Chapter 23

One Month Later

“I have a chip!” the vampire cried, forcing Buffy to skid to a halt just before she pounced on her prey. “Please don’t hurt me!”

Buffy let out a sigh. This was happening more and more lately. “Fine. Hit me.”

“Huh?”

She rolled her eyes. “You don’t think I’m just gonna take your word for it, do you? You’ve got a chip? Prove it. Try to hit me.”

The vampire hesitated, and then, realizing she was serious, delivered a punch to the stomach that had them both doubling over in pain.

“Okay, you can go,” Buffy told him, wincing. “But if I catch you doing anything even remotely evil, you’re gonna meet Mr. Pointy, chip or no chip.”

After thanking her profusely, the vamp went on his way, leaving her shaking her head in disbelief. Third one this week, and she still wasn’t used to it.

Then again, a lot of things had changed in the past month. Willow was a lesbian, for one, and Tara was now an official member of the Scooby gang. Buffy was happy to have a new friend – particularly one who understood the healing process she was going through – but more importantly, she was glad to have another witch in the line-up. If what Riley had told her was true, things were about to get very dicey in Sunnydale, and she’d need all the help she could get.

The Initiative had pretty much gone all to hell. Apparently, rumors about her rape and what had happened with Forrest spread through the ranks like wildfire, and several soldiers were appalled at the lack of a trial and the minimal punishment Forrest received. The security cameras, too, had caused a stir, as most soldiers had been completely unaware of the invasion of privacy.

And so the ethical debates began.

During her tenure as Riley’s girlfriend, if Buffy had learned one thing, it was that soldiers didn’t question their superiors. It was how they were trained, Riley had told her, part of the military mindset. But now, she wondered if maybe all that questioning of authority was just simmering under the surface, waiting for that first pinprick of doubt for it all to come bursting forth.

By the time it became known that the demons weren’t the only ones being used as subjects for the Initiative’s experiments, one faction of soldiers was more than ripe for full-out mutiny. Scores of demons were set free in the underground facility, and not all of them were chipped. There were numerous casualties, Professor Walsh among them, and the top secret project known as the Initiative was terminated.

The compound was still open, and a new commander had been brought in, but the experimentation was over. Riley had said it was all strictly defensive operations from here on out, protecting the public from the dangers of the supernatural – which she’d kind of thought was her job, but she didn’t mind the help. Besides, Riley said they were planning to close the Sunnydale branch as soon as all the loose ends were tied up, redistributing their forces to parts of the world that weren’t lucky enough to have a local Slayer.

Of course, the only thing that mattered was that a strange mix of creatures had been released into the Sunnydale demon population – some local, some foreign, having been captured abroad and brought to this facility to be studied – some chipped, and some the victims of far worse kinds of experimentation that had only made them more deadly.

Like, for instance, the eight foot tall, growling, slavering thing that was headed toward her right now.

It didn’t appear to have a head, but it had a mouth in the middle of its chest, where it was gnashing its teeth, long strings of drool hanging from its lips. Buffy figured that’d be a good place to start kicking.

Unfortunately, Headless also had arms ending in razor-sharp claws that sliced furiously at her legs, leaving long tears in her pants and red gashes on her skin. She backed up quickly, circling cautiously as she and the demon sized each other up.

Glancing down at the stake in her hand, she frowned. “I’m gonna need a bigger weapon.”

Headless chose that moment to rush her, so she back-flipped out of its path and managed to land a solid kick to its side. She bent down and ripped the nearest tombstone out of the ground, bludgeoning the demon in the upper torso. That clearly wasn’t where the brain was housed, though, because although the demon stumbled, it was nowhere close to being knocked unconscious.

The demon recovered to sweep her legs out from under her, and she fell hard on her back. The heavy tombstone landed on her chest, knocking the wind out of her. She moaned in pain, but scrambled to her feet as quickly as she could. Fending off the fierce claws, she received another bloody slash across her arm. Then, out of nowhere, she felt a sharp blow to the head.

The momentum spun her around, sent her tumbling, and she could see the ground rushing up to meet her as she landed face-first. Her head was throbbing so hard she thought she might puke, but she forced herself up on her hands and knees, breathing hard. A kick to the side sent her sprawling on her back again, and she looked up to find Headless looming over her, claws extended. A globule of spittle dripped from its mouth and landed on her cheek.

Just then, the demon let out a howl of pain. Mustering up her strength, Buffy propelled herself to the side, rolling out of the way just in time for it to come crashing down where she had been moments before, an axe buried in its back.

Beyond its hulking corpse, Spike appeared out of the darkness.

She had known he was following her, had sensed him off and on during her patrols in the past month, but he’d remained in the shadows, never approaching. She’d thought perhaps she should mind, but she couldn’t bring herself to confront him, to ask him to leave her alone. She just kept remembering their last conversation in the alley, when he’d told her he loved her.

