Chapter 31: Holding on to the Past
A long day had passed, and an even longer night.
Buffy had thought that being cloistered in her lair, with nothing to do but worry about Spike and wait for sunset, would be the worst part. But in the middle of the morning she had finally managed to fall asleep, wrapped in his duster, in his scent, and a few hours had vanished in a dreamless slumber.
The night, however, when she should have felt more useful since she was actually doing something as she prowled around Sunnydale, had brought her no contentment. Endless hours with no success leading only to frustration and exhaustion. The few demons she had killed hadn’t brought her any relief, because they weren’t the ones who had taken her Mate and when she – quickly – questioned them they knew nothing about Spike.
She had been surprised, come nightfall, to find the Slayer back on her doorstep. The kid hadn’t asked to come along, and Buffy hadn’t proposed, but they had left together, barely exchanging more than a couple of words during the whole night. It had ended like the night before, with cups of hot chocolate shared at sunrise before the kid returned to the Witches’ place. Apparently, the Scoobies still had no clue that Buffy wasn’t bound by Spike’s orders, which was logical since she hadn’t even tried to take a bite of the kid or the Witches when they had, briefly, visited again.
Two nights already without Spike, and the second day almost gone. She had slept, again in the cocoon of leather, but this time dreams had come, in which faceless demons tortured and killed her Sire while he vainly called for her. For a long time, she had stayed in bed, staring at their sky above her, trying to decide whether it had been a Slayer dream or not. She could just hope it wasn’t.
In the middle of the afternoon, she came downstairs, still shaken from her nightmares, and tried to warm herself with some blood. There wasn’t any human bags left, so she had to settle for pig’s blood. With all her searching, she hadn’t thought of going by the hospital. And even if she craved human blood, she knew she wouldn’t go that night either. Feeding was a necessity, but not a priority right now.
Still shivering, she wandered aimlessly through the too empty house. She could have gone to the Magic Box through the sewers, but she didn’t feel like seeing the Scoobies. She supposed they were still looking for a way to get her soul back to her, and it just exasperated her. She wished they had been looking for a way to find Spike instead. But in truth, they just had no leads, even she could admit that. All they knew about Spike’s disappearance was that it had happened during the day, so it couldn’t have been vamps, that the culprits had tried to trick Buffy into believing Spike was dead, and that Spike was still a member of the undead. If the kidnappers didn’t want Buffy to look for them, then maybe they were still close. If they hadn’t dusted Spike yet, then maybe they didn’t plan to. These were the two hopes that kept Buffy sane. These, and the promise she had made to both herself and her absent Sire that she would find him.
Tired of walking aimlessly, she eventually sat down in front of Spike’s laptop that she still hadn’t bothered to turn off. She half smiled as the screensaver proclaimed: “Hands off! Big Bad’s property!”. It was soon replaced by a blank word processing page, and she was about to shut the program when she realized it was only the last page of two dozen or so. Curious, she scrolled up, and found some text. Poems, actually. Familiar words caught her attention, and she unconsciously fingered the three interlocked rings on her left hand as she read Spike’s promise to her. They had been different, then. Both souled. Both humans. How much had changed? She still couldn’t fathom life – or unlife – without him. She didn’t care so much about a wedding anymore, human conventions did not bind her any longer. But maybe he would still want to get married. He had always been a very special vampire, after all, unconcerned by what was expected from him, interested only in what he wanted. And in whom he loved.
One after the other, Buffy read the poems that her Sire had crafted. It didn’t take long for her to realize that most of them were about her, or written for her. No, not most of them. All of them. Every last word. It only fueled her love for this man so always full of surprises. And, at the same time, fueled her rage that he had been taken from her. A rage that she had no way to let out.
When the phone pulled her out of her reading, her heart seemed to take a beat, and she couldn’t help hoping that it was Spike. She picked it up before the second ring, her eyes tightly shut as she waited for the loved voice to talk.
“Hello?” she said quietly.
“Buffy, it’s Angel. Can I talk to Spike?”
She was so disappointed that she almost hung up the phone right then. Not only wasn’t it Spike, but obviously Angel didn’t know her Sire had disappeared.
“He is not here,” she said coldly.
A sigh. “Where is he?”
“Someone has taken him.”
