FIC: Changes Come ~PG-13 (5/5)

This entry is part 5 of 5 in the series Changes Come
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And that’s the last of it. I hope you all enjoyed the journey.
Part V: Sunnydale, California

Spike paced, keeping one eye on the portal and one eye on the clock. It had been four hours since Buffy had disappeared into the yellow-orange light, and he was beginning to get a little nervous. Not that there was anything he could do; if he went in after her, Spike would lose any chance either of them had of getting back.

That’s if he’d translated the text correctly; Spike wasn’t at all sure that he had.

Suddenly, the light was gone, and Buffy lay sprawled on the floor on her back. “Buffy?” Spike called, going to her side.

She didn’t stir, and he felt for a pulse; even though he could hear her heartbeat, Spike needed the tangible reassurance. It was strong and steady under his fingers, and he picked her up and laid her out on the bed. Turning her injured hand over, Spike saw that it was already healing.

“What the bloody hell happened?” he muttered. Not knowing what else to do, Spike grabbed a towel from the tiny bathroom and wet it in the sink. He brushed her forehead and cheeks with the cool cloth, hoping that it might bring her around.

His ministrations seemed to work, and she sat straight up. “Where—” She looked around her wildly, relaxing as she recognized him. “Spike.”

“Yeah,” he replied. “You okay, luv?”

Buffy blinked rapidly. “No, not really.”

He frowned. “What happened, Buffy?”

“I know what a Slayer is now, Spike,” she said, her eyes haunted. “And I know why she chose the darkness.”

Spike didn’t understand. “Why who chose the darkness?”

“The Slayer that they were referring to, the one that chose a vampire to love.”

“We don’t always choose who we love,” Spike said gently.

Buffy shook her head. “She chose him, and they—” She faltered. “I think I’m going to shower. I feel dirty.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you need, pet,” Spike said, watching as she wandered towards the bathroom dazedly. He listened as the water started, leaning back against the comforter and feeling not a little curiosity about what had happened on the other side.

What exactly had Buffy seen?

When she emerged in a cloud of steam, she had only a towel wrapped around her, and Spike realized that she hadn’t taken any clothing in with her. “You want me to step outside?” he asked.

“No.”

She stood there, unmoving, and Spike began to get really concerned. “Luv? You okay?”

“You keep calling me that,” Buffy observed, sounding numb.

“What’s that?”

“Love. You keep calling me that.”

Spike felt a little irritated. “You don’t want me to call you that, I’ll stop.”

“No.” Buffy took a step closer to him. “I just want to know why. Do you love me, Spike?”

He blinked, realizing that he could get himself into a sticky situation very easily. “Look, Buffy, I—”

“Do you love me?”

There was a little more life in her voice now, and Spike grimaced. He didn’t want to go there, didn’t want to tell her how he really felt for fear that she would reject him out of hand. “I think I could,” he finally said.

“Would you change for me?” Buffy asked.

He glared at her. “What the hell do you think I’ve been doin’ this whole time, Slayer?” he demanded. “Your Watcher was the one who seemed to think it was possible for me to change. You, on the other hand, you just keep insistin’ that—”

She cut him off with a kiss, one hand gripping the back of his head, the other holding her towel in place. Spike had no idea where this was coming from, but he wasn’t averse to enjoying the ride.

Buffy pulled back after a few moments, searching his face for something, leaving Spike to wonder what it was she thought she’d find. When she just kept staring, Spike pulled back farther. “What? Do I have somethin’ on my face?”

“No.” Buffy appeared perfectly calm. “I just wanted to test a theory.”

“And the theory would be?” he asked, more than a little annoyed.

She just gave him a half-smile. “That kissing you when there wasn’t a spell would feel just like kissing you with the spell.”

Spike frowned, unsure what she meant by that. “And?”

“There wasn’t much difference.” Buffy made a twirling motion with her finger, apparently having been brought out of whatever funk she’d been in. “Turn.”

Spike did as he was told, although he didn’t bother to tell her that he could see her in the mirror over the bureau if he moved just a little to his right. “And that means what?”

“That means we can go back to Sunnydale,” Buffy replied.

He frowned. “And if the Council tries to stop us?”

“They’d better not.” Buffy’s tone was steely. “I don’t have the patience for their crap anymore. If they get in my way, I’ll make sure they regret it.”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “That attitude have something to do with what you saw?”

“It might,” Buffy replied evenly.

“You ever going to tell me what you saw?”

“I might.”

Spike shifted just a little bit; sure enough, he caught a glimpse of Buffy’s back as she fastened her bra behind her back. “Did it change anything?”

