Cousinjean
Summary: In the year 2336, Buffy wakes to find she is humanity's
only hope for the future, and Spike is the only link to her past. Contains spoilers
for Season 5. Set during and 335 years following "The Gift."
Notes: Partial dialogue taken directly from the Season 5 episode
"The Gift," written by Joss Whedon. Some story elements (and at least
one of the featured weapons) are direct rip-offs of the BBC miniseries "Ultraviolet."
Hey, if I was full of original ideas I’d write nothing but original fiction,
'kay? Standard disclaimers apply.
Over-all, rated R for sex and violence (you know, the good
stuff). This part's only PG.
Big love and thanks to adjrun and Ehann for their righteous (yes, I'm in 1989)
beta-reading skills and excellent advice. Special props to eep, who inspired
this whole thing when she asked over at MBTV, "Will the CoW still deem
[Spike] as ‘evil’ in, say, 2374?"
Buffy looked around at the conference room. It didn’t look so special.
It was big, and white, and cold, but the chairs just looked like chairs, and
the table just looked like a table. It all looked so typical. This didn’t
look like the future. She looked down at her outfit. It didn’t really look
very futuristic, either. She’d been issued a set of military fatigues,
and told that it was standard Slayer wear. She’d have to do something about
that. She wondered if they had good shopping on the moon.
She missed the magic shop. She missed her home. Hell, she even missed Spike’s
crypt. She focused on the places that had comprised her home. She tried not
to think about the people. It was easier that way. Spike had offered to tell
her what happened to everybody, but she just wasn’t ready for a history
lesson yet. Just the idea that they had all mourned for her, and then had all
gone on with their lives, lives that had ended centuries ago… it was all
a little too much. She had to get used to the here and now before she could
even begin to deal with the then and there.
She looked across the table at Spike, and he offered her a reassuring smile.
She made a point to return it, then continued her perusal of the room. She didn’t
know which was more bizarre, that she was on the moon in the year 2336 or that
Spike was her new Watcher. How the hell was that even possible?
"I don’t get it," she said.
"Don’t get which part, pet?"
"I don’t get how you can be a Watcher. I mean, when Angel was dying,
the Council wouldn’t lift a finger to help him, because he was a vampire.
And he had a soul."
"Yeah, but Angel spent a hundred years hiding from the world and not lifting
any of his own fingers to help anybody before he met you. He was still pretty
new to the hero business when that happened. The Council didn’t know what
to make of him."
"But you were somehow easier to figure out, oh soulless wonder?" She
wrinkled her nose. "Or is that it? Did you go and get a soul?"
"I’ve always had a soul, pet. It’s just not human."
"And suddenly that doesn’t matter to the Council?"
Spike raised an eyebrow. "Nothing sudden about it, Slayer. It took over
a hundred and fifty years of being a good dog, helping out the Slayers and minding
all of my bloody p’s and q’s. The Council refused to even recognize
me as an ally before that. It took another thirty years after that for my kids
to take control and make me a member."
"Your kids?"
Spike waved a dismissive hand. "I just call ‘em that. Your friends’
descendents, actually. And Dawn’s. Been watching ‘em for generations."
Buffy tried to imagine this. She’d awakened to find her friends were long
dead, but Spike had actually watched them all grow old and die, just as he’d
been watching their descendents grow and live and die for centuries now. She
softened her attitude.
"Why?" she asked.
"Why what?"
"Why have you stuck around all this time? Why did you keep helping?"
Spike looked at her, then he looked at the table, and shrugged. "I promised
you I would, didn’t I?"
"You said you’d protect Dawn."
"Till the end of the world. I figured that applied to her kids, and to
their kids, and so on."
"But, technically, the world did end. I’d say you had a pretty good
out."
"Maybe. It didn’t end so much as take a hiatus. ‘Sides, the Summers
line didn’t end. Even if they aren’t called Summers anymore. I’m
in this as much for Anne now as I am for you and Nibblet."
"Anne?"
"Yeah. She’s the last of Dawn’s descendents, at least until she
starts having kids. You’ll get to meet her here in a minute, she’ll
be here for your briefing."
"Wow." Buffy sat back in her chair and let this sink in. She smiled.
"I bet Dawn made a good mom."
"She made a great mum," Spike said.
