Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures where the First is involved. In order to prevent the end of the world, Buffy asks Willow to do a spell that's supposed to fix everything, and Spike goes along for the ride.
Rating: PG-13
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Author's Notes: You'll probably notice that I've took some liberties with the timing in canon. Since I'm running the show, I'm allowed to do that.
"Are you going to invite Spike for Christmas, Buffy?" Joyce asked. "I think you should."
Buffy had almost forgotten about the holidays, with everything that had been going on. Things between her and Spike had been rather strained for the last week. She'd used the necessity to prepare for finals as an excuse to not go over to his apartment as much. Spike had claimed to understand and had encouraged her to study.
Now, finals were over, Christmas was just around the corner, and Buffy had no idea what to get him.
"Sure, Mom. If you want me to invite Spike, I will." Buffy forced a smile, picking at the food on her plate. With her first semester done, Buffy could also focus on spending some quality time with her mother—also a good excuse for not seeing as much of Spike.
"What happened between you two?" Joyce asked quietly.
Buffy started guiltily, already having gotten lost in her own thoughts again. "What?"
"You two were doing fine, and now you're making excuses not to see him." Joyce frowned. "Did Spike do something to make you angry, sweetheart?"
Buffy shook her head silently, not knowing how to explain or what to say. In a way, it had been comforting to know that Riley was alive, but that he would never fall for her. She could avoid the pain she'd caused him by not including him in her life, by not loving him enough. Now he was dead, and it was as much her fault as Spike's.
After all, returning to the past had been her idea.
"It wasn't Spike's fault," she finally said.
Joyce reached across the table, grabbing Buffy's hand. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"
"It—it's complicated, Mom," Buffy objected. She had told Giles, of course. Both she and Spike together had explained what had happened to her Watcher. Giles hadn't known Riley, however, so there was no feeling there. He'd simply told them that sometimes accidents happened, and that he would give them whatever support they needed.
Joyce sighed. "It might be complicated, but do give me a little credit, Buffy. I may not know as much about monsters as you do, but I know a little about broken hearts."
"Spike didn't break my heart," Buffy said quickly, not wanting her mother to think badly of the vampire. "It's just—when we were fighting the Gentlemen, one of the Initiative soldiers was there. Riley."
"You knew him?"
"He was a TA for my psych class," Buffy explained. "And—and he was my boyfriend. The first time around. He and Spike never got along, and I guess he tried to stake Spike at some point. We broke up, and it was bad. Anyway..."
She trailed off. This was the part of her job that she didn't like her mom to know about—the part with the killing. Then again, her mom had been around the previous year when she and Faith had been accused of killing the deputy mayor.
"Riley started shooting at Spike, because he knew about the vampire thing, and Spike threw one of the demons at him." Buffy rushed to explain. "It was an accident. I know that Spike wouldn't have killed him intentionally, not unless it was self defense."
Joyce frowned. "But wasn't it self defense, Buffy?"
"What?"
"If this Riley person was shooting at Spike, and I'm assuming was trying to kill him, then anything Spike did was self defense." Joyce raised her eyebrows. "I realize that you both probably feel bad about what happened, and it's a horrible accident, but that's what it was."
"I know that," Buffy said quietly. "But I said something I shouldn't have, and I know that Spike feels guilty. And I feel guilty, because Riley wouldn't be dead if I hadn't come back to the past, and—I still cared about him, Mom. I wasn't in love with him, but..."
"Oh, sweetheart." Joyce came around the table to embrace her. "Do you feel guilty for grieving?"
"A little bit," Buffy admitted, feeling the tears begin to creep down her cheeks. "And guilty that he's dead, and guilty for what I said to Spike. I just wasn't thinking."
"It was a very difficult situation."
It was so easy to let her mother hold her and tell her that everything was going to be okay, that it wasn't her fault, and that the grief would pass. Buffy hadn't been able to mourn until that moment—she was hesitant to burden Willow with her grief when the other girl wouldn't really understand, and she couldn't talk to Spike.
In truth, that was the worst part. For the first time since coming back to the past, there was something she couldn't talk to Spike about.
When Buffy finally pulled back, swiping at her wet cheeks, she felt a little better. "Thanks, Mom."
"Are you going to be okay?"
"Yeah." Buffy took a deep breath. "I should probably see Spike tonight."
