Rated: PG-13
Summary: Spike leaves after "Dead Things," wanting nothing more than to get Buffy out of his head. Wesley's still an independent contractor after the events of "Loyalty." And the Slayer's still living in the land of denial.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters featured
below except for Nika. She's all mine. And I'm not making any money off
of her either, so please don't sue.
Chapter 8: November 2005
Spike cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder as he waited for Dawn to pick up. "Dawn speaking."
"Hey, Niblet," he said. "You up for Thursday night still? Thought I might take you out to dinner."
There was a long pause. "I can't, Spike. I already have plans."
"Oh." Thursday nights were their nights, even if Connor joined them sometimes. "You got a hot date with Hell-Boy?"
Dawn rolled her eyes, even though she knew Spike wouldn't see the gesture. All three of them had watched that movie together, and since then Spike had gotten a kick out of calling her boyfriend "Hell-Boy." She supposed it was probably better than the other nicknames he might have come up with.
"No, well, yes. I mean—" Dawn sighed. "This week's Thanksgiving," she explained. "Buffy's in town, and we're spending it with Angel and company."
Spike frowned. He'd forgotten about Thanksgiving. He and Wesley weren't big on the holiday, since they were both Brits, and Nika had never really made a big fuss. Last year, if he remembered correctly, he and Wesley had been out killing some nasties, and Nika had had a delivery.
"Right," he replied. "Well, that's—that's good. You have fun." Something about what Dawn said made him perk up his ears. "Why's your sister comin' down here? I would've thought that you'd be spendin' time in Sunnyhell with your mates."
There was another pause, and Dawn explained reluctantly, "Xander got a job over the holidays. He had to travel, and he couldn't get back to Sunnydale. And Willow's spending the next month in England with the coven. She decided she needed some more instruction with the whole magic thing."
What Dawn didn't say, but what Spike heard, was that Buffy was alone. His eyes glanced back at the drawer in the table next to the bed. "You have a good weekend then, Bit," he finally said. "I'll see you next week?"
"If not before," Dawn assured him. "If I can get away, I will."
"Don't worry about it," he replied. "Spend some time with your friends, an' don't worry about me. 's not like vampires much care 'bout celebrating Thanksgiving, yeah?"
They said their good-byes, and Spike hung up the phone, going over to the bedside table and pulling out a letter already worn from much handling.
Dawn had come over a few nights after she'd introduced him to Connor. It had been late afternoon, and Spike was just about to watch the Passions episode that he'd taped. She'd thrust the envelope into his hand abruptly as he'd looked up, surprised to see her.
"Everythin' alright?" he had asked.
The girl had been flustered, and finally said, "Look, Spike, Buffy called me the other night to ask about you. I didn't tell her where you were, because I wasn't sure you wanted her to know. She asked me to give this to you."
The envelope had been sealed, with his name written neatly on the front in handwriting he barely recognized. It wasn't as though they'd been in the habit of writing each other. "Dawn—"
"If you want me to tell her where you are, or give her your address, or something, I will." She'd given him a quick hug. "I've gotta go. I have a study date—midterm tomorrow, you know. I'll call, or come over or something though." And then, before she had left, she whispered in his ear, "It doesn't matter what she says, or what she wants, Spike. I love you, and you're my family."
Spike now unfolded the letter for about the millionth time and read it again.
Spike,
It feels weird, writing to you like this, when you're not in front of me. I don't even know where you are, but Dawn said you were okay, and that she would give this to you. Still, everything we've ever done has been so physical, that it feels strange to be writing this down instead of saying it to your face. Maybe this is better, because I don't think I'd actually be able to say the words out loud.
I'm sorry. I know it's about three years too late, but I really am. Sorry. I shouldn't have used you to make myself feel better. And I shouldn't have beat you up that night and left you there. I was actually relieved when I saw that you were writing to Dawn, because I knew you were at least alive. Or undead. Whatever.
Anyway, I guess that's it. If you want to get in touch with me, that's fine. You know where to find me. Or if you never want to see me again, I'd understand that too.
Buffy
PS Dawn told me about the chip. I'm glad you're not hunting again.
