A Love As Strong As Death
Author: enigmaticblue
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Everyone knows that not all these characters are mine, and I'm not making money off the ones that are. So there.
Archive: Anywhere that already has my stuff. Anywhere else, ask and it shall be given to you.
Summary: Set after the end of Cast Me Not Away and its follow up stories. This sequel is longer and darker than the intervening short stories. It deals with family, children, immortality, life and death, and making amends. We will also be jumping around in time a bit, so look sharp.
A/N: I debated for a long time before writing this one, although the idea was there before I even finished CMNA. Some of you will believe that I have ruined the previous stories, which is fine. All I ask is that if you're unhappy with where this goes that you'll go back, re-read Cast Me Not Away through Silver Bells, and then you can flame me if you'd like. I'll calmly pull out the fire-extinguisher and ignore you, but that's alright. The themes have been there; I just hadn't quite managed to elaborate on them yet. (Oh, and before anyone screams Nika, Wesley, Spike and Buffy will survive. More than that I won't promise.)
Chapter 14: January 2017
Buffy ran her hands through Spike's curls absently. His head was resting against her abdomen, and his chest was rising and falling in a regular rhythm that fascinated her. She could see the new lines around his eyes and mouth—even in sleep he couldn't fully relax, and Buffy wondered how long it would take him to get used to his new humanity.
At least she wouldn't be accused of robbing the cradle again, Buffy thought wryly. Spike appeared to have aged a decade in the week and a half he'd been gone.
There was a part of her that was relieved, in a way. The idea that she would age while he remained the same had frightened her. She had gray in her hair now, and crow's feet around her eyes. Her stomach was no longer as flat or as tight as it had been when she was in her twenties, and her breasts had begun to sag. The ravages of age left no one untouched, not even the Slayer.
Still, Spike had always insisted that she was beautiful, had assured her that he had eyes for no other woman. Buffy believed him—mostly. Now, though, they would grow old together, and the weight she hadn't realized was there had been lifted.
She had realized—too late—that they hadn't used any kind of birth control. It hadn't been necessary when she was sleeping with a vampire, but it would be now. Although, and Buffy wasn't sure she would mention this, she wouldn't mind getting pregnant again. It would be nice to have another child, this time with her husband. Of course, Buffy knew that he thought of Meg as his, but they had discussed this once, long ago. Neither one of them would have minded another child, if it had been possible.
And now it was.
Spike stirred slightly in his sleep, and his eyes blinked open. "Buffy?"
"Right here, sweetheart," she murmured. "How did you sleep?"
"Good," he admitted softly. "Better than—"
"Me too," Buffy replied. "The bed was too big without you there."
They were silent, Buffy continuing her ministrations. She had the sense that Spike needed to feel her just then, needed to know that she wasn't going anywhere. The Slayer well remembered the nights and days when he had tried to comfort her after her friends ripped her out of heaven, and she wondered if this transition would end up being just as difficult for the both of them.
"Are you hungry?" she finally asked, realizing that Spike was not inclined to speak. "We never did get around to eating last night."
He made a movement that was almost a shrug. "S'pose I should be."
"You aren't?"
"Not much of an appetite."
Buffy frowned. "What about some french toast?" When he hesitated, she continued. "You're going to eat something, Spike."
"That'd be fine," he finally decided, pushing himself into a sitting position. "Buffy, I—" Spike stopped, unsure of how to put what he was feeling into words.
For once, the Slayer read him as easily as he read her. "Take your time, Spike," she said kindly. "I'm not going anywhere." She brushed a kiss across his lips. "I'm going to go start breakfast." Buffy grabbed her robe and headed downstairs, leaving Spike to pull on the pair of jeans lying next to the bed.
He was tired and sore, but there had been a definite improvement as a result of a good night's sleep. With Buffy's assurance of support, it seemed easier to face the day, and his burden was a little lighter. A small part of him had believed she would reject him. That she would look past Spike and see William.
The fear was still there, but now he thought it might be possible to hide it, to hide William.
Spike pulled a t-shirt on over his head, padding downstairs on bare feet to watch Buffy make breakfast. "Where's Meg?" he asked from the doorway.
"Wesley picked her up yesterday," Buffy replied. "He said they'd keep her until we called. You think you might be up for going over there later?" Spike was quiet, causing her to turn to him. "Spike? If you don't want to go, I can pick Meg up."
"No, it's fine. I don't mind." He wandered into the kitchen to sit down at the table. The smell of food was causing his stomach to growl. It was the first time he'd truly been hungry.
