
“It’s not pretty,” she agreed.
Spike could see the unshed tears in her eyes. “‘m still here, luv.”
“You almost weren’t,” Buffy replied. “It was—it was bad, Spike.”
He wanted to touch her face, but even the influx of Slayer’s blood wasn’t going to give him enough strength to do so. It felt as though he had a giant hole in his chest, and if the sense of being wrapped in bandages from navel to neck was any indication, he probably did have one.
Spike settled for slipping his hand into hers. “With that little pick-me-up, I’ll be right as rain in no time.”
“I shouldn’t have gone in angry,” Buffy whispered. “If you—”
His face softened. “Slayer, it’s fine. We made it out. We got the bad guy, yeah?”
“Yeah, but—”
“An’ no one else was hurt? You’re okay?”
“Everybody except for Angel,” Buffy replied quietly. She’d seen him once earlier, before he and Connor had left to stay with Matt. “He got slimed. Did you know Raksh blood is like superglue?”
In spite of his weakened state, Spike grinned. “Heard that. He get hit bad?”
“Matt said he’d give him a haircut.” Buffy giggled. “I haven’t seen him yet, but I’m guessing a shaved head isn’t going to suit him.”
Spike chuckled and then groaned. “Don’t make me laugh, luv,” he asked. “Hurts too bad .”
Buffy ran her fingers through his hair. “Do you want more blood? I’ve got plenty.”
“Not right now, pet. Don’t want you hurt too.”
“Seeing you hurt makes me hurt,” Buffy replied softly. “I know Wren has some downstairs, though. You should probably eat something.”
Spike’s eyes closed. “No,” he murmured. “Be alright for a bit. Just keep doin’ what you’re doin’.”
Buffy stayed with him, running her fingers through his hair, stroking his face, reassuring herself that he would be fine. For one moment, she had understood completely what it would mean to lose him, and she was certain that it would kill her.
~~~~~
Wesley managed a smile for Hannah when she tentatively poked her head into his office the next morning. She had been with them two days, and he still hadn’t managed to discuss things with her. Giles had departed for Cleveland a couple hours earlier, after the call had come in from Willow . The Watcher had wanted to offer his support to Buffy, and to check in with the coven.
That had left Hannah squarely in Wesley’s hands.
“Good morning, Hannah,” he said, pushing his worry for Spike to the back of his mind. Willow had assured him that the vampire would make it. That was what was important.
She smiled. “Hey. Enid said you wanted to see me.”
“Come on in and shut the door,” he invited.
Hannah slipped inside, gently closing the door behind her. Wesley took a moment to study her—slightly hesitant manner, wary eyes, worn jeans and an oversized t-shirt. She was a waif-like girl, and she looked lost.
She paused for a moment, and then sat down in the chair on the other side of his desk. Wesley decided that things needed to be a little more informal and came around to sit next to her. From the surprise in her eyes, he realized that not only had she not been expecting that, but that she recognized the significance of his action.
“Dawn and Connor told you what the Slayer is,” Wesley stated. Hannah nodded. “When did you know?”
She looked away, glancing at the rows and rows of books. Wesley didn’t miss the hunger in her eyes. “When I was at diving practice.” Wesley remained silent, waiting for her to continue. “It was a school team,” she said slowly. “I could only do a single somersault with a twist, but it was fun, you know?” He smiled encouragingly, and Hannah shrugged. “I got to the board and stood there, and I just knew. And then I did a triple.”
“What was the others’ reaction?”
Hannah smiled wryly, meeting his eyes for the first time. “They were impressed, but they thought it was a fluke. I mean, nobody improves that fast. People see what they want to see.”
“Indeed, they do,” Wesley agreed. “Do you have any questions?”
She hesitated. “Not really.”
“You can ask anything you’d like.” Wesley smiled at her warmly. “That goes from here on out, as well. I won’t always know the answer, but I will always be honest with you.”
Hannah’s eyes betrayed her doubt. “I know how I got chosen, but why are you my Watcher?”
There was a part of Wesley that didn’t want to tell her about Faith, about his failures. He would have liked to give her the pat answers—that he was an experienced field agent with a team of people ready to help her train. That he was simply the best man for the job.
Wesley was no longer so sure that was true, not like he had been so long ago.
“I was Faith’s Watcher,” he said evenly. “A very long time ago, shortly after she was Chosen. Since that time, I have worked both independently and alone, doing the very job you’ll be facing. I suppose the Council thought I was the best man for the job.”
A little of the toughness she must have needed to survive came out, as Hannah tilted her chin, challenging him. “Are you?”
