Title: Shadows of the past
Author: Kur
Disclaimer: nothing is mine. Only the plot.
Rating: G?
Pairing: Buffy & Spike
Spoilers: Season 2
Summary: Buffy gets more than transformed by the costume in S2's Halloween and discovers the reason she couldn't ever beat Spike.
Thanks: to Melissa, my wonderful, extraordinary beta. She’s the best!

CHAPTER 4

Spike sprang from the boxes as a rampant puppet. Strange dream. He hadn’t dreamt of… he didn’t even know her name. Never had asked. Why? He had looked for her after that night. Had come back to his house expecting to find her there. Nothing. His mother had never seen her again. Perhaps she hadn’t had his luck… She looked like the Slayer… Funny thing, now that he thought of it.

As he patted his duster for his fags, a searing light exploded in the alley. So the Slayer was back! Well, at least lying among the rubbish had brought something to his hungry teeth! A flash of silk. Not pink anymore. Blue and green and a wig falling from her head as an abnormal fainting puppy. A vision from the past. A vision that made him blinked furiously and twisted his guts, leaving him speechless for a crushing moment.

Buffy, blind for a second, stumbled and crashed against a statue of a vampire.

“It was you…You…knew. You knew all the time and did nothing. You deserve to be killed!” Spike jumped towards Buffy’s neck.

His fangs were so near… and her strength was back, thank God. She shoved him aside and ran away, avoiding the tall figure of Angel that had appeared in the alley. Straight to her home, to her shower, to her bed, to her mother’s arms. Hug me, hug me, hug me. Let me cry; let me shout till my ears blow up. Till my chest opens as a nutshell and I pour out all this horror, all this pain…

After a long full-of-sobs shower, Buffy finally recovered a little bit of self-control. She could listen to the gang chatting downstairs, waiting for the big tale. She wasn’t in the mood, though. She closed her room door and picked up the long dress from her bed. Probably best thing to do was to throw it away in the furthest trash bin. A knock on the window and Angel’s worried face at its frame. Buffy drew a fake smile and failed.
“Tada!” –she tried to sound amused. Actually, she just wanted him to leave- “Just little old twentieth century me.”

“Sure you’re okay?” He could smell something wrong beneath that casual attitude. Something yawning and dark. Something she wasn’t going to share with him.

“I’ll live.”

Angel looked at her askance but nodded. “I don’t get it, Buffy. Why did you think I’d like you better dressed that way?”

I don’t want to talk about that now. I don’t want to talk to you. “I just wanted to be a real girl for once.” And boy, wasn’t I? “The kind of fancy girl you liked when you were my age.” She just added it ‘cause she needed to go on with a charade. Answer him something. Anything that would distract him enough to put aside that suspicious look in his eyes. His eyes… I don’t know if I’ll be able to look at him directly in his eyes ever again.

“Oh, ho.”

“What?” Too harsh.

“I hated the girls back then. Especially the noble women.”

Two women. One blonde, one dark. Elegant and…noble. At least in their aspect.
“You did.” When on hell had she learnt to be sarcastic?

He sat on the bed and took Mr. Gordo in his big hands. Buffy pressed her stained dress against his chest. Her eyes went to the little box in which she’d hidden the necklace and the stupid glasses.

“They were just incredible dull. Simpering morons, the lot of them. I always wished I’d meet someone…exciting. Interesting.”

Her lips curled into a scathing grimace. “Really? Interesting how?”

“You know how.”

Buffy sighed, pulling Mr. Gordo off his hands. “Still, I had a really hard day. You should probably tell me.” Yes, tell me what were they? Whores? Street girls you just met that day?

“You’re right. I should.” He said from the windowsill.

“Definitely.” Buffy closed the shutters in his face.

Questions. Questions everywhere. How was it that the dress suddenly changed its colour? How was it that she changed the dress? How was it that there were so elegant dresses in hell dimensions? How come she didn’t talk? She didn’t say anything. She was as mute as a sculpture and weren’t they friends anymore? Wasn’t her duty, her sacred duty to inform about everything, fill in a form perhaps, just for her Watcher to be aware of future threats?

