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It's later when I finally get to bed. Dawn and I had words
when we got back, and Moira was kind enough to give us some space to get that
done. Afterwards, Dawn just wanted to be alone, so I left her to get ready for
bed while I joined Moira in the living room. It wasn't long before she too went
to bed, and I was left alone to think. I seem to have been doing a lot of that
since I got here, and maybe it's overdue. I've spent so much time lately trying
to block out thoughts of what might have been or even what will be.
Spike made his feelings clear. He still loves me. Despite
the fact that he didn't contact me after Sunnydale, and let me think he was
gone again after LA, he still loves me. My first reaction was disbelief. I
mean, you love someone, you let them know you're not dead, don't you? But then
… if Dawn hadn't found me when I came back, would I have jumped off that tower
again? And if I didn't, would I have gone home? At first, everything was just a
succession of painful experiences, but after a while, if I had known that my
friends had pulled me back from heaven, would I have gone to them or run in the
opposite direction? Maybe I'd just have hidden away somewhere that I didn't
have to be the Slayer, surrogate mother and all round team leader. I don't
know. And when I think about it that way, then maybe I understand why he didn't
get in touch. He probably thought that calling me would have put him right back
where he started, and I'd made it clear that we didn't have a future of the
sort he wanted. So, no, I don't doubt his sincerity. The question is, what do I
want?
That's harder. I know that I've missed him more than I
thought possible. I know that if he gave me that look - the
tongue-behind-the-teeth thing he does, then my knees'd go weak. Nothing new in
that respect, but other things have changed. I know now that demon does not
equal evil. Yes, many, if not most demons don't have a moral structure that I'd
recognise, but there are some who seem to manage just fine without the luxury
of a soul. And then there's Spike. His demon should consider people as mobile
food, but he stopped seeing things that way long before he got his soul. Ok, it
took the chip to get him to stop and think about it, but there's more to it than
that. He's made that clear over and over again. I'm just too dim to have seen
it until too late.
Then again, is it too late? He loves me, but would he be
willing to forget how badly I treated him? I mean, we parted as friends, and
all that seemed to be in the past, but if we were to reintroduce the physical
side of our relationship, would that just reopen the old wounds? I don't know.
I'm going round in circles, so I decide to do a mental list.
What do I want? In the short term, I want him to be in my life again. But how?
Tempting as it might be, I know that we can't just jump into anything more than
friendship. We got into sex for all the wrong reasons last time. At least, my
reasons were wrong. If there's going to be anything physical between us, we're
going to have to get there slowly and carefully.
He seems different. Oh, I know he says he's 'always been
bad', but I'm not so sure. He's like two different people in many ways. There's
the brash, obnoxious, cocky Spike that he puts on sometimes - well, he used to
be like that all the time, but I suspect it's all a front to hide who he really
is. It's almost as if he was playing a part. Vampires are bad, evil things, so
he's going to be bad and evil. What's underneath is … vulnerable. I've seen
that vulnerability. Not during a fight. No, he's not physically vulnerable. His
vulnerability is emotional. If there's one thing I do know about Spike, it's
that when he loves, there're no half-measures and that makes him vulnerable.
That’s how I was able to hurt him so badly. And now? That cocky Spike just
isn't there. Maybe that's because he's actually made a life for himself where
he doesn't have to keep proving himself, where he's got friends of his own,
people who care about him. And what does that say about me and my friends? It
says we hurt him too much for him to show us his true self other than in short
bursts.
Oddly, the knowledge of his vulnerability, rather than
making me wary of him, actually makes me care more for him. Don't get me wrong.
I'm not an earth-mother type. Given the job I've done of being a mother-substitute for Dawn, I'd
say that's pretty obvious.
To be honest,
Spike at his cockiest is also Spike at his most obnoxious. He's rude and crude
and boastful and … he's only like that
when he's hurting - when I'd hurt him. And that last night we spent together,
when he didn't want me to walk back upstairs - when he needed me as much as I
needed him - that's the man I saw tonight.
He made it clear that the ball's in my court, but I feel
like I've left my racquet at home, and I'm suddenly short-sighted and can't
even see the ball.
Kissing him - just felt right. Well, no. It felt wrong to
just give him that quick peck and then run away, but what there was of it felt
good. Better than I expected, but then it was never the physical attraction
side of things where our problems were.
