Chapter 3

“Buffy! We need to go Christmas shopping. It’s already December, and all the good stuff will be gone soon – Are you even listening to me?” Dawn stood with her hands on her hips behind Buffy.

“Huh?” The slayer had been sitting on the window seat in Giles’ house, staring out at the snow-covered street below.

“You were thinking about him again, weren’t you?” Dawn asked softly. She often found Buffy staring off into space, her mind on another time, when she was left alone.

“We didn’t really get to celebrate Christmas last year. All the girls in the house, Spike being tortured by the First – there was so much going on, I don’t think I even realized what day it was. Did I even get you anything?” she asked as she turned to face her sister.

“We had peppermint ice cream.”

“That’s right. We ran out at the last minute to the store and bought all they had. Has Willow or Xander said if they’re coming, yet?”

“Willow said she’ll be here, but we haven’t heard from Xander, yet, Buffy. He disappears into the jungle longer each time he talks to one of us,” Dawn said sadly.

“We remind him of Anya, and everything else that was lost. He’ll come back eventually, when the pain has dulled.” Buffy’s response was said in a faraway voice, as if she was talking about more than Xander, too.

“That’s it, no more melancholy thoughts! We’re going shopping, now.” Dawn grabbed her sister’s arm and dragged her out the door, grabbing coats and purses on the way.


April bumped into Spike as he came out of the bathroom the next day.

“Oh! Sorry!” she exclaimed, and stopped in her tracks. ‘Wow. No wonder Buffy had the hots for him.’

Spike had not expected her back, yet, so he was going between the bathroom and the guest room in a towel, with another over his head as he dried his hair, and that was why he hadn’t seen her come down the hall. They both stood there frozen for a minute, Spike holding the towel up, and April gawking at his chiseled torso. She shook her head to clear her thoughts.

“’S alright, luv. I wasn’t watchin’ where I was goin’. I’m just gonna…”

“Right. Sorry. I’ll get out of your way.” April hurried down the hall to her bedroom, her cheeks pink. She turned around at the door, just in time to see his back before he closed the bedroom door. ‘Damn, just as fine on that side, too. Get a grip, April. It’s not the first hot guy you’ve seen.’ Sighing, she closed her bedroom door and started changing out of her work clothes.

She grabbed a long sleeve tee and a pair of jersey pants, twisting her hair into a loose knot once she was dressed. April walked out of her room just as Spike was coming out of his, fully dressed this time. He was in his clothes from last night.

“I’d suggest you get a new t-shirt. That one’s got a hole in the back,” she commented. He brushed his hand over where the knife had stabbed him. “How’s the wound?”

“Healing. Just looks like a scar now,” he replied nonchalantly.

“May I see?” Her hands were lifting the back of his shirt before he could really protest. She ran her fingers lightly over the wound, feeling that it was completely closed. His skin pricked into goosebumps under her touch. Spike moved away, tucking his shirt back into his jeans.

“So, you, uh, look like you’re staying in tonight.”

“Yeah. Just dinner and the TV. Tomorrow’s my day off, so no paperwork tonight. Care to join me? Unless you have some place better to be,” she suggested, in a friendly offering.

Spike snorted. “Heh, not really. No one will be missing me back at the office. Well, maybe Fred, but she’s too busy trying not to look at Wesley, anyway,” he muttered. In a clearer tone, “Sure you don’t mind?”

“Would I ask otherwise?” she teased, echoing his question from last night. He smirked, and nodded in deference to her joke. “Okay. Do you eat solid food? I picked up some blood on the way home, but I don’t mind making enough for two.”

“I eat, especially if it’s spicy. Human food still tastes good, just a bit different.”

“Okay. I think I know what to make. Feel free to surf channels or pick out a DVD,” she said, and walked into the kitchen.

April took a bag of frozen Thai stir fry mix out of the freezer, then got a skillet out of the cupboard. She liked hot Oriental food, so this would be easy to make to both their tastes. Once the food was softening, she walked back into the living room to see what he had chosen. He was on the couch, legs spread wide like a typical male, watching soccer on ESPN.

