Chapter 5

“Day 15: Connor was in my group tonight. I keep looking at him, trying to see Angel in him, and I can’t. Maybe it’s because he looks more like Darla, even with the dark hair, or maybe it’s because Angel didn’t raise him. That’s what Wes said when I asked, anyway. Connor and Dana seem to have bonded, and watching the two of them together is weird. It’s like they don’t know how to do anything but fight, like they don’t want to know how to do anything else. I wonder if that’s what I’ll be like without Spike around. He’s one of the few who made me feel like Buffy and the Slayer are the same person.” ~Excerpt from the diary of Buffy Summers

Wesley watched the various sparring partners with a sharp eye. Dana and Connor were going after one another again with a ferocity unmatched by any of the others; as that wasn’t unusual, he wasn’t concerned.

He did wonder sometimes whether Dana and Connor would ever be able to do anything other than hunt and kill demons. After everything that had happened to them, that seemed to be the only thing they lived for.

The other Slayers would have a choice when the National Guard declared their section of Los Angeles safe again. Leslie, he knew, would relish the chance to go to college, and he wanted to see that happen.

One of Dana’s kicks broke through Connor’s defenses, sending him flying towards another pairing. Audra and Caridad cried out, breaking off and scrambling to get out of the way. “Watch it!” Caridad shouted. “This isn’t a battle.”

“We are living in a war zone!” Dana shouted back.

“Enough!” Wesley used his best drill sergeant voice, which he had perfected over the last two years. “The rest of you—upstairs. I think that’s enough for tonight. Dana, Connor, stay.”

The two teens had similarly rebellious expressions on their faces as the others trooped up the stairs. “I think it might be a good idea if the two of you sparred separately from now on,” Wesley suggested, keeping his tone mild.

“We didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” Connor muttered.

“You didn’t hurt anybody, Connor. You and Dana both get so caught up in the fight, however, that you don’t think about anyone around you.” When it appeared as though they were going to protest, Wesley held up a hand to cut them off. “I’m not passing judgment. I’m simply stating a fact. Now, if you want to continue, you’re more than welcome to do so.”

When they both lit up as though Christmas had come early, Wesley knew that he’d made the right decision. He had freed them from worrying about anyone else, and while they had often forgotten their surroundings, they had also held back.

“I’ll just be upstairs.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Faith greeted him as he came upstairs.

Wesley shrugged. “We’ve both tried talking to them, and they haven’t budged. This is what they want to do, what helps them. Who are we to say otherwise?”

“Fair enough.” Faith smiled. “Buffy’s talking about taking off next week. The Guard notified us that they’re opening the section up next Wednesday.”

“So soon?”

“Well, they figure we’ll be here to clean up any other messes,” Faith replied. “And we’ve been saying for the last two months that we’re almost ready to open things up.”

“We have. But Buffy’s leaving? With Spike, I presume.”

“England,” Faith said succinctly. “I think Giles finally talked her into taking a vacation. Or maybe she took him up on his offer, I don’t know.”

Wesley frowned, thinking about that fact. “Do you know where Buffy is? There’s something she needs to know before she leaves.”

“Sure. She’s in her room, or she was when I last saw her.”

“Can I meet you later?”

“Our room, thirty minutes.” Faith gave him a wicked grin, and he knew what that meant. She was definitely not interested in playing checkers

Wesley climbed the stairs to Buffy’s room and knocked on the door. She answered, looking no less tired and worried than she had before they’d found Spike. He supposed he couldn’t blame her; the situation was hardly ideal.

“Faith told me you were planning to leave next week.”

“I think we deserve some time off. Spike might not realize that, but I do.”

“You’ll have time to get to know one another again,” Wesley replied knowingly.

She gave him a pained smile. “There’s that, too.”

“Where is Spike?”

“I don’t know. He said he wanted to get some air.” She stepped aside. “Do you want to come in?”

Wesley stepped inside and took a seat on the bed. “I wanted to give you some information about a prophecy that I ran across while working for Angel.”

Buffy frowned. “Does it have something to do with Spike?”

“I think that it might. Did Angel ever say anything to you about the Shanshu prophecy?”

She shook her head and sat down next to him. “No, but we didn’t talk all that often.”

“It described a souled vampire who would eventually ‘shanshu,’” Wesley explained. “Roughly translated, it means that the vampire will live until he dies.”

A frown creased her brow. “He’ll become human?”

“That was our assumption. We also assumed that it applied to Angel, that he would one day become human. Obviously, that didn’t happen.”

“You think it might apply to Spike, then.”

“I do.” Wesley hesitated. “I don’t know what that means, Buffy. The prophecy indicated that the vampire in question would undergo many trials and battles before the shanshu would happen.”