The doors swished open then, and a blonde woman entered who looked to be about
Buffy’s age--not counting the three hundred years or so since her last
birthday. She looked eerily familiar.
"There’s our girl now," Spike said. "Anne Richards, meet
your aunt Buffy."
The girl stopped in her tracks, and stared at Buffy. "Oh, wow," she
said.
"You’re not a-kidding," Buffy said. She stood up, and went to
shake hands with her "niece." "I can actually see the family
resemblance."
"Really?" The girl blushed. "I’m sorry. I just, I mean…
you’re Buffy Summers."
"Yeah," Buffy said, "that’s my name, all right."
"I’m sorry," she said again. "I don’t mean to make
you feel weird."
"I don’t really think you can add a whole lot to the weirdness factor
at this point," Buffy said.
Just then, the doors opened again, and a familiar face walked in. Buffy’s
eyes went wide, and her heart skipped a beat. "Xander!" She ran over
and threw her arms around the boy. "They got you, too!"
"Uh, yeah," Nick said, "Spike told me I look just like him. I
guess it’s really true."
Buffy let go of him and took a step back, embarrassed. "Sorry," she
said. "It’s just… what was I saying just now about the weirdness
factor?"
"Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s not like getting hugged by pretty
girls is something I’m wont to complain about." He held out his hand.
"Nick Harris. Pleased to meet you."
"I’m--"
"Buffy Summers. Yeah, I know."
"Seems like everybody does," Buffy said.
"That’s because your name is legendary," said a woman as she
entered the room. She spoke with an English accent, and looked to be in her
fifties. A pair of glasses perched on her nose, and her attire appeared somewhat
formal compared to the casual dress of the others in the room. Finally, thought
Buffy, a Watcher who actually looks like a Watcher.
"This is my mom," Nick said. "She’s head of the Council."
"Oh," Buffy said. "So you’re the one who decided to play
God with my life? Glad to meet you."
Mrs. Harris removed her glasses and regarded Buffy. "The decision to bring
you here was not mine alone to make, Miss Summers."
"Of course not," Buffy said. "I’m sure good ol’ Spike
here had something to do with it."
"Actually, William was quite vocal in his protestations against the plan."
Buffy looked at Spike, who appeared to be fascinated with a spot on the table.
"Really?"
"He thought it would be unfair to bring you here to fight our battle."
"Oh. Well, here’s a sentence I never thought I’d say: Spike was
right. It’s not fair."
"Yes, I suppose he was. But has anything about being the Slayer ever been
fair? Besides, the alternative is that you would be more than 300 years in the
grave."
"Yeah," Buffy said. "I kind of figured that when I jumped. It’s
not like I did it on a whim."
"I don’t understand," Anne said. "Buffy, did you want to
die?"
Buffy looked at her. "No, I didn’t want to die. But I did want the
fighting to be over. You’ve kind of taken that option away from me."
"We haven’t," Mrs. Harris said. "No one is going to force
you to fight our battle. You are free to refuse. Provisions will still be made
for you to stay and live out your life here on the colony."
"Really?" Buffy asked. The Council might have made some changes since
she’d last dealt with them, but she still didn’t trust them. "What’s
the catch?"
"Only that you allow us to explain our situation to you before you make
your decision."
"Sure," Buffy said. "I can do that."
"All right, then," Mrs. Harris said, and smiled. "Take your seat
and we’ll begin."
Buffy leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. "I‘m good standing."
The chairwoman paused, and then gave a conciliatory nod. "Very well,"
she said as she took her place at the head of the table. "How much has
William explained to you?"
"Just that vampires took over the world and now you want to get it back.
So, how did that happen, exactly?"
"Good question. It seems that after your demise, a new Slayer failed to
receive the calling, and with your contemporary still undergoing incarceration--"
"Does this have to all be in Watcher-speak?" Buffy asked.
"Faith was still in prison," Spike clarified.
"Gotcha."
"At any rate," the chairwoman continued, "despite the best efforts
of William and your friends, the vampire population of Sunnydale began to increase
exponentially."
"Yeah," Spike said. "It wasn’t just locals siring new ones.
Vampires started coming from all over once word got out that the hellmouth no
longer had a Slayer."