“I bloody love cable television. You know how long it’s been since I saw a Man U game?” he said excitedly.

“Wow, some things really don’t change. You can make a guy a vampire, and he’ll still love sports. Why am I not surprised?”

“Do I sense a male-bashing rant starting?” he asked, brow arched.

She punched him lightly on the arm. “No, silly. I’m just not that surprised that turning evil doesn’t change your tastes. Let’s see, without a conscience, you probably went to the game still but didn’t pay to get in, and you ate somebody for the half-time snack.”

“You’re a rare one, Slayer. Where’s the righteous stance of hating all vampires and demons until proven innocent?”

“Hello! Not a Council-trained automaton. I judge people by their actions, not what they are or who they are. It’s the right thing to do,” she answered with conviction.

“I’d think you’d be more naturally suspicious, in your line of work.”

“Well, if I took the subjects personally, then, yeah, I probably would. My dad trained me to look for the truth, not what the client wants to see or hear. When I take a case, I observe, I do a background check, and then I make my conclusions. People hire P.I.’s for a lot of reasons, but many times, it’s for getting dirt on someone they don’t like. I refuse to take a case for a client with an ulterior motive. You want me to watch your spouse if you suspect they’re cheating? Fine. You want me to find your runaway teen? No problem, but I’ll never help ruin someone’s reputation for profit.”

“I see why you’re the best,” he complimented.

“Thanks,” she beamed, then got up to check the food.

April came back a couple minutes later with two steaming plates. He’d just taken a bite of chicken when she posed a question that made him choke on the bite.

“So, what do I tell Buffy in my report tomorrow?”

He coughed and sputtered, then took a sip of the blood she’d also brought him. “I –“

“If you don’t want her to know, yet, even though I think she should, I have a job proposition for you.”

“Go on.”

“Keep an eye on Angel inside Wolfram and Hart, since I can’t get in there myself, in exchange for a weekly check and the use of my guest room.”

“Why would I want to spend every day around the Poof? In case you haven’t heard, pet, we really don’t get along.”

“Then go to Buffy. If you’re afraid she won’t want to see you, you’re dead wrong. I know for a fact she still thinks about you all the time,” April said firmly.

“She told you that?” he asked, surprised.

“She does. Frequently, in her e-mails, she’ll mention something that reminded her of you that day. Dawn knows, too. She often catches Buffy lost in thought when no one’s looking. Do you want to see her move on to someone else?”

“One of the reasons I died in that Hellmouth was to give her the chance at a normal life,” he insisted. “I want her to be happy.”

“Picture this then: her friends finally badger her into going out with a new guy, and he turns out to be a total creep, or evil. She’ll always be the Slayer. It’s only inevitable until someone over there goes after her.” She said it with such conviction, like she knew it was coming. That was odd. “Or, here’s another scenario: Buffy finds out somehow that you’ve been back all this time without telling her, even after you had a body again to go where you want. She’s going to be hurt and pissed off.”

He chuckled humorlessly. “You definitely know her.”

“I do. Like I said, we bonded right away, and kept in touch since. She talks to me because I don’t have any preconceptions about her past. Dawn is the only one that talks about you. The others are afraid to mention your name, afraid of making Buffy sad.”

“She always hated being handled like glass. Those ‘friends’ of hers…if you’d only seen how many times they’ve hurt her, and yet, she still defended them, still cared what they bloody thought. All a bunch of self-righteous hypocrites, especially the Watcher and the Whelp,” he said bitterly.

“Then Spike,” April put her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t you think –“ she gasped, and her eyes fluttered as she received a premonition.

“April, are you alright?” Was that some kind a seizure? He didn’t know a lot about human ailments.

“Yeah,” she breathed. It was the same vision she’d had the last time she touched him without thinking about it: Buffy with her eyes glazed over in some sort of trance, standing before a man who looked Italian. Classic example of a smoothie – charming, debonair, expensive suit, and totally evil.

“What was that?” he asked, concerned.

“My gift,” she muttered. “Look, whatever else you decide, go to Buffy before she goes back to Rome, or at least call her. It’s important.”

He looked at her, discerning, until understanding dawned in his eyes. “You have the Sight.”

