Storms

Before the end of the day, Buffy had narrated her dream at least five times. Giles had insisted on hearing it three times himself, growing more excited with each repetition. (Buffy had noticed long ago that he cleaned his glasses faster when he was excited.) Apparently, the revelation of her soon becoming human seemed to fit perfectly into the prophecy, as did the inclusion by Cordelia of Spike, Angel and Steven in the battle. The two Watchers returned to their translating, muttering to each other as they leaned over books and notes. Buffy couldn’t help but notice how close these two had seemed to become in just a few days. It must have had something to do with them both being British and obsessed with tea and old books.

In the morning, when Steven had joined them in the kitchen for breakfast, Spike had told him laconically to call his father, without explaining why. Puzzled, the teen had done as he had been instructed, and had soon been grinning as he heard the good news.

Dawn, too, had been quite excited when she heard about Buffy and Spike, and she had quickly started making wedding plans for them, as well as thinking of baby names. Buffy had calmed her down gently, reminding her that they still had an apocalypse to go through before they could start thinking about all that. In truth, she was as thrilled as Dawn, but her excitement was tempered by Spike’s apparent indifference. He seemed to be taking the thing almost serenely, but his eyes belied this, two gray storms through which unrecognizable emotions rolled wildly. Buffy thought she understood. She had been a vampire for three years, and she was a bit anxious as well as excited to be human again. She could only imagine what it was like after a hundred and twenty something years.

As they were patrolling, in the park for a change, not in a cemetery, Spike was holding Buffy’s hand tightly. Not very effective, fight readiness wise, but soothing. And after all, what was the point of patrolling in group if he couldn’t even relax a little? Not that he was really relaxed – far from it, actually. The day had been long and unnerving. Everyone had been assuming that he was as ecstatic as Buffy and the Poof, and it had been a struggle not to tell them all – tell her – the truth. But he couldn’t do that. If becoming human was the way to be with his Slayer, then human he would be. Even if it killed him.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice it at first. The presence was familiar, even after years of not feeling it, and he didn’t pay attention to it. But eventually, he realized what was going on. He didn’t look around, didn’t try to see; he didn’t need to, and could have pointed in the right direction with his eyes closed. Now that he knew, he could even pick up a faint scent of jasmine in the air. Neither Slayer had reacted yet, but it wouldn’t be long before they noticed it too.

“Let’s split up,” Spike said suddenly. “We’re probably scaring away all the beasties, going around like we’re the bloody infantry or something.”

After a short discussion, the two Slayers went one way, while Steven and Dawn headed out in another. Spike watched them all go, before turning and walking straight in the direction of both the smell and the presence he sensed.

The moon was nothing but a faint smile drawn in the sky, but the cool light it cast gave an almost eerie glow to her cream lace gown. Her face was tilted up as he approached her, her hands waving above her head, as if to the stars.

“I knew my William would come to me,” she giggled softly, and at last her eyes came down to him.

“I am not yours, Dru. And I am not William.”

Any other time, he would have ignored the name, but not after today. She came toward him, tiptoeing in the grass, almost dancing.

“Oh, but you will be,” she said in a sing song voice. “Soon, you will be.”

He was almost tempted to ask which one he would be – hers, or William - but he didn’t have the patience for her games now.

“Why are you here, Princess?” he asked softly, surprised at the endearment that rolled off his tongue without thought.

“They told me my William was hurting,” she explained dreamily, looking up toward the sky again. “The stars sang your name.”

Spike needed a cigarette. Badly. But Buffy had his fags and lighter. Stupid bet.

“Dru, you need to leave. Get away from Sunnydale. There are two Slayers here; it’s a bad town for vampires.”

Drusilla reached out to him, her fingers hovering just a hair above his cheek.

“Bad Slayer,” she muttered. “Messed up your pretty head. Bad, bad girl. Took my Spike and now hurts my William. Shall we go hunting together? Pretty hunt under the stars?”

Again, her gaze was drifting to the sky. Spike caught her hand, squeezing it tight, just enough to hurt her a little, and her eyes and attention were back to him.