"The law firm known as Wolfram and Hart opened up a branch in Sunnydale
soon thereafter," Mrs. Harris said. "It was headed up by a vampire
named Lilah Morgan."
"Why does that name sound so familiar?" Buffy asked Spike.
"She was one of those lawyers what gave Angel such a hard time in Los Angeles.
Before she came to Sunnydale she got Drusilla to turn her."
"Damn," Buffy said. "Guess I should have encouraged you to stake
her for me."
Spike looked puzzled for a moment, and then the memory seemed to dawn on him.
Buffy suspected he’d have blushed if he was able.
Mrs. Harris cleared her throat, and continued. "Under Ms. Morgan’s
council, the vampires began to organize. Within twenty years, they developed
a nationwide network, which included some of the most brilliant scientific minds
in America. Within fifty years, the network had expanded globally."
"Around that time," Nick said, "they started to go public. They
began demanding equal rights, even rallied some humans to their cause. The Vampire
Rights movement caused a lot of trouble."
"Vampire rights?" Buffy couldn’t believe this. "What kind
of rights did they expect to receive? They’re killers."
"Yes," Anne said, "but they claimed to be looking for a way to
peacefully co-exist without presenting a threat to humans. They said they were
working on developing synthetic human plasma--’synth’ for short--that
would be capable of sustaining them in lieu of blood. They offered to share
their findings with us, and the US government was all for it, for medical purposes.
They’d been working on perfecting synthetic blood for years, for use in
transfusions and in surgery. They’d have a never-ending supply, independent
of blood donations, plus it would eliminate the chance of any diseases making
it through the screening process."
"The vampires claimed to be on the verge of having the formula all worked
out," Nick said. "They offered to work with humanity to perfect it,
in exchange for clemency, and they got it. Lilah Morgan was made official liaison
between the vamp leaders and Congress. At her insistence, a cease and desist
order was issued against the Slayer. She wasn’t allowed to touch vampires.
She left the country to slay them elsewhere, but it wasn’t long until other
governments followed suit. The Slayer was turned into an outlaw."
"During this time," the chairwoman said, "NASA finally succeeded
in sending several manned missions to Mars, and had combined with other space-faring
nations to begin colonizing the moon. The Council, ever vigilant against the
forces of darkness, did not buy into the vampire race’s overtures of peace,
and began relocating the archives to the lunar colony. Fortunately, William
was able to provide intelligence on the vampires’ ultimate plan in time
for us to gain the British military’s cooperation in building an arc of
sorts, thus transporting the entire Council, an army platoon, and the means
by which to live to the lunar colony before the plan was enacted."
"Yeah," Spike said, "but just barely."
"So, what was the plan?" Buffy asked.
"Long story short," Spike said, "the vamps eventually perfected
their phony blood. It was deemed a medical breakthrough, and vampires became
regarded as bloody heroes. They laid low for another hundred years or so, pretending
to live in peace with humanity, and humanity ate it up. Generations passed,
and eventually the human race had completely let its guard down. They even elected
that Lilah bitch to be their bloody Vice President."
"Surprise, surprise," Nick said, "soon after, the President died
under ‘mysterious’ circumstances. Lilah Morgan was promoted to president.
The media loved her. She was double-billed as both the first vampire and first
female president of the United States."
"And then she pushed the bloody button," Spike said.
Buffy gaped at him. "The button? As in, the ‘let’s wipe ourselves
off the face of the planet’ button?"
"That’s the one. See, the vamps had their never-ending supply of blood,
so they didn’t need humanity anymore. They’re impervious to radiation,
and the resulting nuclear winter blocked the sun out for over a century. They
turned the planet into a bloody vampire paradise."
"Oh, my God," Buffy said.
"Yes," Mrs. Harris said. "But the radiation has since abated,
and the planet has become healthy again, ready to support human life. We’ve
been working for the past several years on developing a plan to take back the
planet. We will be ready to move on it in a month. You were brought here to
lead the assault. Any questions?"
"Yeah," Buffy said. "For starters, why me? What do you think
I’m going to be able to do for you? You all act like I’m the Second
Coming or something. What makes me so much more special than all the other Slayers?"
"The sheer magnitude of the enemies you defeated, for one thing. The Master,
Dracula, Glorificus… you prevented an apocalypse no fewer than six times."
