Title: Ancient shades.
Author: Kur
Disclaimer: Characters don’t belong to me but to Joss
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Spike & Buffy
Spoilers: Season 3
Summary: Set during Season 3, Buffy and Spike are figuring out their relationship, while the Mayor gets a Big Bad ally… This is a sequel to “Shadows of the past”...
Thanks: To Melissa, best beta ever. See, I haven’t changed one single word. Thanks, thanks, thanks!!!!!

CHAPTER 2


“So tell me Allan, - Mayor Wilkins’ fingers tapped rhythmically on the glossy wood of the desk, - how things went with our welcoming committee?” His hand rose in the air as if he’d wanted to slap an invisible fly. “Wrong, of course. That loose cannon is still here.”

“Well, I don’t think so.” Allan coughed a little. His eyes examined his left shoe. “Spike’s left town. Nobody has seen him again.”

“But before he did… if that’s remotely true, he’d a certain dinner with a certain little girl, hadn’t he?” The Mayor voice was full of smoothness. He hadn’t chuckled once. It wasn’t that Allan missed that particular sound. In fact he hated it so much that his knuckles cracked trying to hold the strong urge to strangle him. This softness was scaring.

“Yes. We checked that. Only the Slayer and her mother. And the vampire, of course.”

“Of course.” Wilkins agreed and a grin appeared in his lips when he started to get to his feet. Allan flinched a little. “A dinner for three. I wonder if they had a good time… Is this butcher or blood delivery man a friend of ours?”

Allan was so busy trying to stay in the same spot of the carpet that he almost lost the change in topics. After blinking for several times he managed to sputter an entangled “absolutely”.

“Then, what about seeing he hires a new delivery boy? Or a new shop assistant or however you want to call it? Let’s say… you.” Allan’s eyes were flying balloons when the Mayor’s hands hold his shoulders. “This task must be performed in the most perfect way. We can’t leave this important matter in trash hands. You do understand that, don’t you?” He nodded along with his assistant. “Good, good.”

After opening a safety box, the Mayor put a little chest on the desk. “Now, here, my rare and extraordinary treasure.” He talked to the red flask as if it had become an odd, miniature fairy. “Only one drop. This must be used carefully. Patiently.”

“One in each blood bag?” Allan didn’t dare to touch the tiny bottle.

“One drop per day.” The words were marked as hit by a stick. “Three is a magical number. Life is so special. Full of surprises. I like surprises. Well, surprising others, I mean. Go now. In three days we’ll have the best surprise ever.”



Buffy sat on the couch at the student lounge feeling a little nervous. Cordelia was talking to her friends just in front of them. Xander was really jumpy. And guilty. She understood perfectly well that particular feeling. She’d been feeling guilty for so long… If it hadn’t been for one particular annoying bleached creature, her friends would be perfectly happy. Okay, that was a lie. They would probably have screwed things up not matter what. Teen hormones talked better than any rational brain. She knew… nothing about it! “I have no teen hormones for anybody! No hormones at all!” She shouted to herself while listening to Cordelia going back to her former self. At least, if she knew Willow well, her friend would certainly do that grovelling thing she had claimed to get Oz back. Buffy crossed her fingers looking at them going down the hall.



Angel jumped from his bed. He was so thirsty… Those blood bags didn’t seem to be enough. They always left him wanting more. More than pig blood… More than an empty bed. More fun. He had known so well how to get some fun… In his dreams he found what he needed. He shook his head. They weren’t dreams but nightmares. From the past. He couldn’t possibly missed that part of him… He entered into the main room, pulling a T-shirt on his chest. He’d ask for help. Find out why…

“Who are you?” He stopped at the sight of two men standing at the door. Another one, taller, wearing a grey suit appeared behind them.

“Trouble sleeping?” The Mayor crossed the room and sat on a chair. He carried a black casket in his hands. “Let’s introduce ourselves properly. Of course you’re Angel. Former Scourge of Europe, Angelus, blah, blah, blah… I’m Mayor Wilkins, the one who owns, sorry, rules this city.”

