If Angel counted the time, in the last dozen decades or so, that he had spent in close contact with Spike, it added up to just about Buffy’s age. A simple coincidence that meant one simple thing. He knew the other vampire as well as if he had been his own Childe; and in a sense, he was. Angelus had taught him, trained him, and tried to curb him to the elder’s way of hunting, killing, feeding. In the end, Spike had taken only what he wanted from these teachings, and followed his own mind for the rest. And during all of it, twin passions had molded the younger vamp’s actions. The first was Drusilla, for whom Spike would have done anything – anything at all, even allying with the Slayer. The second was excitement. Impatient, quickly bored, the blond had always needed challenges, fights, and fun, and Angelus had quickly given up trying to teach him subtlety.

Dru was gone now, replaced in his heart by, of all people, a Slayer. Apparently, so far, it had been sufficient to restrain his second passion, the need to kill, to fight, to use fists and fangs; and what was left was directed toward demons, not humans. Angel hadn’t been present for the truth spell a few days before, but he had heard about it since, more than he would have wished. He could admit that, for now, the other vampire was still fighting on the good side. Yet, he couldn’t believe that Spike’s infatuation for Buffy would control the desire for fresh blood and real fun for long. It wouldn’t last. It couldn’t last. Sadly, Buffy refused to understand. Just as she refused to understand why Angel couldn’t give her what she wanted.

In the last few days, she had been hinting less and less subtly about prom, about going home with Angel afterwards. It was clear what she wanted.  Angel didn’t know how to tell her no without hurting her. It wasn’t simply the fear of losing his soul that was stopping him from taking her in his arms and never letting go. It was also the Mayor’s words, as well as Joyce’s. She had come to the mansion the previous day and told him the same thing the Mayor had, in different words. Angel had been blind until then, believing that, despite the obstacles, he and Buffy could have a future together. He wasn’t sure anymore it was true. Even if it was, he did not deserve it. Did not deserve her.

From where he stood on the roof of a mausoleum, he watched the two blonds patrolling through the graveyard. There wasn’t much to do, these nights. It was as if the demon population knew that something big was about to happen and had decided to keep a low profile until then. It was certainly better that way; if there was no distraction, Buffy at least could keep a sharper eye on Spike, since she had declined to tell him to stay away from her.Angel had renounced fighting that battle, it was all too clear she wouldn’t change her mind about that, or at least not because of anything Angel could say.

Lost in his thoughts, Angel missed the first seconds of the fight. When he realized what he had predicted was happening and Spike was attacking Buffy, he jumped to the ground and ran toward them. He tackled Spike from behind, sending him to the ground, a stake already out and plunging toward the blond’s chest.

A tiny but powerful hand closed on his wrist and jerked Angel back, pulling him off the other vampire and sending the stake flying. Baffled, he sought Buffy’s gaze, tried to understand why she would protect her attacker, why she looked so surprised. So annoyed.

“What the bloody hell is wrong with you?” Spike sputtered indignantly as he jumped to his feet, brushing dirt and grass off him. “Can’t even take me face to face?”

Angel slowly stood and ignored the blond, focusing instead on Buffy.

“I told you not to trust him. Told you he would turn against you and…”

“And spar with me because we didn’t find anything to kill and we both had energy to burn?”

It took a few seconds for the words to sink in, enough time for Spike to light a cigarette and chuckle.

“Oh, this is going to be a good one,” the blond vampire said, almost gleeful. “I want an apology. A sincere one, mind you.”

Angel turned his eyes, which he knew were more amber than brown, toward his grandchilde; but it didn’t seem to impress Spike, who was taking deep pulls on his cigarette and smirking lightly.

“Spike, you’re not helping,” Buffy said tiredly. “I think patrol is over for tonight.”

“Already? But it’s so early, luv! How about another round?”

Judging by Spike’s widening grin, he was trying to get a rise out of Angel. The older vampire refused to give him satisfaction and remained quiet, wishing Buffy would get rid of Spike a bit faster.

“Don’t be such a pain,” she told the blond, her slight smile belying the roughness of the words.

“Oh, no need to cry, I’ll go. But I’m dropping by to see your mum.”

Inwardly, Angel screamed his warning for Buffy to refuse, to keep Spike and his lack of soul away from her mother. For a second, she hesitated, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, and he thought she would follow his silent urging. Disappointment came fast.

