Chapter Four

Faith’s supposition turned out to be prophetic. The spying vampire never returned, and after six months or so, Buffy quit waiting for him. She stopped looking up hopefully at every sound after sunset. Stopped waiting, stake in hand, until she was sure that the vampire she was about to slay was just an ordinary demon. Things in the Pratt household had returned to normal when Joyce walked in one afternoon, her blue eyes as stormy as Buffy had ever seen them. She slammed a pile of loose copy paper down in front of her mother and asked coldly, “Would you like to explain this?”

A quick glance showed Buffy that she was looking at pages copied from an old watcher’s diary. With a shaking hand, she picked them up and ruffled through them just enough to see that they contained pages of information about Angelus, William the Bloody, and, later pages about Angel, the souled vampire, and, even later pages, copied from Giles’ diaries. Buffy didn’t need to read them to know that they described Spike’s arrival in Sunnydale and his subsequent entry into their lives.

She raised stricken eyes, seeing no trace of its usual soft expression on her daughter’s face.

“Joyce...I...”

“Why couldn’t you tell us? Would it have been so bad? For us to know? We have a right to know...”

“To know that your father was once a ruthless killer? That he and your Uncle Angel – and the two sluts that made them – rampaged through Europe and Asia for over a hundred years? That he killed two slayers before he found me?”

Joyce’s gasp told Buffy that the girl really hadn’t thought through what it meant to find out that Spike had spent the first 140-plus years of his life as, first a Victorian gentleman, and then as one of the world’s most feared vampires. Buffy’s face softened and she took Joyce’s hand and gently pulled her down to sit beside her on the couch.

“Your father is-was a wonderful, gentle, loving man. What good would it have done to let you know that he was once one of the creatures that I’ve spent my life slaying? I would never want you to think any less of him – or to be afraid of him. I wanted all your memories to be good ones...not the stuff of nightmares.”

Biting her lip, Joy gestured at the papers Buffy had thrown back onto the coffee table.

“But it says he started helping you. That he stopped killing. That he...that he fell in love with you. While he was still a vampire. And that he got a soul. For you. And he saved the world.”

“Twice,” Buffy said softly, squeezing her daughter’s hand. “He saved the world at least twice – and helped me save it a couple of others.”

“And you didn’t think we should know that?” Her shrill voice carried to the front hall where her brother had just entered the house.

“Should know what?” His eyes darted back and forth between his mother and his sister. The tension between them was so strong he thought he could see the air quivering. When neither one answered him, he repeated, “Who should know what? Mom? Joy?”

The girl held Buffy’s gaze, a challenge in her eyes. When Buffy still said nothing, just dropped her head onto her chest and covered her face with her hands, Joy nodded stiffly.

“Fine. I’ll tell him then.”

“No!” Buffy’s head flew up, her eyes pleading. “Just...just give me a minute, okay? I have to think about how I want to say this.”

She gestured for Will to come into the room and sit in the adjacent chair, then switched places with Joy so as to be facing both of her children.

“What do you remember about your dad?” she began carefully.

“That he was very brave and a good fighter,” Will said loyally.

“That he was a good dad and he loved us very much,” Joy added with a glare at her brother.

Buffy nodded. “He was all of those things,” she said softly. “And he was those things for much longer than you know.”

They waited, Joy expectantly, Will with a still-puzzled look on his face. He spotted the paper on the table and went to reach for it, but Buffy, in a rare demonstration of slayer speed, got there first. She put her hand on them firmly, saying, “No, let me tell you the story. Then you can read these, and you’ll know what to believe and what not to.”

“A long time ago, in London, England sometime in the 1800’s there was a shy, gentle man – a poet. He took good care of his sick mother and he tried to be a good man. But one night, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time and his life changed forever....”