"Spike." He looked up, startled. He hadn't even heard Nika approaching his room. She got a strange look on her face when she saw what he was doing. "Are you reading that letter again? Why don't you just call her, or something? Get it over with." Spike had let her read it the day Dawn had given it to him. She hadn't really commented at the time.
Spike shook his head. "I promised myself I wasn't goin' there again," he replied. "I'm not gonna let myself be used, just because she's feelin' a little remorse."
Nika sighed. "You keep telling yourself that," she said, with a small smile. "Look, Spike, you live in L.A. now, for one thing. And for another, you're hardly alone. You don't have to go back to her or put up with anything from her. I know you're dying to find out why the heck she wrote you in the first place." At Spike's sardonic look, she amended, "Well, figuratively speaking anyway."
"Nika-luv, I dunno. I honestly don't know what the bloody hell I want anymore." Spike ran a hand through his platinum hair, feeling the ends curl. "I don't even know if Buffy's what I want, or if I've just built up this person in m' mind who doesn't even exist."
She sat down on the bed next to him and waited. There were moments that came and went in a relationship, she knew. Moments that if you let them pass, what-might-have-been never blossomed into what-would-be. For her and Spike, that moment had passed long ago, and what had been left behind was a very comfortable friendship. Better than siblings, even. She wondered if that's what Spike was afraid of, that the moment had long passed for him and Buffy.
"Dawn reminded me that this week's Thanksgiving," Spike said quietly.
Nika was puzzled. "I didn't think you celebrated Thanksgiving. I mean, we do Christmas here, but—"
"Was five years ago that I got the chip in my head," he said softly. "Spent that Thanksgiving watching Buffy an' her friends eat. I was so soddin' hungry... There were all these Indians spirits runnin' around, wantin' revenge. The whole gang was fightin' over whether it was right to kill 'em or not." He snorted. "Bunch of blatherin' idiots, really."
He didn't really mean it, Nika saw. Spike had told her enough about his relationship with Buffy and her gang so that she knew it had been tenuous at the best of times. She also knew that Spike liked company, and they had cut him off from the group in such a way as to wound him deeply. Wounds that each of them carried, that each of them were healing in their own way and in their own time—her and Spike and Wesley.
"Let's go out tonight," Nika said. "It's stupid to sit around and mope. I'll ask Wes to come over on Thursday too. I'll make curry, and we'll have our own dinner. But tonight let's go out."
"I don't know—" Spike began, but she cut him off.
"I have the Lamaze class at six, but I should be able to meet you guys at the club around eight. We'll have drinks. We haven't done that in a long time, Spike."
The vampire nodded. They hadn't been out together in a while. Wes was a maniac for working, and Spike didn't mind the hectic schedule unless it cut in on Dawn-time. For both of them, working meant not thinking, and not thinking was a good thing. "Alright. You'll give him a call then?"
"Yeah, I'll call." Nika stood and dropped a kiss on his forehead. "We'll go out tonight, you can forget about Buffy for a while, and then you can figure out what you're going to do with the letter."
Spike shook his head. "Wish it were that easy."
It was never easy.
~~~~~
Heads turned as the two men entered the bar. Wesley wished he could say that it wasn't a boost to his ego, but it definitely was. Standing shoulder to shoulder with Spike as they scanned the interior of the club, he couldn't help but notice that there were a number of females' (and a few male) eyes on them. It reminded Wesley of the first night they'd gone out together. They'd both had a couple of propositions before they'd left.
He couldn't help but feeling he'd come a long way since he'd first set foot in L.A. Even if the clothing hadn't changed that much.
Spike unzipped the leather jacket he wore and looked out over the crowd. "Don't see her, mate. She might have gotten out of her class late."
Wesley ran a hand through his short, spiky hair, further dishevelling it. "It's only a little after eight," he reminded the vampire. "We're really not that late."
"If we hadn't seen those blasted vamps, we'd have been early," Spike grumbled. "Now I need to wash vamp dust out my mouth." He made a face. "Wish for once we could have a nice, quiet evening."
Wesley looked at him incredulously. "No, you don't," he corrected. "You'd be out of your mind with boredom in an hour."
Spike shrugged, acknowledging the accuracy of the statement. "Maybe. Used to like quiet evenings with Dawn, though," he said softly, so that Wesley could barely make out the words over the noise from the people around them. "Before thinkin' became a dangerous pasttime."
