Two staked vamps later and Buffy was walking up the front path to her house. As she reached out for the door handle it flew open in front of her to reveal an angry looking William.
“Where the hell have you been?” He asked, ushering her inside.
“Slaying,” said Buffy. “Why, do I have to check in all the time? Who are you, my mother?”
William recoiled at the bitterness in the girl’s voice. “I was worried about you, pet. Angel said he ran into you and you were freaked, is the word he used. And no, I’m not your mother, I’m your Watcher, and your…friend.”
“I don’t know you,” she spat, the fear and frustration of the last few days melding into fury as it burst forth from her body. “You’re not my friend. I don’t know anything about you, because I’m not your Buffy!”
“You are,” he said firmly. When she started to protest, he cut her off, “I know what I said earlier, and I’m sorry if that…upset you. I was shocked, to be honest, that it wasn’t just a spell, or a hallucination---”
“Because you wouldn’t listen to me,” Buffy interrupted. “And you STILL don’t believe me.”
He continued on as if he hadn’t heard her. “But regardless of what you remember, or where you think you belong, you’re still my…our Buffy, I think.”
“I’m not!”
“You are I promise you. Only you could drive me completely bonkers.”
Her hardened expression broke and she let loose a giggle. “That means crazy, right?”
“Yeah,” he smiled, his heart warming that he’d made her laugh. “I do believe you…I just, have a feeling, I can’t explain it. Anyway, I told you, we’ll figure this out, and we will. But until then, I’ll do whatever I can to make you comfortable here. Okay?”
She looked at him thoughtfully. “Even by telling me how you got the nickname Spike?”
He groaned and went to sit on the couch. Buffy followed and curled herself into a ball, waiting for him to speak. “You’re really not going to let this go, are you?” William sighed.
“Nope,” she said gleefully. “Also, it’s research. I know Spike the vampire guy got the name by driving railroad spikes into the heads of his victims. So I’m hoping that’s not YOUR story.”
“No, definitely not,” he laughed awkwardly. “It’s a much more boring story.”
“Then why won’t you tell me?”
William sighed. “You’re incredibly persistent.”
“Only when I really want something,” she smirked, reaching out and playfully poking his arm.
He glanced at her quickly then said, “Well, as you’ve probably already figured out, I was a bit of a punk when I was younger.”
“Leather, bleached hair, eyeliner?”
“Something like that.”
“Please tell me there are pictures.”
“None that you’ll ever see.”
“Jerk.”
“Bloody hell, woman, do you want to hear the story or not?”
“You may proceed.”
“Well I was in this band—“
“Oh God!”
“---and I was the singer, and we had this gig at this dive bar outside of London, and I fell off the stage and on my face. Cut my self on, well, a spike of some kind. That’s the fascinating story of the nickname.”
She reached out and gingerly brushed her fingers over the scar on his eyebrow. He half closed his eyes at the sensation of her skin on his. “Yeah, that was kind of a boring story,” she said as she pulled away. “And not at all cool.”
“Thanks, pet,” he said sarcastically, regaining control of himself. “Might want to tone down the praise, my ego’s big enough as it is.”
Buffy dissolved into giggles, then said, “I’m sorry, I really am just going to have to call you Spike from now on.”
“Do I get a veto?”
“Nope.”
“Then I suppose I’ll take it like a man.”
They shared a smile, then Buffy asked, “So why the transition from big bad Spike to William the Watcher?”
He shrugged. “My father was on the Council, pushed me to find a purpose in life, as opposed to running around getting smashed and singing punk rock. Like I told you, I started out training as a field operative, I thought I was a real tough guy, but life has a way of flipping things around on you, doesn’t it?”
Buffy nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” The good humor seemed to drain out of her body, and she leaned back against the couch and closed her eyes.
William watched her for a moment, then asked quietly, “If there’s anything you need to talk about, Buffy…like, well, what happened with the other Angel, or anything, you know I’m here, yeah?”
She opened her eyes and appraised him thoughtfully. “I mean, it’s just like with Drusilla and Xander right? Big love, bad decision, bye bye soul?”
“Well, that’s the gist of it,” he shrugged. “But the details of it, I’m sure couldn’t be exactly the same.”
“Honestly, it was awkward enough forcing it out the first time, with Angel sitting right there.” She had hardly been able to explain the circumstances around Angel losing his soul, and knew the three had probably only understood because of Drusilla’s equivalent situation. She couldn’t even say the word “sex”. Way too awkward.