Joyce smiled and touched her cheek. "I think you should."
"What do I say, Mom?"
"Do you love him?"
Buffy nodded. "Yeah. More than anything."
"Then tell him that." Joyce pulled her back into a brief hug. "That's probably the best place to start."
~~~~~
Willow offered Tara a smile. "How did finals go?"
"Good." Tara was amazed that she'd actually made a friend while at college. Since Spike had led her to the safety of Willow's room, they'd managed to form a bond brought about by their shared love of magic. In a sense, Willow was everything that Tara wished she could be: bubbly, silly, with a close knit circle of friends, and a growing magical ability.
Tara already knew that Willow's power was greater than hers, and that she would become even stronger as time went on. She didn't envy the other girl, however. With great power often came great responsibility—and even greater temptation. Her mother had talked a lot about the wise use of magic.
"How, um, how is Spike?" Tara asked. She hadn't seen him since the night that the Gentlemen came to town.
Willow shook her head. "I haven't seen him recently. After—after he and Buffy took care of the Gentlemen, he kind of disappeared."
"W-why?"
Willow hesitated, clearly trying to decide whether or not to trust Tara with the information. "When they fought the Gentlemen, someone else got hurt, and it was kind of Spike's fault. It was an accident, but..." She made a face. "They aren't really talking much right now."
Tara winced. "That's too bad. Spike seemed nice."
"He is," Willow agreed. "He wasn't always, but he's definitely nice now."
Silence fell, the sort that often occurred in the early stages of a friendship. Tara wasn't sure what to say, or where to direct the conversation. "What are you doing for the break?"
Willow shrugged. "Mostly just hanging out. What about you? Are you going to be able to go home?"
Tara hadn't explained yet that she had tried very hard to make sure that her family couldn't find her. Most people seemed not to understand. She could say that she didn't get along with her family, but that didn't really cover it.
"No. It's—we don't really get along."
Willow looked sympathetic. "Yeah, I hear you. My parents barely speak to me anymore."
"Why?" Tara asked, surprised. She would have thought that Willow would be the perfect child, someone any parent would be proud of.
"They're busy." Willow fiddled with the cardboard to-go cup, still half full of mocha. "You could hang out with us, if you want. I don't know what Xander is doing this year, but his family isn't so great either, and Buffy said something about spending Christmas Eve together."
Tara wasn't sure about accepting the invitation. The only thing worse than being alone over the holidays was the awkwardness of being with strangers, but she knew Willow, and she'd at least met Buffy and Spike. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
"Okay," she finally said. "That might be fun."
~~~~~
It had been a long time since Spike had drunk to excess—since before the soul. He didn't think that he'd spent an entire week pissed since Drusilla had left him, although he'd been tempted while Buffy had kept him dangling.
The guilt, along with Buffy's willingness to blame him for Riley's death, had caused him to seek solace in a bottle. Every time he called, Buffy had an excuse for why she couldn't see him. All of her excuses sounded valid, but he knew that she was running away again.
Spike suspected that much of it had to do with grief—he might have done the same had Buffy staked Drusilla. Not that he wanted to know if Buffy was grieving for the soldier; he preferred to be in the dark about that.
No, that wasn't precisely true. Spike wanted to be there for her, even if it meant having to deal with the fact that she still had feelings for the bastard.
The knock on his apartment door startled him out of his reverie. For a moment, Spike contemplated letting his visitor believe that no one was home, but then decided to get it over with. It could be Buffy, wanting his help fighting some demon, and he had promised to watch her back, however he felt at the moment.
He stumbled slightly as he walked to the door. Spike hadn't been sure if the Gem of Amara would decrease his chances of getting drunk, and so he'd taken it off. He'd just wanted to forget for a while.
To forget how quickly, how easily, everything could change.
Buffy stood in the doorway, staring at him. "How long has it been since you ate, Spike?"
"Nice to see you, too, Slayer," Spike muttered, walking away from her, leaving the door open.
Buffy stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "You look like shit."
"Yeah, well, it's not like I can look in a mirror." He dropped into the armchair that Buffy had helped him pick out, mostly so that she wouldn't sit next to him. Spike didn't think he could deal with her proximity right now.
Buffy marched over to the fridge, peering inside. "Is any of this blood fresh?"
