Chapter Four
As a vampire, Spike could easily keep up with Buffy, but now that he’s human, she quickly outstrips him, grateful that she’s now familiar with the French Quarter’s twists and turns. Within minutes, she’s at the street entrance to the condo, and hands shaking, she fumbles with her cross body purse to find the key. Over the mournful sound of a local musician playing the saxophone, Spike calls her name again from the street corner, but she ignores him, slides the key home, hurries into the narrow hallway, and closes and latches the door.
Heart thundering, she leans back against the wood to catch her breath.
Another voice comes to her from the small courtyard, “Buffy?”
Buffy’s eyes fly open, and she views her sister alighted on one of the chairs. “Dawn? What are you doing here? *How* did you get here?”
As Buffy enters the courtyard, Dawn hops up and embraces her. “Well, I flew on a plane to get here. . . just like you.”
“But how did you find me?”
Dawn smiles, proud of herself, “Went to the bookstore, bought a map of New Orleans and did a locater spell.”
“I didn’t know you could do a locater spell. I’m impressed.”
“Watcher 101.” Dawn’s eyes shift sideways. “I fumbled a bit and set fire to the carpet in our hotel room, so we’re probably gonna have a big bill. But I did manage to put out the flames before the smoke detectors went off.”
Buffy ignores her sister’s concern about finances. Giles can pay for it; he’s the one who wanted them in Houston in the first place. “Aren’t you supposed to be helping with the big to-do in Houston?”
Dawn shrugs. “Giles is flying in to help out. He’ll be more help than me since I’m only junior Watcher.” Dawn shrugs. “And I wanted to check on you. . . see how you were holding up. Plus. . . it’s Spike.” At Buffy’s expression, she tacks on, “You sent a text remember? ‘William Abbott is Spike.’”
To Buffy, sending that text seems like a lifetime ago. “Oh yeah.”
Dawn stubbornly juts her chin out. “And I care about him, too.”
Buffy hadn’t realized how much her sister cared, but she supposes she should have. “I know that. Wait. . . how did you get in?”
“Picking locks: also part of Watcher training.” Her dark blue eyes gleam with pride.
Despite her distress, Buffy can’t help but roll her eyes. “Great. So they’re teaching my baby sister breaking and entering.”
“Only for a good cause. I’m way over the shoplifting thing. Why are you all out of breath?”
Now it’s Buffy’s turn to be uncomfortable. “Running. There are apparently lots of vampires in the Quarter.”
“Somehow I’m not surprised. It *is* New Orleans. Did you know that there’s a ghost tour that stops at this place? And hey, didn’t Anne Rice used to live in town?”
Buffy shrugs and sinks into one of the patio chairs. Thinking about Anne Rice and vampire novels pushes her feelings about Spike to the forefront. “I saw him.”
Dawn sits next to her. “Spike? You did? I mean, is he him?”
Buffy nods. “William is definitely Spike. Angel told me.”
“You talked with Angel?”
“Yeah, and he said that Spike was made human after that battle in L.A. The Powers didn’t give him a choice. They made him human and established him in New York with a writing career and a girlfriend. And they erased all memories of being a vampire. . . all memories of us.”
“Whoa. He really doesn’t know anything about anything?” Dawn stretches her legs in front of her.
“No. Well, he does. . . I think he knows something. I could tell when I saw him.”
“How?”
“I went to the book signing, and he wrote this message in the book, and the way he looked at me. It’s like he could tell that he knew me from somewhere.” Despite the aching in her wrist, Buffy presses the fingers of her right hand into her left one, recalling the movement of Spike’s thumb over her palm, over the place where the flames. . . . She shakes her head.
“What did the message say?”
“To meet him for coffee and beignets at Café du Monde.”
Dawn’s eyebrows rise, and her eyes brighten. “Is *that* how you say it? Beignets. I always wondered.” She sobers and asks, “And you met him?”
“I did, and I thought. . . well, I’ll just see what he wants, and Dawn, it went really well. It was like being with him again. . . only not, and I found out that he actually doesn’t have a girlfriend. . . or a wife. Then, he started to tell me that he felt like there was something about me that he recognized. And well, I sort of freaked out a little.” Buffy takes a deep breath, so she can hold back her feelings.
“Sort of?” Dawn pushes to the edge of the chair.
“I left the café.”
“Why?”
“Angel told me to leave him be. . . told me to let Spike have his second chance at life, and I got scared. I mean, I want him to have that. . . to be happy. And honestly, I don’t know how much of my reaction and need to see him is related to reading about all the stuff that happened in Sunnydale. . . you know, old memories bringing up old feelings and how much is that I genuinely care about him.”
“I get that, but Buffy, I read the same book. It affected me, but not as much as you. I mean, you dropped everything and came here. That says something.”
Buffy studies the toe of her boot. “But I don’t know what it says.” She holds her arms against her abdomen. “Dawn, he followed me out of the café, and he saw me slay a bunch of vampires. He helped me find my stake when I dropped it, and h-he knew what he was seeing.”
