Chapter Six
About forty-five minutes later, Willow and Spike show up at the door each carrying bags and looking a bit haggard from travelling. The first thing Buffy notices is that Spike has bleached his hair back to its usual platinum blonde color, and her heart literally skips a beat. He hangs back as Willow enters the room and drops her luggage, and Buffy gives her friend a tight hug, closing her eyes to borrow her friend’s inner strength.
“You made it.”
Willow sweeps her short red hair into a ponytail. “We did. Remind me to always book a direct flight from now on even if I have to book months in advance and spend a little more. Spending hours in multiple airports is no longer on my bucket list.” She lifts a finger. “And don’t even tell me to magic myself around. Reminds me of Anya and weirds me out. . . well, me and others.”
The corner of Buffy’s mouth goes up. “Noted. I’ll be sure to be reminder girl.”
“And right now, I need a shower. . . a really hot, long shower to wash off the airport grime.”
Buffy motions toward the back of the suite. “Bathroom’s all yours. Clean towels are under the sink.”
“Thanks. And you two need to talk.” Willow gives them both her patented stern look and heads toward the bathroom.
Hands in the pockets of his dark grey jeans, Spike is hovering outside the room as if he needs an invitation. “Hi.”
She purposefully keeps her tone light even though it’s a far cry from how she really feels inside. “Hi, yourself. You’re welcome to come in. . . William.” For once, she’s glad he can’t hear how fast her heart is beating.
He smiles at her hesitation and steps over the threshold, pulling his roller bag behind him. “Don’t rightly know who I am anymore either.”
They find their way to the sofa and sit near one another but not close enough to touch. Buffy keeps her hands in her lap and waits. The not-making-eye-contact thing makes the situation a little less awkward.
She begins with the obvious, “You bleached your hair.” She wants to reach out and touch the strands, but she clasps her hands together instead.
He shrugs. “It felt right somehow.”
“What does Becca think?”
“She thinks I’ve lost my mind, but she’s been thinking that for a while now.”
“Does she know you’re here?”
He lifts an eyebrow at her. “What she thinks doesn’t matter to me, love. . . not the way you alluding to. Thought you knew that.”
Buffy isn’t sure why she’s pushing this issue other than jealousy that doesn’t sit right with her, so she sets aside the topic, an apology in her voice, “I know that.”
“Sorry that I pulled a disappearing act.”
“Well, Dawn and I just sorta told you a bunch of unbelievable stuff, and you didn’t know us from Adam.” She picks a piece of lint off the denim of her jeans and rolls the bit of fabric between her fingers.
“It wasn’t my intention to hurt you.” He can’t seem to stop himself because his next words are rushed like he’s been holding them inside too long. “I don’t know why, Buffy, but there’s something in my. . . blood telling me not to hurt you or Dawn. It’s like it’s ingrained and unbending. . . permanent.” Embarrassed, he intentionally tries to press the proverbial brakes, “I think I knew it the first time I saw you.”
But Spike’s first time wasn’t the first time, not in Buffy’s mind and heart. She bites her inner cheek to keep from crying again. Crying’s never been her modus operandi, and she’s shed far too many tears in the last few weeks. Running and avoiding are more her speed.
She resists the urge to pepper him with questions and only asks, “Where did you go?”
“Back to New York. There were some practical things to take care of. I cancelled the book tour.”
“I saw.” Buffy doesn’t want to tell him that she and Dawn incessantly visited his website for news while they were in New Orleans.
“Becca’s not too happy with me right now.” He doesn’t expect a response to this, so he continues, “And I did a lot of thinking, something I’m not exactly known for doing. As long as I can remember, I rarely slow down enough in my personal life. . . only when I really care about something or someone.”
Buffy makes a little sound of mirth and takes a peek at Spike. “That sounds familiar.”
His blue eyes shine when he looks at her. “I realized that I was starting to have indications of changes in me even before I met you. I mean, I wrote the last book for a reason; I was having these dreams before I even started writing it. Thought it was my imagination. Then, I realized I wasn’t in love with Becca for a reason, too. This alternate life, for lack of a better term, it doesn’t seem to want to stay put away.”
“I think I kind of understand. I’ve been experiencing something similar.”