There was a blank, and she wondered whether Angel had understood, until he finally asked:
“What do you mean, someone has taken him? Who? When?”
“If I knew who,” she replied angrily, “they would already be dead. The day before yesterday. There were traces of a fight in the kitchen, and Spike disappeared.”
“But he is alive, right?” he asked urgently. “You two are Mates, so you should…”
“Yes”, she interrupted him. “He is alive. But I don’t know where. I don’t know who. I don’t know why. I don’t…”
She forced herself to stop talking and took a deep breath. Breaking down wasn’t going to help Spike. Crying wasn’t going to help Spike. Shouting wasn’t going to do any good either.
“I’m coming to Sunnydale,” Angel said suddenly. “I’ll be there before night.”
“What for?” she asked, bitter. “For all we know, he’s not even in California anymore. I don’t need you here.”
There was a pause, and Buffy could easily imagine she had hurt the human’s feelings. She wished she didn’t care, but she couldn’t lie to herself. She did. She wouldn’t have tried to turn him in the first place if she hadn’t.
“Listen,” she added with a sigh, “I’m trying to do as Spike wishes, but I’m not sure I will be able to if you come around and he’s not there to stop me. For your own good, stay away.”
“Are you hunting to feed?”
The question took her by surprise, because it was delivered in a very calm voice and because she had just said she was doing as her Sire wanted her to. Didn’t Angel know Spike had not allowed her to hunt?
“No”, she answered through clenched teeth.
“Are the Watchers there?”
“The Watchers?” she repeated, puzzled by the sudden change of topic.
“They’re on their way to Sunnydale,” Angel said almost reluctantly. “Spike… Spike feared that they were coming to kill you. Please don’t give them any reason to decide to do so. He needs you alive.”
“How do you know about the Watchers?” she asked, suspicious.
“He told me. Two days ago. Before he was kidnapped, I suppose.”
“Why would he tell you that?”
That didn’t make any sense. At the Hyperion, after her attempt at turning the brunette, Spike had been angrier with him than he had been with her.
“Because…” Angel hesitated. “I can’t tell you, Buffy. When you find him, he will explain. Just make sure not to do anything stupid until then.”
She rolled her eyes at the almost patronizing tone he was now using, but said nothing. At least, he seemed convinced that she would see Spike again, and for that she was grateful.
“Take care of yourself, Buffy”, he said quietly. “And let me know as soon as he is back.”
He said his goodbyes, and, a little troubled by the whole exchange, Buffy hung up the phone. She didn’t have much time to think about it all however, because almost instantly someone was knocking on the door. For a half second, the foolish hope that it was her Sire filled her entirely. Then she realized that, for one thing, it was still daylight, for another Spike wouldn’t knock at his own door, and finally there were no tingles going down her back. Not him, then. She didn’t really feel like seeing anyone, but whoever it was might have some news about it, so she finally went to open it.
*****
“Hey, Wills… can we say déjà vu or what?”
Xander’s mock whisper brought a half smile to Willow’s lips. Yes, the scene felt strangely familiar. Watchers, too many of them, invading the Magic Box as if they owned the place. OK, one of them had owned the place at some point, so at least he had cause. Giles seemed tired, though, as his eyes traveled around the room and his occupants, and despite his warm smile he appeared to be ten years older than only a few days before.
Before they could exchange more than short greetings, an old woman, white hair gathered in a tight bun at the back of her head, round glasses perched high on her nose, asked in a commanding voice that made Willow think she might be the new Head Watcher:
“Where are the vampires?”
She wasn’t addressing anyone in particular, and actually no one answered. Giles, however, came closer to the table where the Scoobies were gathered, followed by Andrea. The woman frowned slightly as she saw that Manon was asleep, her head resting on her folded arms, and she gently shook the teen to wake her.
“Where are Buffy and Spike?” Giles asked, his eyes resting on Willow.
“Buffy is at home. Spike… well, Spike disappeared two days ago. We think he’s been kidnapped. We can’t find him, but Buffy says he’s still alive. Well, undead rather. You know what I mean.”
There were several exclamations of surprise among the dozen or so Watchers, but all seemed to protest Buffy being left alone rather than to inquire about Spike’s situation. Giles didn’t say a word, but his gaze seemed suddenly even more lost than before.
