Confrontations

Fuck. They’re going to fight.

Buffy watched the two vampires stare down at each other. The tension between them was so thick that she almost expected electricity to sparkle around them. Somehow, something in her discussion with Angel had made him completely snap, and she couldn’t understand what it was that had upset him so.

She reached out to Angel, placing a hand on his arm to get his attention. Bad move. He immediately shrugged her hand off, and a muscle started twitching in Spike’s jaw, proof enough that he had noticed her gesture and didn’t like it.

“Do you even love her? Or is it just a game for you?”

Spike’s eyes widened in surprise and turned completely gold at Angel’s growl.

“How dare you…” he started.

“You lie to her! You go hunting behind her back! And you never even claimed her!”

For the tiniest second, Spike’s eyes flickered to Buffy, and she shuddered at the cold look he gave her. His attention was quickly back on Angel. Both men’s fists were tightly closed, and it was a wonder that they weren’t trading blows yet.

Buffy managed to catch Steven’s eyes, and motioned for him to grab Spike. He nodded briefly and caught the blonde’s elbow, pulling him a few feet back, while Buffy was doing the same thing with Angel. Surprisingly, they both allowed themselves to be dragged back, though their eyes stayed locked.

“One, I do not lie,” Spike said coldly. “Two, that’s between the Slayer and me. And three…”

There was the slightest pause in his voice, then he asked suddenly:

“Did you ever tell her you claimed her?”

Though she couldn’t see his face, Buffy noticed that Angel flinched at the question.

“I didn’t do it consciously,” he defended himself. “And the claim was broken when she died anyway.”

Buffy wanted to say something, get them to explain to her what in hell they were talking about, what was a claim and when Angel had claimed her and why it mattered anyway if it was broken and what did that had to do with Spike claiming – or not claiming – her. But before she could formulate her question, Spike let out a cold laugh, his eyes still gleaming gold.

“But you never told her. And you ask me to explain my actions? Just mind your own fucking business, Angelus.”

Abruptly, Spike moved. Not toward Angel, not for a fight, but to the chair on which his duster was draped. He slipped it on before taking out his cigarettes and lighting one. Only then did he stride toward the door, pausing for a second by Buffy’s side, his eyes fixed straight ahead and away from her. His voice was very low, quivering with anger, and if the other two persons in the room hadn’t had more than excellent hearing they might not have heard.

“You said it was forgotten and forgiven, Slayer. So who is lying now?”

With that, he was gone. And Buffy could only stare at the place where he had disappeared, not entirely sure of exactly what had happened, but certain she had made a colossal mistake by talking to Angel. She came back to the present when Steven walked in front of her.

“Where are you going?” Angel asked him warily.

The boy stopped for a second, shrugging as he glanced at his father.

“Just going to make sure he doesn’t get in trouble.”

“Stay here.”

“No.”

“Steven! Come back!”

Angel’s shout remained unanswered as his son left the same way Spike had gone. Buffy turned to him, slightly relieved that the anger in his eyes had disappeared, replaced by unmistakable pain. Maybe she had screwed up by talking to him, but he had made things worse by rushing to confront Spike without even explaining to her. She considered him coldly, crossing her arms instinctively below her breast.

“So, maybe now you’ll tell me what a claim is?”

“A vampire claiming a Mate…’s a little like humans getting married.”

Spike peered down into his glass, surprised at finding it empty, and motioned for the waitress to come by.

“Bring me the bottle, ducks,” he said with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes.

He gave a quick glance at the boy sitting on the other side of the table. Maybe scotch was a bit too much for him; he had barely touched his glass. But it wasn’t half as fun to get drunk alone.

“Bring a couple of beers, too.”

The brunette eyed Steven, undoubtedly trying to guess his age, but said nothing and only nodded as Spike dropped bills on her tray. She walked away, and it was a measure of Spike’s irritation that he didn’t even pay attention to the curves barely covered by her short skirt. He returned his gaze to Steven, while reaching for the boy’s still full glass.

“Why do you want to know anyway?” he said morosely. “You’re not a vamp. You can’t claim Dawn.”

He had been surprised when the kid sat down with him only seconds after he had entered the bar. He had known, dimly, that someone was following him, but had thought it was Angel.

“I’m just trying to understand what went on back there,” Steven said softly.

