Anniversary

In the last couple of weeks or so, ever since the baby shower and the discussion during which he had pointed out to her how she seemed to be doing everything to pretend she was human, Spike had noticed that Buffy was being slightly distant from him. She denied it, of course, but the truth was, it was more than an impression. She was closing herself to him, as she hadn’t done in years, and he just couldn’t understand why.

All he wanted was for her to be alright, to feel good in her mind and body. He cared about her, more deeply than he could express, for the triple reason that she was his Childe, his Mate and his wife. So, of course, he worried about her. And that only seemed to annoy her. Any mention of human blood, any concerned look he gave her even, was met by the same statement. It was her choice, and he ought to respect that if he respected her. That word, choice, was taken straight from what he had told Steven, what he knew she had heard, but she hadn’t mentioned the talk otherwise, not even to say what it was that she had told Dawn about the same subject. And every time she said that one word, it was almost like a challenge, like she wanted him to try and convince her that she had no choice in the matter.

Unwilling to irritate her more, and unable to find a way to make her listen to his advice that did not involve robbing her of her free will, he tried to show himself supportive, and waited, as patiently as he could, for the anniversary of their mating to arrive. He wanted to make it special, and, hopefully, what he had planned would help bridge the drift between them.

Finally the day came. He had warned Min and her Watcher, out of Buffy’s presence, that they would not train or patrol with the kid on that day, and so the evening was theirs to do as they pleased. He had also arranged for Anya to call and request Buffy’s help in the afternoon, so that he could prepare his surprise in her absence. They had celebrated the occasion the previous years, but this time Buffy hadn’t said a word about it, so he couldn’t help but wonder if she was preparing her own surprise. He received his answer when she came back from the shop, found the house littered with rose petals and lit by dozens of small candles, soft music playing in the background and a dinner for two on the dining table – and asked with a delighted smile what the occasion was. He managed, with some difficulty, to hide his disappointment that she had forgotten.

“The occasion is about something you asked me three years ago,” he replied softly as he took her hand and invited her for a slow dance. “Do you remember?”

“Something I asked…” she repeated, puzzled, before suddenly realizing what it was. “Oh. Our mating. I’m sorry, I had completely…”

He cut her by brushing his lips on hers, a simple caress, and a promise for much more to come.

“I’ve had so much in mind lately,” she murmured as she rested her head against his shoulder. “I’m really sorry.”

“Shh, don’t worry about it,” he said with a kiss to her hair.

For several long minutes, they swayed slowly to the music, and Spike could almost forget the tension of the last few days. Almost, but not quite. And now that she didn’t seem so defensive, it might be the perfect moment to try to know what was going on.

“Luv? You want to tell me all that is on your mind? Maybe I can help.”

He had pulled out a little to look at her, and as he could see the flutter of doubt through her features, he couldn’t suppress a sigh.

“Right. Forget I asked.”

There was a twinge of bitterness in his voice, and she must have picked it up because a look of guilt settled on her face.

“It’s nothing, really,” she tried to assure him.

“It’s nothing but it has you closing off from me.”

She shook her head lightly. “I am not closing off,” she stated firmly. “I’ve just been thinking a lot, that’s all.”

“Thinking about what?” he tried once more.

The music came to an end, but they kept swaying, oblivious. He watched her, his forehead pressed to hers, as she worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

“Just thinking about what we’re doing here,” she said at last, whispering. “Training the Slayers and the Potentials, I mean. We didn’t change a thing for Chloe, she still died despite the help we gave her. And I’m afraid for Min, she’s so reckless sometimes. So if it’s already decided that they will die early, what’s the point of training them? And if Slayers die early, why am I still here? Is there another grand plan that I will have to fight through? It’s like the Powers are continuously testing me. Like if I make the smallest mistake, the most horrible things will happen.”

“Is that what this is all about?” he asked quietly. “You doing everything like a human, and barely biting me anymore, it’s because you think you’re on trial or something?”

A very faint smile tugged at her lips. “Or something,” she acquiesced.

What could he answer to that? What could he say to convince her that she didn’t have to be the perfect game piece for the damn Powers That Played, that being herself was more than enough?

“We trained Manon,” he reminded her. “And she’s still fine. So we can really help them. And we can do so by being ourselves. By being strong.”

“And that’s what I try to be,” she said with a nod. “Strong. Stronger than the demon. I know I can beat it.”

He stopped the dance and cupped her face in his hands. “Luv…”

He was about to tell her that beating the demon would be exactly the same as taking herself down, but she didn’t let him. She pressed her lips to his, and when she let go, drew him toward the dinner table. He didn’t insist, because, if everything went as planned, she would soon know without him needing to tell her.