“Has she been killing?” Andrea asked suddenly, her voice tinted with worry.
It was Manon who answered, her eyes still red from sleep. She had insisted on going out with Buffy two nights in a row, proclaiming that it was her duty to keep an eye on the vampire and that if Willow and Tara didn’t let her she would just run away. Willow suspected that her feelings for Spike might also be part of her reasons, but she hadn’t commented on that. In any case, Manon had come back each time after sunrise, unharmed, but exhausted.
“She can’t hurt anyone,” she said with a stifled yawn. “Spike… he ordered her not to, so she can’t.”
“We can’t know that for sure unless there’s someone constantly with her,” one of the Watchers, an old man, intervened.
“I’ve been with her all the time at night,” Manon defended Buffy and herself. “And she can’t go anywhere during the day. She hasn’t hurt anyone.”
Andrea’s worried gaze suddenly took a heated tint as she glared successively at Manon and the Scoobies.
“You’ve been alone with Buffy, soulless Buffy, for an entire night?” she asked incredulously.
“Two,” Manon replied, flinching slightly.
“She could have killed you!”
“But she didn’t. And she won’t.”
“You don’t know…” Andrea started, but was interrupted by the old woman’s light coughing.
“If you are convinced that Miss Summers is that dangerous, Andrea,” she said sternly, “then why did you insist for us to come here and meet her?”
To Willow’s surprise, Andrea didn’t answer, but instead blushed slightly.
“Rupert, go ahead and tell Miss Summers that we shall interview her,” the woman continued. “Do you want Chloe to accompany you?”
Willow followed Giles gaze and noticed for the first time the young woman who was among the older crowd of Watchers. She looked a bit older than Manon, Dawn’s age, maybe, but from the confidence and sense of readiness that came from her posture, there was no doubt that she was the new Slayer, the one who had been called when Manon’s heart stopped beating, ages ago or so it seemed.
“I do not need protection against my own Slayer,” Giles said strongly. “I will call when she is ready to see you.”
With that, he nodded briefly at the Scoobies, gave a half smile at Andrea, and left the store. Willow wished she had been able to warn him about how Buffy had changed, but she was really reluctant to do that in front of the others. He had to know, anyway. He was a Watcher, after all.
“Chloe,” the old woman spoke once more, “you will spar with Manon. I believe the back room has training facilities. Andrea, Matt, go with them and supervise your Slayers. Miss Rosenberg, we want to hear everything you tried to restore Miss Summers’ soul and everything you might have discovered.”
As she gave orders, in a tone that implied she wouldn’t take no for an answer, the two Slayers and the two designated Watchers left for the back room. Three of the other Watchers, the youngest it seemed, though they weren’t younger than Giles, came closer to the table, all ready to take notes. The remaining nine Watchers gathered in two groups, speaking quietly among themselves.
Willow suddenly had an awful feeling. This seemed more like a jury and executioners than like the help she had asked for. She hated thinking that, but it seemed like Spike had been right when he cautioned her against trusting the Council. And he wasn’t even here to roll his eyes at her with an annoyed ‘told you so’. If someone had ever told her she would one day miss the bleached blonde vamp as much as she missed him now, she would never have believed them.
*****
The door opened, revealing a wary Buffy who was careful to remain out of reach of the sunlight. She frowned slightly when she saw him, and Giles repressed a small sigh. He was all too aware of the stake his hand gripped, and, judging by the slight flickering of her eyes, she was aware of it too. She took a step back, and he wasn’t sure if it was to get out of his reach or let him in.
“Came to dust me, Watcher?” she asked, half growl, half snicker.
He shook his head but did not move from his place on the doorstep.
“Not unless you try to kill me first,” he replied as calmly as he could, trying to gauge her reaction.
For a few seconds, she considered him coldly, and he wondered whether she was deciding if he was going to be her meal or not. For all the assurance he had displayed in front of the High Council that Buffy wasn’t a threat to him or any of them, he really wasn’t completely convinced.
“What do you want?” she asked finally.
“Just to talk with you. Can I come in?”
She raised an eyebrow at him, and her smile was oddly reminiscent of Spike’s smirk.
“You don’t need an invitation, do you? At least, not yet.”
