Post by Emmie on Feb 26, 2009 22:10:51 GMT -5
Chapter One
Title: Thought You Should Know
Summary: Spike writes a letter to Buffy before the final battle in Not Fade Away.
Characters/Pairing: Spike/Buffy
Genre: Romance, Angst
Rating: G
Warnings: Spoilers for the end of Angel Season 5.
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Just playing for fun.
A/N: Special thanks to Sue for the beautiful banner.
Buffy,
I’ve tried so many times to think of the perfect words to say to you. To let you know I was back from the great beyond. To tell you how I felt. I can’t find them. I’ve racked my brain til I was ready to strangle something but they’re never right. There are no words to fully explain what you mean to me. Every word isn’t enough. Not strong enough or powerful enough or beautiful enough. It’s a new torture all its own, to be filled to the brim with so much feeling and unable to express it. So I found myself swallowing these inadequate noises. They were unworthy of you. You deserve better. Always have.
So why am I bothering you now? Way I figure it, this might be my last chance. I know you’ve moved on. I suppose Andrew told you about my visit to Rome. Pathetic, right? I only caught a glimpse of you, a shimmer of gold, but I could tell you were happy. Finally happy. You looked free the way you were dancing. I’ve always loved to watch you dance. You were never more alive than when you were dancing. I never felt more alive than when we were dancing together. Beauty in motion.
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes
Byron truly was a poncey bastard, but he had a way with words. Better poet than I could ever hope to be. That’s how I see you. A creature of darkness born of fire and sunlight. Dangerous and powerful. Yet the darkness never consumes you. You rule the night. Your inner light banishes the shadows. You conquer and enslave. Makes you warm inside to be near it. And beneath that strength lies your heart. I’ve spent so much time trying to find myself there. Within the warmth of your heart. I think I always knew that’s where I’d find home again.
Love, don’t mind me. I told you once it didn’t matter how I felt, that I didn’t want anything from you. That’s not exactly true. Hell, it’s complete bollocks. I want. I want so many things from you. But I know I’ll never get them. And you shouldn’t give them to me. But I’d be a fool not to see you for what you are and be staggered by your light. The Slayer. Buffy. All that’s best of dark and bright.
I wanted you to know how I felt. How I feel. It’s a part of me, the best part. Sometimes I think it’s the only good inside me – the part capable of loving you. It means I’m more than a monster. That maybe someday I'll finally be...
Bad things are coming, love. And I find myself taking a side I never thought I’d choose. But he who shall not be named needs my help. It’s the right thing to do. And I think you’d be proud. So I’m going to save the world one last time.
Just thought you should know.
- Spike
Chapter Two
Title: Thought You Should Know - Chapter 2
Summary: Spike wrote a letter to Buffy before the final battle in Not Fade Away. It's starting to become a habit.
Characters/Pairing: Spike/Buffy, OC
Genre: Romance, Angst
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Spoilers for the end of Angel Season 5 and After the Fall.
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Just playing for fun.
A/N: Second Installment.
Spike stared at the bottle of whiskey on the bar in front of him. He glanced up and noticed his lack of reflection in the mirror behind the greasy bartender. Not that he had to worry about anyone noticing. It was a demon bar. Vampires welcome as long as they paid cash. Or kittens. Huh. He wondered if he should do something about the kittens. He doubted he’d make it out alive if he tried. Demons were funny about kittens. Only the slayer could scare them enough into letting her set their precious tabbies free. Maybe he’d call the ASPCA on the joint. Yeah. He’d do that tomorrow.
“Feeling lonely tonight?” A raspy voice purred in his ear.
Spike turned to face the brunette with the pornstar hair and the boobs to match it brushing up against the leather of his jacket. Her smile screamed sex and Spike glanced down at her straining cleavage before looking up to notice her heavily-lined eyes were a hazel-green.
“What’s that, pet?” He’d forgotten what she’d asked. As fake breasts went, hers were certainly eye-catching. Or they were til he noticed the color of her eyes.
“You feeling lonely tonight?” Her mouth quirked flirtatiously as she waited for him to answer, stroking his right arm as she leaned in closer.
Spike shook his head and broke eye contact as he turned back towards the bar. Her eyes unnerved him. Wrong color. No, not the color - he liked the color. They just looked wrong. Shallow, maybe. No, hollow. They looked hollow. There was no light in them.
The girl pouted for a second then reconsidered her approach. She sat down on the stool to his right and crossed her legs towards him, painting her smile back on. “Wanna buy me a drink?”
Spike glanced at her out of the corner of his eye then nodded at the bartender. “Jack, give the lady whatever she wants.”
“I’ll have what he’s having.”
The bartender’s eyes widened. “You want a whole bottle of Glenfiddich?”
She laughed a bit nervously. “Make it a shot.” She toyed with the shot glass handed to her then turned back towards Spike. “So what should we toast to?”
Spike raised the bottle in front of him and tilted it her way before taking a hard slug. “Not much for toasting. Sorry.” The girl’s shoulders slumped as she lifted her glass and downed the shot.
“So you’re a vampire, right? I heard about this bar from a friend of mine. Says that the non-killing variety of demon hangs out here.” She leaned in closer running her painted fingernail along the collar of Spike’s jacket.
“That’s what you heard, eh?” Spike eyes narrowed as he looked at her. Vampire groupie. Figures. Stupid cows looking for a thrill with the Big Bad.
“I hear that vampires have amazing stamina.” Her tongue caressed the syllables of the last word, lingering.
Spike leaned his head down slightly, his mouth quirking into a half-grin as he scoffed out a breath of air. “People do like to talk, don’t they?”
“So what do you say? Wanna go somewhere more…private?” Her voice deepened into what he assumed was her sexy-bedroom tone.
“Can’t. Kinda busy at the moment.” Spike muttered offhand.
Her jaw dropped in surprise then she looked down at the bar. “Doing what? Writing on postcards?” She reached forward to grab one. “Who’s Buffy? What kind of bimbo name is that? She your girlfriend?”
“Oy!” Spike grabbed the postcard back, snarling. “Hands off.”