“I’m not sure.” Spike bit back a disappointed sigh as Buffy pulled on a pair of pants and a shirt. Just a glimpse of her, and he wanted more; he really was completely buggered. She turned, and Spike saw her eyes reflected in the mirror. “But I’ll let you know.”

~~~~~

They managed to make it to the train station in Lyon before anyone from the Council saw them. Spike was the first to recognize that they were being followed, and he grabbed Buffy’s arm and steered her around a corner. “We’ve got company.”

“Where?”

Spike moved so that his body blocked any view of her, and Buffy peered around his shoulder to see two men in black moving slowly along the platform. To passers-by, it probably appeared as though they simply weren’t in a hurry, but Buffy could tell that they were looking for someone.

“Crap,” she muttered, looking up at Spike. “Now what?”

He gave her an odd look. “You’re askin’ me?”

“I don’t think they’re going to try to grab us here,” Buffy replied. “I mean, I guess they could try to kill us, but—”

“Not happening,” Spike growled. “We haven’t gotten this far for you to get killed now.”

“Okay, so what are our options?” Buffy asked.

Spike gave her a sharp look. “You trust me?”

Buffy met his eyes; his expression was perfectly sincere, and she realized that she did, indeed, trust Spike. With her life, no less. “Yes.”

“Stay here,” he ordered.

Buffy wasn’t terribly happy about it, but she understood his point. It was entirely likely that the Council didn’t know what he looked like beyond a vague description, but they would have pictures of her. “Fine.”

She was ready to give up on him when Spike finally returned, looking vastly pleased with himself. “I’ve got transportation for us,” he announced. “We’ve got to leave now, though.”

“What kind of transportation?” Buffy asked.

He lifted an eyebrow, clearly amused. “I though you said that you trusted me.”

“It doesn’t mean I’m not a little bit curious,” Buffy shot back.

“I’ve got a car.”

Buffy swallowed; she did trust Spike, but she’d never ridden with him before, and she remembered that he had been the one to crash Giles’ car. Of course, the Initiative had been chasing him at the time, so maybe he had an excuse. “Okay.”

She needn’t have worried. Spike handled the roads between Lyon and Paris with ease, and for the periods of time that she wasn’t drifting in and out of sleep, Buffy found herself staring at his hands—strong and sure on the steering wheel. The chipped black nail polish was nearly gone, worn off in the last week or two. She wondered idly when her feelings for Spike had changed.

Well, she knew when they’d started changing—she hadn’t been able to hate him after the whole thing with Adam. He’d been a lot of help during that mess, and a steadfast ally. No, that wasn’t true at all. Buffy’s feelings for Spike had started changing the night that he’d offered to help her against Angelus. She’d never quite viewed him as an enemy after that. A pain in the ass, yes, and someone she’d be happier away from, but not an enemy. If she was honest with herself, Buffy knew that she wouldn’t have won that fight without his help.

And then there had been the spell, and his help, and this trip…and suddenly he wasn’t just an ally, nor was he a pain in the ass. Spike was, in fact, essential.

Buffy had been feeling as though she’d made the entire trip for nothing, no matter how much distance or time she’d managed to cover.

The only thing she knew for sure right now was that at sometime in the distant past, a Slayer had loved a vampire so much that she would have rather killed herself than him, and that he had changed his entire mode of existence for her. Buffy knew all about killing the person she loved to save the world, but the vampire she had killed had been in possession of a soul at the time. The other vampire had not been, of that much Buffy was certain.

Everything she’d learned over the last few days indicated that a Slayer was the best person to fight the darkness not because she was separate from it, but because it was a part of her.

Which in turn indicated that perhaps Spike wasn’t a bad partner, in a number of areas. Buffy certainly couldn’t quite imagine her life without him. Not after this.

So maybe this trip hadn’t been futile at all.

~~~~~

Spike thought that they might actually make it. The drive had gone smoothly enough, with a brief stop along the way to get something to eat for Buffy and allow her to call Giles. The idea was to board a plane in Paris and fly to New York, and from there they’d fly to Sunnydale. It was a simple plan, and he’d hoped that they’d finally thrown their pursuers off.

He spotted the men again immediately upon entering the airport and cursed angrily. Buffy had been oddly quiet for the entire car ride, not even offering up snide comments on his driving, and he wasn’t sure she was capable of doing what was necessary to take care of the bastards.

If it hadn’t been for the chip, Spike would have drained every one of the Council wankers that presented a threat to his Slayer.

Of course, he would never say that out loud; Spike had no reason to believe that Buffy would ever be his Slayer, although that kiss had been something else. He wasn’t sure whether he ought to have more hope or less after that; nor was he certain whether the fact that kissing him without the spell in place hadn’t felt much different indicated that he stood a chance with her.

Not that having no chance would stop him from feeling the way that he did for her. Spike never had been much good at not falling in love, even when he knew it was hopeless.