"Right," Buffy said. "Prevented. It sounds to me like you already
had one. I don’t have any experience in post-apocalyptic planet recovery,
or whatever you’re calling this."
"You’ll improvise," Spike said. "You’ll figure it out
as you go. That’s what you’re good at. It’s part of what makes
you so special." Buffy gave him a questioning look, and he glanced down
at the table. "As Slayers go, I mean."
"It’s what we were good at," Buffy said. "I didn’t
do any of those things by myself. My friends and I, we were a team. I’m
no good without them."
"Rot," Spike said. "Yeah, they were helpful, but you know as
well as I do there were times they just got in your way."
"That’s not true."
"No? Just think about all the times I used them against you. They could
be as much a liability as an asset."
"But… okay, so there were times when I could have done my job more
easily if I didn’t have to worry about protecting them, but there were
also plenty of times when there was no way I could have won without their help."
"Look, I’m not saying they didn’t have their uses. They were
brave kids, and they had a lot of skills. Especially the Wiccans. But you were
the one who held ‘em all together, love. You were the one who inspired
us all to fight the good fight."
"And that is all we are asking of you now," the chairwoman said. "We
need you to inspire us, Buffy. Provide our troops with the will to win."
"Oh," Buffy said. "Is that all? And here I thought you might
want me to do something really hard, like stake their leader or something."
She shook her head. "I have to get out of here," she said. "Meeting
adjourned." She started for the door.
"William?" the chairwoman said. "Do something."
"What? Didn’t I mention? Buffy doesn’t work for the Council."
Buffy had her back to him, but she could hear the familiar smirk in his voice.
"The Council works for Buffy." He got up and followed her into the
corridor.
"Good show, pet," he said. "That was telling ‘em."
Buffy spun around to face him, but he held up a hand before she could say anything.
"I mean it," he said. "I think you really made an impression."
"A bad one, I hope. I was trying to lower their expectations."
"I’m pretty sure you didn’t manage that."
Buffy sighed. "What do they expect me to do, Spike?"
"Your job, pet. That’s all."
She shook her head. "Yeah, well, they’re in for a disappointment if
they think I’m going to be able to win their war. I mean, sure, I’m
good at the action stuff, but I’m not exactly Big Idea Girl. That’s
what the gang was good for."
"Nonsense," Spike said. "You had plenty of good ideas. I mean,
whose idea was it to use a bazooka on the Judge?"
"Xander’s."
Spike raised an eyebrow. "Really? Huh. Who’d have thought he’d
come up with something that clever?"
"Spike…"
"All right, so the whelp got lucky. But what about… what about that
time you, Xander and Willow all combined with Giles to take out that Adam bloke?
That was a great idea."
"It was Willow’s idea."
"Oh." Spike chewed his bottom lip as he searched his memory. His face
lit up. "Hey, what about that time you teamed up with me to defeat Angelus?"
Buffy squinted at him. "That was totally your idea," she said.
"Yeah, but you were smart enough to trust me."
She rolled her eyes. "That’s a judgment call," she said, "and
the jury’s still out over here."
"Yeah, well, the point is, you have good judgment. And just because you
delegate the brainstorming doesn’t mean you’re not a good planner.
You may not think of yourself as big thinker, but you’re a fast one, that‘s
for sure. It wasn’t the Scoobies who put me in a wheelchair, and it wasn’t
any of them who sent Angel to hell. They weren‘t the ones knocked Glory
on her ass, either." He shook his head, and his voice turned bitter. "There‘s
a plan that would‘ve worked, if…"
His voice trailed off, and a dark, far away look flashed across his face. He
opened his mouth to say something else, but seemed to think better of it. He
put his hands in his pockets, and sighed.
"Anyway, listen to me, pet. After the first time you and I fought, I began
to study you. I even had my minions record videotapes of your fights so I could
study your technique, pick out your weaknesses." He looked nostalgic, which
bothered Buffy, considering he was talking about a time when he’d been
trying to figure out a way to kill her. He shook his head. "I’ll be
damned if I could find any," he said, and smiled. "You were…
incredible. And you’ve only gotten better since. And do you know why?"
He walked up to her, and tapped a finger against her temple. "Because you
use your head. You’re a very clever girl, Buffy. Don’t ever let anybody
tell you different."
