Chapter Three: Setting Wrongs Right

Willow replaced the Magic Box phone. “That was Xander,” she told the room. “He and Dawn are staying at Angel’s. A friend of his is putting up some anti-violence spell, which should keep her safe.”

“Did you tell him what we found out?” Anya asked.

Willow shook her head. “Why worry them? We can handle this. I hope.”

-----

The sound of Spike filling a glass with water penetrated the silence. Buffy gazed at him, wishing could find the right words to help him face what he had to do. The conflict and fear in his eyes cut straight to her heart.

“What’s the water for?” she finally asked, just to break the silence.

“These.” Spike retrieved a bottle of pills from a cupboard, tipped a couple into his hand and dropped them into the water. The liquid fizzed as the pills dissolved.

“Sleeping pills?”

He nodded and replaced the bottle carefully before picking up the glass and slowly turning to the door. Buffy followed him, until he stopped outside what was presumably his mother’s bedroom.

“Do you want me to stay out here?” Buffy asked.

Spike shook his head. “No. I won’ be able to do it without you there,” he replied.

“Alright.”

Spike braced himself and knocked hesitantly on his mother’s door. “Mother?”

“Come in, dear.”

In the dim room, Mrs. Pratt sat up in her bed, tucked into her covers already. Spike swallowed and the hand holding the glass trembled. Buffy nodded encouragingly at him.

“I have your sleeping pills,” he said.

“William, are you well?” his mother asked anxiously as he sat down beside her and gave her the glass. “You look rather pale. Oh, and your hands are cold!”

“Sorry. I am well, really.”

“Are you going to tell me where you were?”

Spike hesitated. “I’ll … tell you when you wake up.” His voice shook slightly.

She smiled at him. “As long as you don’t go running off again for days on end. An old woman’s heart can only take so much.”

He smiled sadly back. “I love you, Mother.”

“I love you too.”

Buffy wiped away her own tears and Spike struggled to contain his own as his mother drank the concoction. When she lay down, he kissed her goodnight and started singing softly.

“Early one morning, just as the sun is rising,
I heard a young maid sing in the valley below,
Oh, don’t deceive me,
Oh, never leave me,
How could you use a poor maiden so …”

After another couple of verses, he stopped. “Mother? … Mum?”

“I think she’s asleep, Spike,” Buffy whispered.

Spike closed his eyes. He clenched and unclenched his hands. His shoulders quivered.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered.

“Yes, you can,” Buffy said gently. “I’m here, and you can do this. I know you can.”

Spike braced himself, reached out shaking hands and gently took hold of his mother’s head. He stroked her cheek softly with his thumb, and whispered, “Goodbye, Mother.”

Buffy looked away, but the crack of Mrs. Pratt’s neck breaking made her wince. Turning back, she saw Spike still in the same position, his mother limp in his hands.

“I killed her,” he whispered hoarsely.

Buffy wished she was solid so she could put her arms round him. “She looks like she’s at peace now, Spike.”

He closed his eyes, tears started to stream down his cheeks and his whole body was shaking like mad.

The room suddenly glowed, and Buffy looked up from the scene just as the portal reappeared and sucked them both inside.

-----

Giles had just put the kettle on to boil for his third cup of tea when a burst of light made him start and whirl round. The portal had reappeared. Before he could react further, two figures tumbled out onto the floor. The light faded and the portal disappeared.

“Buffy?” he started, moving forwards, but stopped dead.

Spike hadn’t moved from where he had fallen, just lay shaking, and Buffy rushed over to him. As Spike let out what sounded suspiciously like a sob, she put her arms around him tightly, and Giles, sensing the need for privacy, started backing away slowly. Before he exited the room, he was privy to a rare sight: Spike, completely breaking down and sobbing uncontrollably. And even rarer, Buffy holding him, gently rubbing his back and murmuring words of comfort.

Giles retreated to his bedroom, picked up the telephone and dialled the Magic Box’s number. Willow answered.

“Hey, Giles.”

“Any luck yet?” he asked.

“Not enough. Just little bits and pieces that may or may not be useful – probably the latter. Any sign of Buffy and Spike yet?”

“They’ve just come back,” Giles told her.

“They’re back? Well, that’s the best bit of news we’ve had all evening! Where did they go?”

“I haven’t had an opportunity to ask.” Giles paused. “I’ll let you know when they’re ready, all right? I think, whatever happened to them, it was rather … traumatic.”

“What makes you say that?” Willow asked.

“Just a hunch.”

-----

“Thanks.”

Buffy raised her head to look at Spike. The two of them had been completely silent for twenty minutes, since he had started to calm down, and had just been half-lying, half-sitting on the floor, his head on her shoulder and her arm around his.

“For?”

“Jus’ … being there.” He swallowed. “Means a lot.”

She smiled slightly. “You’re welcome.” There was a pause. “Do you want to talk?”

For a moment, she thought Spike wasn’t going to answer.

“Think I jus’ want to go home.”

“I’ll walk you there, if you like. Or you can tell me to sod off, if you’d prefer to be alone.”

He gave a weak smile. “I’d rather have some company – if you don’t mind.”

Buffy held out a hand and helped him to his feet. Giles chose that moment to re-enter the room.

