Summary: Set after the end of Cast Me Not Away and its follow up stories. This sequel is longer and darker than the intervening short stories. It deals with family, children, immortality, life and death, and making amends. We will also be jumping around in time a bit, so look sharp.
Author's Notes: I debated for a long time before writing this one, although the idea was there before I even finished CMNA. Some of you will believe that I have ruined the previous stories, which is fine. All I ask is that if you're unhappy with where this goes that you'll go back, re-read Cast Me Not Away through Silver Bells, and then you can flame me if you'd like. I'll calmly pull out the fire-extinguisher and ignore you, but that's alright. The themes have been there; I just hadn't quite managed to elaborate on them yet. (Oh, and before anyone screams Nika, Wesley, Spike and Buffy will survive. More than that I won't promise.)
Rating: PG-13
Chapter 16: October 2014
Buffy stood outside the door of the room they'd set aside. Wren had told her in no uncertain terms to stay out, warning her against disturbing their concentration. It had been hours, and they still hadn't emerged to let her know everything was fine.
Everything had to be fine.
If she closed her eyes, she could still see the rough, wooden plank emerging from his chest. Still see the look of surprise on his face, followed quickly by his eyes rolling up into his head. Watching him pass out had been a relief in a way, since it meant that he wasn't going to dust.
It had been instinct alone that had caused her to take advantage of La Muerta's momentary distraction, shoving her stake through the vampiress' chest, darting across the floor of the warehouse to reach Spike.
Her first inclination had been to remove the wood, but Angel had stopped her. He'd been doused in slime, but warned her that pulling it out could cause a splinter to lodge in his heart. It wasn't safe.
Buffy was just grateful that Spike had been unconscious while they transported him back to Wren's house. She hoped that he wasn't in too much pain.
The Slayer wanted to be by his side when he woke up. She had a special medicine of her own to offer.
A weary Willow opened the door to the bedroom where they'd placed him. "Hey, Buffy."
"Did you get it?" she asked hurriedly. "Is he awake yet?"
Willow shook her head. "We think the danger is past. Spike should heal just fine, but it's going to take some time."
"He hasn't woken then?"
"No. It's probably better," Willow commented, echoing the Slayer's own thoughts. "He's going to be in a lot of pain when he does."
Buffy chewed her lip. "Can I see him now?"
"We're done." Willow laid a hand on her friend's arm. "He's going to be fine."
Buffy shook her head. "I was angry at him when we went in, Willow . Usually we tell each other to be careful or—" She broke off. "What if he—"
Willow hugged her tight. "I know, Buffy, but he's going to make it. That's what you have to concentrate on right now."
"I almost lost him," Buffy replied. "Will you call the others?"
"Sure," Willow said, watching as Buffy brushed past her to enter the room.
Wren was putting the finishing touches on the bandaging around his chest. "I'll be done in just a moment."
"Thank you," Buffy said. "I'm sorry about earlier. It's just—"
"You had lost a friend, and you were going into battle," Wren replied, straightening and stepping back from the bed. "We've worked with a Slayer for years now. Faith wasn't so different."
There was a time when Buffy would have found that an insult, but these days she could take it as a compliment. "Thanks," she repeated awkwardly.
She watched as Wren left the room, taking the bandages with her. Buffy stood next to the bed for a moment, wondering if she shouldn't wait until Spike was awake to try this. It wasn't an ideal situation. Normally, she got nearly as much pleasure out of his biting her as Spike did.
He always had known how to make things good for her.
Buffy walked over to the door and locked it, less because she was ashamed of what she was doing than because she knew the others wouldn't understand. Well, some of them might, but there were things she never wanted to discuss with Angel, her love life being one example. She didn't want to risk being interrupted.
Spike's jeans were still on, and Buffy knew she probably ought to remove them. For now, though, she went looking for the knife he kept in his left hand pocket. It was an old habit, stemming from one of his early jobs with Wes. The whole mission had nearly been blown for want of something sharp, and Wesley had given Spike a knife to prevent it from happening again.
With a quick movement, Buffy ran the blade over her wrist, making a shallow cut. It wouldn't do to lose too much blood if Spike wasn't even up to swallowing. She opened his mouth just slightly and let the blood dribble in, waiting to see if he'd swallow.