Angel sat down on one side of the fireplace. Strange images danced in his mind. One stronger than the rest. His fangs sinking in that disgusting man’s neck. “What do you want?”

“The easiest question first! That’s not funny… It’s not what I want; it’s what it’s meant to be. Do you really think you came back ‘cause somebody up there took pity on you?” Wilkins shook his head and smiled. “Sorry to disappoint you but I, well… let’s say I’ve connections… You ought to have them if you want to achieve a superior goal.”

“What are you talking about?” Angel’s voice raised in anger. He hadn’t felt this angry for quite a time. A century.

“I’m talking about your destiny. These dreams you’ve had… haven’t they taught you anything? They have showed you the glory. That one you once achieved.”

“That wasn’t glory. That was… hideous. An abomination. I was an abomination.”

“But you enjoyed it, didn’t you? We all have to perform certain… how could I call them… bad? things to attain magnificence and splendour. It’s sad but it’s how the world works. You know what they say… even roses have their thorns.”
He opened the silver and ebony lid. The green glow grew and surrounded him as a toxic fog. Soon the wicked, greenish light lighted the whole room. It glittered and pulsated for several minutes till it disappeared with a thunderclap.




Buffy woke up with a gasp. Her heartbeat was a drum pounding against her ribs. After coming from Faith’s hotel room she had taken a bath and lay down on her bed just to rest a little. That Christmas dinner was going to be one for which she’d need all her strength. Or her patience. She’d fallen asleep, though. She tried to put the bedside lamp on but her hand hit the small box she always kept there sending it to the floor. Trembling, she got down the bed and opened the shutters. A white, cold moonlight leaded her way to the switch. She knelt down and carefully picked up the scattered things, placing them again in the little box. She crouched there, cuddling it against her chest, fighting the strong begging of her eyes. Spill these hot tears that are burning us.
Downstairs, sneaking as an intruder, she dialled Giles’ number with one trembling finger while she fought against the sleeves of a long coat.

“I… I need to talk to you. Yes, now.”

A wonderful smell wafted from the kitchen. “Where are you going?” Joyce rinsed her hands with a blue cloth. “We’ve got guests. Not to say it’s Christmas…”

“I know, I know, mom.” Her face turned to the door. She didn’t want her mother to see her tears. Wasn’t exactly in the mood for explanations. “Won’t be out too long. I promise.”

She was two blocks away from Giles’ home when she realized she still held the box against her heaving chest.



Giles placed two steaming cups of tea on the coffee table watching the small wooden box with an appraising gaze. He knew Buffy had held a few secrets. She wouldn’t be a woman if she hadn’t. Being a teen wasn’t a walk in the park. He had strolled along that path too and in spite of the rigid education and the strictest manners his family had behold during their entire existence, he had taken the rebel way as much as he could. Some of those roads had piloted him near the abyss but he had managed to stay on firm ground. He knew his girl; this brave and outstanding girl would do it too.

“And that’s why you know this wasn’t an ordinary dream.” He still looked at the wooden lid refraining that need of opening it. “Because you have dreamt with something related to his past as Angelus.”

“ I was there. And… and somebody I… I can’t help this feeling of… There’s something bad with him.” There was no doubt in her statement. Made Giles fidgeted. “I… there’s something I want to share with you. Something that I haven’t said to anybody. It’s not that I didn’t want to. But sometimes… I simply can’t.”

“If you’re going to tell me you and Angel are…”

“No! No.” Her golden hair was an orange wave under the lamp. “I’m not seeing him anymore. I’ve… I’ve left him. Really. As I should have done since… since… a year.”

“What?” He couldn’t but watch at her in disbelief. “I mean, what has changed? I thought you loved him.” As painful as it could be for me, he was about to add but stayed mute.

“I did. Before… before Halloween… before… See, - Buffy jumped from the sofa, pacing along the living room as an impatient lion, - I can’t tell you! You won’t understand! And don’t tell me you will ‘cause I know you won’t. You’ll hate me. Even more than you had when Miss Cal…” Her hand cupped her mouth and her eyes grew bigger and bigger. They were green fields under a soft rain.