“You have?” He sounds relieved.
She nods, running her hands over the soft fabric of the cushion. “I’ve been feeling like the past is more present since I read your book. . . all the emotions and memories are fresh again. It’s obviously not the same as having a suppressed identity come forth, but I can relate.”
Spike leans back and studies her hands. “Lately, I’ve been having urges to go for walks in the middle of the night, which is fine where I live in New York, but it’s unusual for me. My dreams are more vivid and more frequent, and I have random memories that don’t fit with what I know about my life. Once I even lost a brief period of time, and I woke up on the kitchen floor. I know it wasn’t a seizure because I’m not epileptic, and well, because I did some research.”
Buffy is alarmed at this news, thinking that this must be what Willow was talking about, but she lets him keep talking.
He doesn’t stay with himself though, “Pet, I didn’t even think to ask you about your life. And I mean, here I am talking about connections and feeling something, but it’s been five years, and I can imagine that so much has happened that you haven’t shared with me. I can imagine that you would have someone else.” He falters. “Not that I have a right to know about any of it.”
Buffy almost giggles because what he’s suggesting seems so ludicrous in her head. She hasn’t had time for dating, not with the trips around the world averting apocalypses, gathering up and training Slayers, and not living in one place for more than a few weeks at a time. “Kinda been too busy to date. Well, there’s been a few. . . I mean, here and there. . .” She trails off, slightly embarrassed to be confessing any details of her sex life with Spike.
He chuckles. “I get it. You had an itch to scratch and you scratched it. No harm in that.”
“And as far as the rest of my life following Sunnydale, I will be happy to tell you all about it someday when we’re less. . . occupied.” She knows there might not be a someday, but she says it anyway.
Spike doesn’t make any false promises. “I may take you up on that.”
Now it’s Buffy’s turn to ask a question, so she decides on the one that will hopefully lead to the questions she really wants answered, “Why did you give Dawn and me so much money? Was that one of the ‘practical’ things? And how did you even know where to find us?”
“I found you because of what you told me in New Orleans. Between my own investigating and the work of a private investigator friend of mine, finding the Council was easy. As for the why about giving you money, I have a lot of it.” He sighs, no doubt realizing this is a woefully inadequate reason. He’s silent for several seconds. “And I thought that if I’m going to go down this path. . . if my life is going to be changing, someone should benefit from the wealth I’ll leave behind. And you didn’t get it all. I left some to Becca to handle my estate and some to a charity for writers.”
Buffy’s mind is going fifty different directions, but she manages, “You don’t have any left?”
“I have enough. . . enough to get here, enough to sort things out.”
“Sort what out?”
“My choice. . . the only choice I’m left with.” He doesn’t sound despondent or mixed up, just resolute.
Buffy swallows and asks because she knows Spike needs her to ask, “What choice?”
“The choice to stay William Abbott or to return to being Spike.”
“And being a vampire again, do you realize what that means?” She feels like she’s holding her breath.
“Yeah, I think I do, love. . . crazy dreams, remember?” He laughs, but this time his laughter is tinged with a sadness and pain that comes with a deeper knowing.
Wanting to reassure him, Buffy finds herself closer to him and reaching for his hand. Spike’s eyes light at her touch, and he weaves his warm fingers with hers.
He plays with her thumb. “There was a lot of good in those dreams, too.”
“I just want you to know that if we can help, whatever you decide, I support you in that decision.” She hopes he hears the earnestness in her words; she hopes she’s hidden any trace of her own personal feelings that might affect his decision.
“That means. . . more than you know.” His blue eyes find hers again. “It’s actually nice to have a choice in the matter.”
Willow’s concerned voice comes out from the doorway, “You may not have much time to make that choice.” Buffy and Spike look up to see the freshly clean, redheaded witch watching them with a worry line between her eyes. “We have to make a move now. Looks like we need to re-prioritize the Isaac Taggert situation.”
Buffy and Spike listen as Willow explains how she plans to use magic to shift Spike’s lifeline to either Spike or William. The metaphor of New Orleans and the hurricane is easy, so Willow uses it. She says that the leakage between their lifelines is like the levees in New Orleans that weren’t properly maintained and sprung leaks when Hurricane Katrina hit the city. Because Spike didn’t have a say in how his lifeline was changed, his spirit was like Lake Pontchartrain in that it overwhelmed the levees and found the cracks in the lifeline that the Powers that Be created for William Abbott.
