Two Demons
The reunion was more than a little awkward. Buffy couldn’t honestly say
she was sorry about the way Spike had welcomed her father, though. She
had only caught the last few words of his rant about Hank and his
absence in his daughters’ lives, but that had been enough to see that
her husband had a very clear idea of the relationships in the Summers
family. And Hanks’ expression upon being told what an awful father he
was by someone he had never met before but who turned out to be his son
in law… well, that had been utterly priceless.
The four of them were now in the living room. Giles was in an armchair
on the side, Buffy and Spike on the sofa, and Hank in the other
armchair across from them. There was still a reprobating look in his
eyes whenever he looked toward Spike, and Buffy made a show to lean
against him and thread her fingers with her Mate’s.
“So… how long have you been married?”
There was an edge, on the last word, and Buffy found it difficult to keep her temper in check.
“It will be three years in a few days,” she said on a strained but pleasant tone.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Unconsciously, her grip on Spike’s hand tightened. Hank had been quick
in turning the tables on her and becoming the accusing one.
“I tried to, but it felt rather rude to leave a message with your
secretary or on your answering machine. And once it had happened… well,
I had other things to occupy me.”
Had she been human, she would probably have blushed at the memories
these words stirred. Spike and her hadn’t gone on a honeymoon, but they
hadn’t left the house for a few days, and celebrated quite properly.
She felt Spike’s lips brush against her temple, and that was a silent
proof that he remembered just as well as she did. Hank’s mouth twisted
slightly at the display of affection, which only annoyed Buffy a little
more.
“What about Dawn?” Hank changed the angle of attack. “You could have
told me that she was moving to LA, she could have lived with me. She’s
too young to live by herself and…”
Spike laughed out loud at that, and got to his feet, shaking his head.
“Now I know where you got your sense of humor from, luv,” he said, still laughing, as he walked toward the kitchen.
From the corner of her eye, Buffy could see that Giles, although
seemingly contemplating the deepest mysteries of the universe in his
cup of tea, was also shaking his head lightly.
“For one thing,” Buffy said coolly, “Dawn is old enough to do as she
pleases. For another, I very much would like to see you try to convince
her she’s not. And finally, she doesn’t live alone.”
She waited almost gleefully for the question that would logically come next.
“She doesn’t?” Hank asked, perplexed and frowning. “Who does she live with? She didn’t mention…”
Of course, she hadn’t mentioned anything, Buffy thought bitterly. Dawn
had been so shocked when she walked right into her father during the
first show held by the gallery she worked for that she had been just
about speechless, she had admitted when Buffy talked to her two nights
before. And even more shocked by the fact that he had on his arm a
woman who didn’t seem any older than Buffy. From what she had said, the
discussion had been short, and icy.
“If you had come to her high school or college graduations,” Buffy
stated slowly, “and we did invite you for these, weeks in advance, so
you had no excuse, you would have met him. His name is Steven. He’s a
wonderful young man. He has a small tendency of being very protective
of the people he loves, though, just like Spike, so when… if you ever meet him, don’t be surprised if he slams a door in your face, too.”
Hank’s mood visibly darkened at that, and he shot a resentful glance in
the direction of the kitchen where Spike had disappeared. He obviously
hadn’t seen any humor in the way he had been welcomed.
“I’m surprised you condone such behavior, Buffy,” he said coldly. “You were raised better than that.”
The underlying message was clear. She was better than Spike, could have
found a better husband than him. She refused to allow herself to be led
on that path, though, and brought the discussion back where it
belonged. To Hank’s own shortcomings.
“However I was raised, it wasn’t by you,” she stated with more calm
than she felt. “So you don’t have to take credit or blame for anything
I do.”
Spike came back, then, and resumed his seat by her side. He had in hand
a mug of blood, and as he took a sip he threw her a strange look. She
immediately realized why, his warning about punishment and witnesses
clear and loud in her mind. She had to get blood and feed, and she had
to do it now or she might discover what he had meant exactly when he
had said she wouldn’t enjoy the consequences, which she really had no
desire to know. She didn’t want to leave him and Hank alone though,
even with Giles as a silent observer. That only left her a choice. She
took the mug from him, and just by the scent she could tell it was
human. Trying not to think of anything, she drank half of it in a long
swallow. She then offered it back to Spike, but he shook his head
lightly.
“Finish it, luv. I’ll get some more later.”
She tried not to scowl at his smirk. If he got more, she would have to
drink more too, and this seemed a lot like he was tricking her into
feeding more. And to think she still didn’t feel any hunger…
She was brought back to more immediate matters by Hank’s annoyed huffing.
“In polite society, it is considered courteous to offer drinks to your guests.”
