18.
Consequences
After the flashing colored lights and
spooky
speaking of Romanian by Willow were over, an awkward, nervous silence
fell over the small group still gathered in Giles' apartment, in the
wake of the restoration spell the little redhead had just performed.
Willow looked between Jenny and Giles self-consciously, a question in
her wide green eyes, before finally settling her gaze on the Watcher,
searching and uncertain.
"Did it work? Do you think it worked?" she asked anxiously.
"Well – there's no way to be certain, Willow, until we located Angel –
or Angelus, though I rather hope that's not the case – and find out for
sure. But I would assume, based on the events we've just seen, that it
most probably did work," Giles tried to reassure her, in a rambling,
non-committal sort of way that just made her feel more nervous and
uncertain.
"Well – should we try to find him?" Jenny suggested, shrugging
slightly. "I mean – I don't know about you guys, but I'd really like to
know as soon as possible..."
"That's hardly wise, Jenny," Giles advised her with a reproving frown.
"If by any chance the spell *did* fail, then it would be utter
foolishness to seek out Angelus without the protection of the Slayer."
"Okay," Willow said, nodding nervously. "So we wait for Buffy."
The older two were quiet, nodding their agreement, into silence that
had fallen again.
After just a moment, Willow added, "Okay. I'm tired of waiting. Wanna
go find Buffy?"
The Watcher and the teacher exchanged a look, before nodding with
relief, murmuring their agreement, and the three of them headed eagerly
toward the door.
************************************
"Xander, stop! Something's – something's not right!"
Buffy quickly reached out a hand to stay her friend's arm, her eyes
widening in alarm as she looked at the trembling, keening form of the
vampire on the ground, surrounded by a swirling vortex of colored,
glittering light that seemed to be doing something to him.
And that something that was apparently painful, judging by the sharp
cry she heard against the wind, rising from the vampire's throat as he
suddenly threw back his head, his eyes glowing golden, and then white,
before finally fading back to normal, as the shimmering vortex and the
wind accompanying it suddenly died away.
The Slayer and her friend were quiet, watching warily, as the vampire
continued to tremble and whimper softly on the ground.
After a moment, Xander asked flatly, "Okay – it's over. Can I hit him
again now?"
"Xander!" Buffy gave him a sharp look of disapproval, swallowing back
the sick feeling she felt in the back of her throat, at the thought of
the extreme violence the boy had already inflicted on the helpless
vampire.
Because she *was* convinced now that Spike *was* helpless.
She had seen the agony in his face when Xander had fallen to the
ground, seen the complete synchronization of the human boy's painful
impact with the alley floor, and the vampire's reaction of pain. She
knew how Spike fought, and she knew that had he been able to, he would
have inflicted much more pain than he had on her friend.
So Spike's story about the military, the chip they had put in his head
to keep him from harming humans, was true – which meant that Buffy had
a whole new problem on her hands with figuring out who exactly they
were, what they were up to, and how much they knew.
Not to mention whatever strange magic had just taken place right before
her eyes.
"Aw, Buffy," Xander griped half-heartedly, lowering the baton. "It's
just Spike..."
"Yeah," Buffy informed him, "and he can't fight back. He's harmless."
"Huh," Xander remarked flatly, sounding unimpressed. "That's not
exactly the impression I got when he cracked my head open with that
cuff."
Buffy watched warily as Spike rose on shaky legs, his hands held to his
head as if it was still in considerable pain, her words directed to her
friend, but her eyes focused on the vampire. "I'll explain when we get
back to the house. But right now – we need to figure out what just
happened here."
Spike was looking up at them now, blinking in confusion, a strange
expression of disbelief and suspicion on his face.
"Spike?" Buffy asked, taking a cautious step toward him, one hand
outstretched in a non-threatening, steadying gesture. "Do you know what
happened?"
He stared at her, his eyes widening with alarm, darting around the
alley, past her, at her, at Xander – and suddenly, Buffy knew that he
was looking for a way to bolt. He still seemed very confused from
whatever had just happened, and Buffy did not really think he was
dangerous at this point, but she had been the Slayer on the Hellmouth
long enough to know that she could not let him get away, harmless or
not, without finding out what sort of magical occurrence had just taken
place, and what exactly it had done to him.
"Spike," she said, her voice soft and calm, as she took another step
toward him, "easy – it's all right. I believe you, about the chip. I'm
not going to hurt you. Just – stay calm..."
He took a backward step away from her, shaking his head as if in denial
– though of what, Buffy had no idea. Still, his back was to the back
wall of the alley, and between her and Xander, he was still boxed in.
She kept moving slowly, steadily toward him, until she reached him,
gently but firmly taking his arms in her hands, holding his gaze with
an intent, searching look.
"Spike?" she said uncertainly, a question in her tone, in her eyes, as
she held him firmly, but not too tightly. She knew that he could not
hurt her, and she had no desire to hurt him unless she had to do so.
"What's going on?"
Spike still looked dazed, unsure, and he was staring slightly past her,
rather than meeting her eyes directly. As she watched, a light of
understanding began to gradually dawn on his face, and his eyes widened
with astonishment, as he raised a hand slowly toward his head, his eyes
finally finding hers. Then, just as gradually, his gaze darkened, his
eyes widening with a sort of horror, and then narrowing again with
suspicion.
With a sudden violent shove, he threw the unprepared Slayer off him,
knocking her backward into the wall to his left, knocking the wind from
her and sending her collapsing momentarily to the ground.
"Hey!" Xander cried out indignantly, raising the baton in his hand and
heading toward the vampire, determined to cut off his escape. "I don't
think you, Fangboy!"