They shared a look, and then a group of people at a nearby table caught Wesley's eye. He let out a string of curses so colorful that Spike turned to stare at him in admiration. "What the—" The vampire followed the taller man's gaze until he caught sight of what had so upset his friend. He let out his own curse.
Angel and Cordelia were seated at a table, sharing the body language of lovers. With them were Gunn, Fred, Dawn, and Connor. It wouldn't have bothered Spike a bit to see any of them, except on Wesley's behalf, but sitting in between Dawn and Angel was Buffy.
"Bloody hell," Spike muttered. "We can still leave." He grabbed Wesley's arm and pulled him back towards the entrance. "You can call Nika on her cell phone, and we'll meet somewhere else."
"You aren't going to go anywhere." Nika came up between them, slipping a hand through each of their arms.
Wesley got a pained look on his face. "Danika, I don't think it's wise to stay here. Angel—"
"Angel can kiss my ass," Nika said, sounding pissed off. "I don't bloody care. I want to stay here. I'm going to stay here. And I want my friends to stay with me. If he tries anything, the Sanctorium spell will stop him, and I'll put a curse on him as soon as I get home."
At the look on both their faces, she gave an exasperated sigh. "I'm tired of this. I'm tired of both of you avoiding the issue. We have the right to be here, and we're staying."
"You tell them, sweetheart," said an amused voice. "Nika, baby, it's good to see you. Tell me you're going to grace us with a song tonight."
Nika raised an eyebrow. "I'm not planning on drinking that much tonight, Lorne." She gave the green-skinned demon a hug. "It's good to see you too."
"It's been too long," Lorne scolded her. "I thought I told you not to be a stranger."
Nika shrugged. She'd met the demon shortly after he'd opened the first Caritas. Being married to someone who was essentially a half-breed had made life interesting. Both of them had grown up knowing about the demon-world, and it was a relief to go somewhere they both felt like they fit. Lorne had been in Las Vegas when Danny was killed, but after he got back into town, he'd come to offer his condolences. She'd been excited when he'd opened another Caritas, this time with Sanctorium spells against both demon and human violence, and shielding spells to keep out fiery, flying barrels.
"I've been busy. I have my hands full with these two," Nika replied, referring fondly to Spike and Wesley.
Lorne gave both of them a smile, and measured Spike up with his red eyes. "So, you going to sing for me tonight, Sweet Cheeks?"
"Told you there isn't enough alcohol in the world to get me up on that stage," Spike said amiably, having had this same conversation several times. "'sides, I don't have a destiny or a soul for you to read. So there you go."
"You might be surprised about that," Lorne replied. He threw a glance over at the table where Angel and his gang were sitting, and put a gentle hand on Wesley's arm. "Things have been pretty quiet around here tonight," he said softly. "And I'd really like to keep it that way. I've got a table ready for you off to the side."
Wesley exchanged a look with both Spike and Nika. The woman sighed. "It's up to you, Wes," she said gently. "If you don't want to stay, we don't have to."
Spike shrugged. "Don't think Buffy'll attack me in front of everybody, even if she could. I'll stay if you want."
The ex-Watcher finally nodded. "Yes, let's stay. I believe Nika's right. It's ridiculous to run."
"Good," Lorne said. "I'll have Ana bring your usuals over then." He gave Nika a look. "And I do want a song from you tonight, Sweetheart. I've missed that voice."
Nika smiled. "We'll see."
They headed over to the table Lorne had indicated and sat down, Wesley giving Nika a curious look. "I don't believe I've ever heard you sing."
"I haven't for a while," Nika confessed. "Not since before—you know. With Danny dying, and then the other Caritas getting demolished, there wasn't much of a chance."
"And tonight?" Spike asked with a raised eyebrow. "Wouldn't mind seein' you up there, luv."
Nika gave him a look that was pure challenge. "What about you? Why don't you get up there and sing?"
"Don't like the audience tonight," Spike said, casting a glance over at Buffy's table.
"Why don't you go over there?" Nika asked quietly, looking over at Wesley for help. He shrugged and shook his head, indicating that he wasn't going to help. Far be it from him to encourage a friend to confront a personal demon when he couldn't even do it himself.
