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Kallysten
Disclaimer : Of course they belong to someone else, I just play with them
sometimes.
Distribution : Sure, just tell me where. When the story is finished, I will
post it on my website at http://www.geocities.com/kallysten_fr/
Feedback : Anything but flames kallysten_fr@yahoo.com
Story notes : This is a sequel to my story His Childe. If you haven't read it,
I strongly suggest you stop right here and go read it first, some things in
here will make more sense if you do.
A few sentences were taken from season 7's episode 'Selfless'. I don't really believe it qualifies as spoilers, but hey, at least no one can say they weren't warned.
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At first, the worried faces of the Scoobies and Company when they looked at him were strangely heartwarming to Spike. If his well being truly mattered to them, then he could more easily believe they held no grudges for the times he had tried to kill them or those when they had suffered by him or because of him. Even his big Poof of a Sire – damn, not Sire anymore – seemed to genuinely care about him. And if his brain wasn’t completely damaged, Spike thought he remembered the Poof swearing he would have turned William again if he had been able to. The wanker had even cried. Unless that had been another one of the hallucinations. Probably had been a hallucination. Angel would never cry about Spike and his soul, unless it was from laughing too hard.
After a while, the concerned looks became more irritating than anything else. They were treating him like a fragile child. No. They were treating him like an insane child who might throw a destructive tantrum at any moment. Well, he might be close to insane, but he didn’t throw tantrums. What he did instead was close to brooding. Way too close. So maybe throwing tantrums might have been better after all…
For most of the day, he tried very hard and managed to ignore the burning. Since the little trip through dreamland with his Slayer, the pain had become bearable, the guilt balanced by the knowledge that he could good things. But when night came, darkness engulfed him. It was time for patrol, he knew it. Patrols were a way to save people and saving people was his way out of hell, he knew that too. But he couldn’t make himself get up from the bed. He had come upstairs to grab a shirt. In the dark room, so familiar, so comforting, he had let his defenses down. And the voices had come crashing through. Not just voices. They were here, right in front of him. He could just reach out and touch them. Except nothing could ever make him to do that.
When a hand touched his face, when a body pressed against his crouching one, he wasn’t sure whether to recoil from the contact or lean into it. Was it them or was it her? Tender caresses. Hand stroking his hair. Soft voice calling his name, trying to bring him back to the world. Her, definitely. They would have been tearing and bruising and shouting and hurting.
After an eternity, he stopped shaking. A little later, he was ready to talk to Buffy as she was begging him to.
“I don’t trust what I see anymore,” he whispered. “Don’t know how to explain exactly. Like I’ve been seeing things.”
Her hand stroking him was nice. Soothing. An invitation to continue. She was real. They were not.
“Dru used to see things, you know,” he said in an even lower voice. “She’d always be staring at the sky. Watching cherubs burn or the heavens bleed or some nonsense.”
Sometimes, he thought that was cute. And sometimes it just frustrated him beyond words. What was Buffy thinking about his ramblings? Was she getting tired of them? Tired of him?
“She’d see the sky when we were inside,” he continued despite himself. “That’d make her so happy. She’d see the stars.”
Lucky her. He wished he could see stars now. Instead all he could see was death. Death all around him…
He must have said that out loud, because Buffy’s hand under his chin was turning his face toward hers.
“It’s me,” she said softly. “It’s you and it’s me. And we’ll get through this together.”
Slowly, he nodded. Death was around him, but she was life. She was his life.
* * * * *
It had been three days since the incident in the park and the dream. Two since Buffy had found Spike shaking on their bed and had held him for most of the night until he felt better. Two days during which he had had only minor and short periods of relapse, when he completely shut the world out. He was undoubtedly better, yet Buffy felt a bit uncomfortable at the idea of leaving alone, even for just a few hours. Dawn and Manon had pleaded for her to go to the mall with them as a girl’s day out. She could use the distraction, that was for sure. Too much training in the last few days. She had forgotten that Giles was a tyrant. Too much brooding and too little fun, too. Eventually Spike would have to be away from her and survive through it. But it felt like it was still too soon, too fast… He settled the matter by insisting that she go. He said he’d be fine, said he’d stay safely home, said he’d call her on her cell phone if needed. She could see it was a kind of test for him, so she agreed.