With a snarl, Spike twisted the baton from Xander's grasp, hard enough
that the boy drew his wrenched wrist back with a hiss of pain, as the
vampire hurled it again, this time hard enough to send it flying over
the building behind them. Then he shoved the boy out of his way and
took off toward the mouth of the alley.
As Buffy got back to her feet, Xander gave her a look of disgust that
was not really aimed at her. "Can't hurt anybody – harmless, huh?"
Buffy did not respond, her mouth forming a grim line as she took off
after the fleeing blond, who was already out of sight.
"Buffy!" she heard her Watcher call as she turned the corner. "Buffy,
what happened?"
Giles, Jenny, and Willow had arrived at the alley just in time to see
Spike fleeing around the corner, apparently well and healthy and much
stronger than he had been when Buffy had brought him to Giles'
apartment – in fact, much stronger than he should have been, even
considering the dose of Slayer's blood he had had to speed his healing.
"Giles!" Xander's voice from the alley drew the Watcher's attention,
and he headed swiftly toward the boy, who was cradling his right hand
as he jogged slowly toward the others. "Spike pulled some kind of mojo,
I don't know – he's all back in fighting shape, apparently – and on the
loose."
Giles frowned with dismay as he turned his eyes in the direction his
Slayer had just vanished, sighing with resignation. "Well, there's no
way we'll be able to catch up with her – and with Angelus still
possibly on the loose, I suppose the best thing we can do is to go back
to the apartment and wait there for Buffy to return."
Willow's eyes widened with alarm. "But what if Spike...?"
"Spike is a single vampire, just like hundreds that Buffy has slain
already. Buffy can take care of Spike on her own. But she would be
devastated if she caught him, killed him, and returned to find that
Angelus had taken advantage of her absence in order to harm any of us,"
Giles pointed out, a severe note to his voice. "Let's go back. Buffy
will be just fine."
**************************************
The blond vampire ran for all he was worth, knowing that the Slayer
would be right behind him. He had to get away – couldn't bear the
thought of facing her right now, not after what had happened tonight...
Not after what he now knew...
He was in the middle of downtown Sunnydale by now, and found himself
standing in front of an old abandoned warehouse. Glancing furtively
behind him, and seeing no sign of the Slayer, he broke a window and
slipped quietly inside, making his way through several doors, into a
deeper part of the building, where he sat down in a corner of the room,
his shaking knees pulled up against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly
around them, his head resting on his knees.
But it was not fear of the Slayer that had him huddled in this dark,
quiet hiding place.
Three profound, life-changing events had happened to Spike in the
moments when Drusilla's spell had taken effect, though Spike had no way
of knowing yet that that was what had occurred.
The blinding pain of the chip-induced headache had intensified by a
hundred times, until Spike had been sure that it was going to dust him.
He was going to die, right then, he knew it – but then, the pain
passed, and he knew something else, just as surely.
The chip was gone.
But he had barely had time to register that monumental stroke of good
fortune, when something else had occurred immediately afterward. The
burning, glimmering vortex of light had surrounded him, as the Slayer
and her friend had seen, and he had felt intense changes taking place
in the deepest parts of his being – emotions, sensations that had been
lost to him for over a century, flooding back and filling him with a
feeling he had all but forgotten.
Guilt.
Though he had not had time yet to comprehend what it might mean to him,
he knew what had happened.
His soul had been returned.
And then, the third event had taken place, so swiftly, so intensely,
that it had left him breathless on his knees on the ground, overwhelmed
with several lifetimes worth of knowledge and emotions in the space of
just a few moments, as he had seen thing that were yet to come – for
himself, for Dru and Angelus, for the Slayer and her mates – for all of
them.
And it had been terrible.
He had seen it with such a frightening, vivid, shocking clarity – as if
he had not only seen what would be, but had actually lived it, actually
been there, felt the emotions, experienced the events – all in the
space of a few moments in time.
And when he had come back to his senses, all Spike had known was that
he had to get away.
He could not stand there facing the Slayer, knowing the things she
would do, the things that would be done to her, the horrible end that
she would one day meet. He could not stand there and look at her and
know those things.
Not when he also knew how he would one day feel about her.
It almost seemed as if he already felt that way. But – how was it
possible? It was overwhelming, devastating, more than it was possible
for him to take in all at once – and amidst the confusion of all that
had happened to him in the past few minutes, one question stood out
above all the others, fathomless and unbelievable to him, though he
could feel the truth of it.
How could he possibly have come to *love* his mortal enemy?
**********************************
Across town, a short time earlier, in the mansion where Dru now slept
peacefully, her sire watched over her, contemplating his options,
wondering restlessly exactly what it was that she had done, and what
she had seen in the future as a result.
Then – Willow's restoration spell took effect.
It was worse than the first time.
All the crimes he had committed came flooding back to his memory as if
he had never known them before, overwhelming him with the guilt, the
regret that came with them. The few lives he had taken since losing his
soul this time, weighed on him with an overwhelming sense of sorrow and
shame, and he wondered if he would ever be able to redeem himself again
in the eyes of the Slayer he loved.
Except – something was not quite right about that thought...he
felt...different, than he had before...
Did he even still love Buffy at all?
He looked at the dark vampiress on the bed...and had to wonder.
He thought back over the last few weeks, the things he had done, the
freedom from the guilt and pain that now weighed him down – and a new
sort of regret stole over him. He felt hot tears stinging the backs of
his eyes, with the realization that once again, he would feel the
burden of his wrongs, the burden of atoning for them, after just a
brief taste of freedom that he had experienced during the past few days.
They had given Angel back his soul.
But he wasn't sure that he wanted it anymore.