“You could call it that.”

“What did you see?”

“Enough to know Buffy will be in danger when she goes back to Rome. She’s supposed to stay at Giles’ until after Christmas, so you have a little time to get yourself together, but if you don’t go, then I’ll have to.”

“You want me to warn her?” He was a bit confused about what she was trying to convey.

“If you’re there, you won’t have to.”

“I really hate the cryptic crap,” he said, annoyed.

“I know,” she answered with a smirk.

“At least you’re not insane like Dru. How long?”

“That I’ve had this? Since I was a little girl. I have the sense of knowing what’s coming right before it happens, most of the time, and then there are the visions of things more important. It’s like I’ve seen all the test questions before I take it. The outcome is still uncertain, but I’m prepared for what I’m about to do,” April explained. She didn’t just tell anybody about her gift, but Spike felt easy to talk to. She set her empty plate on the coffee table and tucked her feet under her.

“Right. Well, if you get the winning lotto numbers, let me in on it. Why are you and Buffy so interested in what Peaches is up to?”

“It started because she found out he was having her watched all the time. Everybody knows how evil that place is, and even if he’s trying to do something good with it, Wolfram and Hart is still going to drag them down. I don’t know why he agreed to take over the place, but if he signed a contract, then the Senior Partners are definitely up to no good. Do you know why he agreed to run the L.A. branch?”

“Other than liking to sit in the big chair and order people around? Not a clue.”

“What about his crew? Do they have contracts? Did they make any deals in exchange for their new jobs?”

“I don’t know if they signed anything, but they definitely have doubts about being there. Percy and Fred, especially. Those two are all about tryin’ to do the right thing. I told the Poof when I first showed up there that they would be swallowed whole by the place. It’s bleedin’ naïve to think they can use the place for good. Too many compromises are required just to keep it runnin’.” Spike shook his head in disgust over the thought.

“Percy?”

“Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, former Watcher.”

“Ah, the head of occult research. Tell me if I have the rest right. Winifred Burkle is in charge of the science division. Charles Gunn heads the legal department. Lorne runs the entertainment section. And Angel is, of course, CEO. Anyone else I should be aware of?”

“You’ve got it down, pet. There are two others around there I don’ trust. Eve, the liaison to the Senior Partners, and Fred’s little science buddy, Knox. He’s trying too hard to act innocent. Have you ever walked into that building? You can feel the evil.” For a vampire to shudder, she knew it had to be palpable.

“You don’t have to go back, if you don’t want to. The room is yours, either way,” she said softly. She blushed and looked down from his piercing eyes.

“Why are you so insistent on helping me, April?” he asked curiously.

She smiled and shrugged, tucking her hair behind her ear. “What can I say? I’m a hopeless romantic, and Buffy would kill me if I didn’t treat you well now that I’ve found you. I hope you’ll consider me a friend.”

Now it was his turn to look away, touched. Spike cleared his throat and changed the subject. “How about a movie?”

“Sure. What are you in the mood for? I’ve got some of everything in the cabinet.”

After much good-natured bickering, they finally settled on a film. April fell asleep before the end, slumped on his shoulder. It reminded Spike of moments with a teenager about the same size, in what seemed like another lifetime. All those nights spending time with Dawn, just so she wouldn’t be alone. Keeping her out of trouble, and letting her cry on him when Buffy was dead. Something else he and the Slayer had in common. They had both died twice, both been resurrected. He’d missed her so much over the past seven months. Seven months! He hadn’t even been away that long when he got his soul.

Could he really go to London and see her again? April kept saying she missed him, and, god, he wanted to believe that, but there was still that voice reminding him of all the times she had rejected him. If Buffy cared as much as this girl said she did, then why wait to tell him until he was burning up in that cave? She’d had so many opportunities to say it earlier. The night before would have been a perfect time. He’d seen a look in her eyes that had never been directed at him before, in that cave, but he couldn’t help thinking they were the last comforting words to a dying man. He had chased her for so long. Why couldn’t he ever be the one who was chased after? Every chit he’d ever wanted had been unattainable. He just wasn’t sure what to do.