Buffy laughed. “Well, I’m pretty sure Spike’s gone through enough to qualify.”

Wesley put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “That was my thought. I wanted you to be aware of that before you left in case it did happen.”

Her eyes squeezed shut. “Yeah.”

“Buffy, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Wesley put a brotherly arm around her shoulders. Spending over a year with someone, fighting on the same side, facing death on a nightly basis—it had a tendency to either draw people together or push them apart.

They had grown closer.

~~~~~

Spike took a deep, unnecessary breath. The air was warm, the sun hot—these were things he knew even though he was unaffected. He wondered idly if that should feel strange to him, or if there was a part of him that remembered everything through the lens of being a vampire.

He’d told Buffy that he needed some air, which was true. Spike hadn’t known what to do when she started crying, so he’d done the only thing possible and held her close. Oddly enough, it had felt right, and he’d been pleased that she’d trusted him that much.

His anger was hot and ready. All he wanted was to kill her, to see her bleeding body laying at his feet, no matter what it cost him. The chip could fry his brain, just as long as she ended up dead.

Then he saw her tearstained face as she looked up at his approach. Sitting there on her back steps, Spike realized that he had no choice. Maybe it was fate, maybe it wasn’t, but he’d lost his heart to her somehow.

She would treat him like dirt, and he would go on loving her.

Spike blinked. The flash of memory had been just as vivid as the one he’d had of Willow and Buffy torturing him, but this was something that had actually happened; he was certain of it. Why he’d been so angry, so ready to kill her, he didn’t know, but he’d loved her enough to comfort her then.

Automatically, Spike turned to go back to the room they had been sharing. She would be waiting for him, and the sun was beginning its descent. They would go out hunting together tonight. When they were hunting together, Spike could forget just how much he didn’t remember.

Spike opened the door of the room without bothering to knock and stopped cold at the sight of Wesley sitting next to Buffy on the bed, his arm around her shoulders. “I, uh—sorry. I should have knocked.”

He turned to go, feeling something that could only be described as jealousy. “Wait, Spike!”

Buffy’s voice held him there, although he didn’t turn around. Spike heard Wesley murmur, “Let me know if you need anything, Buffy,” then the other man brushed past him on his way out.

“Shut the door, Spike.”

For a moment, he contemplated doing as she asked—on his way out—but something held him back. As soon as it was closed, Buffy said, “You know that Wes is with Faith.”

“I know that.” He turned to look at her. “It’s just—”

“He’s like a brother,” Buffy added when he stopped, her expression one of amused exasperation.

“I know.” Gingerly, he sat down next to her. “Had another flashback.”

“What of this time?”

He heard the fear in her voice, and he knew that she didn’t particularly want to hear that he’d remembered something that looked a lot like her torturing him again. “You were sitting on a porch, crying. I was going to kill you, and then I changed my mind.”

Her expression was inscrutable. “That was when Mom was sick. I had just found out that she was going to the hospital for tests when you showed up.”

“I remember being pretty pissed off with you.”

“You’d just finished telling me about the Slayers you’d killed.” It appeared as though she was going to continue, but she stopped.

“What else?”

“I—I realized that there was something between us. I told you it was never going to happen.”

Spike didn’t think that was all of it. He remembered how angry he’d been. “That wasn’t all you said.”

Buffy gave him a sharp look, then sighed. “I told you that you were beneath me.”

“And was I?”

She gave him a quick, mischievous grin. It was an expression he didn’t remember seeing on her face before. “Well, not that night, but you were later.”

He raised an eyebrow, not quite willing to accept that answer without more. “Buffy.”

“I don’t know. We were both different people then. You didn’t have a soul, I hadn’t died yet.”

Tentatively, Spike put a hand on her back, and she leaned against him. He put an arm around her shoulders and marveled at how natural it felt. He wanted to tell her that he remembered loving her, but that it didn’t feel like love from this angle.

As he was trying to figure out how to say it, there was a knock on the door, and Buffy straightened quickly. “Come in.”

Dawn poked her head inside. “Hey, guys. Mind if I go hunting with you tonight? Wesley’s going to hang here with Oliver. They’ve got Watcher-stuff to talk about.”

“Sure.” Buffy stood. “Coming?”

Spike shrugged. It didn’t appear that he had much of a choice. “Sure.”

He wondered if he’d ever had a choice.

~~~~~

Dawn had decided to stay on in Los Angeles until Buffy and Spike left for England. She and Oliver would be going to Bath with them. Dawn wanted to see the gang again; it had been a long time since they’d had the opportunity to get together. Besides, she was hoping that if she spent enough time in Spike’s company, it would jog his memory.

