Calm
As she slowly walked down the steps and toward the discussion she knew
she couldn’t avoid forever, Buffy could hear quiet voices. Quiet was
good. Quiet meant they weren’t shouting, or fighting. Quiet meant Spike
wasn’t too upset. Because she just knew he would be.
“So it’s my fault?”
No, he decidedly didn’t sound upset. Instead, he sounded… anguished.
And that was as bad as upset, Buffy reflected dejectedly. Even worse.
“I didn’t say that,” Angel’s voice replied. “We still don’t know why
she decided that she had to control her vampire self to begin with. But
the way you react to the problem, or rather the way you don’t react, is
making things worse. At least, that’s what I think.”
Her eyes were drawn to Angel as she walked in, because of what he had
just said and that she couldn’t understand. Spike had been trying to
help her, to convince her to feed, which Angel said was the problem, so
how could that make things worse?
“So, how is he supposed to react?”
Now that she was so close, she couldn’t help it, and had to look at her
Sire. What did he think about her loss of control? Was he disappointed
in her? Annoyed that she hadn’t listened to him? Displeased that she
had had to rely on Angel’s help, instead of his? He was always so
territorial, especially when Angel was concerned, would he…
He answered her silent fears by simply coming to hug her. When she was
in his arms, everything else disappeared, as it always did. Angel
clearing his throat brought them back to the present. Spike’s embrace
loosened, and he gave her a sweet, sad smile.
“Peaches says I have to… force you to feed.”
“That’s a very simplified way to put things,” Angel said with a slight snort.
Buffy couldn’t see how Spike forcing her to do anything was going to
help. It hadn’t helped when he had forced her to feed before, or the
night he had blackmailed her into biting him.
“What’s the long story, then?” she asked quietly.
Holding her hand tight in his, Spike pulled her along as he went to
take a seat at the table again, and made her sit on his lap. His arms
closed around her waist, and she covered his hands with hers.
“The long story,” Angel said as he sat down too, “is that you are still
a very young vampire. A very young Childe. As such, you need guidance,
you need your Sire to teach you, and rule over you. That’s what usually
happens when a Childe is sired, what your demon expects. What it needs.
But that’s not what Spike is doing…”
She felt Spike tense behind her, and she guessed he was going to say
something, but a dark look from Angel stopped him in his tracks.
“… whatever his reasons. So your own demon is disconcerted, and the confusion passes on to you.”
“And that’s why I have to control it better!” Buffy exclaimed. “Because it confuses…”
“No.”
The word was quiet, a mere breath right behind her ear, but without appeal.
“There’s no way you can control it as deeply as you’re trying to. You
just can’t. Even at past a hundred, I have to let go if I don’t want to
completely lose it. You have to feed, and bite, and do everything you
were doing before this started. You have to, luv.”
There was the barest touch of desperation in his voice, and Buffy
turned sideways to look at him as she replied, trying once more to
explain to him, determined that this time she wouldn’t let either of
their temper get in the way.
“But I’m the Slayer,” she reminded him softly. “It has to mean something.”
It was Angel who replied. “It never changed anything before.”
“But what about when I’m really not hungry?” she insisted, keeping her
eyes on Spike. “When I don’t feel the bloodlust, drinking blood...”
“I already told you,” Angel intervened again, with more than a touch of
impatience, “that it is just impossible for you not to feel the
bloodlust, and…”
“But I really don’t!” she cut in, turning her head to glare at him. “You think I’d lie about this?”
There was silence, then. A long silence, that stretched far too long
and answered Buffy’s question. She could feel the burn of this
mistrust, feel her own irritation rising, until the silence was finally
broken by Spike.
“No, luv,” he said very calmly, soothingly. “We don’t believe you’re
lying. But it’s just not normal that you don’t feel it. Maybe it’s a
result of you trying to master the demon.”
“And that brings us to the question of why exactly you do that,” Angel
carried on without a pause. “Why now? Everything was fine for years,
wasn’t it? So what changed? What brought all of this on?”
Buffy closed her eyes, and rested her head back against Spike’s
shoulder. The irritation was giving way to lassitude. She was tired of
all this, tired of feeling like they were accusing her, however careful
their words were.