Giles rubbed his frown. “Come here.” He put an arm around her shoulders, walking her back to the couch. “I never hated you and I never will. You can trust me not matter what you think. I’m not here to judge you, Buffy. I’m here to teach you, to train you and to learn from you as well. This is a hard path for all of us but we’ve to trust in each other. Makes us grow together. Makes us closer.” He hugged her when the soft sobs started to rock them. “Here. Have this.” He offered a white handkerchief that seemed to appear from nowhere, as a magician trick. “I’ll put the kettle on again. If you want.”

“So… things changed.” He helped when she finished her tea and the handkerchief was a knot of fabric in a squeezed fist. “Something did it. Or somebody…?” He had never considered that possibility.

“Somebody…” She opened the lid of the box taking the glasses out with extreme care. Her fingers traced the rim. “William…” The necklace came out next and she took her time before placing them both on the table. “This was his mother’s… his mother’s necklace. I never knew her name. Maybe I could ask Sp…” She stopped and a horrified shadow ran across the washed green of her eyes.

“Who is this William, Buffy?” Giles pretended not to have seen that worried look. He was sure that this secret had been as heavy as a bull for her to carry it. No wonder she had escaped. He’d always thought it’d been due to the pain of Angel’s death. Apparently, the burden had been greater.

“Was. He was. He’s dead. Yes, he still is”. She chuckled sadly. Giles massaged his temples. “He’s… he’s a… vampire now.”

“I’m not getting anything of this. Could you possibly be more… specific?” The bottle of whisky. He needed a glass. He sat down again with a glass filled to the brim.

“I met William when that Ethan ex friend of yours threw me across a portal back to a horrible Victorian London. And please, accept my word. It WAS horrible. He was human and then he wasn’t ‘cause I was so dumb that I failed to him even when I knew what was going to happen. Completely irresponsible searching girl. You know me. You should tie me up to a chair and whip me. Research is important, research can save lives… Okay, okay. Long story short, he wasn’t only William anymore but…” - she counted to three, sip a stolen whisky mouthful, and grimaced before starting to talk again. Full speed. That would stop Giles from barging in. Or hitting her. For five minutes at least. “…but William the Bloody. You know… Spike? And I know I’d have killed him past year but I was so confused and then he helped me against Angelus for that story we had together and now he… he was in that dream, with me, and Angelus and nothing of that ever happened but it felt as if it had. So, maybe it hadn’t but it will. Which means only one thing. I’m…”

“Stop.” Her eyes followed him all the way to the kitchen. A cabinet door slammed. One after the other. Giles muttering mixed with a tingling noise. “I’m sure I kept some aspirins here, somewhere…” He said as he kept on opening each and every drawer of his flat. Finally, he grabbed a bottle with a satisfied grunt and swallowed two pills. “So… - he continued as though he hadn’t rose from the couch, - you knew Spike as human. That’s…interesting.” His Watcher’s side burst with the urge to ask thousands of questions. Giles polished his glasses to keep him at bay.

“He was such a good man…” Her eyes glazed over, smitten with deep feelings she couldn’t conceal. Giles was truly astonished. “Caring and tender and…” She was about to say ‘he still is’! Such a crazy notion…

She poured her heart along with the tea. Her belly was a rumbling barrel, a thing that reminded her of a distant morning in a distant city. When she finally broke off, she felt as though an invisible vampire had drained her. Empty but not in a horrible, void-shape way. Empty as a container waiting for a new, fresh cargo. Enjoying the ease and the ethereal sensation of her heart. A rare, unique occasion.

“The important thing is that something is going on with Angel. And I care… I don’t know why but I can’t help it.”

“Of course you can’t, - Giles eyes were fixed on the shining glasses, still astounded by her confession, - ‘cause you did love him and that’s why you’ll always care. Maybe you could go and check on him. Do you want me to go with you?”

Buffy looked at the clock in shock. Almost one in the morning! Her mother was going to kill her. “No, I’ll go myself. I’ll let you know. I promise. Oh, and by the way, Merry Christmas.”