"Dunno."
She grabbed one of the tubs of blood. "Can vampires get sick off of bad blood?"
"What does it matter?"
Buffy glared at him. "Right now, I'm thinking that it doesn't. Call me crazy, but I care."
"Could have fooled me."
He could hear her sigh. "I'm sorry."
She did sound sorry, Spike would give her that. "Yeah."
"Mom wanted me to invite you over for Christmas," Buffy stated.
Spike contemplated the bottle of whiskey that sat on the side table, still half full. He wondered if Buffy would join him for a drink if he asked, or if she'd turn up her nose. "That her idea or yours?"
"Hers," she admitted, pulling a mug of blood out of the microwave. "But it's not like I don't want you there."
Spike stayed silent, knowing that if he opened his mouth, he'd say something that he would regret later.
Buffy came over and handed him the mug. "Will you come?"
"If your mum wants me there, I'll be there." Spike kept his tone carefully even, beginning to drink down the blood.
She plopped down on the couch, staring at him in frustration. "Okay, I know that I overreacted last week, but I know it was an accident, Spike. I didn't mean what I said."
Spike met her eyes forthrightly. "Then why have you been avoiding me?" When she opened her mouth to deny it, he cut her off. "No. Don't lie to me."
"Fine. I've been avoiding you," she admitted. "I just didn't know what to say."
He maintained a stubborn silence, having no intention of making this easier on her. Spike did feel guilt over the soldier's death, even if he hadn't cared much for the man. Riley might be an arrogant, over-bearing prick, but Spike could admit—if only to himself—that he hadn't been evil, or deserving of death.
Spike hadn't meant for Riley to die, but he hadn't been real careful either. There was a part of him that wondered if he hadn't meant to kill the soldier, at least subconsciously, and if so, whether he could really be trusted with the rest of the population.
After all, the First had managed to subvert him, causing him to kill a dozen or more people. Maybe Buffy should have staked him in that basement.
"Spike, talk to me," Buffy said. "What's going through your head?"
Spike raised an eyebrow. "You wishin' you had staked me?"
Buffy's eyes went wide. "What? When?"
"After you found out I'd turned all those people."
"That wasn't you, Spike. That was the First." Buffy looked dismayed. "Riley's death wasn't your fault."
"Didn't you say I'd killed him?"
"I told you that I overreacted." Buffy sighed. "I don't know what to say."
Spike knew that he was acting like a prat, and he was probably making this a lot harder than it needed to be. "You okay?"
Buffy looked guilty for a moment. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Spike gave her a dirty look. "Give me some credit, pet. He might not have been your boyfriend anymore, but you still had feelings for him."
There was a long pause. "We were friends. When Riley came back to Sunnydale, we made peace, you know?"
"Even though he came with a perfect wife in tow?" Spike asked.
"Yeah, even though." Buffy smiled ruefully. "I guess he wasn't quite as into me as he claimed."
Spike shrugged. "Easy come, easy go. Could be that Captain Cardboard just falls in an' out of love real easy."
Buffy opened her mouth to object, then shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe that's it."
"Did you think he was Mr. Right, Buffy?" Spike had no idea why he was asking the question, but he needed to know. He needed to know if he'd hurt her, if he'd irreparably damaged their relationship.
Buffy leaned back into the couch cushions. "You don't pull your punches, do you?"
"You don't have to answer."
"No, it's okay." Buffy took a deep breath. "I think I had this idea of Riley as Mr. Right, but—we didn't really know each other. He fell in love with an ideal, I think, and so did I." She looked at him, memories shadowing her eyes. "What about you and Drusilla?"
It seemed to be an evening to rehash old memories, and to talk about subjects that had always been taboo before. "S'pose I did think she was the only one for me for a long time, but she was never mine." He met her eyes. "She was always Angel's."
"I'm not Angel's, and I'm not Riley's." Buffy got up and stood in front of him. "I'm as much at fault as you are. This was my idea—to come back here. If we hadn't, Riley would be in Nepal, or Belize, or somewhere."
"At least until the world ended," Spike pointed out.
Buffy winced. "Yeah. Until then."
"We knew things could change," Spike reminded her. "Should have figured that it might not change for the better. I'm sorry for what happened, Buffy, but—"
"It's easier this way," Buffy admitted.
