Chapter 89 - Resolutions

The next afternoon found Spike at the mansion. It was empty and deserted, and he was halfway disappointed that there weren’t any more vampires there to kill. But it seemed like he had only walked through once before he heard someone else in the building.

Silently, Spike made his way toward the back rooms. He saw a figure walking down the hallway and looking in doorways as he passed. It was the boy. Xander.

“Hey,” Spike snapped, getting his attention.

Xander jumped, pointing a crossbow at Spike from down the hallway. After a second, he lowered it. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Why are you here?”

“I wanted to look around.”

“To look around,” he echoed.

Xander walked down the hall. “Yeah. I mean, it’s kind of like… Angelus was this thing in town for years, and we were always looking over our shoulders. It’s just nice to really see that he’s actually gone, to know he’s not up here.”

Spike smirked. “Little dangerous, don’t you think?”

“Well, it is daytime. And I’m armed. And I can take care of myself.” He paused. “And, uh, Giles said you already cleaned the place out.”

“That I did.”

“So why are you here again?”

“None of your business,” Spike said.

“Hey, how’d you get here? It’s daytime.”

“You think a place like this doesn’t have sewer access?” He hadn’t come through the sewers, but that was beside the point.

“Oh. Right.”

There was an awkward silence.

Spike turned and went back down the hallway. “Have fun,” he called over his shoulder. He went back to Drusilla’s room.

Spike heard him walking around the place, heard him finally come back to the doorway, where he paused.

“Don’t touch the dresses,” Spike said.

“Yeah, because I came here to touch the dresses.”

Spike turned to glare at him.

Xander threw up a hand. “Okay. Got it. Dresses will not be touched.”

Spike turned his back, finishing putting Dru’s things into the carpetbag. He zipped it and set it aside.

Then he stepped out into the hall, not giving a word of explanation about what he had been doing. He regarded Xander with indifference. “So. You wanna set some stuff on fire?”

Xander considered for a moment. “Yeah, okay.”
.
.
.
They started with the minion’s rooms. Spike had no particular reason to burn those things, but well, sometimes it was just fun to burn things. Piling up everything in the middle of the room and setting it ablaze was just satisfying. Some rooms were empty, and some rooms, like main room, seemed to have already had a fire started in them.

He didn’t even mind the company. The boy was clearly on board with the destruction of Angelus’ property, and there was something nice about sharing a little mayhem with someone.

The main room had a dried puddle of Buffy’s blood on the stone floor, as well as his own blood. It also had the remains of the scythe, which he picked up to throw into the next fire they lit.

Angelus’ room he saved for last. He pulled the clothes out and threw them on the mattress, piling the scattered papers on top as he lit them. Spike pulled out a drawer from the dresser. He dumped the contents into the fire and started to throw on the drawer.

“Wait!”

Xander was standing with an arm out, half reaching for the dresser drawer.

“What?”

“That’s just—a really nice dresser.” He stepped closer. “Um, carpentry is sort of my hobby; they don’t make them like that anymore. As fun and weird as destroying things with you has been, I’d just hate to do it to that.”

Spike paused. “You want it?”

“Huh? Sure, I guess.” His brow furrowed. “Really?”

Spike shrugged, setting the drawer on top of the dresser. “Not like it was really his. Probably came with the place. Anyway, someone should do some looting. Only fitting.”

“You don’t want to loot?”

Spike looked back at the fire. “I’m only interested in kindling. Take whatever you want.”

“Okay. I will.” Xander paused. “Don’t suppose you want to help me get it in the truck?”

“I really don’t.”

He nodded, stepping back. “Didn’t think so.”

Spike pulled a package of cigarettes out of his pocket, taking one out and lighting it off the growing flames. Nearly everything Angelus had touched was nothing but ash. His lips curled into a smile as he watched the blaze burn. Not a bad way to start the day at all.

-----

Giles spent the evening on a rather long phone call to Wesley. He did feel a slight obligation to keep him apprised of such a large development as Angelus’ defeat and Buffy’s accomplishment. However, Giles also wanted to know about Wesley’s history with Spike, despite his initial statement that the other Watcher had gone mad.

Somewhere during the conversation, he’d decided that he needed a drink. Presently, he was still drinking Scotch, and Wesley was still talking.

