A/N: This story picks
up right after Entropy,
so obviously the Spike/Buffy part of Seeing Red did not take place for
the purposes of this story...but otherwise, just assume that everything
else from the end of Season Six happened just as in canon, with the
exception of Spike going to get his soul...Hopefully I'll fill in some
gaps and feel free to ask about it if something doesn't make
sense...and
if it's not a part of the mystery I'll do my best to *make* it make
sense! J
3. Never Forget
Buffy
could not remember another time when she had ever felt so completely
exhausted.
She trudged down the sidewalk, away from the Doublemeat Palace and
toward her house, idly fidgeting with her ridiculous cow hat in her
hand as she walked. All she could really think about at the moment was
her soft, warm bed – and getting to it as quickly as possible. It felt
like it had been forever since she had been there – even though it had
only been...
*Whoa. Nearly 24 hours. No wonder I'm dead on my feet.*
She had gotten up very early that morning – at an hour that barely
qualified as no longer "last night" – taking her mother's old SUV and
heading to L.A. to talk to Angel. She had left around 3:00 in the
morning, knowing that would put her in L.A. around six – sunrise.
If she waited any later than that, Angel would be asleep when she got
there – and if she went any earlier, he would still be out and about
doing his "helping the helpless" thing...and she was very pressed for
time; she had to be back in Sunnydale for her shift at the Doublemeat
by noon.
It wasn't as if she'd actually *wanted* to go see Angel, anyway.
But she had finally decided to swallow her pride over the issue – at
least partially. Her official reason for being there was for Dawn's
sake. Her sister's fear for Spike's safety had only intensified over
the past few weeks – but that was by no means the only reason she was
going.
She was scared to death for the blonde vampire herself – terrified that
something terrible had happened to him.
She had gone to L.A. to do something she would never have thought that
she would do.
She had gone to ask Angel if he had seen Spike – and not with the
intent of staking him, but because she was actually worried for his
well being.
*Yeah,* she thought sarcastically as she made her way home that night.
**That* was a wonderful idea, Buffy! Went over beautifully! 'Hey,
Angel, have you seen the childe of your insane daughter Drusilla
lately? What's that? Not since he chained you up and had you tortured
without mercy for hours? Gee – sorry about that – I was just wondering
if he's okay!*
She kicked angrily at an unfortunate piece of trash that had the bad
luck to be in her path, fighting back that sense of anger and annoyance
that was in constant battle with her concern for the blonde vampire who
had become such a source of emotional confusion to her.
*Stupid Spike! I asked him before where he was between the Gem of Amara
thing and when the Initiative got him! He could have *told* me what
kind of terms he and Angel parted on. Saved me the humiliation of
getting screamed at by Angel in front of his office staff!*
*If he *had* told you – you'd have staked him,* that annoying voice of
reason spoke up in her mind again.
*No, I wouldn't have,* she insisted to herself. *I wouldn't have staked
him. At the very worst I might have hit him. Or – beat him up. A lot.*
She sighed wearily, finally admitting to herself that really, Spike
would have been crazy to have told her about his last encounter with
Angel. But the idea of his being afraid to tell her something like
that, afraid of what she might do to him for it, somehow bothered her.
*Stupid vampire!* her mind stubbornly repeated. *It was two years ago!
It's not like I would have hurt him – much...*
The truth was – she had not exactly given Spike much of a reason to
trust that she would react calmly and rationally to the story, no
matter how much time had passed since then. Her mind was dragged
unwillingly back to that cold, terrible night in the alley near the
police station, where she had beaten any faith he might have had in her
sense of compassion or forgiveness right out of him.
*Okay – Angel's reaction to my question – not Spike's fault,* she
finally admitted to herself – if only to give her mind a respite from
the troubling images that currently filled it. *Except for in the sense
of the brutal torture he put Angel through that *resulted* in Angel's
reaction,* she shrugged. *But the important thing is – Angel hasn't
seen him, either. Spike, where are you?* she wondered anxiously.