“Oh my god, Buffy. What happened next?”
“I ran back here.”
“Where’s Spike?”
Buffy feels miserable. “He followed me, but I made it back here right as he almost caught up. He definitely saw where I came in.”
Dawn is on her feet in an instant. She dashes down the small hallway and unlatches the door. Without a word, she pulls back the wooden door. The music from the lone saxophone player filters in, a soundtrack to her fears, and Spike appears, his eyes full of confusion but also determination.
Buffy rises to her feet, her heart in her throat.
Wearing Willow’s resolve face, Dawn is firm. “Buffy, we should tell him the truth.”
* * *
Out of concern about who might be listening, Buffy and Dawn decide to move to the condo before making big revelations. Talking well into the depths of the night, Buffy and Dawn huddle on the bed while Spike alternately paces and slumps near them, depending on his emotional and mental state and on what part they’re disclosing. They tell him everything. . . beyond what he wrote about. He asks questions, particularly about the parts that don’t fit with his novel, and they do their best to answer.
Buffy tries hard to not display too much emotion because she doesn’t want to blow his mind even more than it’s already being blown. Nevertheless, she and Dawn both shed quiet tears at one point or another.
By the time they’ve run out of story to tell, Spike silently sits between the two women, his head in his hands, not in anguish but in disbelief. Buffy is too afraid to touch him because she doesn’t know how he might respond, but Dawn gently pats his shoulder.
Spike rubs his thighs and leans forward, resting his forearms on his jeans. “I must be insane because objectively I shouldn’t believe anything that you’re telling me. For all intents and purposes, I should be getting away from you two, going back to my hotel room, maybe calling the police to get a restraining order, and getting ready for the next leg of my book tour, but for some reason, I had to hear you out. For some reason, I have to be here.” He points to the floor before pausing for a long while.
“And god help me, part of me believes what you’re telling me.” Spike glances at Buffy then, but she’s studying her hands in her lap. “Partly because of what I felt when I saw you at the book signing and partly because of what I saw tonight when you killed those. . . vampires.”
“I felt it, too,” she finally acknowledges.
“I feel it now.” He sighs. “But it’s also not everyday that you find out that your whole life is a bloody lie and that feels. . .”
“Like you’re in complete shock and disbelief and like you might not be real?” Dawn offers.
Spike smiles, but his eyes are sad. “Yeah. I guess you know how that feels.”
“You probably need some time to make sense of it all, too,” she adds.
“And that’s why, as much as I feel like I have to be here, I need to go.”
Spike stands, and Dawn emulates his stance before pulling him into a big hug. Buffy stands, too, crossing her arms and awkwardly watching the affection between Spike and her sister. Of course, he notices her distance, and as his hug with Dawn ends, he gently caresses Buffy’s cheek until she is forced to make eye contact.
He searches her eyes for a long moment, the corners of his mouth lifting a little.
And then, he leaves.
* * *
The sound of the cathedral bells and soft yellow sunbeams wake Buffy up after only a few hours of sleep. Dawn is still fast asleep curled up next to her. Despite her exhaustion, Buffy decides she needs to go for a walk in the early morning, so she slips on her shoes and yoga pants and ventures into the quiet French Quarter.
She doesn’t let herself dwell on what happened with Spike the previous night but finds herself meandering past the bookstore again. The sign advertising his book signing is gone. She travels back the other way, passing the Jackson Brewery, which is surprisingly a shopping mall, and Cafe du Monde where tourists are already gathering for breakfast. She passes the place where she thinks she dusted the vamps, but the street is scrubbed clean of all evidence.
She stops at another coffee shop for lattes and then heads back to the condo, unsure what to do with herself. Dawn is awake when she returns, and she gratefully accepts the espresso drink.
Buffy starts the cry, and then, Dawn is in tears as well. All the emotion they felt the previous night but didn’t express pours forth as they hold each other.
When there are no more tears, Buffy sits back on the bed. “So do you think he’ll come back?”
Dawn gives her a helpless look. “I don’t know.”
“We should stay. Give him a few days.”
“Agreed.”
“And then, we’ll go back to Houston to help Giles and the Slayers there.” Buffy doesn’t really want to return to Houston because it means that she had to move forward again, and she isn’t sure she’s ready to.
Dawn plays with the hem of her pajama bottoms. “Gonna be a big one.”
Buffy thinks about the implications of vampires controlling NASA and the oil industry. “No kidding.”
“Since when did vamps get all focused and stuff?”
Buffy can tell Dawn is trying to lighten the mood, so she follows her lead. “What do you mean?”
“Remember when they just wandered around cemeteries, occasionally tried to destroy the world, and were just all grrr?” Dawn crooks her hands into makeshift claws.
Buffy emits a laugh. She needs to laugh. “Those were the days.”
“Now they’re trying to climb the corporate ladder.” Dawn takes a big sip of her forgotten latte. “Mmm. Caffeine. Have you noticed that the coffee is stronger around here?”
Buffy retrieves her cup from the nightstand. “Yes, and it’s needed.”