Wesley had seemed interested, though not entirely surprised, Giles thought, that Spike was here with Buffy. Apparently he’d recently had an odd phone call from Buffy out of the blue. When Giles had asked where Wesley had originally thought that Spike had disappeared to, he’d responded that he’d never expected to hear from Spike again, regardless. Whatever arrangement they’d struck had been destroyed by Spike’s persistent interest in Buffy.

“Odd as it may sound, we had a perfectly functional working relationship.”

“Until he attacked you,” Giles said.

“I may have said something…inflammatory. At any rate, until the issue of Buffy, it was what you might expect.”

“Mercenary-like contracts.”

“Yes, I suppose,” Wesley said.

“How could you do business with a vampire?”

“Since I left the Council, I’ve assisted and been assisted by a number of demons. In fact, only recently, I became aware of an empathic demon. He’s quite personable and has really been rather helpful—”

“I’m perfectly willing to argue the benign nature of certain demons,” Giles interrupted. “But we’re talking about a vampire.”

“I didn’t intend for it to happen. I told you how we met. Later, I was given his name when asking about solving a particular problem. Things progressed from there.”

“And Buffy?”

“For better or for worse, Buffy’s first contact with a vampire was one that was not trying to kill her. Quite the opposite, in fact. And for better or for worse, Spike met her under unusual circumstances. Frankly, it never occurred to me he would actually care.”

They hadn’t exactly argued, though Giles hadn’t agreed with everything that Wesley had done. But then, he’d never fully agreed with Wesley.

As far as Buffy’s relationship with Spike, Giles did have to admit that it didn’t seem to affect her judgment where other vampires were concerned. He also had to admit that Wesley’s initial objections, as well as his own concerns, seemed unsupported at this point. Buffy didn’t appear to be in any danger from Spike, immediate or otherwise.

Still, none of that meant he was particularly pleased with things, or didn’t have other minor concerns. But it was perhaps less dire than it had first seemed.

Finally hanging up the phone, Giles poured himself another glass.

But he hadn’t had fifteen minutes peace before there was a knock from outside. Giles opened the door and saw the last person he expected to see: Spike.

“We need to talk.”

“This precise moment?”

“Yeah,” he said, pushing past.

“Now see here, you simply can’t just walk in—”

“I can, actually. Got an invite.” He smirked. “Your fault, that.”

Giles stiffened. “My judgment at inviting a stranger in was perhaps impaired in the heat of the moment. But frankly, it never occurred to me that a vampire would bring an unconscious and bleeding Slayer back to her Watcher’s door.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

“Yes, that’s what worries me.” Giles still had his hand on the doorknob of the open door. But it was obvious that Spike wasn’t going anywhere. “Also, I must say that this isn’t making the best impression.”

“Yeah, I should probably work on that.” He didn’t seem sarcastic. He sounded resigned, like he actually needed to improve interacting with people. “But not right now. Told you, we need to set a few things straight. Also, I did go by the store first, but you weren’t there.”

Spike sank down on the sofa. Giles shut the door and walked over.

“Relax, Watcher.” He grinned. Then he gestured to the glass in Giles’s hand. “You wanna get me one of those?”

“No.” Giles sat down in the armchair. “What do you want?”

“Went by the mansion earlier,” Spike said. “Brought you something.” He fished into his coat pocket, pulling out some papers folded in half. He held them out to Giles.

Giles took them, finding several charcoal sketches.

“I burned most of his stuff, but there’s nothing he’d hate more than having those filed away in Watcher records.”

Giles looked at the drawings again. “These are of Darla, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes, well, er—thank you. I will of course add them to our files.” He set the papers aside. And took another drink. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to get inebriated with a vampire in the room, but he was already halfway there.

Spike watched him. “And what else will you be addin’ to your files? What I’ve been up to?”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”

“It would put Buffy in a bad spot, for starters.”

“Yes, it would.”

“She’s right, y’know,” Spike said casually. “She wouldn’t be able to stop me.”

“Ah.” So he’d listened to their conversation at the hospital. “And yet Buffy said you weren’t killing.”

Spike brought his hands together. “I’ll kill anyone who comes after her, whether she wants me to or not.”

“And you don’t think that would put a strain on your relationship?”

“Less of a strain than if she’s dead.”

“Ah.”

“You got a problem?” he asked.

“Of course I wouldn’t have a problem with a vampire killing,” Giles scoffed. “Whatever would make you think that?”