At the moment, she was feeling particularly fragile – and realized
suddenly with a pang of emotion that she couldn't quite identify...this
was just the sort of night on which she would have found herself
kicking open the door to his crypt, throwing herself into his arms and
throwing him down on his bed – taking comfort from the only one who
seemed equipped to give it to her since she had come back.
But tonight – the reason she needed comfort at all was the fact that he
was not there.
That – and Angel's treatment of her in L.A.
She had not expected the fury that rose up in her former lover, when
she had asked if he had seen Spike, her worry for the blonde vampire
apparently all too clear in her eyes. Angel had angrily informed her
about the last time he had seen him, then demanded to know why she
cared where Spike was or what had happened to him.
Naturally, she had retorted that it was really none of his business
anymore who she cared about and why, and if he didn't know, that was
all he had to say, and she would be out of his way, if he was going to
talk to her that way.
"Fine! I don't know – haven't seen him! Now get out!" Angel had snarled
at her, and behind the anger and resentment she saw in his dark eyes,
there had been a hurt and betrayal that made her realize that somehow,
he must have sensed that there was more to her questions – questions
that had brought her all the way from Sunnydale to L.A. in the middle
of the night – than the concern for Dawn she had claimed was the reason.
And suddenly, she had wanted nothing more than to be somewhere else --
*now*.
She had found herself in tears several times during the three hour
drive from L.A. back to Sunnydale – though she would have been hard
pressed to say whether her tears were more out of hurt from the way
Angel had treated her, or her worry over Spike's safety, or the
inevitable confusion that had resulted from seeing Angel again after
the past few months spent in the tumultuous, emotionally painful
not-relationship that she had had with Spike.
She was just confused, and frustrated, and scared, and so very, very
tired...
She had left L.A. around eight in the morning, getting back to
Sunnydale around eleven – just in time to take a quick shower, throw on
her uniform, and get to work by twelve. But then, her boss had asked
her to work a few extra hours – and here she was, nearly twelve hours
later, finally heading home again.
She frowned as she walked up her driveway, to find an unfamiliar
dark-colored SUV parked in her driveway – and she automatically
quickened her pace, an anxious feeling building in her chest.
Xander had been staying over with Dawn while she worked her shift – and
his car was still parked in the driveway beside the unfamiliar vehicle
– but she had no idea who it belonged to, and, this being Sunnydale,
knew that chances were, an unknown visitor to the Slayer's home when
the Slayer happened to conveniently not be there, and her little sister
who may or may not still be a mystical key *was*, was not likely to be
the result of mere coincidence.
Of course -- that particular sort of visitor rarely drove a shiny new
SUV...but somehow, that did little to calm her fears.
She hurried up the walk and opened the door -- frowning as she walked
into the foyer, at the sound of casual laughter -- *three* voices'
worth – coming from the living room.
"Did you guys know the door was open?" she asked, unable to keep the
annoyance from her voice, the after effect of finding that her fear for
her sister's safety was unfounded. "You can't do things like that," she
continued as she locked the door behind her and turned to go on into
the living room. "It's not..."
Her voice trailed off abruptly, her eyes widening at the sight of the
person who was sitting casually in the living room in the recliner, one
leg resting across the other, his hands behind his head as he looked up
from the story he was apparently telling to Xander and Dawn, who both
sat, to all appearances transfixed, on the sofa.
Riley.
"...safe," she finished softly, setting her keys down on the end table
beside the sofa and staring at her ex-boyfriend, sitting inexplicably
in her living room – and noticeably without his new wife, this time.
*He's just *full* of surprises, isn't he?* she thought with no small
amount of bitterness, as she steeled herself emotionally before
speaking aloud.
"Riley," she said by way of greeting, with a small nod and a tight, not
exactly welcoming little smile. "Hi." She paused for a moment before
saying the words that had sounded too rude in her mind to actually use
– had she particularly cared about Riley's feelings anymore.
"What are you doing here?"
The ex-commando let out a nervous, surprised little laugh, glancing
around at Xander and Dawn – who had not appeared to have any problem
with his presence so far – for support before meeting Buffy's eyes as
he stood up.