Secrets. She had kept a few ones. Feeling threatened by another woman. Something in no way she was going to tell Giles. Being jealous and a little drunk. Something in no way Giles should know. This feeling… lov… NO! It couldn’t be. Nothing was screaming inside her. He’d told her that. Painful thought she wasn’t going to chew over now. The lack of strength. That was a thing she should have talked about. It had been so frightening at first. I’d been easy to say to Kendra all those things about imagination and creativity. Those were things very resourceful when they came along with super powers. Did that mean that being an ordinary girl wouldn’t be that cool? She’d never considered that. Anyway, she wasn’t going to think about that now, either. It wasn’t a thing that’d ever happen again, so why bother? The greater surprise had been how good it felt to talk. Freely. As she had never done before. Oblivious to the hate or the judging or the accusatory looks. She could have spoken till the next apocalypse and maybe even during and after it. Maybe it was the Christmas spirit…Why had she chose Giles for the hearing ears? A father figure…? That one she missed so much? Possible. Or had something to do with the British thing? Yes, sure. ‘Cause some other British guy would hear her prattling about that particular subject…

“Hello cutie.”

And now she was listening to him. She had wanted to hear that deep voice so badly that now she was listening to it in a daydream. That was over the top. She had simply put a halt to her continuous fantasies. Her head turned round despite her own volition. There he was. Either a ghost or a very ghastly joke.

“What are you doing here? Again?” The better way to hide her jumping heartbeat. By mistreating him. Hope he didn’t listen to it running like a cheetah in an opened savannah. She glared at him wondering if he could read minds or tell the future. Coincidences exist? She couldn’t tell.

Spike sneered widely. “Well, love. It’s Christmas. Thought I’d have a decent dinner, a decent chat and maybe a decent present.” His eyebrows arched seductively.

Buffy breathed out a long, fuming sigh. “I can’t deal with you right now. She started to walk again. “I’m… in a hurry.”

Spike wasn’t a guy you could leave behind. Not that she really wanted to… but this thing she had to do… Soon he was by her side. “Going to see Peaches?”

“No. Well, yes. And I don’t have to give you, no less, any kind of explanation.” And that was a hell of a truth. Besides, why did she keep on doing that? Every time he showed around she had that tendency of confessing, better said, explaining her next movements. She certainly had to stop being such an idiot.

“I’m tagging along.”

“No!”

“Well, you know, I can walk wherever I want. This is a free country and all that crap.
‘Sides, I really like this soap opera. Want to see the next episode.”

Buffy’s pace could have won a medal at the Olympics. She knew she wasn’t going to lose him in one corner. But at least she’d make him sweat. Okay, vampires didn’t sweat. Well, in any case his muscles would suffer a bit.

She didn’t call Angel but walked straight into the mansion. It was quiet and cold as outer space. Spinning around, she scowled at Spike when he picked up an empty glass from the mantelpiece. “I told you to wait outside. Or leave. Better the second choice.” She doubted a second at the stiffness in his body. His blue eyes were only black slots.

“He’s not here. Something…”

“Don’t tell me. You can smell it.” She patted his shoulder. “Good dog. Remind me to buy you a bone.”

He growled. A sound that made her bite her lower lip just not to laugh. There wasn’t anything funny in his next words, though. “Traces of magic. It’s still in the air.”

She followed him as he stepped out in the atrium and climbed the steps that lead up. Maybe it’d be a good idea to have a hound dog to find the way. All she might need was a gun and she’d be ready for an action movie. He climbed up the hill, pushing the bushes aside till he stopped. Angel was standing three metres ahead staring at the magnificent view of the whole town at his feet.

Buffy ran, avoiding the sudden Spike-statue and the hand that almost ripped her arm out from its socket. She took only four steps.

“Angel…” She whispered, swallowing the horrible sensation that had her guts twisted in a fistful of fire.

“Stay away from him, pet.” Spike managed to say after sniffing the air several times to check the possible mistake. There wasn’t any. The scent was too familiar. Nervously familiar.

“What? Why?” Something inside her knew the answer. It was like a noxious fizz, expanding and contracting. Wicked, purple bubbles crashed against the nape of her neck, frizzing her hair with fear.

“He’s not Angel anymore.”

tbc...