“You ever killed anyone, Watcher?”

Giles didn’t immediately answer.

“That’s a yes,” Spike said, a knowing look in his eye.

Giles stiffened, sitting up straighter. “I’ve taken an oath to protect this world. Sometimes that means doing what others can’t. But I take no pleasure in it.”

“I’d protect her.”

“It’s different.”

“Because I’d enjoy it?”

“Because you’re a vampire.” He took another drink.

“I’d do what she can’t. I told her I wouldn’t jump straight to it, but if that’s what it comes down to, yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do.” He tilted his head. “So before you get it set in your head that you need to go makin’ some report, I’m tellin’ you, I’ll kill any Council wankers who come pokin’ their noses around her.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s what will happen.” He paused. “Not you, though, just them.”

Giles shifted. “And why not?”

“Because it would kill her.”

Giles hesitated. “She said that after I—”

“You could have gotten her killed. And you made me hurt her.”

“What?”

“You,” he said, leaning forward, “made me hurt her. When you did your test. Those marks on her arm? I didn’t know she wasn’t at her best. Didn’t know I could have broken her arm or leg or neck.”

“I did what I had to do.” Giles fell silent. He brought a hand to his head, absently rubbing it. Then he said, “I’ve already decided that I’m not going to inform the Council of your involvement with Buffy. Regardless of how I feel about you, she’s an excellent Slayer. One of the best I’ve ever seen. And contrary to what you might think, I don’t wish to endanger her. I don’t want to see her hurt—rather the opposite, really.” He paused. “And loath though I am to admit it, you make a formidable team. You defeated Angelus admirably.”

Spike actually grinned. “That we did.”

“He was a challenging opponent, but you fought well.” Giles brought the glass up again, but found it empty. “Amazingly well.”

He set his glass down on the table, trying to collect his thoughts.

There was one other thing. Something he hadn’t said a word about, something he wondered if Wesley had been dancing around. And perhaps it wasn’t the wisest topic to bring up, but the combination of curiosity and slightly impaired judgment led him to looking at Spike and saying:

“I saw your foot nearly get cut off. It went through the bone,” he clarified. “And yet, two minutes later, you were able to carry Buffy out with no difficulty.”

“Yeah?”

“There’s only one thing I know of that could do that. But it’s myth; it doesn’t exist,” he said with finality.

“Right. It’s not real.”

There was a strained silence.

Giles started to say something more, but Spike changed the topic. “Drusilla.”

Giles remembered the expression on Spike’s face the very second Drusilla had turned to dust. He remembered taking a small step backward, even though the room had still separated them.

“She was going to kill Buffy,” Giles said. “It was the first open shot I had. You were going to kill her,” he added.

“She was mine to kill.” Then he sighed. “But maybe—it was good that I wasn’t the one to do it.” He stood and walked to the door. “I’ll let you get back to getting pissed.”

“I was not—”

“Sure you weren’t. I’ll tell Buffy she doesn’t have to worry about the Council. Unless you wanna tell her?”

“I—I’ll tell her.”

“I’m sure she’d like to hear it from you.” He sounded almost genuine.

The door shut behind him.

-----

Everyone was in and out over the next several days. Buffy was still ‘convalescing’ at her mother’s house, though she was really feeling fine. A week of healing with Slayer abilities and she was almost new. But she wasn’t in any hurry to patrol, as things seemed truly dead. Whether Angelus’ demise had made the remaining vampires lay low, or whether they were scrambling without a leader, there had been little to no activity according to Giles.

Joyce continued to fuss over her. Spike rarely left. Not that she was complaining about the latter.

Her friends came by at different times. Xander had apparently had some weird bonding time with Spike as they’d demolished things, and Anya was ecstatic over free bedroom furniture. Willow said Giles had questioned her regarding when she’d known about Spike, and she said he’d also mentioned talking to Wesley.

So Buffy was prepared when Giles came by to talk to her. It was even convenient; Spike was upstairs asleep. However, she wasn’t prepared for the first words out of Giles’s mouth.

“Spike has the Gem of Amara.”

Buffy stared at him as he stood over her. “And?”

“You knew?”

“Well, yeah, the whole vampire-in-broad-daylight thing kinda tipped me off.”

Giles shook his head. “A vampire as dangerous as Spike should not be allowed—”

“Allowed?” Buffy cut in.

He regarded her. “You could take it from him while he’s sleeping.”