After a breathless moment, Buffy watched as his face changed, and he latched onto her wrist. He didn't drink for long before withdrawing, his eyes fluttering open. "Must be bad," he croaked out.
"It's not pretty," she agreed.
Spike could see the unshed tears in her eyes. "'m still here, luv."
"You almost weren't," Buffy replied. "It was—it was bad, Spike."
He wanted to touch her face, but even the influx of Slayer's blood wasn't going to give him enough strength to do so. It felt as though he had a giant hole in his chest, and if the sense of being wrapped in bandages from navel to neck was any indication, he probably did have one.
Spike settled for slipping his hand into hers. "With that little pick-me-up, I'll be right as rain in no time."
"I shouldn't have gone in angry," Buffy whispered. "If you—"
His face softened. "Slayer, it's fine. We made it out. We got the bad guy, yeah?"
"Yeah, but—"
"An' no one else was hurt? You're okay?"
"Everybody except for Angel," Buffy replied quietly. She'd seen him once earlier, before he and Connor had left to stay with Matt. "He got slimed. Did you know Raksh blood is like superglue?"
In spite of his weakened state, Spike grinned. "Heard that. He get hit bad?"
"Matt said he'd give him a haircut." Buffy giggled. "I haven't seen him yet, but I'm guessing a shaved head isn't going to suit him."
Spike chuckled and then groaned. "Don't make me laugh, luv," he asked. "Hurts too bad ."
Buffy ran her fingers through his hair. "Do you want more blood? I've got plenty."
"Not right now, pet. Don't want you hurt too."
"Seeing you hurt makes me hurt," Buffy replied softly. "I know Wren has some downstairs, though. You should probably eat something."
Spike's eyes closed. "No," he murmured. "Be alright for a bit. Just keep doin' what you're doin'."
Buffy stayed with him, running her fingers through his hair, stroking his face, reassuring herself that he would be fine. For one moment, she had understood completely what it would mean to lose him, and she was certain that it would kill her.
~~~~~
Wesley managed a smile for Hannah when she tentatively poked her head into his office the next morning. She had been with them two days, and he still hadn't managed to discuss things with her. Giles had departed for Cleveland a couple hours earlier, after the call had come in from Willow . The Watcher had wanted to offer his support to Buffy, and to check in with the coven.
That had left Hannah squarely in Wesley's hands.
"Good morning, Hannah," he said, pushing his worry for Spike to the back of his mind. Willow had assured him that the vampire would make it. That was what was important.
She smiled. "Hey. Enid said you wanted to see me."
"Come on in and shut the door," he invited.
Hannah slipped inside, gently closing the door behind her. Wesley took a moment to study her—slightly hesitant manner, wary eyes, worn jeans and an oversized t-shirt. She was a waif-like girl, and she looked lost.
She paused for a moment, and then sat down in the chair on the other side of his desk. Wesley decided that things needed to be a little more informal and came around to sit next to her. From the surprise in her eyes, he realized that not only had she not been expecting that, but that she recognized the significance of his action.
"Dawn and Connor told you what the Slayer is," Wesley stated. Hannah nodded. "When did you know?"
She looked away, glancing at the rows and rows of books. Wesley didn't miss the hunger in her eyes. "When I was at diving practice." Wesley remained silent, waiting for her to continue. "It was a school team," she said slowly. "I could only do a single somersault with a twist, but it was fun, you know?" He smiled encouragingly, and Hannah shrugged. "I got to the board and stood there, and I just knew. And then I did a triple."
"What was the others' reaction?"
Hannah smiled wryly, meeting his eyes for the first time. "They were impressed, but they thought it was a fluke. I mean, nobody improves that fast. People see what they want to see."
"Indeed, they do," Wesley agreed. "Do you have any questions?"
She hesitated. "Not really."
"You can ask anything you'd like." Wesley smiled at her warmly. "That goes from here on out, as well. I won't always know the answer, but I will always be honest with you."
Hannah's eyes betrayed her doubt. "I know how I got chosen, but why are you my Watcher?"
There was a part of Wesley that didn't want to tell her about Faith, about his failures. He would have liked to give her the pat answers—that he was an experienced field agent with a team of people ready to help her train. That he was simply the best man for the job.