Spike swallowed, pulling out his wallet as the waitress came over with their drinks. "Don't think so," he said quietly. "Don't think I'm quite ready for that yet."
~~~~~
Dawn had seen them come in. She watched surreptitiously as Spike and Wesley looked around the crowded room, probably trying to find Nika. And she knew instantly when they had spotted her and the people she was sitting with.
The girl sighed. Buffy had shown up eariler that day, and they had spent the afternoon catching up. Other than the occasional bout with morning sickness, pregnancy was agreeing with the Slayer. Of course, both she and Dawn knew it was only a matter of time before it became impossible for her to do much in the way of slaying. With Willow and Giles in England, and Xander doing more and more traveling for his work, there wasn't anyone in Sunnydale who could back her up right now.
Dawn hated to think about it, but she was worried about her sister. Besides the note to Spike, which was out of character enough, Buffy was much quieter, more withdrawn. More thoughtful. Up until now, Dawn had been beginning to suspect that thoughtful and her sister were non-mixy things. Not that Buffy wasn't intelligent, but she certainly didn't do introspection.
Now, however, Dawn was starting to get the vibe that Buffy wasn't nearly as self-involved as she had been the last couple years. In fact, Buffy was more interested in Dawn and what Dawn was doing than anything else. They had spent the afternoon discussing Connor's finer points.
Dawn would have said it was like old times, except that she and Buffy had never really been able to talk about her boyfriends. Or actually really talk. Five years was a big gap sometimes, and by the time Dawn had been old enough to have a boyfriend and want to talk to her sister about it, Buffy had still been caught up in the whole, "I was dead, I was in heaven, oh poor me" phase.
So she was kind of liking this older sister, who seemed to care about her and her life, but she was worried that Buffy was depressed, or that she was unhappy about the pregnancy, or maybe that she'd go out and do something stupid to get herself killed. Especially since there wasn't anyone looking after her.
Dawn watched as Nika came up behind Spike and Wesley. She and Lorne must have convinced them both to stay, because all three headed over to a table in the corner, away from her and her friends. Probably a good thing. She thought she might be able to trust Buffy around Spike, but trusting Angel around Wesley (and Spike) would be a completely different story.
She checked the others' faces. Buffy looked as though she'd sensed something, but then apparently dismissed it. Looking over at her boyfriend, she hoped that Connor would read her unspoken message. "You know, I think I'm going to get something to drink."
"I'll go," Connor said, standing.
Dawn stood next to him. "I'll go with you," she insisted.
He raised an eyebrow, but then shrugged. "Okay, if you want to. Anybody else want something?"
"No, I think we're good here," Cordelia said, smiling at him. "And besides, you couldn't get what we'd want."
Connor shrugged. "Give me a few more months."
With their hands linked, they made their way through the tables and the other folks just standing around. There was some sort of demon on the stage now, singing some oldie that Dawn didn't recognize. Whatever it was, its voice wasn't half bad, and everyone there seemed to be enjoying the show and the generally peaceful atmosphere.
"Where are we going?" Connor asked, as she led him away from the bar and towards the corner table where Spike and the others were sitting. He caught a glimpse of them the next moment, and his eyes widened. "Oh, boy. If Dad catches sight of them..."
"I know," Dawn said, her face set in a stubborn scowl. "And I really don't care. If Angel knows what's good for him, he'll leave them alone. He touches Spike or Wes, and I'm going to have to do some damage." At Connor's disbelieving look, Dawn shrugged. "Well, I'll punch him anyway. I mean, it's not like he'd actually hit me."
"He can't do any damage in here," Connor soothed. "Protected, remember?"
Dawn shook her head. "I don't know, Connor." She huffed. "I hate this. Really, it's worse than my parents, because at least with them I didn't have to hide the fact that I was seeing one or the other."
He put a comforting arm around her shoulders. "I like them too, remember? They're my friends. If it comes down to it, Dad won't make me choose between them. I don't think he's completely sure I'd pick him."
She smiled a little. "And I hate putting you in that position too."
"I can take care of myself," he reminded her. "That's one of the things you love about me."
With a final squeeze of the shoulders, Connor released her, only to grab her hand as they made their way to their destination.
"Niblet," Spike said, a sardonic look in his eyes. "Might not have been wise to draw attention to our presence, luv."