“Yeah, just like he could drain me while I’m sleeping.” She crossed her arms, slumping into the couch. “Neither one’s gonna happen.”

“Buffy—”

“Spike has always had the gem. The situation isn’t any different just because you know about it now. Nothing has changed, Giles.”

For a moment, they stared at each other. Then Giles looked away and sat down in the chair.

“Is this going to be a deal breaker?” Buffy asked.

“I suppose…not. Honestly, I’d suspected something since I witnessed the end of the fight. I did some research, but I didn’t know for certain until he confirmed it.”

Buffy was sort of shocked. “Spike told you?”

“Not in so many words, no.” Giles paused and then sighed. “I’m not going to tell the Council about your involvement with him.”

“Thank you. I mean it.”

“Or about the prophecy.”

She nodded. “But what about the ‘latest called’ part? I mean, surely they’ve noticed I’m older than the average Slayer. Aren’t they curious about the why? What if they look into it themselves?”

Giles looked at her squarely. “The Council is remarkably indifferent to the Slayer as long as she’s performing adequately. They don’t ask questions about things that aren’t important to them. You’re only a concern if you don’t do your job.”

“They don’t, like, have some secret spies that will tell them if you don’t?”

He smiled a humorless smile. “I am their ‘secret spy.’ A Watcher’s role is not only to train and guide the Slayer, but also to alert the appropriate people if she gets out of hand.”

Buffy exhaled. “So this is more than just not telling them. This is not doing your job.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I care about what happens to you. Because after consideration, I do think it’s the right thing to do, even if I don’t entirely agree with every decision you’ve made.”

“That means a lot, Giles. Really.”

“I might have neglected to mention it, but your performance against Angelus was nothing short of extraordinary. It was truly well done.” He looked down for a moment. “But speaking of the prophecy, I do have one point to make. Don’t assume every challenge will be easily overcome. Don’t let yourself become careless, or let what was written go to your head. Longest life does not necessarily mean quality of life.”

Buffy nodded. “Right. Good point. Not a happy point, but a good point.”

“Regarding Spike, I only have one more comment to make.”

“Okay.”

“I am mostly convinced that he won’t do anything you don’t wish him to,” Giles said reluctantly. “And he…does care deeply for you.”

“There’s a but.”

“What?”

“You’re going to say but.”

“But, the only thing stopping him from killing is himself. There’s nothing beyond the fact of him saying that he won’t.”

Buffy frowned. “And that’s a bad thing? Do you realize how that sounds? I mean, the only thing stopping you from killing is yourself.”

Giles was silent for a moment, apparently trying to wrap his head around her logic. “Yes, but I am not a vampire.” he finally said. Then he leveled his gaze at her. “And what’s more, it’s not him. It’s you. You’re the only reason he’s doing what he’s doing. Spike commands a great deal of power. And you have power over him.”

“I know.”

“You’re the only thing standing between him and—well, perhaps not killing us all—but killing, certainly.”

She looked down. “I know.”

“And are you prepared to take that responsibility?”

“There’s not responsibility. It’s not like I’ve got some metaphorical leash,” Buffy said. “He knows what’s wrong, what I can’t live with. And he won’t do it. It’s that simple. It’s not like I’m having to constantly hold him back.”

“And in the future?”

“What do you mean?”

“I won’t deny that he seems to have no problem doing whatever you ask. But beyond that? What happens when you’re no longer here to give him a reason?” He paused. “What if you had died a week ago?”

-----

Giles hadn’t meant to upset her. Not really. He wasn’t trying to drive a wedge between her and Spike; he’d grudgingly accepted that she was going to be with Spike, and he wasn’t even telling the Council. That said a ton right there. But he was concerned about the dynamic of their relationship. He’d said as much afterward. He only wanted her to think about things.

The problem was, she couldn’t stop thinking about them.

It was a day later, and she and Spike were sitting on her bed, both leaning back against pillows.

Buffy was skimming through the rest of the magazines her mother had bought her. They were things she used to read, not things she really read anymore. Joyce had meant well, but the magazines had articles about high school, choosing the right college, and movies that she wasn’t interested in.

But whatever, she could still look at the fashion pages.

Spike, bored by her silence, but not bored enough to go downstairs and watch daytime TV, had picked one up. He mostly just shook his head as he flipped through it, though Buffy guessed by the amused noises he was making that he had found the ‘embarrassing stories’ page.