She raised both hands as she rolled her eyes. “I get it. Hands off. Off of everything.” She grumbled the last line to herself. “I’m Christy, by the way. In case you wanted to know the name of the woman you just rejected.”
Spike swept the remaining postcards together into one pile in front of him, encircled between his arms resting on the bar. He looked a bit suspiciously at Christy for a few moments. “Name’s Spike.”
“Spike.” She repeated his name in a dull monotone.
“Yeah.” He muttered in response.
“Okay.” She sighed.
“Right.”
They both sat facing the bar not looking at each other in silence for several minutes. Christy looked over her shoulder to see if anyone else might be worth talking to. They weren’t. All she saw was slime, horns, flabby skin and creatures with scales. She sighed.
“So why are you writing to this Buffy girl on multiple postcards? Shouldn’t one be enough?” At least this Spike guy was nice to look at, no matter how rude and grumpy he was. Being hot made up for a lot of character flaws.
Spike shook his head. “Not gonna send all of ‘em. Like that would make sense.”
“So what then?” Christy shook her head.
“Just…” Spike’s gaze unfocused and Christy felt like he was looking right through her.
“Just what?” She asked frustratedly.
Spike looked down at the pile of postcards in front of him. “Just making sure I get it right. You know, don’t come on too strong. Don’t say anything embarrassing.”
Christy rolled her eyes again. “If you’re that worried, why even bother to write it? You’re here torturing yourself over writing some chick a postcard. You realize you’re pathetic, right?”
Spike closed his eyes and visibly clenched his jaw. Christy looked down at her empty shot glass and then reached across Spike’s arm for his bottle. He jerked reflexively, tightening his arms around the postcards only to relax when he opened his eyes to see her reaching for the whiskey. Christy took a few more shots straight from the bottle, shaking her head after each hit.
“Whoo! Wow, that is intense.” She looked at the bottle label. “I’ve never been a big fan of whiskey but this stuff ain’t half bad.” She smiled crookedly as she raised the bottle for another drink.
Spike started chuckling to himself. “Should be good, pet. I paid a pretty penny for it.”
Christy hiccoughed and then giggled a bit. “Well, it sure does go down nice.” She grabbed the bar with her free hand to steady herself. “So you want me to read it for you? Let you know if you’re being…embla- embarrassing?”
“Oh, you can read then?” Spike’s mouth dimpled his left cheek.
“Yes, I can read and, and – shut up.” Christy let go of the bottle to use both hands to brace herself as she wobbled on her bar stool, her stiletto heels grasping for purchase on the stool's foot rest as she blinked dazedly.
“You really can’t hold your liquor, can you pet?” Spike’s voice softened. He reached to steady her by the arm as he pushed the postcards into the inner pocket of his duster. “Come on, then. Let’s get you home.”
Christy let him help her down from her seat, holding her arm firmly as she wobbled from side to side in her heels. “We can’t go home. It’s not even…what time is it?”
“Time to go home, pet.” Spike said as tossed money down on the bar and led her towards the door.
“I thought you didn’t wanna go somewhere more private.” Christy muttered as she let him walk her towards the door.
“Just doing my duty.”
“Duty?” Christy squinted up at Spike, stumbling slightly as they weaved forward on the sidewalk.
Spike half-smiled. “Rescuing kittens.”
An hour later
Spike stood on the sidewalk looking up at Christy’s apartment building. Once he’d gotten her to tell him where she lived, they'd walked the few blocks to her place only stopping so Christy could vomit her guts out in each passing alley. Her roommate had helped her into bed, inviting Spike to stay for a drink. He’d passed on the offer.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the last postcard he’d been working on before Christy bumped into him at the bar. The last one. Pathetic. How many of them had he written? Enough to feel a bit heavy in his duster's pocket. He looked down at the oversized postcard with his tiny script squished together to fit everything he’d wanted to say. He’d even put a stamp on this one, thinking he’d finally got it right. Disgusted, he walked towards the trashcan on the side of the street. Raising his arm up, he clenched the postcard in his right hand prepared to toss it away only to stop and lower it slowly.
“Bollocks.” Spike muttered angrily. He looked down the street and noticed a mailbox at the corner. He looked back at the trashcan, clenched his jaw and tossed it inside. He stormed off, muttering “I’m not pathetic” to himself as he walked away.
Half a block down the street, he whipped around and ran back to the trashcan, leaning down to grab the postcard off the top of the rumpled heap. He wiped it off on his jacket, brushing it clean carefully, inspecting it for any offensive damage. Seemed to be alright.
He looked up the street at the mailbox, straightened his shoulders and strode directly toward it. He grasped the handle of the mailbox firmly, opening it with a jerk and tossing the letter in before he could change his mind. He jumped back, panting.
Spike nodded. “Right then.” His chest rose as he continued to breathe heavily. “Right. Not pathetic.”
The Postcard
Buffy,
So I made it out okay. Guess that’s obvious. I thought I might as well tell you. Trying to keep it a secret didn’t go so well last time. Bloody Andrew never could keep his trap shut. So yeah, was in hell for a bit. Not exactly what you’d expect. Torture, chaos, demon overlords – well okay, I guess it was what you’d expect. But the thing is it wasn’t really hell. No eternal damnation going on. I didn’t feel like I’d been judged or found wanting. None of that going down when the whole city went down with us in it. Was more an absence of judging. Like being abandoned. Forgotten. I doubt you even realized I was gone. Time had no meaning, right?
But at the end of the day you still have to get up and continue to fight. No matter how pointless it seems. Or how much you failed the day before. Life is still life even when you’re in hell. Difference is you’re constantly fighting for your right to live. Which hey, I’m used to so no strain there. It was harder on everybody else. I tried to help. Tried to keep them safe. I never really understood how hard it must have been for you that last year in Sunnydale. All those girls who… You lost them but you had to keep going, keep leading everyone. It really does make you tired.
I think a vacation is in order. Somewhere not too sunny with a nice nightlife. The Vegas strip isn’t too far off. Guess I can avoid the sun easy enough. Might be fun to gamble with something disposable like money for a change. Doubt I’ll be going to the demon casino there – kitten poker just isn’t as fun as it used to be. And who knows? Maybe I’ll figure out where I fit.