"What? You're not happy to see me?" he said in a light, teasing tone,
clearly meant to break the tension.
It was not exactly working.
"Should I be?" Buffy countered quietly. There was a moment's pause
before she relented slightly, sighing almost imperceptibly as she
continued, "I mean – last time you came to town you brought a nasty
disgusting demon with you – not exactly my idea of a party."
"Yeah," Dawn remarked quietly, almost outside her range of hearing,
with a little smirk on her face. "And then there was the Suvolte, too."
A slight smile of irony crossed Riley's lips, the only indication that
he had heard Dawn's snide little comment about his wife, though his
eyes never left Buffy's.
"No demons this time," he assured her, shaking his head slightly.
"Sure about that?" she shot back, her eyes intent, though her voice was
soft.
Riley dropped her gaze for a moment, his smile fading, before he met
her eyes again, completely serious.
"I – I've missed you, Buffy."
Buffy's eyes widened slightly as her face took on an incredulous look.
Just what was Riley playing at? she wondered indignantly – but her
reaction must have shown in her eyes, because before she could call him
on his very inappropriate words, he spoke up, moving in slightly closer
to her as he did.
"I mean it. I really have. Seeing you – a few months ago – it just –
well..."
"Wait." The Slayer held up her hand, drawing his words to an abrupt
halt, taking a step back away from him, trying to gather a bit of
distance so that she could deal with what he was saying. "Riley – you
can't just – show up here, and..." She looked up at him, shaking her head
in disgust and disbelief, "you're *married*, Riley!"
"No. I'm not."
The stunned silence that followed that announcement gave Buffy at least
the small relief of knowing that she was not the last to hear that
particular news. Xander and Dawn were both staring at the soldier with
as much astonishment as she felt.
"Oh."
That was all Buffy could bring herself to say at the moment, still
trying to take in what he was telling her.
"I just – after I saw you – and – and Sam – she knew – she had to know,
I couldn't really hide it, never could, really, but Buffy, I..."
"Riley," she cut him off again, her voice soft and weary, "wait.
Um...Xander?" She turned and faced her friend, uncertainty in her eyes.
"Can you...um...can Dawn – stay over? Tonight?"
"Buffy..." Dawn started to object, shaking her head. "I don't want to..."
"Dawn – I need a little privacy to talk to Riley – okay? It's Friday,
you don't have to get up early for school or anything, just – go with
Xander – okay?" Buffy insisted, her voice terse, and leaving little
room for argument.
"Don't you think that should depend on what *Xander* says?" Dawn
snapped, crossing her arms over her chest in a stubborn pout. She knew
that she was clearly outranked when it came to her sister, so there was
little else she could do except call Buffy on her just assuming that
Xander would be willing to do as she had asked, without waiting for his
answer.
The Slayer turned slightly pleading eyes on her best friend. "Please?"
she said softly.
Xander sighed, his dark eyes troubled, revealing that he was not so
very sure either that this was a good idea – but he nodded with
resignation. "No problem, Buffy. You know Dawn's always welcome."
"Fine," Dawn muttered, rolling her eyes. As the girl reluctantly
followed their friend to the door, walking past her sister, she paused
long enough to remark coldly, narrowed eyes piercing into Buffy's in
accusation, "What better way to forget all about one thing – than to
replace it with something else?"
Buffy's eyes widened and she turned as her sister passed her,
objecting, "I'm not..."
But the door slammed behind Dawn, cutting off her futile attempt at
explanation.
*That's not what I'm doing,* she insisted to herself, closing her eyes
for a moment to compose her thoughts before turning to face Riley
again. *I'm not replacing Spike with Riley. I don't even want to be
with Riley. There will be *no* being with Riley! I just see no reason
to humiliate him in front of the others – that's all...that's it...*
She turned around, drawing in a deep breath as she faced the hopeful
expression on Riley's face – unable to find words for a very long
moment.
Finally she breathed out, "So. You and Sam. Split up. You – left her?"