Only her mother said nothing, cuddling her every night in front of the T.V. Maybe, in her infinite wisdom she knew and remain silent just waiting for her daughter to be the first one to bring matters to light. Maybe Buffy had a new image of Joyce, that of a saint who could erase the pain only by placing her warm arms around her. Maybe she was screwed up for good. If not, why in hell she still persisted in that twisted relationship with somebody that wasn’t exactly ideal anymore? Angel’s image had flaked and turned into a shadow of what had been. Yet, she played her part ‘cause, otherwise, there was only THE TRUTH. Capital letters in a neon sign. And the truth would lead to one single BIG question. The worst of all. “Why on earth don’t you just kill him? He’s dangerous, he’s a killer and if you don’t stop him we’ll all turn up dead.” But I did kill him. I did. And it hurt so much that I don’t know where I’m standing anymore.


Spike paced about the place as a lion in a constricted cage.
“Of course I have to kill her! Do you think I’m bloody stupid? Why do you think I’ve sent those buggering killers after her?” And don’t fucking dare to ask me why I didn’t go myself! “She’s the gnat in my ear! The gristle in my teeth! She’s the bloody thorn in my bloody side! And in my guts. In my memories. In my frigging noggin. “Oh, bollocks! What now? What? At Willie’s? Oh, great!”


What on earth was that girl doing in her city? She wasn’t dead anymore! She hadn’t been dead even a whole minute! So well educated. Yes, sir. No sir. Looking down bashfully. Knowing all the books as if she were a walking library and messing with HER life. HER Watcher. Nasty sight of Giles drooling as a puppy in front of a bone. HER friends drooling as well. Buffy was shocked. First for having to share the Slayer-ing thing with someone else. Second for not being THE CHOSEN one anymore. Unique and only. Third for having that girl snooping around. Now. Now when she was walking on her tiptoes every single day. Now that she was floating in a sea of questions. Now when it was impossible that other Slayer wouldn’t carry out her duty. “I’m here to kill vampires.” She had flinched at that simple statement. Buffy was absolutely sure that Kendra girl would succeed. Their duty. “Kill the evil. Kill what you couldn’t kill.”
Her duty. Buffy repeated all the way to the church but other things whirled in her mind. He had sent killers after her! He had kidnapped Angel. And I wonder why that doesn’t drive me even madder than that Taraka thing. Ok, I’m worried here. How wouldn’t I?


The first time in…two weeks. Face to face. He was so different! There was nothing of William left in that…thing that was yelling and pestering at Willie. Buffy’s eyes went to the pair strapped together to a chain that hung from the ceiling of the altar. She couldn’t but whisper. “Angel.” There was no deep concern in that murmur and that frightened her even more.

“Yeah,” Spike head tilted and his smile widened, “Don’t feel too bad for him, though, he’s got something you don’t have.”

Buffy inhaled sharply and nearly staked him with her gaze. “What’s that?”

“Five minutes.” He bent forward just to whisper in her ear. A cold breeze. “Guess if I kill him we’re even, love. I think you remember that lovely lady that gave you a place to rest, clothes and jewellery? I had to kill her.” Buffy’s eyes were as wide as craters. A hurting glance. Aching green depths. Spike looked away just to prevent that painful shot to aim his heart. He took three steps back. “Hey, makes me think I want that necklace back. Must cost a fortune nowadays! Tell you what. Once I finish with you and your boyfriend here I’ll get it myself. Maybe your mum knows where you hid it.”

Tears pushed the doors of her heart but she wasn’t going to let them flow. Not the best time for that. Angel needed her and…she found out she didn’t care that much. The door of the church abruptly burst opened and the aid appeared. Great timing.

“Who the hell is this?” Spike shouted while Kendra grabbed his shirt.

“It’s your lucky day, Spike. Two slayers.”

“Oh, great! What? Can’t you beat me all by yourself, love? Wonder why…”

For a flashing second her stubborn and stupid heart went to Kendra and that annoying vampire she was punching. And suddenly everything changed. Sadness became rage and Kendra’s fists weren’t enough. SHE had to punch him. SHE had the right to erase that smile from his face. To hell with him. He wasn’t William. He’d killed him; he’d immolated William and that lovely lady in the shrine of darkness. They deserved to be avenged and she was going to send that sorry vampire ass to hell just to allow those she had known to rest in peace.

“Switch!” Buffy shouted at Kendra, bending over just for the other Slayer to roll over her back.

“I’d rather be fighting you anyway…” Spike stated with an anticipatory delight.

“Mutual.” Her jaws were so clenched that she could hardly listen to the word.

There she was finally downloading all her frustrations and pains and sufferings and useless tears on his body, kicking his guts, his face, sloshing his chin, whacking his nose and nothing seemed to be sufficient. He deserved to be punished. Not even for Angel. In her current state of mind she never spare one thought for him. Other people walked within her eyes. For them. For not being able to hate him deep from my guts despite everything. For still wanting to hug him.