I hope you’re okay. Better than okay. And that you don’t mind me sending you this. I figure if you don’t want to read it, you don’t have to. Angel knows how to get in touch with me, if you needed anything. Not that I think you need anything, but just in case.
You are okay, right? I just had this weird feeling. Ya know, the kind that just starts to make everything feel not quite right.
Hope you’re good. And you’ve got someone with you to watch your back.
- Spike
Chapter Three
Title: Thought You Should Know - Chapter 3
Summary: Spike wrote a letter to Buffy before the final battle in Not Fade Away. Little did he's been reaching out to the wrong person at the wrong place.
Characters/Pairing: Spike/Buffy, OC
Genre: Romance, Angst
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Spoilers for the end of Angel Season 5, After the Fall and up through Issue #23 of Buffy Season 8.
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Just playing for fun.
A/N that she thinks you should know: This story loosely follows the comics canon. Buffy was never in Rome as shown in The Girl in Question, but rather leading a new Slayer organization of over 500 members in the fight against evil. The "Buffy" that Angel and Spike tried to visit in Rome was actually a decoy set-up by Andrew to protect the real Buffy and keep her true location a secret. Out of the 1800 Slayers that were activated during Chosen and the 500 Slayers that have chosen to work with Buffy, a group of Slayers led by one Slayer named Simone have gone rogue and have been abusing their power a la Faith in Season 3. Want. Take. Have. In Issue #23, Buffy and Andrew go to Rome to try to gain intel on Simone and her gang, only to be forced into a standoff on the island Simone has taken over off the coast of Italy. Andrew's squad of Slayers ("Italy squad" as he calls them) come to their rescue, but Buffy fails to rein in Simone or remove her from power. Simone's violent acts have brought intense scrutiny on the Slayers from the world's media coverage.
Rome, Italy
Nearly One Year after Not Fade Away
Buffy fumbled with the key as she worked to open her hotel room’s door. As the lock clicked, she pushed her shoulder against the door and slipped inside. The snick of metal as it automatically closed behind her made her blink tiredly as she examined the sparse room in the fading light of the setting sun. Andrew was busy catching up with the Italy squad of Slayers and wouldn’t be ready to leave for Scotland till morning. She’d overheard some of the girls talking excitedly about a night out on the town.
Night out on the town. How long had it been since she’d went out to party? Her dancing shoes probably had molded over from disuse. Actually, last time she’d danced her shoes were charred Cajun-style from Sweet’s spell. Figures. She couldn’t even dance on her own time – it always had to be to someone else’s tune. Her shoulders shook as they reflexively hunched forward and she crossed her arms to hug her chest. Her trip to Rome had been all about business gone bad. She’d figured that things wouldn’t play out peachy and keen, but she hadn’t expected this. This feeling of failure. Again.
She trudged forward across the room to look out the window, the fading light casting warm orange and reddish tints on the shingled rooftops and stone encasements. The city felt old. It practically breathed, sighing with each wave of light that passed across its surface. She leaned against the window sill, staring aimlessly out as she watched the yellows and oranges give way to deeper reds and purples, soon to be enveloped by the creeping bluish blacks at the very edges of the sky. Darkness falling. Except it didn’t fall. It greedily ate away at all the bright colors till they retreated beneath the horizon. Running away.
Buffy turned to push her forehead against the window casing, squeezing her eyes shut as she listened to the transitioning silence of day giving way to night. People were hurrying home to rest only to go out again once the dusk-hour passed. Her eyes flew open to the jarring sound of a woman shrieking from the street below, her battle-ready reflexes relaxing as she saw a tall man with wavy, dark hair release the shrieking woman from his arms to twirl her in a circle with a firm grasp on her hand. The woman laughed as she spun back into him and he bent forward to kiss her.
Buffy’s mouth opened unconsciously as she watched the lovers’ feverish embrace in the middle of the strata. She leaned forward, unable to look away as the man tilted the woman back, cradling her head in his arms as he deepened his kiss. A ruckus of catcalls forced the lovers apart, laughing as they smiled up at each other. Buffy blinked and looked down, suddenly too embarrassed to watch anymore.
She swallowed tightly and blindly reached for the shutters, pulling them closed and blocking out the last bits of light in her room. Feeling her way, she bumped into the nightstand by her bedside before letting her knees give way and falling down on the mattress. She rolled to the side and pulled a pillow from beneath the headboard to hug against her chest. It was too early to go to sleep but that’s all she wanted to do now. Just close her eyes and forget. Forget about Simone and her rogue gang of slayers. Forget about the little girl who’d lost her home. The little girl who Buffy had promised to help. And failed. Sure, they’d all made it out alive. But that wasn’t enough. It was never enough these days.
An entire island full of people had been forced to abandon their homes. All because of a Slayer with a major jones for power. Taking the island was only the most recent transgression in the eyes of the world. Everyone was watching and judging. Slayers were evil. They were dangerous. They attacked innocent people and forced them to run in fear instead of protecting them. The world didn’t know about the Slayers who bled for them every night, who died in battle against the forces of darkness. They didn’t know about the silent heroes. All they saw was the abuse of power from the misguided few. She didn’t know where to begin or how to fix this mess. Andrew had suggested releasing footage of the slayers in action fighting evil, but Buffy had rejected the idea.
What I do is too important to show the world.
She still thought that was true. She knew it deep down inside. She wasn’t going to beg the public for a PR pardon when she was needed on the front lines, teaching the girls how to fight, showing them how to lead. There was so much they still hadn’t learned. She had to be there to make sure they –
A knock on the door cut off her train of thought. Buffy considered ignoring it. Andrew and the Italian squad were the only ones who knew where she was and she so didn’t want to deal with more Slayer business right now. Not when she was so tired. A minute passed and just as she began to hope that her visitor had left, a staccato of raps against the door forced her eyes open.
She sighed as she leaned across the bed to turn on the bedside lamp, rolling off the mattress to stand upright. Buffy shrugged her shoulders stiffly as she walked forward to answer the door, pausing by the vanity mirror to brush the hair back from her face. She absently touched the shadows beneath her eyes. Oh well, can’t make those disappear without some magic concealer. Where’s Will when you really need her? Turning back to face the door, she stopped with her hand on the doorknob. Breathing deeply as she composed her face into a neutral expression, Buffy straightened her shoulders. Game face on - check.