Twenty minutes later, when Buffy had reached the part where she went to LA after the apocalyptic battle with the senior partners to find that the two vampires that had been a part of her life for so many years were now fully human, neither child had yet to interrupt. With wide eyes and growing wonder, they had listened as Buffy tore apart everything that they’d thought they knew about their father and the “uncle” who was a distant, but important, part of their lives. In place of the half-truths and invented history that they had been told, was the long, sometimes ugly, and ultimately heroic story of the man-turned-vampire-turned-man who had been their father.

“So, when Dad talked about the fights you two used to have...”

“He meant real fights. Real, violent, I’m-trying-to kill-you fights.” Buffy’s voice held no trace of a tremor as she thought back to the early days of Spike’s time in Sunnydale. “We were mortal enemies – a slayer and a vampire who built his reputation on having killed two slayers.”

“But you fell in love.” Joy’s voice was certain, if puzzled.

“We did. It took a long time, and we had a little help from one of your Aunt Willow’s wonky spells and the US Army; but, yes, we fell in love. And then your father saved the world and I thought he was gone forever. I mourned and then I moved on – or I tried to. It wasn’t working out all that great, and then LA blew up and when I got there with an army of slayers, I found...”

“You found Daddy in the hospital.”

“Yes, your father and Uncle Angel. Both of them. Hurt, but alive and breathing. As human as you are.”

“As human as you are, too,” Will pointed out.

“I’m a slayer, Will. I think the jury might be still out on how human I am.” Buffy gave a small smile. “But, yeah. He was human like me and we got married and we had you and our life was as wonderful as it can be for two people who risk their lives on a fairly regular basis.” She paused and took a deep breath.

“The thing was, your father and I both tended to forget sometimes that he was only human. And he was being really stupid when he tried to lead those vamps away from me. It got him killed.”

“We know that, Mom,” Joy said, the first grace of her usual gentle nature finally showing in her voice and face. “You’ve never hidden from us how he died.”

“Yes, I have.” Buffy waited while they digested that simple sentence, then continued. “He did die saving my life. That’s all true. But what I never told you is that the vamps didn’t just kill him; they turned him.”

There was a duet of gasps from her children. She saw Joy’s eyes widen as the older child, the one with the quickest mind, began to remember scenes from their past. The tearful “good-byes” shouted into the night sky, and the vampire that had been watching her sleep less than a year ago.

Buffy nodded silently to Joy and then explained to her frowning son, “I waited up all night by his body, ready to stake the demon that I was sure was now inhabiting it. But...”

“But...?” Will was all but exploding; holding himself into the chair by sheer will.

“But the vampire that rose that night was still...well, not your dad. He was a vampire through and through. No soul, no heartbeat. But it was Spike. My Spike. The one I fell in love with so many years ago.”

“Did he...did he remember us? Didn’t he love us any more? Is that why he didn’t come home?”

Buffy took a sobbing breath and clenched her fists tightly before trying to answer.

“No. That’s not why he didn’t come home. I...I didn’t let him come home. I was afraid...afraid for you. I didn’t know...” She stopped and met their eyes firmly. “I was very foolish. I should have known better... as long as I’ve known him... and he’s never, ever hurt anyone he loves. Even when he was evil – he always took care of the people he loved. But I forgot all that. All I could remember was listening to Angel talking about killing his whole family the night after he rose, and I was afraid. I sent your father away.”

Will’s eyes lit up with sudden understanding. “The night you took us outside to say ‘good-bye!’ ” he said, dredging up a faded memory from years ago. “We really were saying ‘good-bye’ to him. He was there!”

Buffy nodded, her face a mask of regret. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing...” Sudden memories of how often she had listened to Willow or Giles repeat that excuse when something they had done had caused her pain sent a bolt of empathy through her.

I guess I owe the two of them some apologies now.

“Is that why you haven’t remarried?” Joyce asked shrewdly. “Because Daddy is still alive?”

“He isn’t ‘alive’, Joyce,” her mother said sharply. “Nothing about your father makes him different from any other vampire – except...”

“Except that he still loves us and wouldn’t hurt us,” Will said firmly.

“Except that.”