“No hunting. Do you hear, Princess?” he said as if talking to a child. “The Slayer did nothing, and you will not hunt her. You have to leave. Say you will go away. Promise me, Dru.”

He let go of her hand, and she tilted her head as she smiled at him.

“Go, yes, that’s a good idea. The sisters are coming. Goodbye, my William.”

Again, she reached out to his face, this time caressing it with her fingertips before turning away and disappearing among the trees. Shaking his head, Spike turned to the two Slayers as they approached him, and braced himself for the storm he was sure was coming.

Soon after separating from the others, both Slayers could feel the tell-tale tingles, and they didn’t need to speak to each other as they changed their direction. Buffy could also feel that Spike was around, but the tingles were not from him only. She walked noiselessly with Manon, following their identical instincts, and soon they could see them.

Despite the darkness, Buffy recognized her instantly. What other woman would dress like a nineteenth century doll? Placing a hand on Manon’s arm, she stopped her. She wanted to see what was going on before getting anywhere near her love and his Mate. Manon looked at her curiously, but remained silent.

Buffy cringed when she heard the vampiress call him ‘her William’, and again when she touched his face. But it was nothing compared to hearing him call her ‘Princess’, or seeing him take her hand.

At last, the other woman was gone. Without a thought, Buffy started walking toward Spike, dimly aware that Manon was just next to her. They stopped only a few steps from him, and Buffy’s eyes plunged into his blue depths, that seemed even more troubled now than they had been all day. He didn’t say a word and simply returned her gaze. It was Manon who finally broke the silence.

“I though the name of the game was stake the vamps, not talk with them,” she said quizzically.

Spike didn’t answer, didn’t even acknowledge he had heard her. Buffy had finally recognized what was hiding in his eyes, and realized it was the same emotion she hadn’t been able to identify all day long. Fear. Her Big Bad – was he still hers? - was afraid. Afraid of what? Afraid for who?

“Hey, guys?” Manon said again, after a few seconds. “You’re getting… I don’t even know the word for it.”

Breaking eye contact with Spike, Buffy gave the young Slayer a very serious glance.

“Did you get a good look at that vamp?” she asked the girl, satisfied when she nodded. “If you ever see her when you’re alone, don’t try to fight her. Don’t ever look in her eyes. Run.”

“Why?” the girl asked, puzzled.

“She is dangerous,” Spike said quietly. “Insane and dangerous. She can play with your mind and bring out what you fear most. Listen to Buffy, and run if you meet her.”

As he talked, his hand had taken Buffy’s, gently, carefully, as if he was holding a wounded bird. She didn’t pull away, but didn’t clasp his hand in return. She still didn’t know what to think of the encounter, but she didn’t want to talk about it in front of Manon. The girl was still looking at them, her gaze going from one to the other.

“Petite-amie?” she asked Spike softly.

That word, Buffy knew. Why she could remember that one in particular and not easier or more usual ones, she couldn’t have said. Manon had just inquired whether the dangerous woman was Spike’s girlfriend.

“Ex,” he replied, and his hand squeezed Buffy’s.

Manon nodded, giving a last glance at Buffy’s face before turning around.

“I’m tired,” she declared. “How about we find Dawn and Steven and stop for tonight?”

As they followed her, Buffy realized that this was the girl’s way of saying that it wasn’t her business and she didn’t want to intrude in whatever discussion they obviously were going to have. She was grateful for her discretion. She was also grateful that she had a little moment to calm down and focus before she and Spike were alone at last. If she had been alone when she found him, she probably would have said things they would both have regretted. Having time to think was enough for her to realize that she trusted him. She wished he hadn’t let that damn woman touch him, wished he hadn’t taken her hand like he was holding Buffy’s now, wished he hadn’t used his pet names for her, but despite this, she trusted his love. He had proven it too many times for her to doubt it so quickly. That didn’t mean, however, that she wasn’t upset. She trusted him, yes, but she didn’t trust her.