“I don’t know,” Wesley replied. “But it’s my job now.”
Hannah frowned. “What if I don’t want to be the Slayer?”
“It’s not a job,” he said. “It’s a Calling, and it’s not something you can quit. Ask Buffy. She tried to turn in her resignation a number of times. If you truly believe you cannot do this, however, I will understand. I felt the same way myself a few times.”
Her gaze dropped, and she started picking at a ragged patch on her jeans. “Will you always be my Watcher?”
“Yes.” Wesley waited for her to look up and meet his eyes once again. “I will always be your Watcher.”
She seemed to consider that for a few moments and then nodded. “So where do we start?”
~~~~~
Roger Wyndam-Pryce had been right about one thing, Wesley thought, hours later. His father had always insisted that being a Watcher was his destiny, but until now he hadn’t believed it. Wesley had been continually frustrated with Faith and Buffy, as well as uncomfortable with Giles and the Slayer’s friends.
In all honesty, Wesley hadn’t been all that comfortable with himself.
He had been too young, too inexperienced, too inflexible for his position—especially living on the Hellmouth. He had been the interloper, although he hadn’t thought of himself as such at the time.
It was all different now, not least because he was Hannah’s Watcher—her first, and with any luck, her only.
He had begun by giving her the story that was told to every Slayer—about why and how demons and humans had come to exist, and why the Slayer had been chosen. Then, Wesley had fielded her questions on why Spike as a vampire didn’t eat people, how long the Slayer got to be the Slayer, whether or not she’d have to keep going to school, how long she would be staying with him, and so on.
After lunch, they started on her physical training, and Wesley began teaching her the basics of self-defense. She was a fast learner, as most Slayers were, naturally gifted with strength, although not always grace. She was a little clumsy, he noticed, and a little tentative. Either trait could easily get her killed. They would have to work on that.
When they were both tired, he called a halt to the session. “Why don’t you get cleaned up? I’m sure dinner will be ready soon.”
Hannah nodded, and started to head upstairs, looking back over her shoulder. She’d never had an adult spend this much time or energy on her. It gave her a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach, even though she knew it was Wesley’s job. “Thanks.”
“For what?” Wesley asked.
She shrugged. “It was fun.”
His Slayer was up the stairs before Wesley could form a reply, and he got a pleased grin on his face. He’d had fun himself.
Wesley had finally gotten the opportunity to fulfill his destiny.
~~~~~
Giles knew exactly how worried Buffy had been when she immediately hugged him. He returned her embrace, as their meetings had become too few and far between to shy away from physical contact. At this stage, he could admit that his feelings for his Slayer went beyond those strictly required to be her Watcher.
Or, beyond what had been required over a decade ago, when he’d first been fired from the Council. These days, such a relationship was considered good sense.
“Wren told me Spike would be fine.”
“He will be,” Buffy replied, finally pulling away. “She wasn’t the one who saw the big plank go right through his chest, though.”
Giles gave her his best sympathetic look. “No, I suppose she was not. Are you alright, Buffy?”
“Honestly? No,” she said. “I—I nearly got him killed, Giles. We went in there while I was still angry at him. If he had died—”
“Spike knows you love him,” Giles said gently, knowing quite well how foreign those words would once have felt in his mouth. He had long since come to accept Buffy’s relationship with Spike. Their love and devotion to one another was more obvious each passing year.
Buffy looked down. “Yeah, but the way I treated him—” She sighed. “He’s not ready to travel.”
“How long?” Giles asked. “I can arrange for you to stay in a hotel for the next few days, if you feel that would be the better option.”
“I think it would be quieter,” Buffy agreed. “This is still pretty much command central for the coven. I think Willow said something about sticking around, but Angel and Connor will want to get back.”
Giles nodded. “I’ll talk to them and arrange their flights. Are you certain Spike can be moved to a hotel at this time? We could wait.”
Buffy shook her head. “As long as it’s close, I think it’ll be okay. One of the coven members has a van. We can use the back seat.”
“Very well. I’ll make the arrangements.”
Buffy watched Giles turn to do exactly that, and she stopped him with her words. “I got her, Giles. I got the vampire that killed Faith.”
“That’s good, Buffy.” The older man gave a sigh of relief. “I still worry about you, you know.”
“I know,” Buffy replied. “All good Watchers do.”
He turned then and met her eyes, sharing a smile that had more than a decade of memories behind it. “Go see your vampire, Buffy,” he said gently.
She walked away, and Giles could still see the girl she’d been.