Wesley was no longer so sure that was true, not like he had been so long ago.
"I was Faith's Watcher," he said evenly. "A very long time ago, shortly after she was Chosen. Since that time, I have worked both independently and alone, doing the very job you'll be facing. I suppose the Council thought I was the best man for the job."
A little of the toughness she must have needed to survive came out, as Hannah tilted her chin, challenging him. "Are you?"
"I don't know," Wesley replied. "But it's my job now."
Hannah frowned. "What if I don't want to be the Slayer?"
"It's not a job," he said. "It's a Calling, and it's not something you can quit. Ask Buffy. She tried to turn in her resignation a number of times. If you truly believe you cannot do this, however, I will understand. I felt the same way myself a few times."
Her gaze dropped, and she started picking at a ragged patch on her jeans. "Will you always be my Watcher?"
"Yes." Wesley waited for her to look up and meet his eyes once again. "I will always be your Watcher."
She seemed to consider that for a few moments and then nodded. "So where do we start?"
~~~~~
Roger Wyndam-Pryce had been right about one thing, Wesley thought, hours later. His father had always insisted that being a Watcher was his destiny, but until now he hadn't believed it. Wesley had been continually frustrated with Faith and Buffy, as well as uncomfortable with Giles and the Slayer's friends.
In all honesty, Wesley hadn't been all that comfortable with himself.
He had been too young, too inexperienced, too inflexible for his position—especially living on the Hellmouth. He had been the interloper, although he hadn't thought of himself as such at the time.
It was all different now, not least because he was Hannah's Watcher—her first, and with any luck, her only.
He had begun by giving her the story that was told to every Slayer—about why and how demons and humans had come to exist, and why the Slayer had been chosen. Then, Wesley had fielded her questions on why Spike as a vampire didn't eat people, how long the Slayer got to be the Slayer, whether or not she'd have to keep going to school, how long she would be staying with him, and so on.
After lunch, they started on her physical training, and Wesley began teaching her the basics of self-defense. She was a fast learner, as most Slayers were, naturally gifted with strength, although not always grace. She was a little clumsy, he noticed, and a little tentative. Either trait could easily get her killed. They would have to work on that.
When they were both tired, he called a halt to the session. "Why don't you get cleaned up? I'm sure dinner will be ready soon."
Hannah nodded, and started to head upstairs, looking back over her shoulder. She'd never had an adult spend this much time or energy on her. It gave her a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach, even though she knew it was Wesley's job. "Thanks."
"For what?" Wesley asked.
She shrugged. "It was fun."
His Slayer was up the stairs before Wesley could form a reply, and he got a pleased grin on his face. He'd had fun himself.
Wesley had finally gotten the opportunity to fulfill his destiny.
~~~~~
Giles knew exactly how worried Buffy had been when she immediately hugged him. He returned her embrace, as their meetings had become too few and far between to shy away from physical contact. At this stage, he could admit that his feelings for his Slayer went beyond those strictly required to be her Watcher.
Or, beyond what had been required over a decade ago, when he'd first been fired from the Council. These days, such a relationship was considered good sense.
"Wren told me Spike would be fine."
"He will be," Buffy replied, finally pulling away. "She wasn't the one who saw the big plank go right through his chest, though."
Giles gave her his best sympathetic look. "No, I suppose she was not. Are you alright, Buffy?"
"Honestly? No," she said. "I—I nearly got him killed, Giles. We went in there while I was still angry at him. If he had died—"
"Spike knows you love him," Giles said gently, knowing quite well how foreign those words would once have felt in his mouth. He had long since come to accept Buffy's relationship with Spike. Their love and devotion to one another was more obvious each passing year.
Buffy looked down. "Yeah, but the way I treated him—" She sighed. "He's not ready to travel."
"How long?" Giles asked. "I can arrange for you to stay in a hotel for the next few days, if you feel that would be the better option."
"I think it would be quieter," Buffy agreed. "This is still pretty much command central for the coven. I think Willow said something about sticking around, but Angel and Connor will want to get back."
Giles nodded. "I'll talk to them and arrange their flights. Are you certain Spike can be moved to a hotel at this time? We could wait."
Buffy shook her head. "As long as it's close, I think it'll be okay. One of the coven members has a van. We can use the back seat."