Buffy pulled the door open and blinked at the bright light pouring in from the hallway. A woman stood on the other side of the doorway, looking intent and nervous. She stepped back in surprise as if she hadn’t expected anyone to answer her knock. Buffy stared at the young woman quizzically, trying to remember a blond slayer with green eyes from Andrew’s squad. Her face looked strangely familiar but she couldn’t place her. Buffy waited for the woman to speak, but she just stood there staring right back at her.
Suddenly frustrated and too weary to try figuring out how she knew this girl, Buffy broke the awkward silence. “Yes? Can I help you?” Buffy’s eyebrows rose expectantly, inching even further up as the girl blinked and nervously licked her lips. Rolling her eyes, Buffy waved her hand in front of the girl’s face. “Hello? Did you want something?”
“Are you –" The girl hesitated, staring at Buffy’s face with eyes wide like she couldn’t look away. "…are you Buffy?”
“That depends. Who’s asking?” Buffy narrowed her eyes as she took the girl’s measure. Something about this whole set-up just felt off. Her shoulders tensed as she watched the Slayer suspiciously, wondering if Simone had followed her to Rome for Round 2. The hallway behind the girl appeared empty, but that didn't mean much when you were dealing with a bunch of preternatural Slayers trained in stealth. Except the Slayer didn't look like she was dressed for an ambush, but a night out clubbing. Not that Buffy was judging her stylish fashion choices - she'd gone patrolling in skimpier gear in years past. Back when she wasn't in charge of a Slayer army and actually had a social life.
The blonde girl laughed as she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m …” She shook her head before continuing quietly. “I’m Buffy.” She grinned suddenly, her voice gaining strength. “The Vampire Slayer. “
Buffy’s head tilted to the side as her eyes lost focus on the girl’s face. Did she just say…? “Did you just say…huh?”
Chapter Four
A/N: Special thanks to aisalynn for being an amazing beta.
“Huh? Who are you?” Buffy repeated herself dazedly, shaking her head in confusion.
“I’m Buffy the –“
“Yeah, you said that already. But who the hell are you?” Buffy’s voice shook with anger as she clenched her jaw. Her hands tightened into fists as she leaned forward to force the girl to answer. And suddenly it clicked. Rome. Andrew. A girl that looked familiar because she looked a bit like Buffy herself. Even down to the stylish clothes Buffy had been coveting a few moments ago. It was the sort of outfit Buffy would wear if she had a choice, if she’d been living a different life. This girl was the decoy set up by Andrew to provide a cover for Buffy’s secret location. “You’re her. The girl Andrew–"
The other Buffy was already nodding. “Yeah, I’m her. And you’re…you. Wow.” The girl spoke in quiet awe, eyes wide with amazement. Buffy recognized that look. She’d seen it on hundreds of newly called Slayers’ faces. Like she was Gandhi, Rambo and Barack Obama all rolled up into a cute, blond Slayer package. She was a legend and very uncomfortable with the star status. Even Simone held a wealth of respect for Buffy, though apparently not enough to stop wreaking havoc.
Buffy’s rigid stance loosened when she realized the girl in front of her wasn’t a threat. As the tension drained away, all the exhaustion held off by the rush of adrenaline and anger came flooding back. She shook her head, trying to find focus. “So what are you doing here?”
The girl broke eye contact to look down both sides of the empty hallway. “Can I come in?” she asked hesitantly.
Buffy nodded absently, stepping back to let the girl enter her room. She closed the door and turned to look again at her visitor, taking closer note of her appearance. Superficially, they could have been confused for sisters or even twins. But there were some marked differences. This girl’s eyes were a bright, clear green compared to Buffy’s hazel color. She was a few inches taller than Buffy and not as petite in build.
The general resemblance was striking though and from a distance Buffy imagined that anyone who knew her would initially be fooled by this doppelganger. Even the girl’s hair was styled to perfectly match Buffy’s in cut and color, though her twin actually took the time to style it so it flowed and curled softly against her shoulders. Buffy found herself throwing her own hair up into a ponytail nine times out of ten. No time to style it in between training sessions, nightly slayage, trips to the future and massive attacks on downtown Tokyo.
The most noticeable difference in the girl’s face was her nose, straight and rounded at the tip. Buffy resisted the urge to rub her own nose in response. Not that she was still self-conscious about it - she’d gotten over that in high school. She’d totally gotten over it. Buffy bit her lip and looked down, noticing for the first time how pale her skin had become. Her twin boasted a radiant tan, the kind of tan Buffy could only get from a tanning bed nowadays as she spent most of her time in Scotland where sunshine was a rare commodity. Buffy rubbed her arms self-consciously. It felt like looking at a more attractive version of herself.
Buffy remembered Giles telling her a story about a cave where people were chained and forced to watch the world through the shadows projected on the walls. That there was a place where perfect forms existed, the pure versions of the distorted forms found in the real world. This girl who was pretending to be Buffy had somehow upstaged the real one. It made her feel like she was a broken copy, inferior. Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. Her stare met the other girl’s eyes expectantly. “So?”
“I shouldn’t be here, ya know? Us being seen in the same place at the same time? Badness.” The other Buffy started pacing from the window back to the center of the room, skirting around the corner of the bed each time she passed it.
Buffy watched her twin working up the nerve to answer her question. The girl seemed torn, wanting to speak but holding back. Watching her move around the room with so much nervous energy made Buffy feel her exhaustion even more acutely. She gazed longingly at the bed then back at her energetic guest. Exasperated, Buffy cleared her throat loudly. “Look, whatever-your-name-is. You came here for a reason, right? Not to just do a few hundred laps around my room?”
The girl stopped mid-walk to look back at Buffy over her shoulder. She sighed dejectedly and sat down on the bed, shaking her head worriedly. “I just don’t know where to start. It’s not like I’ve ever done this before.”
