Third Time's the Charm

Chapter 21: Best Laid Plans

Spike walked into the kitchen after his nap and saw Willow sitting at the table eating a sandwich and perusing a dusty old tome. “Where’s Buffy?” he asked her.

She looked up at him. “Um, Spike, she’s gone out with Ang-Liam. I think they went for coffee or something.”

He bowed his head and turned away from her to hide his expression. “When did she leave?”

“About an hour ago.”

He bit back a curse and going to the fridge, yanked the door open and grabbed a bag of blood. Ripping the bag open, he squeezed it into a mug and practically threw the mug into the microwave.

“Spike,” Willow warned softly.

He spun around and glared at her, his whole body trembling with emotion. She was surprised that he hadn’t shifted into his gameface and she was once again amazed at his control. “What did you expect? Isn’t this is what you wanted?”

The microwave beeped and he took the blood and drank. “I don’t know what in bleeding hell I want!” He leaned against the counter, looking down into the mug. Standing there in his black jeans, black t-shirt and bare feet, he looked young and so very vulnerable.

Willow sighed and pushed the book and the sandwich aside. “I thought this was part of the whole plan. Get Angel and Buffy back together so that she can have the life you think she wants,” Willow said carefully.

“It’s a stupid plan,” Spike mumbled and she had to fight back a smile. “Bad plan.”

“I agree,” she said.

He shrugged. “But it’s the only plan I got.” He tossed back the last of the blood, grimacing at it. It had already started to congeal. When did the taste of blood - fresh, microwaved, or cold- start to taste bad? Was that going to be his life now? Without Buffy was everything just going to taste and feel and look mediocre?

“Do you think Giles will find me a job?” he asked suddenly.

Willow shook her head in confusion. “What?”

“A job,” he repeated. “I’m going to need to do something after – after this is all over. I’m not staying here in bloody California with Ginger and the Professor and I’m sure as hell not staying in Buffalo. Do you think Giles can find me a job in London? Maybe I can work for the council. I think I’d like to go back to London.” But even the thought of going home didn’t seem all that great.

What the hell was he going to do with himself?

He was pathetic now.

In a month he would be unbearable.

“Spike,” she said softly. “Is that really what you want?”

He set the mug down on the counter. “Want? What I want? By the time this is all over, the only thing I’m going to want is to be staked one last time! Maybe, just maybe, the third time will do the trick. Isn’t that what they say? Third time’s the charm? Maybe if I get staked a third time the bleeding Powers that Be will leave me the hell alone and this time I’ll stay dead!”

He pushed himself away from the counter and strode angrily from the room.

He missed the look of dawning wonder and amazement on Willow’s face.

“And maybe they won’t leave you alone this time Spike,” she murmured out loud. Then she jumped up, grabbed her book and sandwich, and ran looking for Gunn.

***

Buffy licked her mocha ice cream to keep it from dripping down the side. She glanced over at Liam and found he was having an equally hard time. Apparently the Californian sun was wreaking havoc on ice cream cones everywhere.

Buffy shook her head in disbelief. She was walking with Angel in the hot afternoon sun. She was watching him eat real food! Watching the sunlight spill over him and gild his features. Gone were the brooding frowns; the dark glares; the grim, tight lip smiles. He smiled, really smiled, looking like a little, mischievous boy. And he laughed. He had a wonderful laugh, full and throaty. She looked at his left hand clutching the cone. There was a small scar on his thumb that he’d gotten before his change. She recognized the pattern of hair on his knuckles and the back of his hand and she suddenly understood that old saying about knowing something as well as the back of your hand. She knew the back of Angel’s hand as well as she knew her own.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” she asked, realizing that she should have been paying closer attention to his mouth instead of his hands.

He smiled. “I was asking you what it was like growing up in Buffalo. You strike me as a Californian girl through and through.”

“Hardy. Us easterners are hardy souls. We grow up dealing with the weather and all. Makes for some pretty tough individuals,” she replied.

“And yet you decided to come west to study,” he wondered.

Buffy focused on her ice cream. Eating was something she was good at. Lying and making up entire pasts and futures on the spot, while eating, something she was not so good at. She knew that someone had once said that it was best, when lying, to stay as close to the truth as possible. Well, that was much easier said than done; especially when the truth was unbelievable and ridiculous.

Buffy shrugged. “Figured it was time to live on the west coast for a bit. I wanted to see the ocean and thought it would be great to be able to study and see the ocean on a regular basis.” Idiotic, she thought to herself. She sounded like a complete idiot! “What about you? Did you grow up here in California?”

He nodded around the last bite of his ice cream. “Pasadena. My parents still live there, they were teachers and my sisters are both teachers.”

“So it runs in the family,” she stated. Nothing like stating the obvious Buffy, she thought. When did she become such a scintillating conversationalist?

