Haven
by Xela

.:. Chapter 15: My Immortal .:.

“The Immortal Slayer,” Spike breathed.  “I always thought she...you...were a myth.”

“Myths are based in fact.  You of all people should know that.”  She winced as the surprise disappeared and anger once again overtook Spike's face, twisting his visage into something foreign and unfamiliar. 

“The immortal slayer.”  The words were filled with condescension.  “I'd have thought you, of all people, would have done everything in your power to help her!”

Alanna tried to tamp down her own anger at his accusations.  She was the responsible one here, it was up to her to keep this from descending into something unsalvageable.  She took a deep breath, trying to find her center.

“You think I didn’t?  There are circumstances here you don't understand, restrictions and—”

“I'm not interested in your excuses.” 

“Excuses?  Yes, I'm making excuses.  Did none of you ever stop and wonder how you always seemed to have the right book, or the right spell, or the rarest of ingredients in every situation?  Did you ever wonder just how the most exotic of objects were available to you just in the nick of time?  And don’t say Giles’s connections, because even 'connections' have a hard time finding things that NO LONGER EXIST!”  So maybe she hadn't been totally successful in controlling her anger.

Spike abruptly understood for the first time that he was looking at a slayer, and his demon rumbled uncomfortably in the background.  Even so, his emotions flared hot in his chest.

“She deserved your help, to know what you know--“

“Have you been listening you stubborn, self-righteous vampire?  I couldn’t.  Thing aren't as simple as you'd like them to be.  I made a promise long ago with the Powers not to directly interfere with or contact any Slayer.”

“Why the fuck would you do such a stupidly moronic thing--“

“Stop.”  Spike had no choice but to comply; gone was the angry woman trying to explain her questionable actions to a friend.  He was dealing with The Slayer, a commanding being whose power rolled over him in waves; her one word stopped Spike as surly as if his Sire had commanded him.  Spike shrank back, his demon trying to make itself as small a target as possible.  “I’m going to tell you something very personal and very private; it goes no further than this room, and I will not tolerate you using it against me in the future for any reason.  I’m going to tell you this because”--for a moment the apologetic friend was back--“I trust you, Spike.  And you deserve an explanation.”  She looked at him, waiting for his agreement.  Spike nodded tersely and folded his arms against his chest, trying to regain the ground he could see disappearing before his eyes.

“Once upon a long time ago, I did exactly what you accused me of denying Buffy.  Once I understood my abilities, gained some experience and perspective, really understood what it truly means to be a Slayer, I sought out the delecta, the Chosen.  She was young, couldn't have been months into her Calling.  She was bruised and battered.  Fifteen.  I befriended her, explained everything I knew about being a Slayer.  I taught her about the different demons, the most effective way to kill them, how to harm them.  I patrolled with her, fought beside her, guarded her back.  I loved her.  She was...she was my sister, a part of me.  She called to me like the Masters of your line call to you, as family.  But that...closeness, those feelings, my love and my idealism...I couldn't see what was right before my eyes. and..fuck.  It caused so much pain and suffering.

“See, there’s a reason there’s only one Slayer at a time.  Part of the slayer package is survival.  You learn how to use your gifts, night by night, fight by fight.  If you don’t, you die.  It’s a harsh, brutal way to live, but you persevere until...well, for the good ones until you don't want to fight anymore.  One Slayer learns what it means to have power, to grow into it, to use her abilities responsibly.  One Slayer takes on the ills of and entire world.  No getting around it, no shortcuts.  But when there are two, the rules change.  You don’t have to work as hard, you don’t have to learn as fast.  The stakes aren't life-or-death and everything is overshadowed by the one who came before, who's already made the mistakes and learned from them...”

“You get Faith,” Spike couldn't help but interject.

“You get Faith, who was tempered by a well structured, civilized society with very clear definitions of right and wrong.  If you lived in the days when cities were few and far between, and the law was what you made of it, you get a tyrant and a war lord.  I realized my mistake when it had already spiraled out of my control; we never like to acknowledge the flaws of those we love.  Before it ended, the people she was meant to protect, the people with whose lives she was entrusted were at the mercy of a demon army with a human leader.”  She smiled thinly, cold and without humor.  “The most heinous atrocities committed against humanity are always by humanity itself.  I couldn't watch that, couldn't be responsible again.  And I know myself.  I'd be tempted to think just what you do.  That it was a one time deal, that the next one would be different.  I made a pact with the Powers and a promise to myself.  I would never directly interfere with the current Slayer, never even let her know of my existence.”