Dawn's eyes narrowed. "I don't care. I'm tired of sneaking around."
Wesley sighed. "Are you going to make a scene, Dawn?"
"I don't make scenes," Dawn replied. "Besides, I just wanted to come over and say hello, since it might be a few days before I can make it over to the house. It sounds like Buffy might be staying a little longer than we thought, if she can survive around Cordelia for that long."
The smile on Spike's face was less than kind. "Yeah? She havin' a bit of trouble with the fact that Peaches and the cheerleader are getting it on?"
Dawn rolled her eyes. "Please, Spike. She is so over Angel, it isn't even funny. No, she and Cordy have never gotten along. Even back in high school they barely tolerated each other. And it hasn't gotten much better. Buffy's trying for my sake, and Cordy's trying for Angel's sake, and there are a lot of fake smiles going around. It's like a flashback to my past."
"If you two need a break, you know you're welcome any time, right?" Nika asked, looking sympathetic.
Connor smiled. "Thanks. Between Buffy and Dad, we're both getting pretty tired of being watched. I swear they both think we're going to start making out in front of them or something. Like we can't be trusted."
"You can't be trusted," Spike said promptly, softening his words with a grin. "An' frankly, I'd be worried if you could." He tipped up his chin. "Thanks for showing some solidarity, but you two had better take off before they send out a search party. No need for violence here tonight."
"Isn't there?" Angel's voice came from behind Dawn and Connor, and he loomed, scowling. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.
Spike rose, carefully hiding his slightly crippled state from the older vampire. "We're havin' a conversation, Peaches. You got a problem with that?"
"I have a problem when it's with my son," Angel replied, looking at Wesley as he said it. "Haven't you done enough damage?"
Wesley flinched, but didn't say anything in his own defense. Nika was looking a little angry, and as though she might say something, when she was cut off by a different voice. "Angel, back off."
Buffy had come up beside him and put her hand on his arm. "These are Dawn's friends, and she has the right to spend time with them."
"But Connor—"
"Connor's an adult. He's also Dawn's boyfriend. If I remember correctly, you started hanging around my friends a little more when we dated." Buffy was looking amused, but she kept a firm hand on the older vampire's arm. "Go sit down."
"Buffy—"
"Go. Sit. Down." It was an order, not a request at this point. When Angel still didn't move, she gave him a little shove in the direction of their table. "They can be here if they want. Dawn can hang with whoever she wants. It's none of your business. Go."
Angel finally left, casting a menacing look back at the table. Buffy turned to look at her sister. "Sorry about that. I tried to stop him."
Both Dawn and Connor shrugged. "He was going to find out sometime," the boy said philosophically. "It's not like we haven't had this conversation before about different things."
Buffy turned to look at the others. "Hey."
It was lame, and she knew it, but she was looking right at Spike, and anything else she might have said flew right out of her head. He looked good, like he'd put on a little weight since she'd seen him last. He wasn't wearing black on black either, instead wearing dark blue jeans and a brown shirt, and his hair was mussed and curly. The look suited him.
"H'lo, Buffy." Spike drank her in with his eyes. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do, and uncertainty had him paralyzed. "Been a while."
"Three years," she agreed. Buffy tore her eyes from him and held out her hand to Wesley. "Hey, Wes. It's good to see you again."
Wesley was slightly relieved that Buffy was both not going to go postal, and that she seemed to have no hard feelings towards him at this point. "Hello, Buffy," he said, shaking her hand. "You're looking quite well."
"I'm good," she said. Then, looking at Nika, she smiled. "You must be Nika. Dawn's told me a lot of good things about you. Thanks for looking out for her."
Nika wasn't necessarily predisposed to liking the Slayer, partly because of what Spike had said, partly because of things Dawn had let slip. On the other hand, she prided herself on making her own judgment calls, and not relying on anyone else's opinions. The woman she saw in front of her had an air of maturity that didn't mesh with the stories she'd heard, and so she decided to make her own decision later regarding Buffy. "It's been my pleasure. Dawn's good company, especially when I find myself overwhelmed with testosterone."
Buffy laughed politely, and then looked back over at Spike. "Could—could I talk to you for a minute? Alone?"