Riley shook his head. "Not quite. The other way around, in fact." His
blue eyes took on an imploring look as he edged in closer, reaching out
to touch her arm. "She – she couldn't stay – not after – not when it
was so obvious that I – I wasn't over you. I never was, Buffy..."
Buffy shook her head, backing away from him slightly. "Riley – no," she
objected quietly. "I – I can't just – you can't just come back here and
announce that you're married – and then come back three months later
and announce that you're suddenly *not*, and you wanna get back
together! I can't just -- *do* that, Riley!"
"I don't expect you to."
His words surprised her enough that she looked up at him suddenly, one
eyebrow raised in speculation.
"I don't," he repeated emphatically, when faced with the dubious look
on her face. "I just – want to be in your life again, Buffy. Want to –
to help you. To be – your friend. And – maybe – later on – if things
work out..."
"Riley – I don't want you counting on that. I'm not – I'm not even the
same person that..." Buffy shook her head, her voice trailing off as her
mind was filled with images of eyes a deeper blue than Riley's, filled
with a depth of emotion like none she had ever seen – certainly not in
Riley's eyes.
"I know that, Buffy." Riley's voice was quiet, solemn. "I'm not –
counting on anything. I just – I've moved back to Sunnydale. I got an
apartment – across town." He was quiet for a moment, allowing that to
sink in, before he went on, "I know things. I'm experienced. I can help
you – when you want me to. And – that's all I want right now, Buffy –
just to be able to help you. I just – just wanted you to know that I'm
– I'm here. Okay?"
Buffy nodded slowly, still unable to find words.
When it became clear that she really did not have much to say to him,
Riley nodded in acceptance, and headed toward the door, pressing a
scrap of paper into her hand as he passed her.
"My number," he explained. "If you need me."
"Thanks," she replied flatly, not looking up.
Riley nodded again, as he reached for the door. "I'll let you – get
some sleep."
She did not respond as he opened the door and stepped out onto the
porch. He turned slightly before moving off of it, half-facing her as
he asked softly, "If you don't mind my asking, Buffy – who is it? That
you're – trying to forget?"
Buffy looked up at him, startled that he had caught Dawn's words as
well. After a momentary silence, she looked down again, before meeting
his eyes with a steely, unflinching gaze.
"No one," she replied. "I'm not – trying to forget – anyone."
Riley studied her face for a moment, before nodding his acceptance of
her words, and turned without another word, walking out into the night.
Buffy's eyes welled with tears, as she allowed bittersweet memories to
flood her mind – there was no one here tonight with her, no one's
feelings to worry about – so she let the memories, the pain and fears
that had been overwhelming her for the past few months, flow over her,
embracing and accepting them.
*Not trying to forget,* she echoed in her mind, sitting down on the
edge of her sofa with her head in her hands, as tears flowed down her
cheeks. *Don't *ever* want to forget...*
*******************************
There was something...something...
He was trying so hard to remember...
Familiar.
Safe.
Inviting.
Mingled in with the scent that he had come to associate with fear, and
pain, and suffering...
So...confusing.
"She's forgotten all about you, you know."
He flinched slightly at the sound – yes, *sound* -- that reached his
newly repairing ears – the sound that announced the presence of the
other – the one that came here, to this dark, lonely place of suffering
– only to intensify that suffering.
"I saw her today – and she doesn't even remember, Spike – that's how
little you mean to her."
The words sounded hollow – echoing in his weakened, damaged hearing,
with a muffled, underwater sort of sound – and he could not make out
the individual words.
Not that he could have put meaning to them, anyway – yet.
He could hear them – knew that he was being spoken to – but to his
infinite frustration, his mind refused to process the words, to give
them meaning. He had no idea what the other person in the room was
trying to say to him.
But the tone – that was impossible to mistake.
Cold, mocking, gloating over his misery and suffering – enjoying his
pain and terror – that dark voice always accompanied more pain – more
terror – so although he could not yet comprehend the words – Spike knew
enough by now to fear the arrival of that voice – that heavy, acrid
scent that accompanied this unwelcome visitor to his underground prison.