“I don’t know,” she mumbled.
“Chloe.”
Her eyes opened again, and she frowned at Spike.
“You started acting differently after her death,” he continued
thoughtfully. “I thought you were grieving and that you just needed
time. But time made things worse. So progressively though, that I
didn’t pay it much attention until it came to feeding.”
She was going to object, and say that he was wrong, that Chloe had
nothing to do with it, but suddenly it struck her that she had indeed
started thinking more about what it meant to be both a vampire and a
Slayer after her death. Could it be that this event had triggered
everything?
“What was it that you said yesterday, Buffy?” Angel asked quietly.
“That the Slayer thinking of you as of a vampire was dangerous to her?”
Spike sighed, right against her neck, and she shivered.
“Slayers die, luv. Whether they know you or not, they die sooner or
later. Whether they think of you as a vamp or not. One is not linked to
the other.”
“But Chloe…”
“Chloe’s death has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with
the vampire that drained her. Same thing for Min. And the same again
for Manon not dying. We train them, yes, but in the end it’s up to
them.”
Hadn’t Spike said this before? He was sure he had. Not when Buffy was
as collected and attentive as she was now, though. Perhaps that was
what made the difference this time. What made her apparently accept his
words.
“So what do we do now?” she asked, almost inaudibly.
“I would suggest some blood sharing for the two of you,” Angel stated
with unusual bluntness as he stood. “As for me, I have other places to
be. I’ll call you if we find anything about why someone would want
Slayer blood.”
“Keys are by the entrance. Say hi to the kids for us,” Spike said in a
casual voice, just as his eyes found Angel’s and thanked him silently.
Angel nodded, one corner of his mouth curling up. He gave his goodbyes
before walking away, and they could hear him talking to Faith before
the entrance door opened and closed. Neither of them moved or spoke,
and Spike was wondering what his Childe was thinking, whether she would
agree to sharing blood with him or if he would have to force her, when
the ex-Slayer walked in the room. She looked tired, Spike thought
absently. And rather miserable, even if she was trying to hide that. He
had known she wouldn’t like the turn of events, right from the moment
he had heard Cordelia talk about her and her kid.
“Hey, you mind if I use the phone?”
The question was mostly polite. Her tone however was implying that whether they minded or not, she was going to make that call.
“Phone’s in the kitchen,” Spike said curtly. “And no need to get snippy
with us, we’re not the ones who brought you and your kid in this
mess and we have better things to do than argue with you. Are we clear?”
A bitter smile flirted on the brunette’s lips. “Yes, Blondie. All clear. No need to bite.”
The sarcastic statement seemed to bring back Buffy to the world, and
she let out a laugh that startled both Faith and Spike. Faith raised an
eyebrow, shook her head, but left the room without a word. Buffy was
silent too as she rose and turned to Spike, a determined look on her
features.
“Let’s go to bed?” she suggested hesitantly after watching him for a few seconds.
He took the hand she was offering and allowed her to lead him to their
room, wondering if it was just sleep she had in mind, or more. He
received his answer when she locked the door behind him and started
unbuttoning his shirt.
“You think he’s right?” she asked very quietly, clearly avoiding his gaze.
“I think he may have a point when he says I need to act more like your
Sire, whatever the cost. But I’m not sure it will be enough. And I’m
worried about you not feeling the bloodlust.”
His shirt fell to the floor, and in a second she had discarded his
t-shirt too. She explored his chest with her fingertips, tracing soft
patterns even as he reached with one hand and undid the tiny but many
buttons that closed her shirt.
“But you believe me, right? You believe me when I say I don’t feel it.”
There was doubt in her voice, and he knew why. Angel didn’t believe her
on that point. Because truthfully, it just wasn’t possible. But Spike
had seen this one woman battle more impossible situations than he could
count. He slid his fingers to her chin, and tilted her face up toward
his.
“Yes, luv. I do believe you. And that’s why I worry even more than before.”
He brushed his lips across her eyelids, then across her lips, before
returning to the task of undressing her. There was something in her
gaze, though. Something that had been there earlier, and that was back
now. She was scared.