“Where is he? Have you seen him? Do you talk to him? Can we talk to him?” Suddenly the questions came tumbling out of their mouths, so close together that Buffy could hardly follow them. But she did get the gist of what they were really asking. Holding up her hand for silence, she glared at each of them until they subsided.

“Now listen to me; and listen very hard,” she said, her voice sheer slayer. “We do NOT know where your father is or where he’s been. We don’t even know if he’s still ...if he hasn’t been dusted somewhere, by some slayer who never bothered to report it because he was just another vamp to her. I need for you both to promise me, right now, that you will not change anything about your behavior around vampires because you’re hoping one of them might be your father. No walking around by yourself at night because you think he might be out there. No leaning out the windows and calling for him at night. Promise me. Right now – or you will never leave the house after sunset again.”

One look at their mother’s face told them she was deadly serious, and they nodded slowly.

“Promise,” Buffy ordered.

“We promise, Mom,” Joyce spoke for both of them.

She studied their faces, searching for any signs of rebellion or duplicity, before nodding.

“Okay, then. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about your father sooner. And I don’t think I can even begin to tell you how sorry I am that I sent him away and took him out of your lives; but I did, and now we have to live with it.”

“Do you think he’ll come back someday?” Joyce’s voice trembled with hope.

“I hope so, honey. I really hope so... He always has before,” she whispered, almost to herself.

“He’s probably really mad at you,” Will said, his eyes reflecting the accusation he was afraid to make. “Maybe he won’t come back.”

“He probably is really mad at me,” Buffy admitted, her shoulders slumping as she spoke. “But no matter how mad your dad gets, he always comes back...eventually. And, anyway,” she tried to sound more upbeat, “It’s me he’s mad at, not you two. He knows it wasn’t your fault that I made him go away. He won’t be mad at you.”

“Maybe he’s mad at us because if it wasn’t for us, you wouldn’t have had to send him away.”

Her son’s quiet observation, so wrong, and yet so typical of a child whose parents were no longer together, brought back memories of Buffy’s early teenage years when she tried to understand how her father could be so busy with his life in LA, that he couldn’t find the time to come and see her. She was only too familiar with how easy it could be for child to take the blame for a divorce or separation.

She blinked back tears as she brought her fist down on the coffee table, splitting the solid wooden top and causing both children to jump in their seats.

“No! No. Spike— your daddy--would never, ever, do that. He isn’t mad at you and he doesn’t blame you for what I did. Don’t ever think that!”

“But,” Joy’s quiet voice joined her brother’s, “you sent him away because of us, right? So it is our fault. If we didn’t exist, he could have come home with you and you’d still be happily married.” She gazed at her mother calmly, the logic of her comment seeming indisputable to both children.

“Oh, God.” Buffy’s moan put an end to the conversation. Rather than stay and try to comfort their mother when her head dropped into her hands and her shoulders began to shake, they quietly left the room and went upstairs, by tacit agreement going into Joyce’s room and closing the door.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.” Already the girl’s gentle nature was asserting itself and she was regretting her words.

“Maybe not. But it’s true, isn’t it? She sent him away because she was afraid he’d hurt us. So if she hadn’t had to worry about that, he would still be here...just...deader.”

They were silent for several minutes, each lost in thought as they tried to absorb all the new information about their family’s history. Joyce was torn between sympathy for her mother, who she knew was still crying downstairs, and anger that she’d kept such an important secret from them. Will was trying to decide if he was excited enough about the fact that he still had a father - and that said father was a vampire – to forgive his mother for keeping him away from them for so long. Suddenly, his eyes lit up and he turned to his sister excitedly.

“I know what we should do, Joy! We need to find Dad and get him to make up with Mom! Then we can be a family again.”

Hope flared, then died quickly. “How are we going to do that? He isn’t around anymore. We don’t know where he is or how to find him. And we just promised mom we wouldn’t go looking for him at night.”

Only momentarily deterred, Will began to jump around the room. “I don’t know how – I just know we need to do it. I’ll think of something.”