"Very well. I'll make the arrangements."
Buffy watched Giles turn to do exactly that, and she stopped him with her words. "I got her, Giles. I got the vampire that killed Faith."
"That's good, Buffy." The older man gave a sigh of relief. "I still worry about you, you know."
"I know," Buffy replied. "All good Watchers do."
He turned then and met her eyes, sharing a smile that had more than a decade of memories behind it. "Go see your vampire, Buffy," he said gently.
She walked away, and Giles could still see the girl she'd been.
Chapter 17: February 2017
"Are you hungry?"
If Spike had a dollar for every time someone asked him that, he would be a rich man. They all tried to feed him, perhaps because they were afraid he wouldn't eat if left to himself. Of course, he probably wouldn't have. Spike still didn't have much of an appetite.
Maybe it was the change from demon to something else. A vampire's hunger was a near-constant, and he had learned to control it. Human hunger was something else altogether, and Spike hadn't yet discovered how to deal with it. What the changed signals signified.
Spike hadn't yet learned how to read the new signs.
He still found himself shying away from mirrors—these days because he didn't want to see himself, rather than not wanting to see the empty space where he should have been. He still flinched at crosses and paused at holy water, although he had little contact with either.
Sunlight was the only change he actively welcomed.
Most days he felt like he was acting a part, as though he was playing a role in someone else's life. Spike didn't feel as though anything belonged to him, and he couldn't help but wonder who the worthier party was—the old Spike or the new.
He didn't feel like the same man.
Buffy had been wonderful, but he could see the uncertainty in her eyes, and he wondered if she didn't have regrets about the transformation. Perhaps she resented what he had become almost as much as he did some days. Maybe she regretted staying with him.
Maybe she didn't love this man who had come to take her husband's place.
Spike lived out his days with a sense of unreality dogging his heels. He ate and slept and made love to his wife, all the while wondering if they noticed that he was no longer himself.
Wondering if he would ever figure out who he was.
~~~~~
Buffy watched him struggle to answer her, waiting patiently for him to reply. Spike didn't seem to be quite all there a lot of times. She worried about him—a feeling that had become constant. The Slayer wondered if he had felt this way after she'd been resurrected, if Spike had seen that she wasn't quite all there, and worried about her.
She kind of thought it might be.
It wasn't that he was so different. Even though Spike kept insisting that he wasn't the same, Buffy couldn't see the change. He was a little more introspective, a little less into the hunt. He hadn't been out with Hannah since he'd returned from Africa . It made sense for him to take it easy the first couple of weeks. It had taken that long to recover from all his injuries and the subsequent illness.
Now, it seemed that the reasons went deeper, but she couldn't figure out what it meant.
Buffy could admit that she wasn't good at this kind of thing. Spike was always the one who could read people, who knew what went on under the surface. Meg was just like him, except that if it was genetic, she had probably inherited the trait from Joyce.
Buffy wished she was more like her mom, like Spike, like Meg. She wished that she could just look in his eyes and know what it was that he feared so deeply. No matter how hard she tried, however, Spike continued to be inscrutable. This new version of him was foreign to her, and yet she loved him no less.
She just didn't understand him these days, but she was trying. Patience had never been a strength for either of them, however.
"Spike? Are you hungry?" There was definitely a note of impatience in her voice now that she wished she had been able to erase.
He finally shrugged. "I could eat."
It was his standard answer. Buffy thought it was like Spike couldn't tell whether he was hungry or not. For some reason that frustrated her, and she spoke more harshly than she wanted. "That's not an answer, Spike. Either you're hungry or you aren't."
She knew it was a mistake as soon as the words left her mouth. Spike was delicate these days. Harsh words sent him running for cover—or just running. "Then I'm not." It was the first sign of temper he'd shown since he'd returned, and absurdly Buffy's heart leapt in her chest.
"Fine, Spike. Don't eat."
"I'm goin' out."
The door slammed behind him, and she sighed, not knowing whether to be happy that he seemed to be getting back to normal, or worried that he hadn't engaged. Normally, when they fought, they locked horns and kept at it until things had been sorted. They didn't run from each other any more.
At least, they hadn't run from each other. This wasn't precisely Spike, though.
"Mom?"
Buffy turned to look at Meg, who had a stack of plates in her hands. "What is it?"