She smiled at him, going back to her french-toast flipping. "I heard that, mister. You know Nika and Enid are going to take one look at you and insist on filling you up."
"Same thing happened to Wesley when he started coming around," Spike replied, giving her a half-smile. "Nika kept insistin' that he put on a few pounds."
Buffy was just grateful that he was smiling again. "She'll
be saying the same thing to you, and
The smile faded from his face. "Buffy, you don't mind, do you?"
"Mind what?"
"That I'm not—I mean, I know you..." Spike trailed off, hating himself for bringing it up, but wanting to know the answer.
Perhaps it had been their time apart, or perhaps Buffy was simply ready to open her eyes. "No, I don't mind that you're not a vampire any more. I want you, Spike."
It wasn't like she hadn't said it before, but he was having a hard time believing her for some reason. Every fear he'd ever had and laid to rest about their relationship was coming back to haunt him. It made no sense to him, but he was still craving her reassurance.
"Sorry, luv. I'm bein' a bit of a wanker." Spike said it with a rueful smile, but it was his tone that had Buffy whirling to face him.
She glared at him. "Don't you dare apologize for being honest with me, Spike. No matter how many times you need to hear it, I'll say it. Whatever you need from me, I'll do my best to give it to you."
"Know you will, pet," he replied quietly. "'s just different, is all."
Buffy sighed. "It'll take some getting used to, but it will be fine. We'll be fine."
She just wished she was convinced of that herself.
~~~~~
Meg woke the next morning with the sinking realization that her parents hadn't called yet, and she didn't know when they would. In spite of Uncle Wesley's reassurances, she was terrified that something would happen to prevent them from coming for her.
It was her greatest fear: someday her parents would leave and not return.
Will and Davey were awake and watching Saturday morning cartoons when she got out to the living room. Without speaking, Will scooted over on the couch in an open invitation, and when Meg sat down next to him, he put a sturdy arm over her shoulders. Davey, not to be outdone, handed her his box of cereal so she could pull out a handful.
They watched and munched dry cereal in silence for a while until they heard Carwen begin to stir. Hannah appeared a few minutes later, the little girl in her arms. She set Carwen down on the floor and plopped down next to Meg on the couch.
"I spoke to Wesley last night, Meg," Hannah said softly at the next commercial break. "Your dad is fine. Really."
Meg swallowed hard. "They haven't called for me yet."
"It is Saturday," Will pointed out logically. "Everybody sleeps in."
Meg perked up a little with that. The Saturday-morning lie-in was tradition at both houses. None of the adults got up before nine, and it was just after eight. "Yeah. Mom and Dad like sleeping in."
Hannah hid a smile. She'd come a ways in the last couple years, and the idea of Buffy and Spike "wrestling" no longer grossed her out. Well, not quite as much anyway. "See, it'll be fine, Meg. I'm sure they'll be over as soon as they can."
By the time Wesley came wandering out of his bedroom, Davey was good-naturedly pushing a ball back and forth with Carwen while Meg and Will played Halo. Carwen immediately gave up on her game, her chubby little legs pumping frantically to get to her father. "Da!"
Wesley smiled and caught her up, tossing her into the air and catching her again, listening to her squeals of delight. He'd missed this so much. "Is anyone hungry?" he asked.
"Yeah!" Davey and Will spoke simultaneously and dashed off to the kitchen, leaving Hannah to follow at a more sedate pace.
"Coming, Meg?" Wesley asked quietly, smiling at his goddaughter.
"I'll be right there," she said, watching him head towards the kitchen.
Her earliest memory was of Wesley and her father coming into their house. They had been out on a job together when she had been around three or four. Meg remembered them as black leather-clad giants, standing in the hallway laughing. When her father had seen her, he had scooped her up, playfully tossing her to Wesley. Even while flying through the air she had felt safe with them.
They were her heroes, but Meg wasn't sure that the father who had returned was the same man. She wouldn't know until she had laid eyes on him for herself.
~~~~~
Spike stood outside under the sun, appreciating it for the first time. Closing his eyes and tipping up his face, he felt Buffy's arms come around him from behind. "This is nice," she murmured.
"Yeah," he agreed. With the heat from the sun and Buffy's arms around his waist, he felt the burden of guilt drift away—if only for a moment. This was the reason he had made the journey.
"Meg's waiting for us," Buffy reminded him after a few minutes.
She could feel him stiffen. "Right. We'd better get goin'."
Buffy realized that Spike was nearly as apprehensive about seeing Meg again as he had been to see her. She moved so that she was looking him in the eye. "Don't."