If Spike chooses William’s lifeline, Willow will shore up the levees for him so that Spike stays at bay, and if Spike chooses his former lifeline, she will tear down the levees. If they choose to do nothing about the problem, the strain will cause a dimensional rift that could have devastating consequences for the world. The split timeline will create a small but potent fissure that will ripple out and affect everyone. . . kind of like a butterfly effect.
“And if I choose Spike’s lifeline, what happens to William’s?” Spike’s question sounds funny in Buffy’s mind. “What about my soul?
Willow nods as if she is expecting his query. “I don’t think that William’s lifeline can be completely erased because frankly, I’m not *that* powerful, and it would have the same ripple effect we’re trying to prevent. Odds are, I will create some sort of death for him. . . something that won’t affect all the people in his life’s timeline, but you and me and Dawnie. . . we will remember William. And everyone who’s met William. Your soul will remain intact. I’ll make sure of it.”
Goosebumps break out on Spike’s arms at Willow’s words, and Buffy squeezes his hand and asks, “What about the third option where Spike’s lifeline is restored, but he remains human?”
“I don’t believe the Powers will let me. It’s kind of an either or option.”
“And if you push back Spike’s essence and he chooses to stay William, what will prevent Spike from breaking through again?”
“If that’s the case, I don’t think it will happen again.” Willow sounds sure.
“Why not?”
“Because it will have been his choice.”
Spike cocks his head. “That actually makes a lot of sense.”
“What about the consequences of using magic to make this repair?” Buffy’s memories of the past weigh heavy.
Willow and Spike exchange a look, and Willow says, “We talked about this, and I think because the consequences of not stepping in would be dire for more than just. . .”
“I’m willing to risk it,” Spike finishes for her.
“And this time, I won’t be invoking darker forces.” Willow states this simply but leaves unspoken the part about invoking darker forces to raise the dead.
Buffy’s cell phone beeps, indicating that she has a text message. Willow fetches it for her and reads the message aloud. “It’s from Giles. He says, ‘Meet us at Memorial Park as soon as possible. Please bring the scythe. There are ten Byclof demons that are engaging in a ritual and holding several joggers hostage. Elizabeth and Jennifer are tied up with the Taggert situation.’” Willow is amused. “I can hear him saying these texts out loud. We need to teach him some texting shorthand.”
Buffy somehow manages to smile. “Agreed.” Then, she glances with apprehension at Spike who hasn’t let go of her hand.
“Go,” he insists. “I’ll be fine. The witch and I. . . we’ve got this.”
“We do.” Willow crosses her arms. “I won’t let anything happen to him.”
Buffy reluctantly breaks contact and goes to unpack her scythe. When she returns to the living area of the suite, Willow is out of the room, sorting through herbs from her bag and preparing them in the suite’s tiny kitchen.
Spike stands to meet Buffy.
“So, pet,” he says in a low tone that Willow can’t hear, “I would be remiss if I didn’t do one more thing before this all goes down.”
Buffy searches his eyes, which are laden with emotion. “What do you mea. . .”
Spike strides forward and brushes his fingers over her cheek, bringing his lips to hers. They’re warm and soft on hers, and she follows his lead, allowing him to glide his lips over hers in a gentle rhythm that she wants to get lost in. With each motion, he lingers just long enough for her to almost gasp before he moves again so that she is focused solely on the feeling of their touch. Right as she is about to burst from the desire rippling through her body, he ends the affection, his lips millimeters from her still parted ones, his breath gently mingling with hers. When she opens her eyes and willingly falls into his blue ones, Buffy is startled to view something like love alive in his gaze.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, pulling her into a hug.
She wraps his arms around his waist and listens to his rapidly beating heart beneath her ear. “For what?”
“For everything. For finding me. For telling me the truth.”
Trying to stay strong, Buffy extricates herself from the embrace. “You’re welcome.”
Then, she leaves him behind to join Giles and Dawn in the never ending fight.