Nemesis by Holly

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Part Ten: Dancing on the Sidelines

“You won’t believe the news I have for you.”

Buffy grinned tightly to herself and glanced up, meeting Xander’s eyes. There wasn’t much that could be said right now with the potential of surprising her, but she decided to keep that tidbit to herself.

“Does news involve food?” she asked, smiling half-heartedly. “I could go for some pasta.”

Wesley emerged from the bookshelves with interest at that, adding, “I must admit that I am starved.”

“I would have recommended doughnuts if I didn’t think someone would confiscate the jellied,” Giles offered offhandedly, closing the cage door and regarding Xander with perked brows.

“If everyone is finished making dinner arrangements, I’m going to continue.” The lighthearted mood dwindled almost immediately. “Life is just a big bucket of funny. Always mocking with jokes that—unsurprisingly—go right over my head.”

Buffy blinked. “Huh? What’s the what?”

“I have information coming out of my ears, that’s what.” He stopped suddenly, finding a focal point of interest. “First off, I found your demon. Though that’s gonna seem kinda on the iffy side of important once I’m done.”

“My demon?”

“Yeah.” He glanced to Giles, who shuffled uncomfortably. “The one with the books? Of Acieration?”

“Ascension,” the Watchers corrected on wordless command.

Buffy’s face fell. Then her eyes widened. Oh. That demon.

At that, she lent herself pause. That was most definitely a conscious thought, and that dropping feeling in her stomach was of the extreme non-relief induced. She had been hoping for news about Spike. Surprising how the root of that knowledge failed to…well, surprise her. The thought barely festered whereas it should have sent her into a worried frenzy. Willow’s words of reassurance reverberated with endless comfort, and though her friend had bailed on the study party for some last minute helping-Percy-action, Buffy drew in her source of consolation. It was needed. The Witch understood—she understood far better than she could have ever hoped.

She glanced back to Xander and sighed. “You found him?” She watched him readily as he nodded, snatching the proffered address from his grasp. All seemed plausible, not that she suspected Xander would purposefully mislead her. It simply struck her as hokey that things could go as easy as all that. Need a demon? Here’s the address.

Wesley cleared his throat. “As timely as this does appear, we cannot be sure that it is authentic. Demons have every motivation to hide—”

“Oh no, it’s real.” Xander grinned proudly. “Willy gave it to me, and even though he has been known to change alliance at random, the information he gives is good. He’ll sell you any bit of gossip once you flash the green. Or beat him up.”

“You beat him up?”

“Well…okay, I bribed him. And he must be close to hitting rock bottom, ‘cause he told me a lot for the price I quoted. Which brings me to point two. You won’t believe—”

“I can’t believe it was that simple to locate a demon. As invaluable as this one,” Wesley declared with a huff. “You’d think he’d go to great lengths to remain hidden.”

Buffy tossed the dumbfound Watcher a mild grin. “Fashion tip, Wes,” she observed. “Mouth looks better closed. And, I know you’re still trying to fit into the groove, but this is Sunnydale. Finding demons is not exactly something of the hard.”

Unless they’re Slayer-obsessed vamps who don’t want to be found.

“You’d also think,” Giles mused, studying the address in his Slayer’s grasp over her shoulder, “that he would set some higher standards for himself. This place by the bus station? It’s awful! Demons by definition should at least attempt to invest in a pit of filth or a nice crypt. No one has any bloody standards anymore.”

“I’ll have to remember to mention that.”

Xander nodded, not bothering to conceal his irritation at having been interrupted. “May I continue, please?”

Buffy’s eyes were still transfixed on the provided address. “I didn’t even know you were looking for him.”

“Well, I wasn’t. Not until Giles called me last night. And as helpful as I’m sure that is…and no, I don’t expect any reward, though I wouldn’t say no to a gratuitous lap dance…” Xander allowed a minute to pass with a shamelessly dreamy look on his face. Then he shook his head, and it was all business. “That’s not the big news.”

“There’s big news?” Buffy asked, wide-eyed. “I mean, bigger than the ‘I know where the demon is’ news?”

“In so many ways, yeah. Brace yourself.” Xander expelled a long, dramatic breath. “You know the vampire that specializes in coming up with the ideal situation in giving your girlfriend a reason for dumping you while he’s obsessed with winning his own back?”