“What’s wrong, luv?”
The tiniest grin tugged at her lips.
“That obvious, huh?”
Having finally finished his unbuttoning, without damaging even one of
the tiny and annoying things, he slid his hands inside the shirt and
lightly pushed it off her shoulders, his hands lingering on her skin as
he nudged her backward toward the bed.
“Yes, obvious. No, changing the subject won’t work.”
She sighed softly as he made her sit and knelt in front of her to
remove her shoes before quickly getting rid of his. When he stood
again, she was lying down, eyes closed, arms spread on each side of
her, so pale on the dark satin sheets.
“I… you’re going to want me to bite you now, aren’t you?”
He shut his eyes tight for a second, and managed, although with some
difficulty, to maintain his calm. By both keeping a cool head, they had
finally been able to talk about this, more than they had since it had
started. He couldn’t break the charm now. He had to remain calm at
least until they had talked this through.
“Yes, luv. And when you balk, I’ll make you do it anyway, even if it
pains me just to think about it. And you are going to balk, aren’t you?”
Sitting on the bed next to her, he simply placed one hand on top of
hers, reining in the urge to touch her exposed skin. Talk now. Touch
later.
“I can’t help it,” she mumbled. “I’m so scared…”
His hand tightened on her, trying to give some comfort and strength. “Scared of what?”
“Scared that bloodplay is going to make things worse, not better. Scared of what I may do if I truly lose myself to the demon.”
She hesitated, and he said nothing, knowing something else was coming. It did, in the form of a whisper.
“Scared of what it means exactly that you’re going to act more Sire-like.”
He suppressed the sigh that had risen to his lips.
“If it does make things worse, not that I think it will but if that’s
what happens, you know I’m right here. I won’t let you hurt yourself,
or hurt anyone.”
“What if I hurt you?” she interjected, her fingers intertwining with his and leading his hand to rest above her still heart.
“You won’t,” he replied with a confidence he felt down to his bones.
“Nor will I hurt you. Acting like a Sire should doesn’t mean I will
brutalize you.”
There was a brief flash of relief on her features, and he knew what had
brought it forth. A few times, over the years, he had casually made
comments about how his own Sire would have reacted in a given
situation, usually to point out she was lucky he wasn’t Angelus. He had
probably given her the idea that Angelus had been nothing but a mean
bastard. He had been a mean bastard, no doubt there, but he had been
more than that. A great teacher, for one thing, on the days and nights
when he had the patience to teach. An even more efficient one when he
didn’t have the patience, because then the incentive to learn well and
quickly was even greater.
“So, what does it mean?” Buffy interrupted his reminiscing.
Indeed, what did it mean, Spike reflected pensively as he drank in the
sight of her. Forcing her to feed, fine. He could do that. But that
wasn’t all, was it? Doing this and nothing else wasn’t going to solve
his own need for control, nor would it help her figure out exactly what
her place as his Childe was. He refused to lord over her like he had
seen some Masters do, commanding her every moves, robbing her of just
about all her free will. It was in part because of her force, her
strength, that he loved her so much, and he wouldn’t take that away
from her completely.
A vision of Angelus teaching him the lore in between two kills flashed
through his mind. There would be no kills for them, of course, but the
lore was part of what they were, even if he despised it, and maybe he
could at least give her an insight into that aspect of being a vampire.
Maybe – he doubted it, but he could hope – that would show her that she
was already very far from being a ‘normal’ vampire, and that she didn’t
need to alienate herself even more from her demon self.
Another memory flash, of Darla this time. She wasn’t usually a very
exigent Sire, and Angelus had never hesitated about imposing himself as
the leader. But she had very effective ways of reminding him, as well
as his Childer, who between the two of them had the true power, and if
he didn’t like it, there was nothing he could do then but bow to her or
suffer the consequences. If Darla hadn’t been dust, she would probably
have laughed to tears at the idea that Spike was going to take a clue
from her.
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The characters and names used in these stories do not belong to me. All copyrights remain with Fox and Mutant Enemy. No profit is made from this fanfiction.