“But he’s not here now, is he?” said William, then added quickly, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to push.” He knew his curiosity about the situation was coming from a selfish place, and started to change the topic. “Are you hungry?”
“I could eat.”
The smiled at each other, and just for a moment, Buffy forgot where she was, who she was, and who she wasn’t. There was something there, between them, something more than what he was sharing with her, but as she started to speak, she was interrupted by a knock at the front door. William stood up and answered it, then led Drusilla and Angel into the room.
“Hi, guys,” Buffy said in surprise. “What’s up?”
“We’re kidnapping you,” Angel said. “To go to the Bronze.”
“We figured if we just showed up you wouldn’t turn us down,” Drusilla said tentatively.
Buffy brightened. “That sounds like fun, definitely. Let me just change into something less…frumpy?”
She dashed up the stairs, feeling a lightness in her heart. This would be good. The Bronze. Normal, teen fun for normal, teen Buffy, or as close as she would ever get. Forget her problems, dance it up. That’s what she should do.
She applied makeup quickly, a skill she’d honed after a year of having to get ready to go out mere minutes after some fight to the death. The good feeling in her body increased as she opened her closet, dug around for a bit, and actually recognized some of the clothes there. She pulled on a tight black pair of jeans and tied on a red halter top. Just a scrap of fabric on the front and a few strings on the back, it was a shirt she would have covered up with a jacket as she snuck out of the house, to avoid eye rolls from her mother. But she had the distinct impression William didn’t impose a lot of rules on her, and if he did, a dress code wasn’t one of them.
Buffy quickly shook out her hair, glad to see that after being slept in and piled on her head all day, it had settled into a sort of sexy, bed head look. One last glance in the mirror and she shoved some money and her ID in her back pocket---yep, her ID said Buffy Anne Summers—and she ran down the stairs and found her two friends---really, friends?---and William chatting in the kitchen.
“Buffy ready and raring to go!” she announced.
“You look so cute!” squealed Drusilla.
“Thanks,” Buffy smiled.
“Pratt, you coming?” Angel asked.
“Yeah, I’m thinking no on that, mate,” William scoffed, averting his eyes from the smooth, tanned expanse of skin peeking out from above the waistband of Buffy’s pants.
“Come on, Spike,” Buffy teased. “You could stage dive.”
He glared at her. “Have fun. Be home before…bloody hell, I don’t know, but you all have school tomorrow.”
They said their goodbyes and headed towards the Bronze. They fell easily into witty repartee and casual conversation, and Buffy was once again stunned at her increasing comfort with these alternate versions of her former love and his protégé.
It took awhile for Buffy to get into the swing of things. The Bronze certainly looked the same, but when she glanced around and hardly recognized a soul, that creeping dread threatened to take over again, until Drusilla pulled her out onto the dance floor and she worked out some of her aggressions to a peppy pop beat.
Her heart stopped in her chest, however, when she spun around and saw Angel handing a drink to a familiar blonde.
“Oh my God,” she breathed.
“What?” Drusilla asked, following her gaze. “Oh, that’s Darla. Angel’s sometimes girlfriend.” She added quietly, “I kind of don’t like her.”
“I need to…I…” She had almost gotten past the point where things could shock her in this world, and she supposed if she’d thought hard enough about it she should have expected this latest development, but hadn’t, and her heart hurt. Buffy watched Angel plant a kiss on the cheek of the little blonde who’d tried to shoot her once, then breathed deeply and calmed herself. “Never mind, don’t care. Let’s dance some more.”
The evening proceeded fairly uneventfully thereafter. The conversation was light and friendly, and Buffy almost felt like this was where she belonged. That these were her friends, and this was her world. Unsettling, but yet, comfortable at the same time.
They left to head home, but just a block from the Bronze, Buffy felt a slight pinprick on the back of her neck that tickled down her spine.
“Guys, hold on,” she interrupted Angel’s ever so fascinating speech about football.
“What?” Dru asked.
“Vampire.”
She glanced around the alley, her eyes settling on a female figure attempting to make herself invisible by the dumpster.
“You know, I could come drag you out, but if you just make yourself more available for the slayage, you could save me a lot of time.”
From the shadows emerged Amy Madison.
“Amy?” Buffy said in surprise, her heart sinking that yet another person she knew was vamped. So much for the getting used to it all. “How’ve you been?”
“Dead. You?”
“Different dimension.”
“Ah.”