"Should I set a place for Dad?"
She could hear the worry in her daughter's voice. Spike was most like himself when he was with her, or the other children. For some reason, he could be the old Spike with them in a way he couldn't with anyone else. Buffy didn't understand, but she was thankful for Meg's sake. "No, sweetie. He'll eat when he gets back in."
~~~~~
Stepping through the door was like putting on his old boots—comfortable and secure. Spike wasn't quite sure why things had to be that way, but they were. Where Buffy made him tense, Nika's house soothed. He wasn't quite sure why.
No, he did know. It was because they had never expected him to be anything other than what he was. Spike never could tell what Buffy wanted, and these days he was afraid to ask.
They accepted his presence as they always did. Wesley handed Spike a beer, and Nika fixed him a plate, and the boys chattered on about their days. At some point during the meal, Enid handed Carwen to him, and she put her chubby arms around his neck and gave him a wet baby kiss on the cheek.
It nearly brought tears to his eyes, although he couldn't have said why. If he wasn't feeling disconnected, everything felt entirely too real.
After dinner, Spike went out and sat on the back porch. He wanted a cigarette badly, but when he'd tried to light up around Buffy, she had gotten angry at him. "Those things will kill you," she had said.
Spike wasn't sure it mattered. He still wanted one.
"Spike?"
He turned slightly to see Hannah come out the back door, sitting down next to him. "Hey."
"Do you mind?"
Spike moved over to make room for her. They sat quietly for a while before Hannah spoke again. "Do you want to come with me tonight? There's a nest we've been hearing about."
"I don't—"
"Wesley's too busy with everything going on," she continued in a rush. "I could call Angel, but he's weird about that kind of thing. He's always killing more than his fair share of vampires." Hannah felt a sense of satisfaction when Spike's lips twitched. "So will you come with me?"
Spike shook his head. "Hannah, I'm human now. We don't know what, if anything, I can do."
"Wesley's human," Hannah replied stubbornly. "And you're my slaying buddy. Please."
He hadn't gone out hunting since before he'd left for Africa , and Spike wasn't so sure it was such a good idea. He half-feared what it would do to him. He did have a duty to Hannah and Wesley. The expectation had long been that he would handle most of the fieldwork.
"Right," Spike said, pushing himself up off the steps. "Let's get going, shall we?"
~~~~~
Hannah had a plan. No one was asking much of Spike. They kept tip-toeing around him as though he would break. She was getting a little tired of it. Hannah wanted her friend back.
It wasn't that she wanted to be harsh, or that she wanted to push him into doing something he wasn't ready for, but Spike had loved the hunt as much as she did. After the fiasco with her mother, it had been Spike who had finally brought her out of her funk.
Hannah just wanted to return the favor.
She had chosen the nest very carefully, not wanting to get either of them killed. It was one she probably could have handled by herself, if Wesley wasn't always insisting that she have backup. There were only five vampires, and they were all there, drinking from various bottles and telling tall tales about their most recent kills.
It didn't surprise Hannah one bit when Spike sprang into action. In fact, after staking one vampire, she sat back and watched him dispatch the other four. His movements were still fluid, still precise. When Spike staked the last one and looked at her with joy in his eyes, Hannah knew she'd done the right thing.
Then the light faded.
"Hannah—"
"Do you think I don't get it?" she asked quietly.
Spike shook his head. "Sweet, I know you think you're all grown up, but you don't know everything."
"No, I don't," she agreed amiably. "What I do know is that you used to enjoy this, and I thought you might again. I think you did."
He shook his head. Spike had no idea how to explain what he felt, that even the fight was tainted for him now.
"I always wondered if there wasn't something wrong with me," she said conversationally. "I mean, because I like the slaying so much."
Spike shook his head. "It's the way you are. Slayers—"
"Slayers aren't like most people," she finished for him, having heard the speech a thousand times for a thousand different reasons. "Neither are you."
Sitting down next to her, he looked off into the darkness. "It's not that simple."
"I always wondered if something was wrong with me, even before I was Chosen," Hannah said softly. "I mean, my mom was a nut job even before she refused to get out of bed. My dad took off when the pregnancy test turned out to be positive. If anyone was ever going to flake out on their big destiny it would be me."
"You're not like that."