“Yeap, educators through and through,” he said.

“Haven’t married a fellow teacher yet?” she asked out of curiosity, the picture of the police woman still fresh in her memory.

He shook his head, rolling up his napkin and tossing it into a city wastebasket. He glanced into the window of one of the swanky shops on Rodeo Drive. “No, never married to a teacher. Dated one once, a few years back.”

“And who are you dating now? Good looking guy like you must have them lined up.” Oh God, she thought to herself. There is no sign of improvement. This conversation was a train wreck.

He smiled over at her. “There’s someone. She actually reminds me a bit of you now that I think of it. But she’s a cop.”

Buffy forced a smile. “Nice! So you guys can like play cops and robbers and stuff.” Oh God. The conversation had progressed from train wreck status to apocalypse status.

Liam laughed. “Nawww… Melody is not like that.”

“Melody, pretty name.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, she’s pretty great.”

“Only ‘pretty’ great and not fantastic?” Buffy asked him, a bit taken aback by his lack of enthusiasm for the lovely Melody.

Liam glanced up at the traffic light and held his arm out so that Buffy wouldn’t step into oncoming traffic. “Melody is – how should I put this – she’s very consumed with her work. She takes it very seriously.”

“And you aren’t?”

He shook his head, looked both ways and then gently directed her across the street. “Not like she is. I enjoy my work, but to be honest, I enjoy a cold beer sitting out on my back deck on the weekend more. Melody, well, she never lets it go. She’s always a cop you know?” He stopped outside a sports store and looked into the window. “Besides, my job isn’t dangerous. It’s not like I could die any old workday. She could.”

Buffy didn’t even glance into the window. She simply stared at him in amazement. Who the hell was this guy anyway?

He continued walking and she fell into step beside him. She tossed the last of her soggy cone into another wastebasket.

“What about you? You seeing anyone?” he asked.

Seeing. Was that what you would call it, she wondered? It was so much more than that. Seeing someone sounded so mundane. It could never apply to her and Spike. Their relationship had never been mundane. It had never been seeing or dating.

“I’m in a relationship with someone, yes,” she replied.

“What’s he like?” he asked, glancing down at her out of curiosity.

Buffy chuckled. God, how was she supposed to describe him? “I’d say he’s the sort of boy you don’t bring home to meet your mom, except that my mother adored him.” She laughed, remembering Joyce making Spike hot chocolate. “On the surface, that description would apply to him. But in his heart and soul, he’s a poet.” And a demon. And a lover. She looked down at the ground, feeling her heart ache. Why wasn’t he here with her? Why couldn’t she walk with him one afternoon, down Sunset Boulevard, eating ice cream? She fought the tears and looking up, realized that she wanted to go home. Home to Buffalo. She was done with this, with his stupid plan.

They would figure out another plan.

“You love him,” Liam said gently.

Buffy stopped scanning the street for a taxi and looked over at Liam. “What?”

“You love him,” he repeated. There was envy in his tone and it was evident on his face.

Buffy smiled crookedly. “Yeah, I love the idiot.”

“He’s very lucky. I hope he loves you just as much.”

She took a deep, frustrated breath. “He does. He just doesn’t see how much I love him. He doesn’t get it and nothing I say seems to change that.”

Liam grinned. “Then stop saying it and do something to show it.”

Simple words. Such a simple, straightforward idea.

Buffy nodded. “I’m trying,” she glanced back into the street, wanting to go, wanting to leave, needing to be with Spike. “Liam, this has been very nice, but would you mind terribly-“

He shook his head and stepping out into the street, he whistled for a taxi. A cab pulled up quickly with a screech of tires and he opened the door for her.

“It was very nice meeting you Buffy Summers,” he said with a smile. “I have a feeling that I won’t be seeing you at class next week.”

She smiled at him, her gaze memorizing his features, cataloging them for her album of memories. “No, I think I’m going back to Buffalo. I’ve seen enough of the ocean to know that it isn’t for me.”

He leaned forward and gave her a hard hug and Buffy fought back the tears. Being in his arms felt like being in the arms of a stranger. This man wasn’t Angel.

Angel was gone, forever.

And she, Buffy Summers, was perfectly cool with that.

“Liam?”

“Yeah?” he asked, pulling away from her and stepping back up onto the street.

“Don’t be afraid to love Melody,” Buffy said softly. “Tell her how you feel. Find that common ground, but don’t turn away from love because you’re afraid of happiness. In real life, pure happiness doesn’t ruin anything. It is what it is.”

A startled look crossed his face. “I’ll try.”

She blew him a kiss and then scrambled into the car. “The Hyperion Hotel,” she told the cabbie. With one last glance back at the man standing on the street, she whispered her goodbye. Then she turned and faced forward and urged the driver to pick up the pace.