The situation was hard enough for her; she couldn’t imagine how her sister must be feeling.

Hunting seemed to be the best way to connect.

“Okay, we ready?” she asked, slinging the short sword and its scabbard over her hips. Dawn had already loaded up on stakes.

“Sure.” Spike lounged on the round couch in the middle of the lobby, looking a little more relaxed than he had when she’d seen him in Buffy’s room. “Might as well get goin’.”

Buffy nodded without saying anything, heading for the door. Dawn and Spike hurried to catch up, and Dawn found herself falling into a comfortable silence. From what she’d heard, they had really been able to taper off the number of patrols, and the size of the groups, over the last two months. She was grateful for that, since it meant that Buffy would allow her to join the two of them without insisting on more backup.

“How is Oliver?” Buffy asked after a half an hour of patrolling with no results.

Dawn shook her head. “He’s okay. I’m pretty sure he’s in a lot of pain, but he doesn’t like to talk about it, so I don’t ask.”

“There’s nothing the coven could do about it?”

“No. They tried, and Miriam gave him a tea helps with the pain, but it’s the way the bones healed.” She pulled a face. “I just wish his dad hadn’t been so stubborn about things.”

“Can’t they re-break the bones?”

Spike was the one to ask the question, and Dawn was a little surprised that he was participating in the conversation. He tended to do a lot of listening, probably because he had no idea who or what they were talking about.

“The bones were pretty much crushed. We talked to a surgeon, and he seemed to think it wouldn’t improve things.” Dawn sighed. “If he wasn’t in pain so often, I don’t think either one of us would care, but I hate to see him hurting.”

Buffy met her eyes, and even though she didn’t say anything, Dawn understood. Buffy clearly felt the same way about Spike, but she wasn’t going to say so in front of him.

Spike suddenly stopped, the bones in his face shifting as he brought out the demon. “We’ve got company.”

“How many?” Buffy asked.

“Just a couple.” His eyes now blue again, Spike began running, Buffy not far behind.

Dawn hurried to catch up, cursing their supernatural speed under her breath. A sound from behind her caused her to skid to a stop, and a figure landed in front of her. “Nice. Looks like I won’t have to look for my breakfast after all.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please. Didn’t you get the memo?”

The vampire—who looked to have been about her age when he was turned—looked puzzled. “Huh?”

“There’s no such thing as a free lunch.” Dawn plunged her stake into his chest as she said it, then dusted off her hands, feeling satisfied.

She hadn’t spent most of her life on a Hellmouth for nothing.

~~~~~

It was harder to say goodbye than Buffy had expected. Los Angeles, and the Hyperion, had begun to feel like home, as much as she’d hated that idea. She might have told herself over and over again that home was where Spike was, and therefore L.A. couldn’t be home, but leaving proved that wrong.

The Slayers here were her friends, her comrades. They had seen her through some of the toughest battles of her life; they had fought together, bled together, and even laughed together when circumstances allowed.

“You’re welcome back anytime,” Wesley said, giving her a hug. “You and Spike both.”

“Call if you need me for anything.” Buffy smiled, meaning the words. “I’ll come running.”

She and Faith locked eyes, and Buffy took two steps forward to pull the other Slayer into a tight embrace.

“I didn’t think we hugged.” Faith looked pleased nonetheless.

“I think we’re over that.” She said goodbye to the others. Vi and Audra would be following them back to England in a few weeks, just as soon as they were certain that the re-opening of their section had gone off without a hitch.

The big SUV had been loaded up with their luggage, and Buffy climbed in next to Spike, taking a seat in the back. “You okay?” she asked softly, seeing the look on his face as he gazed out the window.

“I’m fine.” He glanced over at her. “We’re goin’ home, aren’t we?”

Buffy didn’t respond. She wasn’t sure that England was going to feel like home, even with Spike at her side. Although it felt as though they were building a solid friendship—that could lead to his loving her again—it wasn’t the same. Their love had been built on years of shared experiences, and now they were starting from scratch.

Once upon a time, Buffy might have wished for that, might have wished that they could forget everything that had come before and have started anew. She knew better now.

Buffy knew better every time Spike looked at her. There was no real recognition in his eyes; he couldn’t possibly understand what they had been to one another.

She saw Dawn sitting next to Oliver in the seat ahead of them. He had his arm around her shoulders, and their heads were bent close together. Sitting next to them, Willow was leaning forward to talk to Oz and their driver in the front.

Closing her eyes, Buffy tried not to think about the week ahead, surrounded by her friends and family, all of them in a secure relationship.

It was going to be a long week.