She turned her back to him, walking toward the living room, never glancing back to see whether he was following. Giles entered the house, closing the door behind him, and joined her, sitting in an armchair across from her seat on the sofa. He wished he wasn’t glad that the coffee table between the two of them might slightly slow her down if she decided to attack him. It frightened him how easily he had started to view her as more than a potential menace. But then, the usual warmth in her eyes when she looked at him had disappeared and all he could see there was ice and anger. She was curled up on the sofa, her legs drawn under her, her hands resting on her knees, but despite the apparent calm Giles had no doubt that she was very much ready to take him down if she decided to do so. He just hoped she wouldn’t. He had been hoping so many things, lately, that at least some of them had to become true.
“The High Council is in town,” he said slowly. “They’re the ones who will decide of the actions of the Council until a new Head Watcher is nominated.”
“And I should care?” she asked with a twinge of irritation
“You should, because they are here to decide whether to kill you or not.”
She had a short, wry laugh. “Oh, I am so scared now!”
“You should be,” he lied through his teeth. “Not all Watchers are as reluctant as me to put an end to your existence. Turned Slayers never last long once the Council starts hunting them.”
Of course, he privately thought that she might be the one vampire able to destroy the Council by simply killing all Watchers or Slayers sent after her, but he couldn’t quite say that aloud.
“It doesn’t have to go that far,” he continued before she could laugh off his argument. “We have a plan to restore your soul. The High Council just wants to meet you before they make the final decision.”
“And again, why should I care?” she asked harshly. “I’m quite happy as I am now, thank you very much. I don’t need a bloody soul.”
It was just about the reaction Giles had expected. What he hadn’t expected, though, was that his ally to convince her would have disappeared before his arrival. But there might still be a way, he realized suddenly. Even gone, Spike could help.
“If you play the game, I am sure the Council will help you find Spike and whoever took him.”
Her hazel eyes suddenly turned completely gold, though her face did not change. The same controlled anger was in her voice when she asked:
“How do I know you didn’t take him to begin with?”
She hadn’t completely rejected the idea, he noticed with a small satisfaction. All he had to do was convince her that the Council hadn’t taken Spike, then get her to be more friendly in front of the nine Watchers, then show the Council why they had to pay to restore her soul and find Spike as well, and hope the Mage could help… A piece of cake, really.
“As far as we know,” he replied truthfully, “Spike is the reason you haven’t killed anyone yet. Why would we be so stupid as to take him and leave you free to kill?”
For a long moment, she was silent, her eyes unfocused as she clearly was lost in deep thoughts.
“Why do you care?” she finally asked, green again eyes looking at him quizzically. “What does it change for you that I get Spike and my soul back or that I get staked?”
Giles felt his heart break. Long ago, he had warned innocent teenagers about this very mistake, thinking that the vampire their friend had become was still the same person despite the demon. The mere fact that she was asking about his motivation reminded him all too clearly that she wasn’t the Buffy he knew. But then, she still cared about Spike, deeply or so it seemed, so why not about the rest of them?
“I’ve survived three of your deaths, Buffy,” he murmured. “I won’t go through another one if I can help it.”
“What if my soul can’t be restored?” she asked defiantly. “What will the Council do then? What will you do?”
He took a deep breath. He hadn’t planned to answer that question. Not now, at least. He knew what he had decided to do in that unimaginable and yet still possible case, but he hadn’t thought she would ask. Just the same, he replied sincerely. He wasn’t here to lie to her, or manipulate her. He was here to give her the help he felt he owed her.
“If your soul is gone for good, the Council will try to have you staked. And I… I will do whatever I can to help you escape from them.”
Her eyes widened in obvious surprise, and a small smile danced on her lips.
“You know what, Watcher? I think I like you. I’ll meet your Council and play nice. But I want Spike back before anything else happens.”
He nodded slightly. “I have to talk to them. We didn’t know coming here that we would need…”
He stopped talking as she rose to her feet and watched her, puzzled, as she went up the steps. She was back a few seconds later, now bundled in her black leather duster. No, not hers, he realized. Slightly too long for her, this one had to be Spike’s.
“You talk to them all you want,” she said disinterestedly. “I have things to do. Just know that if I find him before you, the deal is off.”
She opened the front door, and Giles realized then that night had fallen while they talked. He walked to the entrance just in time to see her walk down the street. And by her side, he was surprised to realize, was Manon.