They stared at each other for a minute, before Amy sprang into action, lunging at Buffy with a right hook. Buffy dodged it easily, and as she kicked and punched, she called out, “A stake would be helpful, guys!”
Amy was quick, but the Slayer was stronger, and once Drusilla tossed her a stake from her purse, Buffy lunged in for the kill, feeling a twinge of sadness she staked the vampire with the familiar face.
“Well, that was bracing,” Buffy muttered, dusting off her shirt and turning back to Angel and Drusilla. “Why the shocked faces? You’ve seen me slay before, right?”
They were looking over her shoulder, and Buffy suddenly realized that her Slayer sense was still tingling.
She spun around slowly to see Willow.
But it wasn’t Willow, it couldn’t be.
This Willow was impossibly pale, and her long hair was dyed as red as blood, matching her lipstick. She was dressed—no, poured—into a tight, black lace shirt with a ruffled collar, and a black leather miniskirt. She was some weird hybrid of prim and proper and dominatrix, and the fact that it was Willow just made it all the stranger.
“Okay, this is wigging me out,” Buffy muttered.
“What was that, Slayer?” the vampire asked, striding towards her smoothly, confidently, her hips swaying in a way that Willow’s never did. She stopped about ten feet away, and at this close distance Buffy could appraise every inch of her. It was Willow. Down to…everything. Except the part about being alive.
“Oh, nothing,” Buffy finally said confidently, realizing it was probably best not to let on to this…vampire version of Willow that she was having some serious mental issues. “I just said your outfit wigged me out. Seriously, did you fall into a stripper wear store or something?”
“That’s the best you can do?” Willow sighed, absentmindedly picking at her long black nails. “You’re slipping, Slayer. Next you’re going to insult my hair, and I’ll have to slap you, then it’ll be some whole chick fight thing. Beneath me.”
“Not trying to insult you,” the Slayer shrugged, trying to suppress the rising pain and panic as she stared at this thing who wore her best friend’s face. “Just trying to help a fashion victim in need.”
Willow rolled her eyes and glanced past her to focus on Drusilla. “Aw, look, it’s my fellow witch. How’s it going, Dru?”
“Leave her alone,” growled Angel.
“Calm down, Prince Charming.” Her smile was wicked, and she darted out her tongue to quickly lick her lips, as if what she was about to do was just so delicious she was salivating. “Drusilla, sweetheart. Talked to Xander lately?”
“Shut up,” the girl whispered.
“No, I didn’t think you had,” Willow sighed. “Considering he’s been in my bed every night. Does that hurt, little amateur? Are you getting some lovely visuals?”
“SHUT UP!”
“I never did thank you for sending him back to me. One sad little night inside of you and he was just begging to be evil again.”
Drusilla couldn’t prevent a river of tears from streaming down her cheeks, but she did her best to hold her voice steady when she said, “I can’t wait until Buffy kills you.”
A high pitched, purely evil cackle came from the vampire, and she ignored the girl’s feeble threat by proxy. “That was really all I wanted to do tonight, it’s just so wonderful to make someone cry.” Buffy moved forward to attack, but Willow stopped her with a raised palm, and a stream of silver sparks pushed Buffy back a few feet, and caused a look of horror to bloom on her face. “Now, now, Slayer. I didn’t come here to fight. It would be rude to attack unprovoked.”
“I would say I’ve been provoked,” Buffy menaced, shaking off the frozen feeling Willow’s spell had caused.
“Hardly.” Willow’s lighthearted demeanor darkened in an instant and she took one short, threatening step in Buffy’s direction. “If I wanted to provoke you, bitch, you’d know.”
“Get out of here, Willow.”
“I’m going, I’m going! So rude, you are. We’ll see each other again soon though, darling Buffy, and next time, I won’t be alone.”
With that, Willow strode off, turning her back on the three so casually one would think she had no fear of the Slayer at all.
Drusilla was shaking, and crying, with Angel’s arms around her.
“I’m sorry,” Buffy said feebly.
“We should get her home,” Angel suggested, looking uncomfortable at having to deal with a crying teenage girl.
Drusilla whimpered, “Sometimes it hurts so much I can’t breathe.”
“I know the feeling,” Buffy murmured, staring off in the darkness where Willow had disappeared.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you so much for reading, and reviewing! Now that everything is somewhat settled, for now, things start to heat up a bit. I'd love to know what you think of this update! Fic title from the Weepies, chapter title from Stabbing Westward.