Chapter 41: Remembering
As they walked into the store, Spike could feel Buffy’s hold on his hand tighten just a little, and he glanced at her. She looked awfully nervous, very far from her behavior the last time they had been around this particular bunch of humans together. And to tell the truth, he was nervous, too. Maybe it would have been better if they had just gone away without seeing the gang again. Not that he was afraid they would try to stop them – if they had wanted to do that, they would have just come to the mansion, not asked for Buffy and Spike to meet them before going away.
But if they had just left, he would never have had his last try. He didn’t know whether it would work, he strongly suspected it wouldn’t, but he owed it to himself, and to her, to take this last chance.
As they came farther into the store, Spike forced himself to meet the eyes of the people at the table. Travers, he ignored, still transferring to her his anger about what he now knew was her father’s fault. Giles, he gave a small nod to, receiving the same in return. The man had confirmed over the phone that the Council wouldn’t hunt them as long as they didn’t hunt slayers. His gaze and smile then glided over the Witches. He would miss them, Tara, especially, who had always been nice to him. Harris and demon-girl. He tried to tell himself he would be glad to be rid of the Whelp, but he was still as close to a human friend as he had ever had. Manon, up there above the table, her face unreadable. Steven. Hard stare, deep frown, obviously ready to attack at the smallest sign of hostility. The boy’s opinion about demons had changed over the years, but threats to his father’s and girlfriend’s lives seemed to have returned it back to what it had once been. He smiled at him sadly, and the kid’s frown wavered. Dawn, finally. She tried a tentative smile toward both Buffy and him, and it was all he could do not to sigh.
“So,” he said with his best cocky smirk, trying to hide his emotions. “We’re here. Don’t have all bloody night, either, so let’s…”
He stopped as Buffy let go of his hand and looked at her, alarmed, as she walked toward the counter. For a second, he thought she was going to Angel, and by the startled look on the ex-vampire’s face he wasn’t the only one thinking so. She didn’t even glance at him, though. She walked around the counter, and entered the office. Spike followed quickly, wondering what in hell she was doing now, and came in the small room just as she was opening the lid of a wooden box that was on the desk. At the small, wavering light that was coming out of the box, he understood what was in it, and stepped right behind Buffy to look at it over her shoulder. Warily, she reached in with both hands and pulled the glass orb out, settling it on the desk. There seemed to be flames dancing inside it, bright, colorful, always in movement. It was smaller than his closed fist, but he could have sworn he could feel warmth radiating from it, and its gentle light filled the room. He could have watched it for hours, and just knowing it was his Slayer’s soul in there made the beauty of it even greater.
And then he realized. She had touched it. Nothing had happened. She had noticed too, because she said:
“OK. I tried. Didn’t work. Can we go now?”
She started to move away from the table, but he wrapped both arms around her and held her in place where she was, just in front of the shimmering light that used to be hers.
“Do you remember Heaven, luv?” he asked quietly, his lips just brushing against her ear as he talked.
“Spike, please don’t…”
“Never been there myself”, he continued just as softly. “But I remember you talking about it. I remember feeling privileged just hearing you talk about it. Do you remember what you said, luv?”
She shook her head lightly, but he was sure she did remember. She was just afraid, he reckoned. What sane vampire wouldn’t be afraid to get their soul back? He laced his fingers with hers and held her a bit tighter, trying to impress on her mind that she had nothing to be afraid about.
“You said…”
His voice broke at the bittersweet memory. Privileged that she had confided in him, yes, but heartbroken about the loss in her eyes and voice, and that awful feeling of not being able to do anything for her…
“You said”, he managed to force the words out, “that you had been happy, there. Warm. Loved. Complete. No more fears. No more doubts. No more pain.”
Again, she shook her head. “I feel all that now,” she whispered. “You make me feel it.”
“And how did you feel when the wankers took me away? What if they had killed me? What if it happened again?”
She was trembling in his arms now.
“I don’t want Heaven,” she said after a few seconds. “Not without you. I don’t…”
“Luv… I’m not letting you go anywhere without me, you know that, right? Even if takes me a thousand years, I’ll earn my entry ticket. Just to be with you. And if it’s still not enough, I’ll make so much fuss they will have to let me in anyway.”
He had tried to put a little humor in his voice, and she seemed to relax just a touch.
“I love you,” he whispered against her hair. “I’ll always love you. Soul or no soul. And I want the best for you. I want you warm and loved and happy for all eternity. You want it too, don’t you?”