Buffy’s eyes twitched slightly as she watched the girl cross her arms defensively to hug herself as she sat on the corner of the bed. Her bed. Her jaw tightened reflexively and she started to grind her teeth. Be nice, be patient, don’t snap at her. “Why don’t you start with why you’re here?” Buffy said slowly through gritted teeth and a stiff smile.
The girl looked up to stare into Buffy’s eyes, a solemn expression on her face. “I have something of yours. Something that belongs to you.”
Buffy jerked back in surprise at those words, laughing slightly. “It’s not a weapon stuck in block of stone, is it? ‘Cause I already have one of those.”
The girl laughed. “No, it’s definitely not a weapon. It’s a – ” Her smile faded slowly and her eyes became a bit sad. “It’s a letter.”
“A letter?” Buffy smiled suddenly. “That’s it? So why the dire? Unless you think the postal service has been infiltrated by evil and needs to be slayed? Which I’m not saying isn’t possible. Just that we kinda have more urgent priorities right now.” Chuckling, Buffy walked over to sit in the chair facing the bed. Her eyes sparkled with restored good humor as she held out her hand.
The other Buffy looked away and reached into her bag to pull out an envelope. She started to hand it over only to stop and hold it between both hands in her lap, head hanging down. “It’s not the original one. I don’t have that anymore. But it’s a scanned version I uploaded onto my computer.” She looked up at Buffy, then down at the envelope.
“Okay. Fine.” Buffy stretched her arm out further, palm upwards to accept the letter. The girl handed it over reluctantly and looked down. Buffy shook her head and pulled the folded letter out.
Buffy - I’ve tried so many times to think of the perfect words to say to you. To let you know I was back from the great beyond.
Back? No. How? Buffy’s eyes widened in shocked disbelief as she read on, her head shaking from side to side in denial. She began to feel dizzy as she forgot to breathe out, finally gasping when her body forced her to exhale. The words bled together as her eyes watered with suppressed emotion. Her chest burned. A tear slipped down her cheek unnoticed until it dropped onto the sheet of paper Buffy gripped with taut fingers. She blotted at the moisture, frowning as the ink smeared.
Spike was alive. Or at least he was when he wrote this letter. The way he wrote, he made it sound like his being “back” might not last past the night he mailed this to her. The bed creaked as her forgotten guest fidgeted awkwardly. Buffy’s head shot up.
“When did you get this?” she interrogated, eyes fierce.
“It was…” the girl trailed off nervously in the face of Buffy’s intense stare.
“When?” Buffy demanded.
“A year ago. Almost. It was back in May. Or maybe June. Around then.” The girl’s voice wavered uncertainly.
“And were there any other letters after this? Did he write again?”
The girl shook her head slowly. “I’m sorry.” She looked at Buffy sympathetically.
Buffy’s eyes widened as she tried to blink back her tears. She struggled to swallow over the knot in her throat. Her body seemed to fold in on itself. She let her head fall forward, her lower lip quivering as she leaned her head slightly to rest on her upraised shoulder.
The girl’s eyes filled with emotion as she watched Buffy, not knowing what to say. “I’m sorry. I just…I thought you should know.” She finished softly.
Buffy raised her head woodenly at those last words, nodding slowly as she stared through the girl in front of her. Her expression went blank as she swallowed and blinked involuntarily every few seconds.
The girl stood up slowly and moved to leave. As she passed the vanity mirror halfway to the door, she turned to look at Buffy one last time. Buffy hadn’t moved. She sat frozen, staring off into space, no expression on her face. The girl turned back towards the door and took a step forward, gasping in surprise as a hand on her arm jerked her to a stop and whipped her around to face Buffy again.
The girl panted slightly, looking into Buffy’s stormy eyes still wet with unshed tears. Buffy’s gaze traveled over the girl’s face as her grasp on the girl’s arm remained firm. It would have broken a normal human’s arm, but even for a Slayer her grip felt unbearably tight. Buffy opened her mouth, her lips moving as if to speak yet no sound came out.
“You said… “ Buffy’s voice trailed off as she noticed the mirror on the wall behind them. Her eyes narrowed as she pulled the girl around like a doll so they both stood facing the mirror. With her free hand, Buffy reached out to touch her own reflection then that of the girl standing next to her. They were identical. All the minor differences Buffy had noticed earlier had disappeared. The girl’s reflection looked exactly like Buffy. Buffy looked away from the reflection to look at the girl’s face, turning back to the mirror with eyes wide in amazement.
“Magic.” The girl whispered softly. She nodded at her reflection. “That’s how everyone sees me now. You’re the only one who doesn’t see the illusion. Except when…” She nodded at the mirror again.
“Who are you?” Buffy shook her head from side to side, hoping to clear her vision.
The girl smiled sadly. “I’m Buffy.”
Buffy continued to shake her head. “No, that’s not your real name.”
The girl looked away from Buffy to gaze at her reflection. “That’s who I am now. If I forget, if I think for a second that I’m anyone else, I put lives in danger. I am Buffy. That’s who I have to be.”
Buffy let go of the girl’s arm, letting her hand drop limply to her side. She stood in silence, too stunned to respond. The girl turned to leave again and Buffy suddenly remembered.
“Wait! You said…you said that you didn’t have the original copy anymore.” The girl turned to look at Buffy, her eyes wary. Buffy swallowed tightly before continuing. “What happened to it?”
The girl looked down and licked her lips. “It’s gone. I don’t have it anymore.”
Buffy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You don’t have it?” The girl shook her head guiltily. “Who does have it?” Buffy asked slowly, eyes intent.
The girl’s head hung even lower, her head shaking slightly as she turned to pull open the door. She paused in the doorway and finally raised her eyes to look at Buffy directly. “I gave it away. I don’t know what happened to it after that.”
“Who did you give it to?” Buffy spoke in a low tone, holding the girl’s gaze without blinking.
The girl sighed. “Mr. Giles. I gave it to Mr. Giles.”
Chapter Five
Buffy sat in the darkened corner, waiting. Her first reaction after learning Giles had kept Spike’s return a secret had been to call him and demand an explanation. Said demands coming in the form of extremely angry yelling. And boy daddy, she’d tried.