It was just one word, but Spike knew exactly what she meant. Buffy might be able to understand and deal with his fear, but Meg would be badly hurt if she thought her father didn't want to see her. He nodded. "Wouldn't dream of it, luv."
"I know, Spike." Buffy smiled at him. "Meg will be ecstatic to have you home."
They made the drive to the Watcher's house without speaking. Buffy plugged in one of Spike's punk mixes without being asked and watched as some of the tension seeped out. They pulled up to the house, and Spike took a deep breath. "Show time, luv."
"It'll be fine."
Spike walked in after a cursory knock and caught Meg as she immediately launched herself at him. Her arms twisted around his neck, and he could feel her shuddering. "Hey, now, moppet, none o' that." Meg's face was buried in the crook of his neck and Spike felt her warm tears wetting his skin. "Hush, now, luv," Spike murmured. "'m right here. Not goin' anywhere, yeah?"
For the moment, they were the only two people in the world—a father and his daughter. To think that he'd hesitated to come back to this—that he'd feared her reaction enough to leave for good—
Spike could see how unfounded that fear had been now.
After a few minutes, Meg pulled back from him, looking into his eyes, her brow deeply furrowed. "Dad?"
"Yeah, luv?"
"You look the same."
A smile touched his lips. "Do I now?"
"You're warm."
"S'pose I am. You okay with that?"
"Uncle Wesley said you could come to my football games now. All of them."
Spike smiled. He hadn't thought that far ahead himself. "That's right."
She beamed at him. "Good!"
And that was enough. The world started again, and Spike found himself surrounded by familiar faces, by hands seeking to touch him, by voices that he'd have recognized in the dark.
Wesley had been right. He needed to come back—for them. This quest of his had been self-centered, but necessary, and now it was time to shoulder his burden again.
This was the road he'd chosen, after all, and Spike was anything but a quitter.
~~~~~
Nika came out to sit next to Wesley on their back porch. The evening was cool enough that she needed a jacket, and she'd brought a blanket for good measure, hoping that her husband would be kind enough to provide some body heat.
He smiled at her in greeting. "Are the children asleep?"
"Everyone but Hannah," Nika replied. "She said to let you know that she'd be back in a couple hours after she patrolled."
Wesley frowned. "Alone?"
"Just one of the local cemeteries," Nika assured him. "There was a report of a death including neck trauma recently. She's going to make sure the vampire doesn't rise."
"I suppose that's alright then," he said.
Nika smiled and leaned into him. "She's been out alone a number of times, Wesley, and she always comes home in one piece." They sat in comfortable silence for a while before Nika spoke again. "Spike was uncomfortable tonight."
"Hmm."
Nika recognized that sound—Wesley always made it when he had an opinion he wasn't prepared to share. "What are you thinking?"
She never could resist asking.
"I'm wondering what this transition is going to be like," Wesley confessed quietly. "He didn't want to return, Danika. Or, rather, he was afraid of returning. Quite honestly, I think one wrong move on Buffy's part could send him packing."
Nika frowned. "That's not the only thing you're concerned about."
Chuckling, Wesley shook his head. "You know me too well. No, it's not." He let the pause drag on while he organized his thoughts. "I don't know that Spike realized what he was getting himself into."
"This was what he wanted, Wesley," Nika reminded him. "I think Spike understands that there will be sacrifices."
"Not with his humanity, with his soul." Wesley sighed. "It's already weighing heavily on him. What if we need him again, and he—"
Nika realized what her husband wasn't saying. "You're concerned that should you need him in an emergency Spike won't be able to deliver."
"In short, yes." Wesley shook his head. "You didn't hear him while he was delirious, love. It was—frightening."
There wasn't much in the world that scared Wesley, and that alone would have made her concerned. "He was wild?"
"Despondent," Wesley corrected her. "Completely." He turned to look at her. "He kept muttering about blood for blood, and I think he would have tried to slash his wrists if I hadn't been watching him so carefully."
Nika bit her lip and then shook her head. "He's in no danger of suicide now, Wesley, of that I am certain. I do think you're right, however. Buffy will have to step very carefully with him. He's fragile at the moment. Still, Spike is the most persistent man on the planet. He does not quit, not easily."
"No, you're right," Wesley replied, leaning back and tugging Nika into his arms, pressing his lips to the side of her neck. "Let's just hope that nothing gives him a reason to quit."
They were too busy getting reacquainted to talk much after that.
~~~~~
They were all so dear to her, so very dear.
Her Nika had managed to weave an intricate web, creating a
family where before there were only lost souls. They kept
She could feel her time growing shorter, could feel it in her heart, in her gut. She would have time enough to see them safe and settled, but not much more than that.