She knew what he would do while she was gone. He spent most of his free time now on the computer, typing what he had admitted under tickling torture was poetry. She had extracted from him the promise that he would let her read some of it eventually, but so far she hadn’t seen a word. In any case, he always seemed a bit less broody during and after his writing sessions, so she could only suppose it was good for him. Good for his soul.
So off she went, with her Key sister and her Slayer sister, hoping the strange mix of William and Spike who was her lover would be alright when she came back.
* * * * *
Through the living room’s window, Spike watched the car disappear down the road. Dawn had spent the previous day scraping the black paint from all the windows, and he had a hunch that she would be using it more often now.
It would be good for Buffy to have some time for herself. Between getting ready for their next battle and fighting voices and ghosts with him, for him, she hadn’t had much free time in a while. She hadn’t complained once or showed any sign that she was getting tired of it, but he was certain there were thousands of things she’d rather be doing rather than making sure he wasn’t too broody.
Talking about brooding… Spike had just sat down in front of his computer when he heard the front door open and the master of broodiness’ voice, along with Steven’s. Angel had picked up his son earlier for a sparring session. Weird that they were back so soon. Steps going up the stairs. More steps coming through the kitchen and into the dining room. Spike briefly glanced up from his screen, just long enough to note the flash of distaste on Angel’s face as he looked at the computers on the table. Neither said a word. They hadn’t talked since that night, in the kitchen. What was there to say, anyway? Spike could feel the other man’s gaze on him, and he struggled not to fidget under the stare. It was soon too distracting for him to keep writing, and he looked up at Angel, frowning.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“Nothing. How do you feel?”
Spike rolled his eyes at the brunette.
“Nobody is around,” he said harshly, “you don’t need to pretend you care.”
“I’m not pretending, boy,” came the growled reply.
“Don’t you…” Spike started angrily, then stopped and shook his head. He wasn’t in the mood to fight now. “Just don’t,” he finished with a repressed sigh.
He wasn’t too sure what he meant exactly, but Angel didn’t question the plea and just shrugged.
“You spend all your time in front of this damn machine,” the brunette commented after a few seconds. “Do you want to come out with Steven and me? Get some fresh air?”
The thought ran through Spike’s mind that it was a stupid idea, because he didn’t need air. Except that he did, now. Before he could refuse, because an afternoon with Broodboy senior wasn’t exactly his idea of fun, Steven walked in from behind his father, hair still wet and buttoning his shirt.
“Will you come with us please?” the kid asked with a warm smile. “I want to get a present for Dawn. You can help me pick something she’ll like.”
He shook his head, smirking sadly at the boy. He used to know Dawn better than Steven did, but he doubted that was true anymore.
“She’ll love anything you give her,” he said. “Just because it’s from you.”
“Fine. Then you’re gonna come because you’re brooding and the look is even more annoying on you than it is on Dad.”
The comment earned Steven identical glares and muttered protests from both older men, but he didn’t seem to care about that. Instead, he crossed his arms, tapping his foot impatiently.
“We’re not going to wait all day,” he stated, and the tone of his voice implied that Spike had the choice to get up and accompany them or to be dragged out.
Spike’s gaze left the adolescent to catch his father’s eyes.
“If I ever had any doubt whose kid he was,” the blonde deadpanned, “I don’t have any now. He has your sense of fashion and his mother’s subtlety.”
Both brunettes frowned at his words, apparently unsure what to make of his remark. He didn’t give them time to think about it, but instead turned off the computer and got up. If he was to be tortured, at least he would get there on his own feet.
* * * * *
After some discussion in the car, Angel took Steven and a somewhat reluctant Spike to the finest jewelry store in town, not because it had nicer things but rather because all the other stores were in malls, and they didn’t know which one the girls had gone to. It wouldn’t do at all to meet them there if it was to be a surprise.
While they were there, he bought for his younger son something he had wanted to give him for a long time. Until recently however, he had been sure the present would have meant little to Steven, so he had always waited. But since the kid seemed to have accepted his roots now…
“It's called a Claddagh ring. My people – our people - exchange them as a sign of love.”