But as it usually happened nowadays, Buffy couldn’t get Giles on the phone. Giles didn’t want to talk to her. Oh, the irony. Apparently, Giles didn’t want anyone communicating with her directly. She’d stewed in growing anger for hours after the other Buffy had left, finding no outlet to vent her rage.
After the third hour had passed, she’d realized she was glad that Giles hadn’t been ‘available to take her call’. She already knew what Giles would say to her. She could hear his voice in her head saying that he’d done it for her own good. That knowing Spike was alive would only upset her. That there was no future with a souled vampire and he wanted more for her than an unhealthy attachment to a member of the undead. He’d excuse his own sketchy behavior and somehow make her the guilty party for failing to live up to his expectations. The Giles in her head was seriously pissing her off.
No. She was done talking. She was done with excuses and false truths. And that’s all Giles would give her now. He’d try to placate her and when that didn’t work, he’d guilt trip her by reminding her that her duty was to her Slayers first and foremost. Like she didn’t already know that. Like devoting every second of her life for over the past year and a half wasn’t enough proof that she understood her priorities. Buffy understood sacrifice. She sacrificed her life everyday for the mission. For the girls she’d made into Slayers. Every day she paid the price.
The price hadn't felt so high before in a long time. What if he hadn’t survived? Was that why he hadn’t written again? Her world would be just cruel enough to bring him back only for her to discover that she’d already lost him again. Stupid world.
No, she was glad that Giles hadn’t wanted to talk to her because it made her realize what she had to do. It was time to take action and she knew just where to start.
Voices laughing from down the hall carried through the closed hotel room door. Buffy tensed in anticipation. The door opened after several failed drunken attempts to slide in the key. Andrew stumbled into his room, already half-undressed with his dress shirt pulled out of his slacks, his tie loosened and hanging askew. When he threw his jacket on the floor and started slipping out of his shoes, Buffy decided it was time to put a halt to this very unwanted strip show.
“Andrew,” Buffy drawled menacingly as she clicked on the lamp next to the chair she lounged in.
“Sweet bejeesus!” Andrew tripped over his shoes, falling back into the dresser behind him. “Ow!” Banging his head, he flailed about caught in his half untied shoes as he fell to the floor. Rolling over onto his back, he turned his head to find Buffy watching him with one eyebrow raised. “Oh. Hey, Buffy. How is our fair Roma treating the Slayer Generalissimo?”
“Have a good time tonight, Andrew?” Buffy’s voice held a dark undercurrent beneath her falsely sweet tone.
Fumbling into a sitting position only to trip over his shoes again, Andrew’s face was flushed from his night out carousing. “Heh. You know what they say about Slayers – all work and no play leads to extremely grumpy Slayers. And extreme grumpiness leads to the Dark side.”
Andrew’s face screwed up quizzically. “Or it makes you a dwarf in service to a beautiful princess forced to abandon her home because of an evil queen who’s desperately hoping that her Prince Charming will restore her with True Love’s kiss.” Andrew rested his chin on his fist, continuing to ramble in his tipsy state. “Don’t you miss Disney back in the day when they did their old school animation? Back before they sold their soul for the cool new toys. It truly was a Golden Age.”
Andrew’s gaze unfocused as his imagination carried him away. Buffy’s silence coupled with her calculating stare brought him crashing back to reality. He looked at her uncertainly, crawling up to sit on the bed and face her.
“You like stories, don’t you Andrew?” Buffy’s gaze was intense and unblinking, her mouth firm.
“Sure, who doesn’t?” Andrew started fiddling with his cufflinks and accidentally knocked one off his sleeve. He lurched forward, trying to catch it but it fell to the floor at Buffy’s feet. She leaned down to pick it up, examining the silver design in the shape of a light saber. She quirked her left eyebrow and looked back at Andrew with a half-smile. Andrew returned her smile ingratiatingly. Buffy’s upper lip curled to bare her teeth. Andrew bit his lip and gulped audibly.
Buffy held the cufflink up in front of her, tilting her head to look at it more closely. “I’ve never been a huge fan of mysteries myself. I always go for the romance, action and humor - the Princess Bride-effect. But I think I’m finally starting to see the attraction.” Buffy’s hard smile accompanied her musing tone. “Mysteries are about that moment when you just get it. Everything makes sense and you realize how it all fits. See, I had all these puzzle pieces laid out before me and I didn’t even realize that when I put them together – they told a story. Can you guess what it was?”
Andrew’s eyes widened and he pursed his lips, shaking his head. He looked at the silver cufflink being casually tossed from Buffy’s right hand to her left and back again. She occasionally paused to roll it between her index finger and thumb.
“No guesses? I’ll give you a hint. The first piece in the puzzle - LA.” She raised her eyebrows expectantly while Andrew’s face looked baffled. “Not enough? How about this one – Angel. Still not enough? Dana.” Buffy paused again before continuing, jaw clenched. “Still don’t get it? I’ll give you a big one – vampire with a soul.” She sat back in the chair, watching Andrew start to squirm while she fiddled with the cufflink. She smiled tightly. “That’s better. Now is there something you want to tell me, Andrew?”
Andrew laughed awkwardly. “Well as you’ve heard, my quest to the city of Angels led me to the evil citadel of the Wolf, Ram and Hart where I found myself facing many a harrowing experience. Little did I know that Angel the Vampyre would so boldly challenge my right to guardianship of the crazed Slayer, Dana.” Andrew waved his finger. “Oh, but the Dark One had underestimated his opponent. In the end, the side of Slayerly righteousness won the day…or night since it was dark out. And Angel the Vampyre was sent back to his evil fortress impotent and empty-handed.”
Andrew smiled like a child expecting a cookie for a job well done. Buffy stared at him, silent. “Erm, though no blows were exchanged it truly was a battle to the death. By glaring. Oh yes, we had a death glare-off royale! For the brooding great one was no match for Andrew, the greatest watcher in all the lan – ”
Buffy slammed her fist against the table next to her, leaning forward with gritted teeth. “No more lying to me, Andrew. Not to me.” She leaned forward and held the light saber cufflink between her index finger and thumb, pushing down until the metal was a flattened mess. She tossed it into Andrew’s lap. “Understand? ”
“So you wanna talk about…” Andrew’s voice trailed off.