A round of blank stares. The Slayer blinked at him, dumbfound. While clarification was not required, she did need a minute to let it sink in. There was no doubt in her mind that Xander was talking about Spike, even if he hadn’t felt the need to segue his meaning in with a round of subtle hinting. If Willy was on the up-and-up of that new gossip, then the vampire was obviously not attempting to remain discreet.

“Umm…” Giles started, not bothering to mask his confusion. “What?”

“Spike,” Buffy said softly, avoiding the foray of astonished glances she received at mention of the name. The past few weeks had known everything but the acknowledgement that the peroxided pest even existed. “He’s talking about Spike.”

“Spike?” Wesley asked, voice clouded with confusion. His hesitance would have been eye-roll worthy if the Scoobies had not faced the same dilemma of identity the year before. Digging through volumes of Watcher’s Diaries to pinpoint the demon’s history and estimate how much of a threat he presented.

Giles nodded in affirmation as he dove into his pocket for his polishing handkerchief. The glasses perched on his nose soon followed. “William the Bloody,” he replied. “A childe of Angel’s. He has gone by the moniker Spike since before the turn of the century, I believe…though it is not well documented.”

“William the Bloody,” Wesley echoed, eyes going wide. “Dear Lord, he’s in town?”

“Yeah,” Xander spat bitterly. “And can you say bad timing?”

Buffy couldn’t help the slightly sardonic smile that tugged at her lips. “You should know he’s in town better than anyone, Wes.” Save me, of course. “I think you were the first that he decided to tell.”

A lapse of misunderstanding. He stared at her blankly. “What?”

There was a moment of startling comprehension. The expected instant droned and Xander’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “And I’m playing a serious game of connect the dots. The vamp that hit Wes—the smoking, blonde, leather-wearing vamp—”

A snicker clawed at Buffy’s throat. “The same that was ten feet tall and breathed fire?”

“I hate to say it, but this all falls into the realm of the extremely obvious,” Xander said, the note of accusation not lost on anyone present. “And yes, I’m just realizing it now, too. But Giles! Giles! You’re beyond the not-seeing-the-obviousness of me. You should’ve known it was—”

The look the elder Watcher issued could silence anyone. It shone through strands of lingering doubt with blinding comprehension. His glasses were still consigned to the handkerchief in grasp. Perhaps he liked it better when he couldn’t read the expressions of others. “I did,” he confessed. “I just…I didn’t know how to…” His gaze traveled upward and blindly locked with Buffy’s. And she understood.

He hadn’t wanted to mention Spike in front her. Because he knew.

He knew.

Buffy drew in a sharp breath, realizing she was suddenly on prime display. As though the words of caution her friends had undeniably been whispering behind her back were all for not. Even Wesley looked to have his suspicions. God, was there no one in this town that didn’t know what had happened that night? Had she really gone to such lengths to shut herself off for no reason?

And, if what Giles was hinting at bordered on true, why wasn’t he angry? Or hurt? Or disappointed? If nothing else, she expected big leaps of stinking disappointment. Nothing less than what she received when she concealed the truth behind Angel’s return. There was nothing to suggest the fatherly displacement she had grown to loath. There was nothing at all.

What the hell was going on?

“Okay,” Xander said, inhaling and exhaling deeply as though to reign control over his senses. “What the hell is going on?”

It was mildly reassuring to know she wasn’t the only one fraught with disconcertion. More over, Buffy took whatever comfort she could muster in the realization that her friend seemingly remained ignorant about the Spike ordeal. Giles could feign diplomacy about such matters: Xander Harris could not.

Buffy met Giles’s eyes, surged with momentary panic. “Just tell us what you know,” he told the boy, not looking away from her. “If Spike is in town, chances are he is here for a reason. Past discretions notwithstanding…we know enough about him to know that his trips to Sunnydale in the past have been fueled by selfish motivation.”

Buffy’s head reeled as though slapped. Perhaps she’d given Giles too much credit.

“What has prompted William the Bloody’s presence here before?” Wesley asked. It was almost amusing. He had turned rather pale.

“You mean the Council didn’t let you in on it?” Xander asked, wide-eyed. He was giddily rolling on his heels with the hint of conspiracy. “Damn, and I always thought those guys were so considerate. And, for the sake of not wasting your oh-so-English breath, it’s just Spike. No point saying more than needs to be said. Which is something the both of you are highly talented at.” With a thoughtful frown, he turned to the older man, who regarded him with an arched brow. “Is that a Watcher thing, or a British thing?”