After Angel explained the complete meaning of it, Steven nodded his acceptance, and surprised him by saying he would get the same kind of ring for Dawn. Leaving him to make his choice with a salesperson, Angel went over to Spike, who had been browsing while they talked. Looking at the same display Spike was staring at, Angel wondered which piece held his attention.
“If I may make a suggestion,” he said carefully, ”don’t get her a cross pendant.”
Spike didn’t say a word, but he glanced at him, an eyebrow arched questioningly, but Angel didn’t explain himself. If he wanted to know why, the blonde would have to stop pretending to be mute and ask. Pale blue eyes returned to the display of gold and silver, and this time Angel could see what he was looking at. Nice.
“I’m sure she would love it,” he offered quietly, surprised at how neutral his voice sounded.
Startlingly, Spike gave a short laugh.
“What’s funny?” Angel asked, confused.
“You. Giving me advice. About Buffy. That’s bloody hilarious.”
Yet Spike wasn’t laughing anymore. He was now looking at Angel suspiciously, and if he had still been a vampire his eyes would probably have been flashing gold.
“I would be lying if I said I feel nothing for her now,” Angel said, very low. “But that doesn’t mean you have anything to fear from me, William.”
He said the name without thinking, and he watched the blonde’s face carefully, wondering how he would react to it, wondering if he would believe words that were truly sincere. Buffy had made her choice. If he loved her, he had to accept that. And if he loved his Childe, he would be happy for him.
* * * * *
“I would be lying if I said I feel nothing for her now. But that doesn’t mean you have anything to fear from me, William.”
First reaction, pure habit, claim that he feared nothing. Second one, just as automatic, reject the name and reaffirm that he was Spike. Strange, because just a couple of days before, hearing this name on these same lips had been delightful. Third reaction, hold back a grin, because it still was nice, even though he would never admit it, especially not to Angel. Buffy had claimed that he was William as well as Spike, that he had been even before the change, and he was beginning to understand she was right. Fourth reaction, the most surprising, believe Angel. Maybe because he didn’t deny loving her. Maybe just because of the name.
Unable to find words, he simply nodded, and averted his eyes, returning his attention to the glass case. He knew exactly, up to the last penny, how much money he had in his pocket. He knew, because he had counted, surreptitiously, twice. And it wasn’t nearly half enough for that pretty shiny thing that would look even prettier against Buffy’s skin.
“Stop thinking and just buy it.”
“I can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t?” Angel asked, and this time he sounded exasperated. “If you start saying again that you don’t deserve her, I swear I’ll stake you, it’s becoming really irritating.”
Human or vampire, still the same threat and Spike might have found it funny under other circumstances.
“I can’t afford it, stupid wanker,” Spike muttered through clenched teeth.
Angel didn’t say a word, but placed a shiny rectangle of plastic in front of Spike on top of the display. That was another funny thing. A vampire – ex-vampire – with a credit card. Offering to pay for the jewelry another ex-vampire would offer the woman they both loved. This was just getting weirder every minute.
“Why would you do that?” Spike asked blandly.
“I’m paying for Dawn’s present too,” Angel answered with a shrug.
“But Steven is your son.”
“Just like you.”
* * * * *
There, he couldn’t say it more plainly, could he?
“Like me?”
Apparently, he could. Angel couldn’t help sighing. Why was Spike so perceptive when you wished he would be clueless and so blind when you wished he would finally get the point?
“Yes. You. Are. My. Son. Too.”
OK, he had gone this far, he might just as well go all the way.
“And I love you as much as I love him. Or even her.”
A smile, almost childlike, brightened both lips and eyes of the blonde, before he turned his gaze away, looking uncharacteristically embarrassed. He picked up the credit card from the glass, and ran a finger over the name imprinted on it.
“I’ll repay you,” he said after an instant, his voice thick with untold emotion.
“I expect you to,” Angel replied, though he doubted he would ever see a cent of his money back, from either boy. But he didn’t mind. That smile had been worth more than anything in the store.
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