His cursing seemed to bring the Slayer out of her thoughts, and she saw the Council’s men immediately. “I’ve got it.”

“You sure?” Spike asked, even though he was aware that there wasn’t much he could do for her; he really hated the chip, particularly in moments like this.

“No problem.” She handed him her suitcase. “I’ll be right back.”

Spike watched in admiration as she walked right up to the first of the Council’s men he’d caught a glimpse of. To his surprise, she pulled the ancient box out of her purse and shoved it into the man’s chest hard enough to send him stumbling backwards. Even with his enhanced senses, Spike couldn’t hear what she said, but whatever it was, it seemed to work. When the Slayer walked away, the man stayed put, and by the time Buffy reached Spike’s side again, the Council’s men had disappeared.

“What did you say to him?” he asked, hardly able to believe that it had been so easy.

Buffy’s eyes glittered. “I told him that I had no problem gutting him and his friends if they came anywhere near me. Also, when I called Giles just before we left Lyon, he said that most of the Council jerks were saying that they had nothing to do with Miles’ death, that it was the work of a few lunatics. Chances are, they got told to leave me alone unless they could take me out quietly; I told him that it wouldn’t be quiet.”

“Are you sure they won’t come after you again?” Spike asked.

“No,” Buffy admitted. “But they wanted to prevent that information from getting to me; the damage has already been done. Besides, I’ve pretty much always done exactly what I wanted to do. They should be used to that by now.”

Spike couldn’t argue with that assessment; Buffy was in a class of her own. As he’d said upon meeting her for the second time, a Slayer wasn’t supposed to have family or friends. “So, we headed home, then?”

“Yeah,” Buffy replied. “Let’s go.”

~~~~~

Giles met them at the Sunnydale airport, the relief on his face obvious. “Buffy. It’s good to see you.”

“I’m sorry about your friend, Giles,” Buffy said immediately, still feeling guilty that she hadn’t managed to prevent Miles’ death.

He shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault. Miles was aware that the information he was relaying to you was dangerous. You can’t hold yourself responsible.”

“I was right there,” Buffy replied, not so easily persuaded.

Giles shook his head. “Please don’t blame yourself, Buffy. It is not your fault.”

She nodded, knowing that he didn’t blame her, and yet still feeling as though she’d let him down once again. “I know.”

Buffy watched as Giles turned to Spike, holding out his hand. “Thank you, Spike.”

Spike appeared to be taken aback at first, but he gripped Giles’ hand after a few shocked seconds. “It wasn’t that much.”

Giles appeared ready to argue, then apparently changed his mind, because he merely nodded. “Of course. Let’s go.”

Buffy watched Giles let Spike off by the cemetery first at his request, and she was surprised when he got out of the car without a word to her.

She had expected him to say something about the kiss during the entire trip back, but he hadn’t mentioned it, even though she’d caught him watching her with an almost wistful expression on several occasions. She still wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to do about her newfound knowledge, however; Buffy sensed that she could let it go, allow her life to go on, much as it always had—or she could take the kind of risk that the Sumerian Slayer had taken, so long ago.

Buffy could risk her heart on another vampire; she might have better luck this time around.

Giles pulled up in front of her house. “You haven’t told me much about what you saw, Buffy,” he said.

She sighed. While she’d given Giles the basics, Buffy hadn’t told him the full truth of what she’d seen; she hadn’t told him about the vampire, or that the First Slayer had essentially been forced into becoming what she was. Giles was different, Buffy knew, but the fact remained that he had been one of them—and he had betrayed her with the Cruciamentum before he’d shared the truth.

Perhaps the real miracle was that he had bucked tradition at all.

“I can’t, Giles,” Buffy finally said, knowing that he was waiting for her answer. “It’s—it’s a Slayer thing. It doesn’t feel right to talk about it.”

“Alright. I trust you.”

Buffy gave him a brief smile, then headed up the walk to her house, already rehearsing what she would tell her mother—and what parts she would leave out.

She actually ended up telling Joyce almost as much as she’d told Giles, although she avoided the telling her mom about watching Miles get shot, or getting shot at herself. Pretty much everything else was part of being the Slayer, though, and Joyce was used to that by now.

“And how is Spike?” Joyce asked finally.

Buffy’s eyes widened. “What? Oh, he’s fine. You know Spike; he’s good at getting himself into and out of trouble.”

The way Joyce looked at her told Buffy that her mom probably saw right through her protestations. “And you two got along?”

“We got along great, actually,” Buffy said. “He was—he was really great.” She looked off thoughtfully, remembering how careful he’d been with her life, how good he’d been to her.

How good of a friend he’d been.

“You should invite him over for dinner sometime,” Joyce said. “To say thank you.”

“I should,” Buffy replied, rising. “I think I’m going to go take a shower and go to bed. I haven’t slept much over the last few days.”

She kissed her mother good night, and went upstairs. The shower felt good, but sleep proved elusive. Buffy would fall asleep, only to find herself back in Sumer, watching the scene play out again. Or watching the First Slayer being invaded by the darkness..

Eventually, she gave up on sleeping; she dressed and opened her window as silently as possible, a stake shoved in the back of her jeans. There was only one person she wanted to see, and she didn’t want to wait.