Spike took a deep breath. "Has Rupert said anything more about it?"
"Just to ask if I'd heard anything on campus. Professor Walsh made the announcement that Riley was killed in a car accident, but that was it. She said that they were shipping his body home to his parents, and that they were going to hold the funeral in Iowa."
"Guess we couldn't expect anythin' different." Spike rubbed his forehead. "'Least they don't know about us. It's better that way."
Buffy grabbed his hand. "Where's your ring?"
"Took it off," he admitted. "I wasn't sure I could get drunk with it on."
She ran her hand down his face. "How much have you drunk?"
"A lot," he admitted.
"No more." She straddled his lap. "Unless you want to drink together?"
"If you want." Spike's hands came up to grip her waist. "What are we doin', Buffy?"
"Making up for lost time." Buffy's lips found his. "We've lost too much time already. I shouldn't have pushed you away."
Spike pulled her in closer. "Shouldn't have let you."
"What happened to the pushy guy I knew?" she asked.
"He pushed too far."
Buffy stilled, meeting his eyes. "Are we okay?"
"We're goin' to be."
"Good." She gave him a hard kiss on the lips. "What do you want for Christmas?"
~~~~~
Christmas was always a difficult time, ever since the divorce. Even after things had gotten bad, the arguments had been put on hold for the holidays. It had all been a masquerade, of course, but the brief reprieve had always given her hope that things could be good again.
Until it became obvious that there were some things in life that just couldn't be fixed with hard work and a good attitude.
This year felt different, however. After what Buffy had told her about the future, Joyce felt that every day was precious. Perhaps she would have more than just another year or two with her daughter, but what if she didn't? She didn't want to regret anything about her remaining time, and that included going full speed ahead for the holidays.
Joyce had asked Buffy to invite Spike, and then she'd realized that Mr. Giles probably didn't have anywhere to go for the holidays either. From there, it had been easy for her to issue invitations to Buffy's friends, at least for Christmas Eve.
Christmas morning was for family—although this year that would include Spike.
"Why are you doing this, Mom?"
Joyce paused as she hung a glass icicle on the Christmas tree. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, why have the whole gang over for Christmas? You never did before." Buffy was turning a handmade ornament over in her hands, one she'd constructed in preschool that Joyce had always loved.
"Didn't I?" Joyce asked carefully, remembering what Spike had said, about Buffy not being able to handle losing her again.
"Just—just that last year." Buffy swallowed hard, then chose a branch for the ornament and turned to the other boxes. "But not this year."
Joyce took a deep breath. "We don't know what tomorrow holds, Buffy. Even though you do have some knowledge of the future, it isn't perfect. I don't want any regrets, and I knew it would make you happy to have everyone here." She looked around the living room. Most of the decorations were already up, and it was bright and cheery.
She had always loved Christmas.
"It does," Buffy assured her. "I just..." She trailed off, going over to sit down in the rocker. "I didn't think it was going to be easy, you know? Things are never easy. But I never believed that it would be this hard."
Joyce looked at her daughter. When she thought back to a few years ago, before she'd known about Buffy being the Slayer, she couldn't help but wonder how she'd remained so oblivious. Not that she ever would have guessed that Buffy was slaying vampires and demons in her spare time, but Joyce thought that she should have known there was more to Buffy's apparent delinquency.
Perhaps she'd been blinded by her own memories of being a teenager, remembering it as a time for rebellion. Perhaps she simply hadn't wanted to know.
"It's cliché, but nothing worth doing is ever easy." Joyce smiled apologetically, knowing that her words could do little to soothe.
"Sayings become clichés for a reason, right?" Buffy sighed. "I just wish I knew if we did the right thing, or if we're making it worse."
Joyce gave her daughter a long hug. "I know you'll manage it, sweetheart. You're very good at what you do, and so is Spike." She pulled back to look Buffy in the eye. "How are you and Spike? Are you going to be uncomfortable with him here?"
Buffy shook her head. "We're good, Mom. We still have a lot to work through, but we're going to make it."
"I don't doubt it." The doorbell rang, and Buffy went to let Spike in. The others weren't supposed to arrive for some time, but Spike had offered to come over early to help. Joyce appreciated his offer, and she certainly didn't mind his presence.
It felt like Spike was one of the family these days.
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