Sticking to the tennis metaphor, I suppose I'd better find
some glasses and something to hit the ball with. And then it occurs to me. If
there's one thing Spike and I do well, it's work together. At least once we've
managed to get over arguing. He's supportive of what I need to do, but he's
also surprisingly knowledgeable and able to plan when he's got a reason. And we've
got a ready-made problem to work on. He's already been investigating the
missing Slayers problem, and it's where I see my priority as lying now - at a
professional level anyway. So, that's sorted. Tomorrow, I'll call Giles and
tell him that I'm going to join Spike to sort out what's been happening. He
won't like it, but it won't be the first time I've done something he didn't
like. And anyway, I owe him for not telling me about Spike.
By the time I go to
bed it's very late and Dawn's been asleep for a while. Of course, the simple
fact that I'm lying down doesn't stop my brain from going over my feelings
again and again, so it's even later before sleep finally comes.
I'm wakened too soon by the sound of my cell phone ringing.
I sit up groggily and scramble around looking for it, noting that Dawn's
already up. I find it at last and answer only to hear an unfamiliar voice.
"Buffy? Good morning. It's Phillip Spencer-Kidd."
It takes me a minute to put the name to a face and when I
do, I'm even more confused.
"Phillip? How? I didn't give you this number."
"No, Giles did. He asked me to get in touch. Look,
there's been a development on the disappearances, but he didn't want to tell
you over the phone. If it's ok, I'll come and fill you in."
"Do you know where I am?" I ask.
"Oh yes, you're staying with Moira McConnechie. I'm in
the city centre, so I can be there within half an hour. When would suit
you?"
I glance at my watch, surprised to note that it's already
after eleven.
"Can you leave it later than that? Maybe twelve thirty?" I ask, deciding that I
don't want to see him this side of a shower and some make up. And I'll have to
make sure it's ok with Moira too.
"That'll be fine," he purrs. "I'll see you
then."
Once in the kitchen, I spot the note that Moira has left for
me, informing me that she's taken Dawn off to visit the Kelvingrove
Art Gallery,
and that they would see me later. I admit I'm relieved. If Dawn's had a morning
doing something she wanted to do, she's going to be easier to deal with later.
I put on the kettle, and I'm about to make some instant coffee when I find some
ground and a small cafetière so I make a pot before going to shower.
By the time Phillip's due, I'm feeling a lot better. Can’t
say, I'm impressed with Giles' choice of messenger, but then I know he hasn't
got many options.
I really don't know what to make of Phillip Spencer-Kidd,
except, of course, that I think there's something odd about him. I'm not sure
what to expect when he finally arrives, knocking at the door. I open it and it
hits me again. He's just somehow so … distracting, and I don't understand why I
didn't notice it on the flight over.
He leans in to hug me as if we're old friends, and I push
the thought that we're not old friends to the back of my mind, and then I feel
something, a scratch on my arm. I pull away quickly, my hand going to the point
and coming away with a drop of blood.
"What?" I ask.
"Is that blood? Have you hurt yourself?" His voice
is all concern.
I put my hand back again, but this time it comes back clean.
Whatever it was must've been pretty minor. And Phillip's giving me that 100
megawatt smile and looking so worried, that I can't help but tell him it's
nothing.
It's then that I hear someone else at the door. My first
thought is that it's Spike, and I'm instantly concerned that he'll
misunderstand what's happening here. I hesitate, and to my surprise, Phillip
gets up and goes to answer the door. I follow him, about to ask him what's he's
up to, but as soon as he opens the door, I no longer need an explanation. I
mean, I'd be surprised if two Fyarl demons were in the habit of ringing Moiras's
doorbell.
I take one look at Phillip, who's smirking now, and I wonder
exactly what happened to that smile I was admiring just a moment ago. Still, it's
hardly important because I'm going to wipe the smirk off his face anyway. I
raise an arm, and hit him, just wanting him out of the way so I can tackle the
Fyarls, but there's something wrong. That punch that should have knocked him
off his feet doesn't seem to have done anything other than irritate him.
"Take her and be quick about it," he tells the
Fyarls. I get ready to launch an attack
on them, but I'm not quick enough, and the next thing I know, I'm being dragged
out of the door.
They take me out into the yard and open a cover in the
ground beside the trash bins. I'm desperately trying to work out what's
happening, but, deep down, I know. When I was eighteen, Giles gave me something
in a drink, something that took my Slayer powers from me. It was all part of a
test of Slayers. This is exactly how that felt. Somehow, Phillip got hold of
that or something similar, and that blood must have been him injecting it into
my arm.
Phillip doesn't seem to be following us, though, and then,
despite my best efforts, I start to feel unreasonably sleepy. That's different
from last time. Either the drug has been modified, or it's something different.
From my position, slung over the shoulder of a Fyarl demon,
the last thing I think I see in the underground gloom before I'm overcome is a
flash of unnaturally blond hair.
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