Buffy blinked in surprise. She didn’t know if she’d ever get used
to getting compliments from Spike. She shook her head. "Maybe, but…
I don’t know how to do it without them, Spike. They’re all gone. Everything
is gone. I don’t have anything anymore."
"You’ve still got me."
Buffy looked at him, and had a moment of déjà vu.
I hate you.
And I’m all you’ve got.
"You’ll always have me," he said. "And you have the Council
at your service, not to mention an entire army at your command."
"I don’t know how to command an army."
"Well," Spike pursed his lips as he seemed to consider this, then
shrugged. "You’ve got a month to learn."
Buffy studied his eyes. They conveyed total sincerity. His confidence in her
was touching, as well as infectious. Maybe she really could pull this off. On
impulse, she leaned up and kissed his cheek.
He cocked his head to one side and smiled, a bit shyly. "What was that
for?"
"Thanks," she said. "I’ve been meaning to do that for days
now. Well, I guess centuries, from your perspective. Ever since that talk we
had on the stairs. All things considered, I guess I should have taken a sec
to go ahead and do it then, huh?"
"Maybe," he said. With a tentative hand, he brushed a stray hair out
of her face. "Can’t say it would have made losing you any easier."
Buffy stared into his eyes for a long moment, trying to think of something to
say, but nothing came. She began to grow increasingly aware of his closeness,
and she swallowed. Hard. Mercifully, he broke off the gaze, and started down
the corridor.
"Come on," he said. "Let’s go down to the lounge. I’ll
buy you some lunch."
This made Buffy snicker.
"What?"
"’I’ll buy you lunch?’ There’s a phrase I never thought
would make it into the Spike vocabulary. Especially the ‘I’ll buy’
part."
"Yeah, well, things change, Slayer."
"So I’ve noticed," she said as she fell into step beside him.
***
Spike found them a table towards the back--not too private, but not exactly
in the midst of the action, either. Not that there was much action. The place
looked like part commissary, part bar. Its patrons looked to be mostly uniformed
military types. In her fatigues, Buffy blended right in.
As they sat down, a waiter met them with a menu for her and a mug of something
thick and red for Spike. "I’ll just have the special. Oh, and, do
you have iced tea?" The waiter nodded. "I‘ll have that then."
He left to fetch her order. "I guess they know your type," she said,
grimacing at Spike’s lunch.
"If it makes your delicate sensibilities feel any better, Slayer, it’s
not blood. It’s synth."
"The synthetic blood they told me about in the meeting?"
He nodded. "Been living on the stuff for over a hundred years now."
He took a drink, and shrugged. "It’s got a bit of an aftertaste, but
it’s not too bad once you get used to it."
"I’ll take your word for it," Buffy said.
The waiter brought her an egg salad sandwich and a glass of tea. She lifted
the bread on the sandwich and frowned at its contents.
"I know it’s not exactly the Bronze," Spike said. "Not much
of a menu."
"No, this is fine. It’s just, I guess I’m not as hungry as I
thought I was."
"Eat it anyway," he told her. "If I recall, you didn’t eat
much during those last few days, and I know you’ve hardly eaten since you
got here. You need to keep up your strength."
Buffy crossed her arms and regarded him warily. "Something tells me you’re
going to be an even bigger pain in the ass as my Watcher than you were as my
enemy."
"Shut up and eat," he told her.
"Fine." She picked up half of the sandwich and shoved it into her
mouth, then gulped her tea to wash it down. She set the glass back down and
wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Satisfied?"
Spike smirked at her. "That was very ladylike," he said. "Finish
your sandwich. Then I’ll be satisfied."
Buffy sighed, and proceeded to nibble on the second half as Anne and Nick approached.
She watched them make their way over. She couldn’t get over how much Nick
reminded her of Xander. Suddenly she missed her friend terribly.
"Okay if we join you guys?" he asked.
Spike shrugged.
"Sure," Buffy said.
Anne pulled up a chair next to Buffy. "I just wanted to tell you, you were
amazing during your briefing."
"See pet?" Spike said. "What’d I tell you?"
"Thanks," Buffy said. "But I thought I came across as less amazing
and as more scared out of my mind."