Long seconds passed, and finally Buffy nodded, just barely. Their fingers still entwined, he pulled her hand away from where he was holding it at her waist. She finished the gesture and touched the sphere again.
*****
At the instant Buffy’s fingers brushed against the glass, it shattered.
Immediately, the light and flames that had been burning inside grew larger, brighter now that they were free, and Buffy’s eyes widened as they suddenly all plunged into her. She tried to ward them off with her hands, freeing them from Spike’s hold, but it was useless. It didn’t hurt, but it definitely felt very unpleasant, and she was sure that, without Spike’s arms around her, she would have fallen to her knees. As it was, the lights had all disappeared, but she was still panting, trying to catch a breath she had no use for, unable to understand what had just happened.
Gently, Spike turned her in his embrace until she was facing him. Still supporting her with one arm, he brought his other hand to her face, and she realized, when his fingers brushed them away, that tears had rolled down her cheeks.
“Buffy, luv”, he murmured, his voice choked up. “Are you alright?”
Still unable to talk, she nodded, just barely, and rested her cheek against his shoulder, trying to calm both her breathing and thoughts. That was when she saw them. They were standing just outside the door, looking in at her and Spike with a mix of curiosity, worry, and hope.
Her friends.
No, not her friends. They had ceased to be just her friends long ago. They had become more. Her family.
And in a flash, it all came back to her. What she had done to Angel. What she had tried to do to Dawn. What she had planned on doing to the others.
She shut her eyes tight, blocking out their sight, but the memories were there, insistent, unavoidable, and all too clear.
The memory of her first bite of a human. Not just anyone, too, but Angel. His light gasp when she had sunk her teeth into his flesh. The music of his heartbeat in her ears, so strong she could almost believe it was her own. And his blood… the taste, the richness, the power, the warmth.
The memory of deciding that, unlike Angel, Dawn wasn’t worth being turned. The fear, so intoxicating, so delicious, of her sister when she had thought she was about to die.
The memory of wanting to turn Steven, until her Sire had asked her not to hurt anyone who shared their blood.
The memory of being angry with the Scoobies, so angry because of how badly they had treated Spike for so long, so angry because they called themselves her friends and yet had been judging her and her choices all these years, without ever caring that their disapproval hurt her so much. The planning she had done, about in what order she would kill them, and how. The taunting she had reverted to when she couldn’t touch them.
The memory of wanting to kill Manon for no other reason than that she was a Slayer. If Slayer blood was really better than human blood as Spike had once said, she had not been going to let the chance escape her to sample it.
The memory of sinking her fangs in another, nameless, human’s throat. And that intense feeling of frustration when Spike had stopped her once again.
The memory of their plans. To travel the world, and sample local foods.
She was suffocating. She didn’t need to breathe, and yet she felt like something was pressing on her chest and preventing her from breathing. In an effort to start feeling better, she pulled herself out of Spike’s tight embrace, and regretted it immediately. Without the comfort of his arms, she felt even worse. Still choking on dry sobs, she opened her eyes, and it hurt to see the pain on her Sire’s face just in front of her. Pain that she had pulled away from him. Pain that she had refused his comfort. She was about to step back in the protective circle of his arms when a murmur caught her attention.
“Buffy?”
She had never heard Dawn sound that hopeful. Or maybe she had, just once. At the top of Glory’s tower. When they had brought her back to life. Unwittingly, she turned to her sister and the rest of the gang, who still hadn’t moved. So much expectation on all of their faces. And for who? Someone who was ready to turn on all of them at the first occasion.
“I’m sorry”, she managed to croak in a too dry voice. “So very sorry…”
It was worse, then, because they smiled at her, as if they were now sure it was their friend in front of them, and not the other. Not the monster. Not the soulless beast they had tolerated because it wore her face.
The smiles were just too much. She looked around her, frantic, looking for a way out while she knew the only escape ran through these people who were still smiling, and why in hell couldn’t they stop smiling? Didn’t they understand what she had almost done? What she had wanted to do?
“Give her some space now, people. Move back. All of you. Please.”
Spike’s voice startled her, and she looked at him, briefly, just as he was reaching tentatively toward her. She couldn’t hold his gaze. Because he had prevented her from killing anyone while he was just as soulless as she had been. Because he had allowed her to feed, once. Because he had all but been ready to give up on his redemption, for her. Because he had to be so disappointed that she had proved to be so weak.
The humans had followed his request and moved back toward the table, she realized. The path was free. So she did the only thing that was left for her to do. She ran.