“Buffy proved herself!  Over and over again.  She fought, lost so much, she’s died! She must have earned your help--

“Even Buffy succumbed to Faith's temptations,” Alanna pointed out, “if only for a while.”  Spike pulled back into himself, trying to reconcile the impossibility of the situation.  He'd been betrayed by the people he'd started to trust, people who'd watched him and Buffy, who had the power to change the world and just didn't.  He couldn't...he couldn't deal with this right now.

“They warned me against it, told me what would happen.  The Powers, I mean.”  Alanna volunteered suddenly, the admission obviously painful and filled with regret.  “But I was young and so convinced that I was right, that I knew what would happen.  I kept thinking how much I would have loved for someone who knew what was going on, who knew how I felt and could share the fight with, how much easier it would be to have that person.”

 “You did nothing to help her. She lost *everything.*  Her innocence, her mother, her life...TWICE.  And you just WATCHED.  She already had the bloody Council of Wankers for that!  I’ve seen what you have here, what you’re capable of, and YOU LET HER DIE.  Get. Out.”

“Spike—”

“GET OUT. Get out get out get out get out!”

Alanna sighed heavily, defeat written in every line of her body.  She didn't revisit the past much.  The people she'd trust with her pain had been around for that fiasco, and remembering just left a sour taste in her mouth and her emotions, even after all these years, jumbled.  And Spike's rejection still hurt.  She’d been preparing for this day since she’d cast the first spell, but loss wasn't something one could ever be ready for.

“How’d it end?” Spike asked suddenly.  Alanna paused in the doorway and turned slowly towards him.  Unfathomable brown eyes searched his own, looking for something.  Apparently she found it.

“The only person who can fix your mistakes is you.”

***

Spike sat on the top floor of his complex looking over the Haven skyline watching the sunset in a brilliant burst of colors.  He usually felt peaceful up here, but even the beauty of the place couldn’t break through the volatile emotions coursing through him.  He’d allowed his anger to consume him because it was easier than examining and facing the betrayal. 

They'd violated him.  Taken his memories, his life, the things that made him him.  Hidden them away because they were inconvenient to their 'master plan.'  They'd spoken of help and love and friendship and, fuck, family.  And he'd bought into all the bullshit.

They had lied to him.  About somethings, about everything?  Where did the lies stop?  Did they ever stop?  He replayed all the conversations and all his interactions, a new veil of cynicism and pain overlaying it all.  What could he trust?  Spike let out a primal scream of  anger and hurt and frustration.

God, and then there was Buffy and all the Buffy-shaped issues that came along with her.

They had watched Buffy sacrifice herself time and again, watched her soul being ripped to shreds by the calling she had never wanted.  They watched her for years...and...and just watched.  Deep within him, he blamed them for everything that had transpired in Sunnyhell: Buffy’s death at Glory’s hands, her ill advised resurrection, that entire period of re-acclamation which had caused both of them so much pain.  Visions of small fists flying at his face, those same hands cradling his head as she used his body to find the only freedom left to her, the yes-no back and forth until he'd gotten so muddled he didn't know one from the other...the bathroom.  Deep with in him, he wondered if he really wanted to remember Buffy and the pain that went with her...if it hadn't been better, easier when she was a ghost haunting his dreams.  (What would it have been like if the spell had held, never broken?)  

Buggering FUCK, he'd been happy here.

“Nice view,” Leto said as he came to stand beside Spike.  “Reminds me of Sunnydale.”

Spike's jaw tightened, the muscle jumping.  “It’s not anything like it an’ you know it.  I don’t want to talk.”  Leto sighed and sat down beside his childe.  He could feel the anger vibrating off of the younger vampire, could sense the depth of his pain.  Sometimes being a Sire sucked.

“You haven’t heard the whole story yet,” Leto said softly into the waning day.  “The spell was always temporary.  It was never meant to be long term, and it wasn't a choice anyone made lightly. I know you feel like we betrayed you.  And I know that you think we betrayed Buffy by standing aside.  But we're not like the Council, and we weren’t just idly watching the drama unfold.”