"Of course you’re scared," Nick said. "Who wouldn’t
be in your situation? But the way you took charge, asked questions, and demanded
answers? We’ve never seen a Slayer do that before."
"My guess would be that that’s because they’re all scared little
girls," Buffy said.
"Your guess would be correct," Anne told her.
"I’ve been there," Buffy said. "The Council can be pretty
intimidating, especially when you’re new to the whole big Chosen One deal."
"But I guess it’s safe to say you’ve gotten over it," Nick
said. "Being intimidated, I mean. Not being chosen. From what we’ve
read, you pretty much spanked the Council and put it to bed without its supper
until they agreed to your terms."
Buffy shrugged. "Really, I just… wait, from what you’ve read?
Did you read Giles’s journals?"
"Actually, he’s referring to Quentin Travers’s accounts of your
last evaluation," Anne said.
"But Giles’s journals are here, right?" Buffy looked at Spike.
"Is there any way I could read them?"
"There’s a chance they didn’t make it off of the planet,"
Spike said, "but if they did, pet, are you sure you want to read them?"
"You know how anal he was about keeping records," she said. "He’ll
have everything written down. Spells, tactics… it could be all of the big
ideas I need are in there."
"All right, then," Spike said. He drained his mug, then tapped Nick
on the shoulder. "You know the library better than I do. Come help me see
if they’re in the inventory."
"Sure," Nick said. "We can check on the console at the bar."
"Wow," Anne said after the men left the table. "I’ve never
seen Spike so--"
"Pleasant and easy to get along with?" Buffy interjected. "It’s
sure an interesting change of pace."
"Actually, I was going to say ‘happy,’" Anne said.
"Oh."
"You know, he was so afraid that you’d hate him."
Buffy furrowed her brow. "I pretty much got over my whole ‘I hate
Spike’ phase after he took several rounds of hellgod torture for my little
sister. I thought he knew that."
"He thought you’d blame him for bringing you here," Anne clarified.
"He knew you’d be unhappy."
"Oh." Buffy said. "He was right, I did. At first. But now I know
it wasn’t his fault."
"I suppose it’s selfish," Anne said, "but I’m glad
you’re here. For his sake, if for nothing else. I mean, it’s not like
he was chronically depressed or anything, but I’ve known him my whole life,
and even at the best of times, there was always something in his eyes. He always
seemed just a little sad. My mom and my grandfather both said he was the same
way when they were growing up. My mom thought it was because he always outlives
everybody, and I’m sure that’s part of it. But I have a feeling it
goes all the way back to when you died."
Buffy sipped her tea. She didn’t quite know what to say.
"I’m sorry," Anne said. "I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.
It’s just, I haven’t seen that look in his eyes since you got here."
A feeling of warmth flooded through Buffy, and she smiled. Then she frowned.
Should hearing this make her feel this good? After all, this was Spike they
were talking about. She realized this was the same feeling she’d gotten
when she’d seen the look on his face after re-inviting him into her house.
She had to admit, having the power to affect Spike so much felt good. Admitting
that, on the other hand, felt terrifying. She wasn’t ready to even think
about what it meant.
"It’s funny," Anne said. "Spike is over four hundred and
fifty years old. He never has trouble keeping up with the times. He can adapt
to any new situation. But those years he spent in Sunnydale? That was his time."
She smiled. "He never gets tired of telling stories about that era. Especially
not if you’re in them."
"You really care a lot about Spike, don’t you?" Buffy said.
"You sound like that surprises you."
"Well… that’s because it does. I mean, he really could be a pain
in the ass. And that wasn’t even when he was plotting our deaths. Most
people I knew didn’t even like him. The only one who even came close to
caring about him the way you do was my sister. And my mom… she was pretty
fond of him, but then she also thought that Dracula seemed like a nice guy.
She wasn’t always the best judge of character."
"He mentioned that you barely tolerated him back then."
"That’s putting it mildly," Buffy said. "But I have to admit,
he was starting to grow on me."
Anne sipped her drink, then set it down. She took a deep breath, then said,
"He loves you, you know."
Buffy was about to take a bite of her sandwich, but she paused in mid-bite.
"What?"
"Oh!" Anne looked panicked. "Oh, God. I thought you knew--"
"I did," Buffy said, putting her sandwich back down. "I mean,
I do. Know. I mean, I do know that he did love me, but… still?"
