Author's notes: Aaah, I couldn't wait to update and I cross my fingers that you'll like this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. ;)

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Chapter 19


Buffy shook off a strange feeling of being watched. It was different from the way she usually felt when a demon was nearby. It made panic rise in her chest, inducing the flight instinct rather than fight. She stopped for a second, sweeping her gaze around the deceptively peaceful atmosphere of the graveyard.


Buffy walked straight home, taking furtive glances over her shoulder all the way.


*******


She’d just opened the front door when Faith popped up in front of her with a grin, pulling her in before closing the door and pushing Buffy to sit on the couch so she could interrogate her.


“So how did the date go?” Faith frowned. “Why is there a twig in your hair?”


“I went patrolling after.” Buffy’s fingers combed through her wavy hair and pulled out a twig with a groan. “I’m never letting you talk me into a blind date ever again. And why did you tell him I was almost twenty?”


“What? You look old enough with the makeup on.”


“That’s not the issue, Faith. He was terrible.”


“Hmm… he was? But I thought you’d like him. He was… classy and intelligent.”


“No, he really wasn’t. He was pompous! A-and… he talked about himself all the time. I thought I was going to fall asleep on him.”


Faith cringed. “Sorry.” Then she shrugged. “You got a free dinner out of it at least.”


“Yeah. The food might have been the only thing that didn’t suck.”


“So when you said you’d never let me arrang-”


“Not a chance in hell.”


Faith sighed.


*******


Giles paced the length of his bedroom, frowning as he listened to the person on the other side of the phone conversation.


“And you’re sure about it? That it’s him?”


“As much as a researcher like me can be, Rupert.”


Giles sighed and rubbed at his tired eyes, glasses in his hand ready for a thorough cleaning. “How can I possibly tell her? She’s just now started to adjust. Dropping something like this on her could very well endanger her life is she gets distracted on patrol.”


“They will meet sooner or later and we both know that. New information about their whereabouts came to the forefront, and it seems the Aurelians have separated.”


A sliver of hope sparked inside him. “Separated? Did some of them leave the country?”


“Not as such, no.” The man fell quiet for a few seconds, obviously mulling over his next words. “I don’t think you’ll like what I’m going to tell you.”


And as quick, the hope crumbled, leaving the taste of ashes in Giles’ mouth. “What do you mean?”


“Drusilla and Darla are still here, though they have relocated somewhere in Scotland. But the fledging... though I’m not sure if I can call him that after the reputation he has already acquired... he’s been spotted heading in the direction of... Bath.”


Giles sat heavily on his bed, feeling short of breath. “Do you think he’s aware of her identity?”


“We have to be prepared for anything. She has to be prepared. He’s going to come after her, probably seeking revenge for the past they shared. We both know vampires aren’t capable of anything but hatred and malicious intent. They always come after their loved ones, and Buffy Summers is the only loved one William Pratt ever had. Your Slayer needs to know, Rupert.”


*******


Giles approached Buffy’s room, his feet heavy as if encased in lead. How could he possibly tell her? She had so much weighing on her and telling her that someone she loved had been turned into a monster she was supposed to kill would break her heart all over again.


Feeling older than he was, Giles raised his hand and knocked on her door.


“Come in,” came the muffled voice from inside, and Giles pushed the door open, entering Buffy’s sanctuary.


“Hi, Giles. What’s up?”


God, the way she was looking at him. So trusting, so young, yet her eyes betrayed a soul that had seen far too much. “Just came to see how you were doing. How was patrol? Anything... unusual happen?”


“Nah. Just the good old slayage. Why are you asking? Is there something wrong?”


Giles sat in the chair, and only then noticed that Buffy had been holding that battered old journal. William’s journal.


He couldn’t tell her.


“No, nothing wrong. I’m just worried about you.” He took off his glasses, busying himself with cleaning the lenses as he contemplated his next words. “Buffy, you do realize that demons... especially vampires are all the same, don’t you? Some of them might be more dangerous than the others but ultimately, they are all driven by their selfish desires and evil. No matter who they were when human, it is only the memories that are left. The soul is gone and there’s only the demon.”


Buffy stared at him, puzzled. “Yeah... I mean, I couldn’t really slay them if I thought they were really the same as humans. If I didn’t, they’d keep murdering people and I can’t let that happen.” She paused. “What brought this on?”


“If you were to... let’s say if you encountered a vampire with the face of someone you used to know... a childhood friend for example... would you be able to kill them?”


Buffy blinked twice and furrowed her brow. “I-I don’t know. I guess... I guess I’d have to. To protect the innocent. They wouldn’t be themselves. It’s only the memories that are the same. Right?”