Everything was a rush. Them fighting, Spike grabbing Willie’s neck, her trying to set Angel free. Spike running away and her allowing that to happen. But she couldn’t, could she? Her duty… Buffy grabbed the censer from the altar and launched it at Spike’s back. It hit him with such force that he staggered into the church organ and it collapsed onto him.

The fire was spreading quickly. She couldn’t move. Her friends were helping Angel. She wanted to scream. The flames danced as orange elves in a distant white fireplace. She wanted to shout. All she could do was stare, stare at the growing flames as two pair of hands dragged her out of the church. William…


The night hell was unleashed… Every night she was awoken by dreams. Nasty dreams, awful dreams. Dreams in which she was again in that London alley, watching the long dark hair as the demon murdered William in front of her eyes. But the face that turned round to growl at her was never that of Drusilla but Angel’s. Long, dirty hair and yellow laughing eyes. Then the dreams changed and Angel was the one being killed. Buffy was sure her heart wouldn’t be able to bear one more nightmare. Another of those heavy guilty feelings that nibbled her blood, savouring with glee. She felt such a void in her stomach as if she hadn’t eaten for ages. Her life was a mess. Confusion everywhere. Swirling, swirling, in a never-ending roller coaster. Just for the fun of it. Not hers, of course. She desperately needed somebody who could hug her, somebody who could make her feel alive. Give her a purpose. How lovely you look. What a nice outfit. You’re so gorgeous. I’m holding you. There’s nothing to be afraid of… Nothing wrong will ever happen. You can kill and slay but in my arms you can find yourself again. Be protected, be an ordinary girl with no stained hands. No dust on your clothes. Just you and me. Love. Like the rest of the world. Leave it outside. You’re perfect. You are a Queen.

She went to Angel. That night she would never forget. That, her very first night with a man. A man that wasn’t there whenever she closed her eyes. Other eyes, other hands touching her, taking off her not matching panties. Too modern for a long silk dress. The piano hands. Those eyes concealed by shiny glasses. Spied over the rim of a glass. A hand running up and down a flat muscled stomach.

When she woke up the following morning she’d have sworn she’d dreamt the whole thing. She hadn’t. The sheets were stained with blood. Her blood this time. It felt as if it had sipped from her heart. And he wasn’t around to make her world a little perfect. Not there for you. Not alive. Not protected. Left behind as a useless piece of furniture. Another lamp, another pillow. A black hole was sucking the last yarn of self-induce hope. A castle crumbling in the air. Buffy put on her clothes slowly, reaping only sadness from this that could be nothing but a big mistake. Another one. Another man. Another world.



“Buffy, can you just stop for a minute!” Willow ran after her along the school corridor. “I know that you’re hurt. Deeply. And, before you say it again, I know that’s private. And it’s not that I’m being all snoopy here or going to go all ‘come on, tell me’, but I want you to know that I’m here” She finally took a long breathe after such long speech.

“I know. And I’d tell you Willow but I…I don’t think that…I shouldn’t have done it. It was wrong from the very beginning. I’d never done it with him.”

“This is not your fault. How could you possibly know he would become Mr. Fang and Blood again?”

“I don’t mind about that. Knowing. I shouldn’t have…not with him.”

Willow frowned completely confused. It wasn’t that she couldn’t put two and two together. She knew private meant sex. But the not with him part…What that supposed to mean? Not with him but with somebody else? No, probably getting all wrong here. Must be the shock. Buffy’s and hers as well. Too many things not said there. Something else that definitely had to do with that trip to other-land she had never spoken about. Too many questions and not the right moment to ask them.



Giles respected her. Willow respected her. Her mother respected her. Why couldn’t she respect herself? Gazing at the T.V. fighting furiously the tears that nipped her eyes. A candle burning out on a cupcake. Happy birthday Buffy! Make a wish! Here’s your present! Bet you never expected such a huge surprise, ah? My best present was at the point of a stake. How comes that I couldn’t use it? For lost memories. For what he meant to me. But that was when I…when I…loved him. Loved? Since when she used past tense with Angel? Since a month or so. It had grown day after day in a secretive way. As invisible bugs in a swamp. She should have killed him… She could have. Not that difficult. Not after killing William twice. Not too different… Not that painful… Her duty. She just needed to put aside sweet first kisses and first ever-dreamt romance. Willpower. That was what she needed. Her eyes left the T.V. and went down to the candle. Inhaling deeply she murmured softly. The flame went out with a satisfied hiss.

tbc...