"Isn’t it obvious?"
"Some people said it was obvious back then, but I didn’t see it until
I was knocked over the head with it." She wrinkled her brow. "And
that statement comes really close to being literal." She shook her head.
"I guess, I can be a little dense in these areas. But, I mean, it’s
been over three hundred years. You’d think he would’ve gotten over
it by now."
"Call me a romantic," Anne said, "but I think that’s what
makes it so incredible."
All Buffy could do was nod dazedly as this new information soaked in.
"Anyway," Anne said, "You could really break his heart. Please
don’t."
Again, Buffy found herself speechless. She’d never given much thought to
being the one to break Spike’s heart. She’d always been too concerned
with making sure it would never happen the other way around. Thankfully, before
the silence had a chance to turn awkward, the guys returned to the table.
"Giles’s diaries did make the relocation," Spike said. "We’re
heading down to the library to get them. You coming?"
"Actually," Buffy said, "I was just about to see if my new niece
here wanted to take me shopping."
Spike raised an eyebrow. "Shopping? Love, this is the moon, not the bleeding
Sunnydale Promenade. I think you’re going to find the selection here lacking."
"Maybe," Buffy said, "but there’s got to be someplace around
here I can pick up some decent clothes. No offense, but these army grays you
guys gave me really don’t do much for me."
Spike gave her an appraising look. "You certainly do a lot for them."
Buffy felt herself blush. Okay, so maybe his feelings were a little obvious.
Still, she didn’t want to go there. Not now. She knew he was flirting,
but flirting back was not an option.
She turned to Anne. "So, how about it? Can you show me where to get some
clothes that are a little less butch?"
"Sure," Anne said. "I know a couple of places."
"Here," Spike said, "you’ll need this." He handed her
something that looked like one of those laser pointers.
"What’s this?"
"It’s linked to my expense account. Just think of it as a credit card.
Anne will show you how to use it."
"You have an expense account? Which you use to actually pay for things?
Wait. How big is it?"
Spike couldn't have looked more frightened if she'd held a stake to his chest.
"It’s big enough," he said. "Just… don’t abuse
it."
"Wouldn’t dream of it," Buffy said.
"And don’t stay out too late. Your training starts tomorrow, you’ve
got a big day ahead of you."
"Yes, Giles," Buffy said.
Spike smirked at her. "If you don’t mind, I’m going to take that
as a compliment."
"Of course I don’t mind," she said. "That’s how I meant
it."
Spike had that look on his face again, like she’d just given him something
incredibly valuable and he was trying not to show how much he thought it was
worth. Buffy felt herself getting all warm and fuzzy again as a result. It was
strange to be around him and not feel any anger. It was nice. A little too nice.
She knocked back the rest of her tea, and looked at Anne. "Let’s go."
***
Buffy made it back to the apartment they’d given her with one shopping
bag. Not because she’d taken care to be gentle with Spike’s expense
account, but because he had been right about the selection. Still, she’d
managed to find a few things that suited her style a little better. Maybe they
would help her feel a bit more like herself, help her create some semblance
of normalcy.
Who was she kidding? A few tank tops and some tight pants weren’t going
to bring her anywhere closer to normal. Not even Slayer normal. Hell, not even
Sunnydale normal. No more than they would ease the homesickness she felt.
Inside, she noticed a stack of books on the kitchen table. She set her bag on
the table and laid Spike’s credit thingamabob beside it, then picked up
the note lying on top of the books.
Don’t stay up all night reading these. You really do have a big day tomorrow.
I’ll be by to get you at eight o’clock sharp.
Sleep well.
Spike
Buffy laid the note on the table, then carried the journals into her bedroom.
She stacked them on her nightstand, and went to get ready for bed. After she
changed, she sat on the bed, and considered the stack of books. She picked one
up, but then put it back, unopened. It felt weird to even think about reading
Giles’s diaries. They’d always been off limits. She felt like she
was violating his privacy, even though they were now a matter of public record,
at least as far as the Council could be considered public. It occurred to her
that one of those journals would hold his account of her death.
"So not ready for that," she muttered.
Buffy climbed under the covers, and turned out the light.
She didn’t sleep a wink.
Next Part