***

It was late when Willow tracked down Gunn and Spike. They were in the old training room, where Gunn had kept some of the weapons but neither of them was fighting. There were drinking, playing cards, and talking. She wasn’t clued in to what exactly they were talking about because they stopped as soon as she stepped into the room.

“Spike?”

“Yeah Red? What’s got you all bewitched, bothered, and bewildered?”

She stood next to his chair and stared down at him. “Spike, I need you to listen to me and to hear me out. I’ve got a plan.”

He tossed a card onto the table and didn’t even bother to look up at her. He picked up his cigarette from the ashtray and took a drag. “A plan for what pet?”

“Would you look at me damn it!”

He paused. Then he slowly set the cigarette back into the ashtray, laid his cards down and looked up. “Witch, I’m all yours.”

“Exactly – I’m a witch,” she said. “And you better believe that I’m going to use all my power to fix this.”

“Sorry to disturb your power surge here love, but the last time you used all your power to fix something the world would have come to an end if it hadn’t been for Harris and that damned yellow crayon.”

She shook her head. “No, not that kind of power, not black magic and dark power, but white magic. Good power.”

He sighed. “Will, there’s no way to fix this.”

“Listen to her Spike,” Gunn said quietly.

Spike looked at his friend in surprise. “You know what this is about? And you didn’t say anything?”

Gunn threw his hands up in defense. “She came and asked me a few questions and I think I may have picked up on her direction. But let the woman speak.”

“It was you, Spike!” Willow said in excitement. “You gave me the idea! When you said that bit about the third time being the charm. It’s true Spike, threes are lucky. They are, in fact, sort of a charm in themselves.”

He still looked confused. “What in bleeding hell was I talking about that time?” He glanced over at Gunn. “I talk a lot don’t I?” Gunn grinned and nodded. Spike continued. “And I’m supposed to know what you’re talking about Red when I can’t keep track of what I’m talking about half the time?”

She sighed in frustration. “Third time – when you said that all you wanted to do was be staked again and that maybe, this third time you die as a vampire, the PTB would leave you alone!”

He looked away, his lips pursed in distaste. “That conversation. Now I remember.”

“But that’s it Spike. The third time is the charm.” She started numbering off her examples. “Magic, spirituality, and history are full of threes. Three Graces, Three Fates and the Three Furies. There is the Trinity of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Jesus was, albeit allegedly, 33 when he was crucified, there were 3 crosses on Golgotha and the Three Wise men – just a few examples from Christianity. In genie mythology they always talk about 3 wishes. In Wicca we have the Rule of Three and our Triple Goddesses. Celtic pagans have their three realms of Sky, Land and Sea as well as their three planes of existence -ThisWorld, the Underworld and the Otherworld. You want to talk science? Newton’s three laws of motion, three states of matter – liquid, solid and gas – and cripes Spike, earth is the third rock from the sun. Threes are magic Spike!” Her eyes sparkled. “We’re going to use the magic of threes to send you back to the PTB for the third time. And this time, when you go back to them you’re going to petition them for what you want.”

Spike set his cards on the table and looked up at Willow, giving her his full attention. “You want to kill me a third time, in hopes that I get sent back to the PTB and then, when I’m there, they might give me what I ask for.” He shook his head. “There’s a whole lot of ifs in that plan Red.”

“I’m going to use the power of threes to make sure you go to them again,” Willow explained. “Once there, the rest would be up to you. If you want it bad enough Spike, you can convince them.”

He stared at her, the first signs of hope beginning to glimmer in his blue eyes. “You’re sure you can get me there?”

She nodded. “I’ve been working on a spell.”

He winced. “Red….your spells….”

She held up her hand. “I’m not some untried young witch anymore Spike. I can do this.”

He looked over at Gunn. “You’ve had run-ins with the PTB. What do you think are my chances?”

Gunn shook his head. “Spike, it’s not whether or not I believe in the PTB. I believe that you can do it.” He looked at Willow in admiration. “And I believe in her.”

Spike stood up and faced Willow. “We don’t tell Buffy.”

“Why not?” she asked in disbelief.
“What if I can’t do it?” he asked softly. “What if something goes wrong and I don’t go back to them? Or what if I do and they don’t care how prettily I beg? What if, Red, dead is dead this time around? I don’t want her sitting around for the next ten years waiting for me to show up. We do this my way, or not at all. Buffy has no idea that this is a plan or a spell or anything. As far as she’s concerned, I’m going to be dead.”

Willow glanced down at her hands. She knew what she had to do and she couldn’t look him in the eyes and lie. “Fine,” she murmured. “I won’t tell her.”

If Spike found her quick acquiescence suspicious, he didn’t comment. Instead, he looked at Gunn and then back at Willow. “Then this is how it’s going to go down.”