Giles snickered appreciatively but ignored the inquiry. Replacing his glasses on the bridge of his nose, he indulged a few steps forward, hands worming into the pockets of his trousers. Buffy knew the look well. It was the same he adapted before assuming the role of Mr. Lecture. They were about to have a history lesson. “When Spike came to Sunnydale originally,” he began, “it was to restore Drusilla, his paramour. She had been weakened after a mob attack in Prague, where she was thought to be dead—”

“Drusilla,” Wesley mused speculatively, uncaring for his interruption. “Ah, yes. Another childe of Angel’s correct? She was a covenant girl. Rumor has it that she was dead.”

“Oh so very not dead,” Xander quipped. “Well, in the final dead sense of the word. She’s most assuredly undead. And Spike—man—that boy is crazy about her. Which is sort of ironic, in itself, seeing as she’s the crazy one.”

A small pain shot up her arm, and she realized that her fists were clinched tight enough that her nails were etching small crescents into her skin. Still, she did nothing to alleviate the infliction. The more the merrier. At least then, she wouldn’t cry out in protest.

I’m not jealous, I’m not jealous, I’m not…

“In fact, that’s what brought the bleached wonder around the second time.” Xander nodded bitterly. “And, unless Willy’s mistaken, that’s why he’s here again.”

“What?” No. That didn’t sound right. Buffy snapped to firm attention. “Spike’s here because of Drusilla?”

“Well, he didn’t say that in so many words. In fact, it seems that Captain Peroxide has been avoiding the demon hangs. Guess he wanted to keep a low profile. Though, I gotta say, if that’s the case, he’s not exactly doing a bang-up job. Word is, he’s hit practically every bar in town except for Willy’s. Moping and drinking himself into a frenzy. Worse than last time. I can’t think of any reason other than Dru, can you? I’m thinking this time for good, and he doesn’t know how to handle it. Ass decided to come back here.” The young man clenched his teeth as though to restrain himself from lashing out, though his intended target seemed rather ambiguous. “Not only does he have the worst timing ever, but I can’t think of one person who would hesitate before…well, I’m still pissed about the entire Cordy thing, as I’m sure Willow is…even though she and Oz came to that understanding. And Buff…well, you were trapped with the guy for hours on end. A matter Angel would likely…” He trailed off when he registered that he had lost her. “Buffy?”

For her part, Buffy was lost in a world of contemplation. It ached. While she wasn’t about to sincerely believe some off-handed report from a cast-off source, her mind painted a painfully colorful picture of what might have transpired in the weeks of separation to merit his return. Their time together, however brief, had convinced her of the authenticity of his feelings—she felt she had no right to judge—but Spike had made no small noise about his intense displeasure in wanting her. It was something he didn’t understand, didn’t want to understand, and sure as hell didn’t want to obey. And yet it had brought him back, and he fell helpless to its call.

Had he returned to Drusilla after he left? Could he do that? Simply experience what they had experienced and go back?

The notion made her shudder with very unfair jealousy. She ignored the voice that reminded her that she had done nothing more than the same. It was different. Angel lived in Sunnydale—he was unavoidable. Locating Drusilla required active hunting. Would he have tried to find her? Had she rejected him again? Was that the real reason behind his return?

God, that hurt. It was deserved after what she had said, but damn, it still hurt.

“This is Commander Harris paging Spaceship Buffy. Buffy, do you copy?”

She blinked and looked at him. Then she was on her feet.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

That was a good question and she had no answer at the moment. She just had to get out of there before someone dug a hole too close to home. The paper in her hand rubbed tightly against her skin, and she invented a quick excuse. “Demon. Books. Gotta go.”

At that, Giles took a harsh step forward. “Buffy, there’s something you ought to know about—”

“Later.”

“But it’s really most important—”

“And I’m sure it’ll be just as important when I get back.”

“But—”

“We’ll talk later. No rest for the wicked.”

Wesley stepped forward then with his opposition. “But you should wait for Faith—”

The name made her insides recoil with disgust. “That’d be a no. I can handle it. Really guys. Chill.”

“Buff.” Xander again. Calm but layered with undertones of worried. “What if you run into Spike?”

There was a pause. Her back was to them. “I’ll handle it,” she answered softly.

Then she was out the door.

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