"Did you hear me, Spike? Are you listening?"
The demand in the voice made it clear that he was expected to answer –
though he had no idea what to speak -- *couldn't* speak – so the
sensation of frustrated fear began to spread through him, as the heavy
footsteps slowly sounded, growing nearer to him as the intruder went on.
"You *can* hear me, now, can't you, Spike," he observed with a smile
that was audible in his voice – a cruel, nasty smile that promised only
more pain – though Spike could not quite comprehend the question.
"You've been able to hear me for some time now...*haven't you*?" the loud
words spoken suddenly, very near his ear, made the injured vampire
flinch, pulling back away from the abrasive sound that hurt his head –
though he couldn't pull back very far.
Something – something was – restraining him...
"You're healing, Spike," the voice continued softly, moving away from
him again now – circling him in a way that the predator in Spike could
still recognize as dangerous – threatening. "Gradually – getting back
all those abilities that you lost when I put a bullet through your
brain. It's really amazing, actually. I had no idea that you'd heal up
so well. I mean – it's taken time, but – you've barely had any blood at
all. Just a tiny bit each day, if I'm figuring right – and you're
getting better. It's really very..."
He paused, trying to come up with the right word, before finally adding
in a whisper of amusement, once again close enough to make the bound,
injured vampire flinch, though he had no concept of exactly what was
being said – only the menace and sadistic pleasure behind the words.
"...disappointing."
"Pretty soon – you're gonna be able to talk again – aren't you, Spike?"
the voice mused. "And when that happens – well – I might just have to
bring an end to all this. Can't have you – running your mouth. Ruining
everything. You were always so good at that, weren't you?" the man
sneered angrily.
Spike's body trembled slightly, involuntarily, at the anger and menace
in the voice of his captor.
"Can you talk yet, Spike?" he asked in a low, menacing whisper. Then,
when there was no response, he fisted his hand in the blonde vampire's
blood-matted, disheveled hair and jerked his head back painfully. "Can
you?" he demanded.
A low, animalistic moan of anguish was the only response to the jarring
assault on Spike's still healing scalp – though he did not understand
the question, did not know what was being asked of him...he was only
responding in the most simple, basic, natural way, to the physical pain
he was experiencing.
His captor did not quite see it that way.
"Getting there, aren't we?" he observed mockingly. "Closer all the
time..." The humor left his voice as he released his hair and backhanded
him hard, knocking his head back against the stone wall behind him.
"Well, *don't*!" he snarled – responding to the next inevitable cry of
pain with another blow – and another, ordering his prisoner to silence
again and again...
Until finally...Spike got it.
The final cry – bit back with an extreme force of will – muffled with
an effort even as his tormentor jerked his head back hard, trying to
provoke a reaction – told the man that he had managed to get his point
across.
"Good," he remarked in a voice of soft, amused approval. "Good, Spike.
That's it. Don't talk. *Don't...talk.* Got it?"
The words were no clearer than before – with the exception of the
single order that Spike now understood. He had to keep quiet – had to
obey – or he would experience more pain. And now, the question in his
captor's voice made it clear that he wanted to know if he understood.
It was really very simple – but it was a tremendous breakthrough for
the vampire.
A breakthrough that came at a great, painful cost.
He nodded slowly, instinctively knowing that that action would let his
tormentor know that he understood.
There was a long silence before the man replied in a voice of
astonishment, "Yes? You got it?"
Spike nodded again, emphatically, drawing back against the wall in
anticipation of another blow – which did not come.
"Good! *Good*!"
The excitement in the man's voice was clear, as he stood up straight
again and moved away from his prisoner, apparently thrilled with this
success – though Spike had no idea why.
All he wanted was for the pain, the torment and terror, to come to an
end. There was something – someone, perhaps? – that he found himself
longing for, though he could not remember it. Some sense of safety and
belonging and comfort that he desperately wanted to find again –
something that he somehow knew, if only he could get to it, would make
this agony stop – if only he could find it.
But how could he find it, he wondered with a sense of despair, if he
could not even remember what it was that he was looking for?