Neither of them needed real food, and truthfully, neither could benefit from the complete taste of it. But Buffy still enjoyed the muted flavors and the textures, just as she knew that Spike did. So when he was saying that she was trying to be as close to a human as she could, wasn’t he actually doing the same thing? And wasn’t this whole dinner, this celebration of one of their special dates, one more way to play at being humans?

Whatever it was, she appreciated the feeling. A lot. Because she sure could use the distraction

As she had told him, she had been thinking a lot lately, too much maybe, about what she was, what the purpose of her existence was. It had started with the failure of keeping Chloe alive, first a nagging thought, every now and then, and slowly coming up to the front of her mind. Always, it came down to one thing. Slayer. She was the instrument of the Powers That Be to eliminate demons, stop apocalypses, and things of the same kind. That she was herself a vampire didn’t change a thing about it, it just meant that she had to battle her own demon in addition to the others. What still wasn’t very clear was whether ‘things of the same kind’ included working on a nightly basis with another Slayer. Except for cases of emergency, a Slayer was after all a solitary predator. That there were several Slayers in activity didn’t quite change that.

What she hadn’t told Spike was that she disagreed with his own view of life, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about this. She had always had the deep feeling that he could understand her, that he knew her almost as well as he knew himself, but how could he if he believed basically the opposite of what she thought? And how could she tell him, without him laughing in her face, that she trusted, believed with all her soul, that he, too, had a destiny, a purpose that was bigger than he was by himself. Independent as he was, if he thought that something was expected from him, he was very much capable of doing the exact opposite. Especially since he had been rather annoyed – and it was an understatement – by the little test he had been subjected to when she had lost her soul. He was still diffident toward the Powers - Cordy’s bosses, as he called them – and she doubted that telling him of her beliefs would change anything about that.

The dinner went pleasantly, with small talk, smiles and flirting. Nothing that could hurt, nothing that could bring back on the table subjects that weren’t safe, that wouldn’t be safe for a long while yet. Things had been tense, lately. Buffy was struggling with redefining herself and her fight, and she felt like Spike was constantly observing her, his look reprobating when his words weren’t. The change was nice, even if it was only for the time of an evening. Afterwards, Buffy expected they would go for patrol, but Spike half-surprised her by announcing Min wasn’t expecting them. Only half, because she very much could see that all this preparation was leading to something, and this something would most certainly take place between the satin sheets of their bed. She didn’t mind, far from it, even though a little part of her felt guilty about skipping patrol.

Smiling, she took Spike’s offered hand, and allowed him to lead her upstairs. He made her wait by the door for a second, before ushering her in their now candlelit bedroom. Strangely, he had pulled the bed in the middle of the room, and there was a circle of sand and candles around it. She questioned him with a silent look, and noticed for the first time the expectation on his features.

“I would like to do something with you tonight,” he explained softly as he held her close and gazed into her eyes. “Something that will make us closer. Bond us even more tightly than we already are.”

She smiled at him. “I’m not sure that’s really possible,” she said a bit teasingly.

He smiled back and pressed his forehead to hers. “This is how it works. For just an instant as the ritual peaks, our two consciences merge. We still stay ourselves, but we become the other too. See through their eyes, heart and mind. Understand all they are, all they feel, all they think. Just a short instant, but supposedly the feeling remains with you forever.”

Buffy had to fight a frown from emerging on her brow, she wasn’t sure she liked where this seemed to be going.

“There are things I would like to tell you,” he continued as she wasn’t answering, “but that I don’t know how to express. When we do this, I won’t have to, because you will feel them. It is important for me.”

The last few words were a mere murmur, and told Buffy that he had sensed her reserve.

“You said it’s a ritual?” she couldn’t help but question. “What kind exactly? Did you ever do it before? Are you even sure it works?”

He took a deep breath before he answered. Not a very good sign.

“I never participated in it myself, but I know it works. It’s something very old, part of the vampire tradition. It is rarely done, though, because few of us trust someone enough to reveal all that they are to them.”

There was a question, in that statement. Did she trust him enough? Obviously, he trusted her, or he wouldn’t have suggested it.

“You still didn’t tell me what’s the ritual,” she evaded.

“A few customary sentences,” he said in a hushed voice. “We cut our palms and clasp hands. Then we make love. And as we peak, we share blood with each other. Just not the usual way. We share all of it. One of us drains the other, completely, and then return all of the blood taken. And that’s when the merging happens.”

A shiver ran down Buffy’s spine, and she turned her gaze to look at the already prepared scene in front of her. Obviously, it wasn’t a last minute idea. Knowing him, he had thought about it, had planned it carefully, waited for a special day, made everything before this delightful and romantic. It just pained her even more not to be able to say yes.