“Spike’s alive. Or he was…” Buffy’s voice caught in her throat. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists tightly. Head bent down, she opened her eyes to glare at Andrew. “Spike came back. And you’re going to tell me everything you know.”
“Right-y-oh, boss.” Andrew’s voice cracked, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple.
Buffy nodded stiffly, satisfaction coloring her face. “Good. ‘Cause I’m done playing your games.” She leaned forward, the fire in her eyes holding Andrew in rapt attention. “It’s time you started playing mine.”
12 hours later
Rome Airport
Andrew rapped his fingers against the ticket counter, his entire body humming with nervous energy. The ticket sales agent paused in entering his travel information to glance at him strangely. He smiled in a creepily reassuring way and she widened her eyes behind her glasses, typing faster in order to get the bizarre man away from her post. “Two tickets to Glasgow. Would you like a window or an aisle seat?”
“Window.” The petite blonde woman standing next to the peculiar American answered automatically. “Please.” She added as an afterthought, looking uncertainly at her male companion.
The saleslady nodded and entered in the information. “Two tickets for Andrew Wells and…” She looked up at the pair when they failed to answer immediately.
The blonde woman flashed her perfect teeth in a big smile and handed over her ID for verification. “Buffy. Buffy Summers.”
“Buffy?” The saleslady barely suppressed a smirk, printing out the two boarding passes and handing them over to the man with the obnoxious manners.
Andrew grabbed the tickets from the saleslady’s hand and mock saluted. “Mille grazie, ticket lady. Ciao ciao!”
The pair turned and slowly worked their way towards the boarding gate in silence. Thirty minutes later, they took a seat by the gate and waited. Andrew remained jittery, glancing over his shoulder every few minutes and scanning the crowds. “Buffy.” His mouth quirked after saying her name.
“Hmmm…” she answered absentmindedly, lost in thought.
“It’s gonna work out. I can tell. It’s gonna work out great.” Andrew’s chipper voice rose above the general din of the airport boarding area as he rocked back and forth in his seat.
She looked at him skeptically. “That’d be loads more convincing if you weren’t acting like a kid who forgot to take his Adderall.” She took a deep breath as the flight attendant called all the passengers to prepare to board their flight. “I guess it’s time to face the music.”
Andrew nodded. “Showtime.”
They walked towards the gate, slowly moving forward in line as the group boarded the plane. A blonde woman in sunglasses and a dark overcoat watched their progress from across the room. She stood like a silent statue, her arms crossed over her chest. When the attendant finally closed the boarding gate, the woman walked to the window to watch the plane depart, staring as it taxied along the runway and prepared for takeoff. Her breath caught as the plane began to move forward, faster and faster, until it was airborne. She watched it rise into the sky, her heart in her throat, hazel eyes wide behind the tinted glasses. The plane finally disappeared from sight over the horizon and she let out a deep sigh. A smile slowly spread across her face.
A woman’s voice over the PA system announced, “Now boarding international flight 1630 to Los Angeles…”
Chapter Six
35,000 Feet
En Route to Los Angeles
Buffy had always loved flying. The exhilaration of takeoff as her body raced forward within the metal bullet, the struggle to defy gravity in the first few seconds off the ground, the way her ears popped as she was carried up into the sky. The otherworldly excitement as she chased her heart which had already flown high above her.
She swelled with emotion and feeling in those first few moments only to settle into a quiet, surreal wonder as the plane leveled at its high altitude. She loved the journey as she passed over the world from on high, enshrined in the fragile safety of metal and mechanics, watching cities and towns in their newly miniature scope.
During the day, she loved passing through the clouds and imagining she could reach through the thick Plexiglas to let the streams of white gossamer float through her fingertips. When night fell, she marveled at the stars that had fallen to Earth to light up the ground below, rivaling the sky in their brilliance.
Buffy loved the way her heart raced as the plane began its descent, how her stomach jumped and her body instinctively leaned forward in anticipation of the landing. How for a few moments she was between worlds, land and sky, and she reveled in the powerful sensation of being pushed forward while the brakes grappled with the force of the plane’s forward momentum.
She felt giddy after every landing as she returned to solid ground. With each step forward the sensation of flying faded away till her land legs were firmly rooted and her heart settled back into her chest. But the true wonder of sensation – it stayed with her long after her fall from the sky. In her memory and imagination she could still feel the clouds whipping past her and see the stars blazing within the black canvas of terra firma.
Buffy loved flying. Or at least she usually did. But this time the race to the sky made her body clench in anxiety and fear.
What if Spike was dead?
The sun breaking through the clouds on the horizon didn’t inspire wonder but made her flinch as she imagined his ashes scattered on the cavernous stone of the Hellmouth floor. The high altitude didn’t lead to pleasant musings about the world below, but made her feel alone and set apart.
What if Spike hadn’t written her again because he’d found someone else?
She imagined him kissing Drusilla, kissing Harmony, kissing an unknown woman in shadow who clutched at his shoulders as he ravished her mouth.
What if Spike no longer loved her?
She imagined him sneering at her, telling her it wasn’t even all that good while it lasted and that he’d already died for her once and wasn’t that enough?
Everything Buffy loved about flying had abruptly shifted until the experience was foreign and terrifying. The only constant that remained was her heart. Her heart that had flown up into the sky as it always did as the plane took off. Her heart that she continued to chase in choked desperation. Yet she feared this one time it was forever lost to her. She would chase her heart across the world but never find it again.
She imagined Spike dead. She imagined him in love with someone else. She imagined him hating her and blaming her for leaving him to die inside the Hellmouth. She imagined so many nightmare scenarios waiting for her at the end of her flight. Everything she imagined was wrong.
Alystrata Casino
Las Vegas
Spike’s head smashed into the pavement from the hard fists bashing him in the face. He growled through his fangs and caught the other vampire by the wrists, flipping him over his head as he whipped his shoulders back against the ground. Using that momentum, he swung his legs back down as he kipped up into a standing position, spinning around on the balls of his feet. His snarl fell when he looked at the cloud of dust where his opponent should have lain. He glared at his hunting companion who was supposed to have stayed on the sidelines for the fight.