Spike didn't meet anyone's eyes as he nodded and followed the Slayer out of the club. There wasn't anywhere for them to talk privately inside, and so she led him out to the alley, which was deserted. Buffy realized belatedly the number of bad memories alleys brought back for both of them. They had seen each other last in an alley like this one.
"You wanted to talk?" Spike asked, his voice gravelly, wariness in every line of his body. Buffy knew that she had put it there, that she had put in him the instinct to run at the sight of her, and it hurt her to see it.
"You got my letter?"
"Yeah."
She stared at the ground. "Oh. I thought—I thought maybe you might write, or call, or something."
"I was still tryin' to figure out what I was goin' to do," Spike replied, staring at her while she stared at the ground. She was still beautiful as ever. She'd gained a little weight over the last few years, and it looked good on her. Best of all, there was a light in her eyes that Spike didn't remember seeing since before the tower. Before he'd failed her.
She smiled. "I understand. Look, Spike, if you want me to leave you alone and not bug you, I will. I—I just wanted to make things right between us."
Spike looked away as she glanced up, unwilling to meet her eyes. "I dunno, Slayer. What do you want from me?"
"I don't know," she confessed. Buffy bit her lip. "Could we talk?"
"Isn't that what we're doing now?" Spike asked, a touch of amusement entering his tone. This was new for him. Instead of chasing the Slayer, she seemed to be chasing him.
She shook her head. "No, I mean, we are, but I was thinking of—coffee? Sometime? Not—not a date, really, but—could we be friends?"
"What do you want from me, Buffy?" he asked again, this time in a tone as gentle as a summer breeze. He stood several feet away from her, his head cocked to the side, his hands shoved into his pockets. The expression on his face was the same it had been the night that Giles had left for England, when he'd found her in the Bronze. It might have been so different if she'd only made a different choice that night. If she'd just talked to him, told him everything—if somehow she had stopped the downward spiral that had led them here, three years later, strangers in an alley.
"I want to make things right," she said, repeating herself without knowing it. "We could get a drink or something and you could tell me how you're doing, and about this demon-killing thing you and Wesley are doing. You know, about your life."
Spike stared at her. He was beginning to feel as if he were living a dream. She wasn't suggesting they have a "my life sucks" talk. Buffy had never, ever asked him about his own life. (Except for the one time when she'd wanted to know about the Slayers he'd killed, and that had been for her own purposes.) "You want to know?"
"I do." Buffy sighed. "I don't know, Spike. Maybe it's because you were the closest thing I had to a friend after I came back. I've missed you."
When he still hesitated, Buffy said, "It's okay, if you don't want to. I'd understand. I just thought I'd let you know—I'm glad you're still looking after Dawn. It makes me feel better about her being here in L.A."
That did it. Angel was in L.A. too, but Buffy hadn't said anything about feeling better because he was in town. And Spike wanted this; he still wanted her. It had been so long, and he wanted to be close to her for while. Maybe it would turn out badly again, but he had somewhere to go this time around. "How long you in town for, Slayer?"
Buffy was startled, and then relief crossed her face. "I drive back to Sunnydale on Sunday." At the lifted eyebrow, she said, "And yes, you did hear me right. I'm driving now."
Spike smirked. "Good to know, luv. Just don't kill anyone while you're at it."
"I haven't yet," she said, sounding a little miffed. "So—Saturday, maybe? After sunset?"
He wavered, and then acquiesced. "Alright. You have a piece of paper?"
Buffy seemed surprised, then rummaged in her purse for her dayplanner and a pen. Spike quickly scribbled down a phone number, and then handed both pen and paper back. "'s my cell number," he explained. "You can give me a call, let me know where you want to meet."
"You have a cell phone?" she asked, nonplussed.
He shrugged. "Makes it easier for Wes to get ahold of me when he's got a new monster on the line." Spike turned to go back inside, thinking he'd better get back to his friends before they sent out a search party for his dust. "Summers?"
Buffy glanced up from her planner where she was still staring at Spike's phone number. "Yeah?"
"You look good."
A slightly flustered half-smile crossed her face, then. Somehow that one compliment meant more to her than all the flattery in the world. "You too, Spike. Really good."
He smiled back at her, the look on his face almost soft, before he turned and walked away, back into the bar. Buffy replaced the planner in her purse, feeling hopeful for the first time in years.