“Alright, you can go,” she agreed with some reluctance. “But you stay out.”

Spike seemed shocked, as if he hadn’t expected her answer, but he didn’t discuss the limits she was imposing on him and was soon sauntering away, with a last smirking glance at Angel.

“Trusting him with your own life is one thing,” Angel commented as calmly as he could. “But your mother doesn’t stand a chance if…”

“And that’s why she won’t invite him in,” Buffy cut in. “But she wanted to talk to him, and made me promise to send him her way.”

Angel had the sudden feeling Joyce would give Spike the same speech she had given him the day before, but Buffy didn’t give him much time to think about it.

“Were you following us?” Buffy asked abruptly.

There was no point denying it. “I just needed to make sure you’d be fine. You know I don’t trust Spike.”

She tilted her head to the side, watching him intently; Angel wondered what was going through her mind.

“Is it Spike you don’t trust, or is it me?”

The calmness of her voice surprised him as much as the words.

“Of course I trust you!”

“Because from where I stand,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard him, “it’s not so clear. You don’t trust me where your soul is concerned, you don’t trust my judgment with Spike, you’d rather follow me than patrol…”

Her voice trailed off as Angel shook his head.

“It’s not you or your judgment, I don’t trust. It’s me. It’s Spike. We’re vampires, Buffy. When all is said and done, we’re still demons. Souled or not. And you deserve a lot more than having demons in your life, as allies or friends or anything else.”

She snorted, but looked far for amused.

“Yeah, well, go tell that to whoever made me the Slayer, because at this point demons are pretty much all there is to my life.”

“And you deserve more,” Angel repeated slowly. “You should have a normal life, or as normal as possible. A boyfriend who can take you in the sun, and give you children, and I won’t stand in the way of your happiness.”

Hazel eyes widened in shock stared at him, and Angel remained quiet, giving her time to understand his words. It would be hard, for both of them, but he knew he was making the right choice. Some day, he hoped she would understand he only had her best interests at heart. Then maybe she’d forgive him.


With a smile, Joyce went to the back door upon hearing a knock on it, but it was a tense smile. Part of her was glad to see Spike; glad to know he was still one of the white hats even though he had lost his soul. She liked to believe that she had played a small role into making him a better man. Yet, another part of her was wary of the way he looked at Buffy, of his increased attentiveness whenever Joyce mentioned her, of the feelings she suspected he might have for her daughter.

She had talked to Angel the day before, pointing out that Buffy should have a real life and that the vampire could not give her that life. She hoped he would take her hint; even if it would hurt Buffy in the short term, it was a necessity for her to stop seeing Angel. It wouldn’t work, however, to get one vampire out of the picture only to have him replaced by another. Joyce liked Spike, yes, she enjoyed their talks and considered him a little like family. But hearing that he had lost his soul had reminded her that, like Angel, he wasn’t the perfect candidate to be Buffy’s companion. Had Spike and Angel both been humans, she would have meddled and tried to push Buffy toward Spike; something about Angel irked her, and she really couldn’t stand him. But in the present case, and whatever she thought of him, Spike simply wasn’t an option for her daughter.

Him outside, her inside, like they had done since the beginning, they shared some hot cocoa until Joyce was ready to broach the subject. Calmly, she told him what she suspected of his feelings for Buffy; and when he didn’t deny, she knew she had been right. She repeated the words she had told Angel, expecting the same quiet acquiescence. What she got instead was a snort.

“There’s something I don’t think you get,” the vampire said as he stood, leaving the mug on the step. His eyes were sad as he looked at her. Not unfriendly, but disappointed. “Your little girl is not normal. She’ll never have a normal life. She’ll be lucky to survive her graduation day. She’ll beat the odds if she’s still alive a year from today. If she has a child, the kid will be orphan before he’s old enough to remember much of her.”

The words were abrupt, and chilled Joyce to the bones, making her shiver. Spike didn’t stop, however.

“So tell me, Joyce. What do you want for her? A human love that could give her the illusion of normalcy for a few months without ever understanding her? Or do you want her to live as long as she can? ‘Cause me, I’m working on the second one. And with all due respect, I’m not gonna stop because you suddenly remembered I have fangs.”