Connor shrugged. “Sorry. You were just taking your sweet time. I figured I'd finish him off for you.”
Spike looked up at the sky in disbelief before turning his narrowed gaze on Angel’s son. “You know, next time you decide to come a-visitin’ Uncle Spike, you might wanna think about giving me some incentive to actually issue the invite. Here’s a hint – don’t bogart my kill. I’ve been hunting that lowlife wanker for the better part of a week and when I finally get him out in the open, you…” Spike growled again.
Connor raised his hands up. “Hey! Sorry. Won’t happen again. It just looked like you were getting your face pummeled, is all.”
“Pfft. I had him right where I wanted ‘im.”
“You’re right. I see that now. I was wrong. So very wrong.” Connor face twitched as he struggled to keep from smirking.
Spike glared at Connor before bending down to pick up his forgotten stake, shoving it angrily into his jacket pocket. “Didn’t ask when you showed up on my doorstep all pathetic looking, but why are you here anyway? Shouldn’t Papa Bear be shitting his proverbial brick right about now what with you subjecting yourself to my bad influence?”
“Nah, Dad’s cool with me taking a vacation. Or he would be if I’d told him about it.” The smile faded from Connor’s face. “I just needed to get away for a little bit.”
Spike sighed and started walking through the charred remains of the casino lobby. Halfway to the door, he turned to look at Connor who stood frozen in place. Spike raised his eyebrows and jerked his head towards the exit, waiting for Connor to start walking forward before he continued on.
“So how’d you know he’d be here? The vamp.” Connor ducked under a fallen ceiling beam as he waited for Spike’s explanation.
“Place burned down about a year ago.” Spike looked around at the blackened walls. “Perfect hideout for our kind.”
“But how’d you figure he was here? I’ve been helping you track him for the past day and his scent was nowhere in the area. No trail to follow.”
“Wasn’t him I was following.” Spike breathed in deeply through his nostrils. “You smell that?”
Connor closed his eyes and inhaled. After a few moments, he opened his eyes to look at Spike questioningly. “What? What is it?”
“That scent. Destruction. Despair. Fear. Death. It’s all burned into the walls here. It’s irresistible to a demon.” Spike’s eyes hardened. “The bastard couldn’t stay away.”
They walked in silence to Spike’s Viper parked a few blocks away from the abandoned remains of the casino. Connor stared at the massive dent above the front passenger tire. He absently kicked at the tire as he waited for Spike to unlock the door. Finally slipping inside, he turned to look at Spike expectantly and nodded in the direction of the dent. “What happened?”
Spike glanced at Connor while he turned the ignition and started driving back towards home. “Vänrak demon.”
“I had no idea Vänraks were so evil. Going around denting expensive sports cars.” Connor shook his head in mock disillusionment. “Petty vandalism. It’s just so…petty. Did he at least leave a note with all his insurance info?”
Annoyed, Spike turned to look at Connor. “It wasn’t vand – don’t make me pull this car over.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. Who knows what else this Vänrak did to your car? I’m just praying it’ll get us back to your place before it dies on us.” Connor settled back into his seat with his arms crossed over his chest, smiling as he looked out the window.
Spike kept his mouth shut, driving in silence. He stroked the steering wheel with his thumbs, occasionally patting it in a placating manner. Connor looked at Spike out of the corner of his eye, certain he’d heard Spike murmuring ‘sorry, sweetheart’ under his breath. He decided that would be taking the weird to all new heights and pretended he didn’t have superhuman hearing that could discern a pin dropping from 100 feet away.
Connor turned to stare out the window, hunching down into his seat. He sighed and looked back at Spike. Staring ahead at a scratch in the dashboard, he broke the silence. “Gwen and I broke up. Again.”
Spike turned his head slightly without losing sight of the road. “Sorry to hear that,” he said softly after a prolonged silence.
Connor exhaled loudly. “Yeah well, I should’ve known it wasn’t gonna work. After what she did. We tried, but I guess…” Connor stared down at the floorboard of the car. “I guess once you lose the trust, you can’t get it back. I kept waiting for her to stab me in the back like before. To turn on me.” Connor squeezed his eyes shut, holding them closed for a few seconds before blinking rapidly. He pushed back hard against the headrest, bracing himself with the reassuring pressure. “The worst part is that I still love her. I just can’t stand to be around her. Because of the person I become, the things I think and feel. I don’t want to be the guy who’s always wondering when his girlfriend is going to betray him again.”
Spike grunted. “’ve been there. A few hundred times with Dru. She’d always wander off, playing around with other demons till she got bored and decided to come home. And I’d always take her back. Always. Managed to convince myself she really loved me and that it was just her being…Dru. But there was always a part of me that knew she’d do it again. Took a long time before I finally learned to stop making excuses for her.”
Connor squinted. “How’d you do that?”
Spike chuckled painfully. “Fell in love with someone else. As far as easy solutions go, I don’t recommend it. The cure was just as painful as the disease. Maybe more.” Spike’s voice became solemn. “Most definitely more.”
“So you wish you’d never fell in love with this other girl?”
Spike scowled at Connor. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Connor shook his head, his brow furrowed. “Then I don’t get it. You said falling for this other girl was worse than being with Dru. Worse than being with a woman that cheated on you, that you couldn’t trust.”
“Never said it was worse. Said it was painful.” Spike stared straight ahead at the horizon. He continued in a soft voice, musing. “Pain isn’t always a bad thing, you know. Pain lets you know you’re still alive inside. Pain shows you how deep the feeling goes. You’ll never truly know love till you’ve gotten your heart ripped out from your chest. Heartbreak is part of the way love works its will. Love brings the highest highs and the lowest lows. Love takes you to an all new dimension of pain. Nothing can compare to the ecstasy of a bleeding heart.”
Connor shook his head again, confused. “I think I’ll pass on that then. I’ve had enough pain to last a dozen lifetimes.”
Spike blinked, his eyes refocusing on the road ahead. “Yeah. Guess so.”
Click Here to Read Next Chapter