“You all right?” he asked, leaning forward uncertainly, as though he wanted to help her up, but was afraid to close the distance between them.

“Yeah,” she said, getting to her feet on her own. Her head still hurt, but at least the nausea had passed. “I think I’ll be fine.” She hesitated before meeting his gaze. “Thank you.”

“I wasn’t – I mean, I’m not – Was just passing through, an’ I saw –”

“It’s okay.”

“You – you’re bleeding, and your clothes are torn.” He hesitated. “Could get cleaned up back at my crypt if you want.”

She nodded. “Thanks.”

They walked in silence, and when they got to the crypt, Spike busied himself with gathering bandages and a clean change of clothes. He deposited it all on top of the sarcophagus and then stood back, suddenly shy. “Uh, I can, uh…” He pointed back over his shoulder.

“Okay,” Buffy replied, finding his newfound modesty somewhat absurd, but appreciating it nonetheless. She quickly stripped off her clothes while his back was turned, slipping into his t-shirt and jeans, which were baggy and rode low on her hips. “Okay, I’m done.”

Spike turned back to face her. “Let me see your arm.”

She held it out while he cleaned off the blood and then bandaged the cut. Her body trembled at their close proximity, and she found herself, despite her better judgment, longing to touch him. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed him until she’d seen him again.

When he was finished, he let her arm drop back to her side, but didn’t move away, standing close enough that if he tilted his head just a little, he’d be kissing her. But he didn’t kiss her, instead just studying her face intently, while his displayed all of his vulnerability.

She saw the spark of hope in his eyes, and she knew he wanted to read more into this intimate moment than he ought to. She opened her mouth to speak, though she had no idea what she was going to say, but Spike beat her to the punch.

“I waited, every day,” he said, his eyes downcast as his fingers traced the patterns carved in the top of the stone sarcophagus lid. “Waited for you to come here to tell me I’m forgiven. Every day, thinkin’ maybe today’s the day. But here we are, and I just – I need to know, Buffy. Is that day ever coming, or am I just being a fool?”

His soft, doleful words ripped a raw, aching wound in her chest. With one gentle hand, she cupped his face, her thumb brushing across his cheek. “I did… love you,” she said haltingly, finding it hard to speak around the lump in her throat. “Sometimes… I think I still do.”

“But you can’t forgive me,” he finished for her. Resigned, he pulled away from her touch, taking a reluctant step back. “Okay,” he said, trying to cover the hurt. “Won’t bother you anymore. Know when I’m not –”

“I’m sorry, Spike. I wish…” She shook her head. “I just can’t right now.”

“What can I do?” he begged, the shield dropping just as quickly as it had appeared. “Buffy, I’ll do anything. Just tell me what to do to make this right.”

“There’s nothing you can do. Some grand gesture isn’t going to fix this. I just need time.”

But she’d had time, she’d had a month, and she wondered if she wasn’t fooling herself, thinking that she could wait out the hurt. Maybe this was just something she’d never be able to get past. Maybe time didn’t heal all wounds, and by stringing Spike along, she was only giving him false hope for a someday that would never come.

But something inside her just couldn’t let him go.

*****

“It’s a little sad, isn’t it?” Buffy asked, dropping her bookbag on the floor as she took her regular seat. “My last counseling session.”

Dr. Marshall smiled at her. “Look how much progress you’ve made. The first time I saw you, you couldn’t wait to be rid of me.”

Buffy blushed, grinning sheepishly at the memory. “I’ll admit, I was… skeptical at first…”

“That’s one word for it,” Rebecca teased.

“But I think this has really done a lot of good.”

“Well, I’ll still see you at the group sessions, but Buffy, you’ve made a remarkable recovery over the past couple months. I’m very proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Buffy said, ducking her head at the praise.

“So, anything going on that you want to talk about? Or should we get right into the exit interview?”

Buffy bit her lip. “Actually, there is one thing… I saw William the other night.”

Dr. Marshall raised her eyebrows. “You haven’t mentioned him in a long time.”

“I know.” She grabbed a paper clip off the counselor’s desk and began to fiddle with it, twisting it around in her hands. “I was so upset when he hurt me, and I thought… I don’t know. I guess I expected it to go away somehow. I thought I could either forgive him or stop loving him, but I can’t, and seeing him again…” She sighed. “It’s driving me crazy how much I miss him.”

“What do you need in order to be able to forgive him?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I know he’s sorry. I know he’d never do anything like that again.” She glanced down at the paper clip, which was now tied in a knot. “I just… I feel like I’ve lost something, like there’s a piece of me that’s missing, that’s just gone because of him…”

Dr. Marshall pursed her lips, giving Buffy what was now a familiar look of determination. “Then maybe it’s time to get it back.”

*****

Buffy raised her fist, pausing to take a deep breath before she rapped her knuckles against the door. A moment later, a familiar face was peering down at her.

“Buffy?”

“Riley, hi. I need a favor.”