Joyce was about to answer – answer how she had no clue, but she had to make him see she was doing this for Buffy – when the noise of the front door banging shut drew her attention behind her. She barely caught a glimpse of her daughter rushing toward the steps, heart-wrenching sobs filling the room. When she turned to Spike again, his expression was unreadable.

“Sounds like you convinced one vamp, Joyce,” he said softly. “But you won’t convince the other one. She’s strong enough to make her own choices.”

Stricken by his words and more than a little confused, Joyce watched him disappear into the night before she joined her daughter to try to comfort her.


When I think of her smiling, it’s often the smile from her prom night I remember, when she walked onto the stage and received that stupid umbrella. She was resplendent.

Angel had broken up with her. She had spent her evening chasing hellhounds. She knew the Ascension of the Mayor was only days away. But at that very moment, she was happy. If you ask me, there’s a simple reason. It was one of the first times where her Slayer life and normal life meshed; and for a few minutes, she could be both the Slayer and the girl. I’ve tried to give her as many moments like these as I can, but given what I am, it hasn’t always been easy.

So, yeah, I went to her prom. William the Bloody went to a prom. I know. Terrifying. Hadn’t I sworn, long before, that this kind of social events was only good if I got to create a blood bath? There was none though that night. A small fight before, as I helped her with the hellhound things – although she was so worked up, she could have taken them single-handedly – but no carnage. I suppose she expected me to leave after our hunt, seeing how she said goodnight and all before darting off to change, but I couldn’t leave it at that. I wanted to see her in her pretty dress. Would have been even prettier in black, or even better, red, but she doesn’t exactly listen to me about her choice in clothing. I slipped through a back door, all the while thinking that if I had been in a snacking mood, I could have made an easy kill. Found the Watchers, scared the wanker one away, and told Giles about the hunt. That’s when they gave her the prezzie. That’s when I saw her beautiful smile for the first time.

She came straight to her Watcher afterwards, looking a bit surprised to see me there, and then commented that I could have put on a tuxedo. She’s funny, my Slayer.

Then out of the blue, she made me speechless. Asked me if I wanted to dance with her.

Yeah, I know. Never saw that one coming either. Out of the blue, I tell you. Not that I was going to complain, of course, but as soon as she gave her umbrella to Giles, we walked to the dance floor. Bonus – it was a slow song playing.

She rested her hands on my shoulders, a bit hesitantly, and I settled mine on her hips. The satin of her dress was nice to the touch, but I would have given a lot to know the feel of her skin. For a few instants, everything was perfect, and I might have lost my soul if I still had had one to lose. We were probably a strange sight, her in light pink evening wear, me in old jeans and duster, but I couldn’t have cared less. The music, the soft rhythm of our swaying together, her heat so close to my body, her lovely face close enough to kiss, these were the only things I was aware of.

Then… then I noticed that her gaze was darting every so often past my shoulder, and every time it did, her eyes seemed to shine with unshed tears. I shifted our steps so that I could see what or who she was looking at. It didn’t take me long to notice the brooding wonder on the other side of the room, dressed in a tuxedo and looking as if he was about to crumble to ashes.

“Luv?”

She finally looked at me, blinking the tears away. The words burned my throat even as I said them, but I couldn’t let it go on like this. I couldn’t let it all happen again.

“I won’t be a substitute for Angel,” I said and bit my tongue before adding too much.

She seemed a little surprised, and to her credit, she blushed, a little embarrassed I supposed that I had caught her game.

“I know you’re not like him,” she murmured, looking anywhere but at me. “It’s one of the reasons you’re not dust yet.”

One of several reasons? I wanted to ask what were the others, but I also needed to know something.

“So, what are we doing here? ‘Cause as much as I hate to say it, seems to me you could be having a last dance or something.”

She shrugged, still avoiding my gaze.

“We’re making him jealous. He’s been jealous of you for months, at least now he has a reason to be.”

I managed to stifle a laugh, but not without pain. All trace of laughter disappeared however when I caught her first quiet sob. Without thinking, I pulled her closer to me, and she took the opportunity I was offering her, hiding her face – and her tears – against my shirt. I leaned my cheek to the top of her head, trying to shush her with senseless murmurs even as I glared at Angel. He finally left. She remained where she was until the slow songs were over, and then gave me a sad but thankful little smile.