That was an interesting question, indeed. Why in hell had the bloody Poof been so ticked off? What exactly had Buffy been telling him? And why had she told him about the hunt, she was the one who had said they should forget about it.

The waitress came back with the drinks, and Spike pushed a beer toward the kid.

“What went on is that your bleedin’ father put his nose in business that is not his.”

He drained the glass and put it back down on the table with a loud ‘clang’ before filling it again. He spared a quick glance at the label of the bottle, wincing at the cheap brand, before deciding it didn’t matter.

“If he…claimed Buffy as you said he did, doesn’t that make her his business?”

As he finished his question, Steven took a tentative swig from his bottle, and Spike couldn’t help grinning at the look that crossed his face.

“It tastes better when you’ve had two or three,” he said with a smirk, raising his glass for a toast. “And he admitted the claim was broken, so she’s not his business. Not any more.”

The bar was very loud, crowded, and filled with a heavy smoke haze, but Spike had ‘liberated’ a table in a relatively quiet corner. It was always comforting what a flash of fangs could do.

“So why didn’t you claim her?” Steven asked, eyebrows stuck on a puzzled frown.

“’Cause I didn’t know his claim was broken,” Spike said blankly. “And because I already have a Mate.”

Surprise ran through the boy’s eyes, and a hint of disapproval, though it didn’t pierce in his voice as he asked:

“Who? And why? If you love Buffy…”

“I do love her,” Spike growled. “Don’t start rambling like your father. Dru was my Mate long before I ever met Buffy. The Slayer wasn’t even born when I claimed her!”

The boy took a long swallow, and Spike was almost surprised to notice he had emptied his beer bottle already. Of course, the vampire was himself on his fourth glass of scotch. Or was it fifth?

“Dru is Drusilla?”

Spike nodded.

“Yes. Drusilla. She chose me, you know? She was going to turn me, and then Angelus stopped her. He took one look at me, and decided he would turn me instead. Make me his. Big happy family, we were. Dru, me, Angelus and Darla. Sometimes, at least, a fucking happy family. Sometimes it was just hell, but hey, vampires, that’s what we do. Then he ran off with his bloody soul. And the bitch left us too. So it was just me an’ Dru. For almost a century, just the two of us. Bleedin’ good time, we had. Though she would moan about her lost Daddy sometimes. I learned to hate him then, just as much as I missed him. Took me seventy-seven years to convince her to let me claim her. And to claim me too.”

Steven’s eyes grew wide as Spike talked, and the vampire realized that it was the first time he had ever told the boy so much in one session about Angelus. Too much, probably. And hadn’t he called the boy’s mother a bitch too? Hell, who cared…

“So then,” he continued his rant, leaning toward Steven as if confiding a secret, “we come to Sunnyhell, me and my Princess, and guess who’s there? Soulboy. It didn’t take long for him to lose it, and Angelus was back. Back in Dru’s bed. So much for me being her Mate and all. And then she left me. Twice. For bleedin’ inferior demons. Came back to me in the end, when her Daddy hurt her, but it was too late by then. I didn’t care anymore. All I wanted was Buffy.”

Somehow, as Spike talked, Steven had finished his second beer, and the bottle of scotch had been mysteriously emptied. Spike caught the waitress’ attention again, and threw some more bills on her tray.

“Spike,” the boy said quietly after the brunette had come back with more refreshments, “why did you call him Angelus? You always said they’re two different people.”

Spike frowned as he filled his glass once more. He had been really pissed off if he had let that name slip in front of Steven.

“They are different,” he replied, hesitating a little. “But sometimes, it seems that Angelus is just below the surface. “Never seen him do that with you, though. The bastard only comes out for me, I think.”

He couldn’t help smirking at that, and Steven watched him with curiosity for a moment, before saying:

“You enjoy it. You like to have Angelus in front of you instead of Angel.”

The vampire shrugged. Why deny it?

“’M used to Angelus. He’s my Sire. Can deal with him. Angel, I don’t really know. Bloody Poof.”

“Tell me about Angelus. And about Darla.”

A warning buzzed on in Spike’s head. The kid had never asked something like that before; he usually avoided talking about his parents. But he sounded dead serious right now, he really wanted to know. This could be very, very dangerous. Angel didn’t want his son to hear the old stories, at all; he had been clear about that. But then again, who cared about what the Poof thought?

“What d’you wanna know, kid?”

Steven looked very gravely at him and took a long swallow from his new bottle.

“Everything.”