"No, but you know how I figured that out?" she asked. When Spike remained silent, Hannah said, "You. I figured that if a vampire could go against everything he was , I could too." She smiled. "If you're thinking about atonement, Spike, think about this. You might have killed two Slayers, but you saved two as well."
Spike managed a smile. "It's not that simple, pet. Not so much about atonement as it is figurin' out what the bloody hell 'm supposed to do now."
"What makes you think you have to do anything?" Hannah asked, sounding amused. "Why not just take it a day at a time?"
Spike scowled at her. "That's not fair."
"It was good advice."
"You weren't s'posed to use it on me."
"Then don't give out good advice," Hannah shot back, sticking out her tongue at him.
"Maybe I won't." Spike sounded much like his old self at this point, which Hannah considered a job well done.
Hannah smiled smugly. "Then I guess now is probably a good time to tell you that I slept with Sam."
"You what?" Spike was on his feet, glaring down at her. "That's a bleedin' stupid thing to do! I'll—"
"I'm kidding."
Spike's eyes narrowed. "What?"
"I was kidding, Spike. Geez." Hannah grinned. "I just wanted to see the look on your face."
"Why you—"
She just sat there, grinning at him, and it suddenly hit him that for a moment he had forgotten everything. Spike had been pissed as hell, and all he'd wanted to do was find the boy and rip his arms off. He shook his head. "Pull another one like that on me, and you'll regret it."
"Promises, promises," Hannah replied easily.
"I mean it." Spike smirked. "You haven't seen the Big Bad come out to play for real yet."
Hannah just laughed at him. Spike couldn't help but laugh a little himself.
~~~~~
Spike slipped inside the house. It was later than he'd meant to be home, and he was hoping that Buffy wouldn't be waiting for him. The couch seemed like the best option for tonight.
"You were out late."
Her voice came from the living room, and Spike froze in the darkness. "Yeah. I took Hannah to clear out a nest."
"How did that go?" Buffy asked, coming out into the hallway to meet him.
Spike shrugged. "Fine. We got them all."
"That's good." She gave him a hesitant look. "You haven't wanted to go out since..." Buffy trailed off, not quite sure whether or not Spike wanted her to bring that up.
"Slayer needed the supervision," Spike offered by way of explanation.
Buffy nodded, feeling a pang. He could be with Hannah, but not with her. "Are you hungry?"
"No. I ate at Nika's."
"You've been eating there a lot lately. Is there something wrong with my cooking?"
It was meant to be a joke, to sound light-hearted, as though she couldn't care less where Spike was eating his meals. Instead, it sounded like she was trying to pick a fight, and as Spike's face shut down, Buffy knew that was how he was going to take it.
"No. Just wasn't hungry earlier, that's all."
Spike turned sharply to go to the kitchen, hoping that Buffy would take a hint and head upstairs to bed. "Spike, I didn't mean it that way."
"I don't know what you want."
It seemed a complete non-sequitor. Buffy blinked in confusion. "I don't understand."
"I'm not him," Spike said. "I don't know who the hell I am these days, but I don't know what you want from me."
Buffy struggled to find the words to say. Spike's back was to her, and she suddenly knew that he couldn't say it to her face. She could appreciate the guts it took to say that much. "I don't know how to answer that," she said honestly. "What would you want me to do?"
"I don't know!" The words sounded as though they'd been torn from his throat. "I don't know," Spike whispered. "Buffy, what are we doing?"
"We're getting through this as best we can," she replied. "We're doing what we've always done."
"Everything's sharper," he muttered. "An' yet it's all dulled. It's real, an' it's not real enough. Every day, feels like 'm dyin' all over again. Don't know how to describe it exactly."
Buffy sighed. "I know. It's okay, Spike. I understand."
"How can you?"
"Maybe I can't, but I know what it's like to feel lost inside your own life."
She put her arms around him then, thinking that he might be able to accept the gesture for what it was. His strong, warm hands came down over hers, giving them a squeeze. "I don't know how to be with you."
"Then just be here," Buffy replied. "Time will take care of the rest."
They didn't know that, not for sure, but Spike wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe that Buffy loved him, in any incarnation. He wanted to believe that she didn't need a little monster in her man.
Spike wanted to be enough.
Submit a Review!