Then he threw the magazine down and picked up another, opening it at random.

“You actually used to read these, huh?”

“I was in high school.”

“Uh-huh.”

He turned a page. “Here’s one of those quizzes you were talking about.” Spike snickered. “Maybe we should take it, pet.”

“Ha ha,” she said without looking up. Buffy was studying the clothing ads. It seemed like pink was going to be in this summer.

“‘Testing Your Relationship,’” Spike continued in a mocking voice. “‘Part 1, The Basics Of Your S.O. 1. What is his favorite food?’”

“Are you going to kill people after I’m dead?” she blurted.

The room was suddenly very quiet. The ideas that had been rolling around in her head all day chose now to simply bubble over. ‘Favorite food’ was an insignificant question. To most couples, it would be an offhand fact. But for her and Spike, well, not so much.

Buffy risked a glance at Spike, who had gone still. His jaw ticked, and he looked like he was making a concentrated effort to collect his thoughts.

Slowly, he closed the magazine and turned to regard her. “Do you sit around trying to think of ways to make our life more difficult?”

“Huh?”

“Every time I turn around, you’re asking some question I know I’ve got the wrong bloody answer to.”

“So you’re going to?”

“I don’t know!” He threw the magazine to the floor. “I haven’t thought about—after you. Bloody hell, Buffy, I don’t want to.”

“I don’t like thinking about it, but I know it’s going to happen sometime. So, I was thinking about it, and you. You’re only not killing because of me. So when I’m not here someday—”

“Yeah, I’m doing it for you,” he snapped. “You’re not here—not much reason to, is there?”

“You’d be bad again.”

“I’m bad right now.”

“No, you’re not. You’re just…not good.”

Spike sat up fully, planting one foot on the floor. “No, I’m not good. I’ll never be good. But for you, I can not be bad.” He looked pained. “Why are we talking about this? I thought we’d settled this.”

“We settled the now. I just wondered about the later.”

“What do you care what I do after—you’re gone. It won’t matter.” He glanced away. “Nothing will matter then.”

Buffy looked down, letting her own magazine fall to her lap. “If you go back to doing that, maybe…it’s like I didn’t matter.”

“That’s not what it’s like at all,” he said. “You matter. You always will. So much, Buffy.”

“But—”

“That has nothing to do with remembering you, loving you. You’re more than that. You’re not something that’s only reflected in what I eat or don’t eat. You think that’s all you amount to for me? You think I’ve even wanted to think about after you?” He paused. “I don’t know what I’d do. But—I never said I’d changed, Buffy.”

“I know that you’re a vampire—”

“You keep sayin’ that, but I don’t think you do. I do things for you. Because I love you. Because I need you. Because you need me to. But it’s hard, pet, hard to stop doing what I’ve always done, what I want to do. And now you want me to do it not just for the rest of your life, but for the rest of my life?”

She was silent.

“Why can’t you ask me something normal, like will I love you when you get old, or will I love again after you’re gone?”

“Because that’s not what I want to know.”

Spike’s hand clenched a discarded magazine. “What the hell do you want from me? Every bloody thing I’ve done I’ve done for you. Isn’t it enough?”

“I suppose it will have to be,” she said flatly, looking down again. “Sorry I brought it up.”

There was a stony silence, and both of them stared away, not looking at the other.

Buffy broke the silence first. “I don’t want to give you blood on Saturdays anymore.”

He snorted. “This some sort of punishment?”

She glanced up. “No. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I just don’t want to pay you anymore; it’s hardly business.”

“So now I don’t get any Slayer blood, and I’m still not supposed to kill.”

“You’re only not killing people because of Slayer blood?”

Spike sighed. “No, not for your blood, for you. But the blood was a nice tradeoff. Can’t say as I didn’t take it into consideration when I was thinkin’ about things.”

“Look, I didn’t say I’d never give you blood. I just don’t want it to be so…required feeling. I don’t want a schedule. It’s something intimate. I don’t want to owe it to you; I want to give it to you. That’s what I mean. I don’t mean it like a bad thing.”

“All right.” Then he stood.

“Where are you going?”

“I just need some air, love.” He didn’t look mad anymore, just sort of sad.

“But where are you going?”

“For a drive.”

As she watched him walk out of the room, Buffy wished she hadn’t opened her mouth at all.