“Precisely. If you ever were to meet someone from your past and found out they were... different... don’t let them fool you into thinking otherwise. It is unlikely that it would happen but as your Watcher, I want you to be prepared for everything.” Giles rose from his chair and crossed the short distance to squeeze Buffy’s shoulder. “You and Faith are like daughters to me.”


Buffy smiled at him crookedly and put her hand over his. “Thank you, Giles.”


“Now come, I think Faith is burning our dinner.”


*******


The wind picked up in speed, making Spike’s duster billow as he stalked down a cemetery. Tonight, he was a man on a mission. A vampire on a hunt. So far, the Slayer was proving to be a slippery fish to get hold of. She’d been evading him for the past month more successfully than he’d care to admit. He only managed to glimpse her twice and even then, he had to keep his distance before she realized he was there sooner than planned.


But that last time, there was just something… Spike couldn’t quite put his finger on it.


'More like don’t want to.'


The way she moved had him taking in an unnecessary breath. It had been so long since anyone reminded him so strongly of Buffy. And for the Slayer to have any resemblance to his sweet love was the biggest kick in the balls the universe could have dealt him.


He was done waiting, prowling around hiding behind trees and on the roofs of buildings like a coward. The urge to confront her was steadily growing, his skin itching with the need for violence. No more patience. No more observing. He’d find her.


Tonight.


He’d better stumble upon her or there would be bloodshed of the innocent to leave a message and draw her out.


The exhilarating, and at the same time terrifying, feeling of her presence rushed through his entire being, making him quicken his step and his lips widen in a smirk. She was close. He could almost taste it. The adrenaline. The blood. The glory of death. Hers or his. He could sense it deep in his bones.


Tonight would be the end of an era.


The Slayer. There she was, her back to him as she sat on a tombstone, stake held loosely in her hand. His gut clenched almost painfully as he stepped closer, still concealed by trees. In his haste, he failed to notice the twig and the moment it broke beneath his heavy boot, he cursed under his breath. The sound broke through the silence of the graveyard, alerting his enemy of his presence.


Time seemed to come to a halt as she stood and turned to stare in his direction.


Spike grasped at the tree trunk, the roughness of it chafing his skin. He barely noticed the pain. A scream lodged itself in his throat, refusing and needing to tear out of his mouth at the same time. His heart would be slamming in his chest if he were alive, and he’d never felt more dead.

Her face.


'Oh God, oh God, oh God…'


His knees buckled under his weight, and he would have slid to the ground if it weren’t for his grasp on the tree as she stepped closer with a frown marring her beautiful face. She didn’t see him, but he knew he only had a few seconds to run before she caught him. He couldn’t let her. Wouldn’t be able to stand the shock and disgust etched into her features when she realized what he was. What he had become.


His stomach lurched as he staggered backwards, putting distance between them. He took one fleeting glance at her face before he turned and fled.


*******


Spike crashed through the door of the rundown apartment he’d been living in and slammed it close before crumbling. He fell to his knees, hands clenching into fists as he struggled to control his emotions. So many sensations and thoughts flooded his mind; he had trouble staying conscious.


It was her! He could see those green eyes, her skin illuminated by the moon, the fullness of those lips he’d tasted so many times. But how could this be? She wasn’t supposed to be alive. Wasn’t supposed to be a witness to the monster he was. He saw those demons drag her away right before the darkness engulfed him.


'That’s just it, isn’t it? She was probably the Slayer even back then. Why wouldn’t she tell me?'


Hadn’t she trusted him? Something that felt eerily close to betrayal dug its claws into his heart and squeezed. He almost preferred it to the overwhelming swarm of guilt and shame. What had he done? The things he committed out of desperation to stay sane, the lives he’d taken out of anger.


The ways he’d let Darla and Dru touch him.


His stomach was tied in knots, eager to crawl its way up into his mouth before he gave in and emptied the contents onto the cheap gray carpet. Blood of his last victim trickled down his chin and dripped on the carpet beneath. Spike watched with morbid fascination as the liquid soaked into the fabric, creating a dark stain.


This is what he was now, a parasite feeding upon the lives of others. A monster. And Buffy was alive. Breathing, laughing, listening to the awful tracks she called music, combing her hair and brushing her teeth.


She wasn’t dead.


He couldn’t quite comprehend it. The notion was ridiculous and it changed everything.


Before he knew it, a chuckle escaped him. Once it did, Spike couldn’t stop the onslaught of maniacal giggles, and he collapsed completely to the floor. His belly hurt and someone from the room next to his banged on the wall to shut him up but he couldn’t stop. The laughter streamed past his lips, making his muscles spasm and clench, the empty insane sound thunderous in the silent room.


Spike curled into a fetal position and hugged his knees, not noting the point his laughter turned into sobs.


He never hated himself more than he did at this moment.


TBC