“It works out well, then,” Spike said shortly. “’Cause I’m not polite, and you’re not a guest.”
Ignoring Spike’s intervention, his first words to Hank, actually, since
he had been invited in the house, her father looked straight at Buffy
with a small smile.
“Honey, I’d like some coffee, too, if you please.”
For a second, Buffy saw herself telling Hank that it wasn’t coffee she
was drinking, but blood. She saw him, in her mind, shocked and in
denial, accusing Spike of brainwashing her, threatening to sue,
promising her to get help for her and free her from this mockery of a
marriage and from the sect that had obviously indoctrinated her. She
imagined shifting to game face to prove her words to him, and his fear
and subsequent departure… Tempting…
“I am not polite either, Dad. Was there a reason to your visit? Because I think you need to leave.”
The shock was there, if not as pronounced as in her little fantasy.
“Leave?” he sputtered. “My reason? Of course I had… I mean, Dawn, she can’t…”
“We’ve already talked about that,” she interrupted him as she rose to
her feet. “Dawn is an adult and does whatever she pleases. If you have
a problem with that… well, I’d tell you to talk to her, but I doubt she
would listen, so you’ll just have to deal. I can’t say it was nice to
see you again, but it was certainly a surprise. Goodbye, now.”
Hank was still seated, gaping at Buffy, Spike and Giles in turn, as if
expecting for help to come from the two men. No other word was offered
to him, though, and he finally rose to his feet and followed Buffy to
the door. He didn’t look at her, didn’t say anything, and just left,
high head and stiff back, very clearly offended. Buffy watched the car
go, and realized that, truly, she couldn’t have cared less about what
he thought. She had enough problems right now without him trying to get
back in the picture.
As he watched Buffy dismiss her father, Spike couldn’t help feeling
oddly proud of her. He loved so much that strong part of her that was
not afraid to take charge and speak her mind. He realized that it just
went against what he should feel – Sires didn’t usually like their
Childer to show that much strength and determination. But he had loved
that part of her long before he turned her, still loved it now, and was
sure he always would. Wasn’t that why he hated so much to control her,
anyway?
And he could only thank her silently for not having forgotten the new
rule – he had expected her to need a reminder the first time, but she
hadn’t, to his great relief. He warmed more blood after she sent the
wanker away, leaving her and Giles to do small talk for a couple of
minutes. And although her mouth twisted in a thin line when he returned
with the two full mugs to the living room, she didn’t complain, didn’t
say she wasn’t hungry, didn’t point out she had already fed. She
accepted the blood, and sipped on it slowly, her look somewhere between
resigned and mutinous.
“Watcher? You were going to tell me something before we were interrupted?”
Giles bent forward to place his empty teacup on the coffee table, and
it looked very much like he was trying once more to delay whatever news
he had. He finally gave the two vamps a small smile.
“Yes, I did have some news, but since Buffy seems to be feeding normally again, it might not be necessary any more.”
As Giles said these words, Spike could feel Buffy stiffening at his
side, and when he turned his face to look at her, he found that she was
now glaring at him.
“You told Giles?” she hissed.
“And you told Angel,” he replied coolly. “Help comes in more than one form.”
He brought his eyes and attention back to Giles, signifying clearly to
his Childe, or so he hoped, that it was his prerogative to find help
however he could.
“She’s feeding, but all is not back to normal,” he explained to the Watcher. “So tell us, what did you find?”
Giles seemed a little taken aback by the whole exchange, and he frowned
as he leaned back in his armchair and took off his glasses.
“The Council has a very wide collection of archives,” he began, slowly,
almost as if very uncharacteristically searching for his words.
“Documents older than the Council itself. Copied down many times,
translated, sometimes mistranslated, …”
“And what does that have to do with Buffy?” Spike cut in impatiently.
“One of the older documents,” Giles continued without acknowledging the
interruption, “explains how the First Slayer was… given her power. The
same power that runs through every Slayer that is called. The very same
power that runs into Buffy right now. To fight demons, it seems that…
it seems that the original Slayer was made part demon herself. It is
not very clear how, but one theory is that she was given the strengths
of a vampire, without the drawbacks. Superior force, quick healing, but
no problems with sunlight or… well, you know what a vampire’s
weaknesses are.”
Giles paused then, and Spike turned once more to look at Buffy, just as
she was placing her mug on the coffee table and rising from the sofa.
Judging by her expression, she had understood Giles’ words the same way
he had.
“I’m not feeling well,” she said in a very faint voice. “I think I’ll go back to bed for a while.”
Spike caught her wrist before she could walk away.
“You can’t escape it, luv,” he said softly. “You can’t ignore it.
You’ll just have to accept it. Accept both of them. Before your demons
kill you.”
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