“Are you two …” he trailed off, obviously unsure how to finish the sentence.

“I’m taking Spike home, Giles.” Buffy opened the door. “I’ll see you later.”

“Buffy – we need to talk -”

“Later, Giles.”

He stood still and watched them go. Buffy linked her arm with Spike’s and they began to walk towards the cemetery. At first, they kept a comfortable silence, but after a while Spike spoke.

“When I was young, my family was really poor,” he began. “My father worked in a factory of some kind, and in those days you had to pay to go to school, so I stayed at home with my mum. My dad had this talent, though; when he and my mum married, he made their rings himself. He used scrap materials from the factory and the results were as good as professional jewellers’. Eventually he realised he could sell them and set up a business, which really took off.” Spike paused. “Within two years we could afford to live in the house you saw.”

“Wow. That must have been some talent he had.”

He nodded. “I used to help my mum around the house, even after his success. My parents never bothered to hire proper servants.” He smiled. “I was probably best in the kitchen and garden. My mum only gave me jobs that didn’t involve breakables. I was pretty clumsy as a child.”

Buffy laughed a little. “Sounds like you two were close.”

“Yeah.” There was a long pause. When Spike spoke again, it was in a quieter voice. “We were close, especially after my dad died. I loved her more than anything; she was the most important person in my life.” He stopped, squeezing his eyes closed to try and stop more tears. Buffy just stood silently, waiting, and gave him a small smile when he had wiped and opened his eyes.

“Thanks,” he said thickly.

“Don’t mention it.”

They began walking again and Buffy asked a question. “Were you as close to your dad?”

Spike shook his head. “No.” He sighed. “I wish I had been. But he was at work half the time, and when he wasn’t … I don’ know … He was so successful, he just made me feel inferior around him. I don’t think he meant to, but I felt it anyway. He wasn’ great at dishing out compliments. In those days, it wasn’ the done thing for men to show emotion.” Spike shrugged. “So I never really felt he cared about me the way my mum did. Maybe he did, I don’ know; guess I never will now.”

“How did he die?” Buffy asked in a soft voice.

“Earthquake.”

“In London?”

He nodded. “Or explosion. No one was entirely sure what happened. Some think one caused the other. Either way, there was a lot of damage. It happened on the other side of the city from where we lived. I don’t even know what my dad was doing there. But he never came home.” He paused, and then continued in a more bitter voice. “He was the only one who didn’ make it out. Everyone else evacuated.”

Buffy squeezed his hand gently.

“And they never found his body. Didn’t have the resources to dig deep enough or something. Now a bloody block of flats has been dumped on top of his grave. I saw it advertised on the Internet.”

“I’m sorry.”

They came to the cemetery, and left the pavement to cut through to Spike’s crypt. Silence had fallen again. Buffy realised she had learned more about Spike in the last few hours than she had in all the time she had known him. For some reason it unnerved her – she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“Well – here we are,” Spike spoke as they stopped outside. “Home sweet home.”

There was an awkward pause.

“Do you want me to stay awhile?” Buffy finally asked.

“Yes, please,” he answered without hesitation.

She followed him inside and sat down on the floor against the wall. She wasn’t sure what time it was – it had to be nearly daylight. Spike dropped his coat onto the floor and after a moment’s thought spread it out. “You can have that if you want. The floor’s pretty cold.”

“I would never have guessed.” Buffy moved onto it, and Spike slid down the wall next to her. They both fell quiet again, and after a few minutes Buffy slipped her hand into Spike’s and squeezed it gently. She knew there really wasn’t much more she could say to help his pain – the only thing she could really do was be there for him. He smiled sadly and closed his eyes, his head slowly coming to rest on her shoulder.

Buffy had intended to rest her eyes for only a minute, but when she opened them, it was dark again and Spike was gone. She had slid down the wall onto the floor and sat up quickly, spotting him sitting in the entrance.

“Oh, there you are.”

He looked back at her and smiled. “You didn’ have to stay all day.”

“I know. Guess I fell asleep.” Buffy stifled a yawn and scrambled over to join him. “Stupid question, but … are you okay?”

Spike sighed. “I don’t know. It’s … a relief, I suppose, but at the same time …”

“It hurts,” Buffy supplied.

He nodded.

“It’ll get better with time, Spike. I know.”

“Yeah.” He paused. “Buffy … thanks.”

“For what?”

“Helping me through it,” he said quietly. “I couldn’ have done it without you there.”

She smiled and put an arm around his shoulders. “You’re welcome.”

Spike looked up at the stars. “I’ve decided … I’m goin’ to go.”

“What?”

“Back to London, I mean. I want to find … her – I mean, where she’s buried.” He swallowed. “There should be a – a body now, right?”

“I should think so, yes. And I think it’s a good idea.”

“I just need some time … Need to say goodbye properly,” he murmured.

Buffy nodded.

“I’d offer to come with you, but I’m guessing this is something you need to do on your own. Is it?”

“Yeah … but the offer’s appreciated.”

“When are you going to leave?”

He shrugged. “End of this conversation?”

“I’ll see you off if you want,” Buffy offered.

Spike squeezed her hand. Something, they both realised, had changed between them. It was subtle, but it was definitely there.

“Thanks,” he whispered.

TBC …