~~~~~

Spike finished his blood with a grimace; he needed to find a butcher in town that would supply him with cow’s blood, as he much preferred the taste of that to pig’s. While nothing was as sweet as human blood, that was off-limits to him now in any number of ways.

How was he to know that his bargain with Giles would produce such insane results?

Really, a vampire in love with the Slayer; there was a good reason that he’d twitted Angelus about that, back when he’d been in a wheelchair, and Angel’s soul had been on walkabout. It was ridiculous, was what it was, but Spike had never claimed to love wisely. Even if he’d had a shot with Buffy, it still was ridiculous. Vampires were supposed to be evil.

On the other hand, vampires were also supposed to fear the Slayer; Spike had always been something of a rebel.

The door creaked open, and he reached for a crossbow, expecting a demon or vampire with a grudge; he’d had more than a few visitors like that in recent months. Instead, Buffy stood here, looking at him uncertainly.

“Come on in, pet,” Spike said, striving to keep a light tone, not wanting to give away his true feelings. “What brings you by at this hour? Thought you’d be sleeping by now.”

“I wanted to ask you something.”

He frowned, puzzled. “Yeah, sure.”

“Has anything changed for you?”

Spike wasn’t quite sure what she meant. “Since when?”

“Since you got the chip, I guess.” Buffy looked away, then back at him. “It’s important.”

Spike opened his mouth to reply that yes, of course everything had changed since the chip, but he realized that it wasn’t exactly true. “No,” he said softly, seeing the disappointment in her eyes at the one word. “Started changing before that, Buffy. Nothing has been the same since I saw you.”

“Oh.” She stared at him with wide eyes. “Did you want to know what I saw?”

Spike didn’t know what to say to that. “If you want to tell me.”

“I think it might make a difference.” Buffy glanced around. “It’s kind of a long story.”

“Hang on a mo,” he replied, grabbing the comforter he’d recently nicked and spreading it over the sarcophagus. “If you want somewhere to sit,” he offered.

Buffy swung herself up, then looked at him expectantly. “You going to join me?”

Spike sat next to her, watching her carefully. “So? You saw something that changed things?”

“I don’t know.” Slowly, she began to explain what she’d seen, and by the time Buffy reached the end of her story, Spike wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react. He could understand why it was throwing her off, but he didn’t know how to respond.

“What do you want me to say?” Spike asked. “Told you that I changed, Buffy, that I’ve been changing. If you can’t see that for yourself—”

“I can,” she interrupted. “That’s not the problem, Spike.”

“Then what is the problem?” he asked. “I’m not real sure what you want out of me, Buffy. I can tell you that I don’t want you hurt, that I’m willing to fight by your side for however long I can, but—”

“No, it’s not that.” Buffy sighed. “I know all of that, Spike. I know that you’ve changed. I guess I just wondered whether…” She trailed off, refusing to meet his eyes. They were sitting side by side, only a couple of inches separating them, and he resisted the urge to slide over so that their legs and shoulders were actually touching.

“You want to know if I’m worth taking a risk on?” Spike asked.

Buffy shook her head. “It’s not about that. It’s more that I’m wondering if this is even possible. Can we be partners? Because that was the best part of this trip, you know? It was having a partner I could count on. I just need to know if that’s going to change.”

Spike didn’t hesitate; he figured that if she staked him, it would be worth it. He captured her lips with his own, bringing up a hand to frame her face. Instead of pulling back, Buffy reciprocated, leaning into him. It wasn’t too long before they were stretched out on the bier with her on top. His t-shirt had gotten tossed at some point, and her blouse was unbuttoned.

When she pulled back, Spike half-expected her to get all up-tight on him, to call it quits. Instead, she searched his face, and her expression was the same as it had been after she’d kissed him in that run-down hotel in Lyon. This time, however, she didn’t turn away.

Instead, she smiled, acknowledging that he’d changed—that they both had. That everything was different now.

“Sometimes change is good,” Spike commented. His hand was on her waist, a thumb caressing the sensitive skin of her abdomen.

Buffy nodded. “This time it is.” She touched his face. “You know how you asked if what I saw made a difference?” Spike nodded in reply. “It did.”

As their lips met again, Spike decided that he didn’t mind changing—not when it suited him so well to do so.

 

Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/150333.html

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