Spike’s jaw tightened as her tried to keep his cool.  “Really?  I didn’t see any of your white hat demons poppin’ up to help us out, or you volunteering any helpful information.  You've apparently been watching her for long enough.  So explain to me how you’ll justify sitting back and letting good people suffer.  Letting Buffy face insurmountable odds when you obviously had the resources to give her one helluva chance at surviving.”

“Spike, it’s not that simple...” Leto began.  Spike snarled at him, and Leto growled back, his demon tired of the youngster's impertinence.  Spike looked up, surprised, and Leto pinned him with golden eyes.  Despite being older, Leto didn't usually pull rank on Spike.  “I'm going to explain what's going on.  NO.”  Spike's jaw snapped closed.  “You will sit there, you will listen, and you will think about it when I'm done.  Alanna is immortal, and not because she's mated to me.  There are repercussions that arise from her situation.  We're Seek.  Both of us.”  Spike's eyes widened in shock, his mess of emotions taking a backseat to the surprise.

Holy.  Shit.

Well, at least he'd been by the most powerful group of demons in the world.  And really, he should have realized the Immortal Slayer would be a member of the Seek.  And the vampire older than Angelus.

“Sirra is too, by the way.”  And the evil massage therapist.  Spike snorted and looked back over the horizon, desperately wishing he had some Jack.  Leto raised a warning eyebrow, but Spike was just restless enough not to care.  He gave Leto his most annoying smirk, the one that sent Angelus through the roof on a regular basis.  But the older vamp just shot him a indulgent look.  “You know our reputation, Spike, and you know what we're capable of.  And you're still selling yourself short.  We didn't just watch Buffy, we watched you too.  You...spoke to us.  You still do.  You're special, and we—Alanna in particular—felt you got a pretty shitty deal for saving the world.  Several times over.  So when you sacrificed yourself we...took steps.  To make sure you got what you deserved.” 

“Bloody great reward.  Ta, mate.”  Leto growled in frustration, Spike's willful single-mindedness irritating him.  He had no IDEA what they'd gone through to get him, to keep him safe, to even suggest they hide his memories to keep him from himself.  He had no idea what would have happneed if they *hadn't* stepped in.

“You're not listening.  And I can't very well make you, but...fuck, Spike, you know Alanna.  Even if you're pissed at her right now, you've seen the best parts of her, the kind of person she is.  She put herself on the line for you.  Took on the Powers to make sure you didn't burn up in a brilliant ball of fire for trying to do the right thing, then made an impossible choice knowing full well the consequences of her actions.  She did it anyways because she—she loves you.”

“Funny way of showing it.”  Spike turned away and stared stoically out over Haven, his face a blank, belying the turmoil inside of him.  The silence stretched taunt between them before Spike decided he'd had enough.  No more heart-to-hearts, no more talking.  He was fucking tired, he had a million new memories to deal with and he was done for the day.  He left Leto staring out at the darkened city.

***

Leto heaved a huge sigh and slumped to the ground, staring out over the home he'd worked so hard to build.  It brought him little solace today.  A warm scent drifted to him and a knot of tension unwound.

“Alanna,” he breathed.  Warm arms wrapped around him, soft lips pressed kisses into his neck.

“He’s so hurt and angry,” she said softly.  “Maybe we should--“

“No Petite,” he whispered.  “This is something he must work out on his own.  We were warned of this.  All you can do is be there for him.”

“He doesn't want me there.”

“He will.  He'll figure it out eventually.”

“Did you tell him about the visions?”

“I'm not sure even that would help.  He's never seen our Seer in action.”

“There's so much he doesn't know, doesn't understand.  If I could just explain...”  He pulled her around to sit on his lap and buried his nose in her hair, surrounded himself with her scent.

“He's not ready to know.  He's too angry, every thing's too raw.  His emotions are spinning out of control.”

“I wish you had the full sire/childe bond,” she murmured into his ear.  His unneeded breath caught when she pressed a kiss where his pulse would have been, were he alive.

“It would make things...easier.”  She huffed a mildly amused laugh, the sound tainted with the strain of the day.  Spike. Easy.  Right.