One Day….

Chp 3 A glimmer of hope


The argument had been raging throughout the long evening. Spike shut himself in the basement and tried not to listen to the row blazing away all over the house. But Dawn in full on, high volume anger was hard to ignore.

He looked up as footsteps sounded on the stairs. Xander hurried down, a hunted expression on his face. He paused when he saw Spike lying on his bed, then shrugged and perched on top of the washing machine.

“Any port in a storm?” Spike drawled.

Xander nodded briefly. “I think Buffy’s announcement was just one step too far for Dawnie and the Potentials. No Christmas!” He pulled a face. “Buffy sounded like Alan Rickman in Robin Hood. ‘Cancel Christmas!’” He sighed. “She’s about as popular now upstairs as the Sheriff of Nottingham!”

Spike tried not to recall a memorable bloodstained night spent in the Lace Market in Nottingham. These memories would always keep coming, he knew that. But that didn’t make them any easier to deal with.

“Slayer must have her reasons.”

Xander shrugged. “No money, no time and no interest seems to be the general opinion. Dawn and the girls can cope with no money – they’ve been making paper chains out of newspaper for days now – and The First has been quiet for over a week now so we might have the time – but no interest – that’s what’s causing the trouble.”

“She’s got a lot on her mind.”

Xander stared down at him. “Trust you to take her side! But then, I don’t suppose Christmas means a lot to a vampire – even one with a nice new soul – or do you get your old one back, but a little the worse for wear?”

Spike didn’t reply. The time when Xander could annoy him had long since passed. He glanced across at him – he sat, drubbing his heels against the side of the washing-machine, overweight, his hair too long, his skin too greasy. But, and to Spike it was a big but, he was still here, still backing the Slayer, even though his skills in a big fight were nil.

He swung himself upright, suddenly alert. “Buffy’s coming.”

Xander felt the jolt of surprise that he’d felt so often when confronted by the vampire’s superior hearing. And he was right. The door at the top of the stairs swung open, Dawn’s yelling could be plainly heard as Buffy came down into the basement. He winced at her expression. There was no way he was going to get into an argument with the Slayer right now.

“OK – well, I’ll leave you two to talk. Battle plans and schemes and Slayery things. I need to find Anya and….” His voice died and he scurried away, the door slamming shut, cutting out the angry sounds from above.

Spike stared at the girl he loved so dearly. God she looked tired! As if every step she took would be the last before she sunk to the floor and stayed there. And when had she become so thin? Her skin was transparent from weariness and he knew instinctively that she hadn’t been eating.

“Sounds as if the next apocalypse has hit town early.”

Buffy sighed. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that forgetting about The First and celebrating Christmas this year is a good thing? Jeez, let’s all ignore the fight and staying on our guard and rush around buying presents, making cookies and finding the only Christmas tree left in the whole of Sunnydale! I’m sure the First will be only too happy to sit quietly and wait until the New Year! Why can’t Dawn grow up? If we don’t concentrate, every second of every day, The First will win. I can’t afford the luxury of Christmas – for any of us!”

“It’s not just Dawnie, though, is it? Didn’t I hear Kennedy and a couple of the other girls giving you their opinions at the top of their voices?”

Buffy sat next to him on the bed, rubbing her arms to get warm. Spike fought back the temptation to hold her. After all, there was no warmth to be had from his body.

“The others are just cross because they’ll miss having presents. Dawn keeps on and on about what we used to do when mom was alive. Singing carols after Christmas Eve supper; taking turns to put the fairy on top of the tree, the eggnog mom used to make, even the wretched wreath we hung on the door.”

“And that’s wrong because…..?”

Buffy smashed her clenched fist down, oblivious that it was his knee she had punched and not her own. “Because it never happened! All her memories are just – smoke and mirrors. Oh, I can recall her being there, I can remember the fun and laughter and loving, but none of it’s true! Dawn wasn’t there, my memories are false and that means – ”

She stopped and Spike realised she was fighting not to cry. “That means my real memories of mom and dad and me are gone. I won’t ever know what happened to me because that’s all been wiped away. Oh, I don’t blame Dawn. None of this is her fault, I just wish she wouldn’t keep on and on about Christmas and how perfect it used to be. Because if it was perfect, then I’ll never know.”

Her voice echoed round the basement and died away. Spike looked at the thin shoulders that carried so much. None of them would ever come close to knowing the pressure this girl lived with each day and night of her life.

He knew he couldn’t give her back the Christmasses from her past, but surely there must be something he could offer, because wasn’t that what Christmas was all about? Giving. He frowned. Where had that idea come from? He didn’t give, if you did you were likely to have your gift thrown back in your face.

“Can you spare me half an hour?”

Buffy turned, puzzled. Spike never asked her for anything. “Of course.”

It was midnight by the time they had driven up the winding roads out of Sunnydale to the hills above. Spike drove into the rough area cut into the hillside where countless courting couples had parked over the years. It was empty, a scutter of wastepaper and old leaves blowing emptily in the breeze.

Without speaking he took Buffy’s hand and led her to the edge where they could gaze out over Sunnydale. The sky above was clear, dotted with a myriad of icy stars.

“What are we doing up here, Spike? I’ve seen Sunnydale before, you know. Hey, Hellmouth!”

“What do you see, Slayer?”

Buffy sighed but left her hand in his. “Darkness, too much darkness. No lights, no noise, fear. Everyone who hasn’t left town will do any day now.”

Spike pointed. “There’s one light down there. On the other side of town.”

Buffy peered and calculated the distances. “Hey, that’s my home! It must be. Yes, one dim light, all on its own. How sad is that?” She tugged her hand from his and turned away.

Spike caught her and pulled her against him, her back against his chest, her hair tickling his lips. He tightened his grasp. “You see one light, I see a spark to ignite a fire that will consume everything in its path. I see hope for the future. That’s what you give people all the time, Buffy. What you’ve given them your whole life. And that’s what Christmas is all about. Hope. It’s your strongest weapon. You give Dawn and Kennedy and all the Scoobies a hope that we’ll win against the First and perhaps we will.

“No one can give you back the memories the monks washed away, Slayer, just as no one can wipe out all the horror of mine. All we can do is make new ones every year and hope the good ones will stay with us and the bad ones not bother us too much.”

Buffy stared down the hill to where the single light was valiantly trying to defeat the surrounding darkness. How did Spike always know how to get round her defences?

She gave people hope? Shyly she considered what he’d said. If it was true, then she hadn’t completely failed. Then she sighed and relaxed against the strength of the man she knew would always have her back. “You’ll have to cope with making sticky paper chains and Dawn on a sugar high,” she warned softly. “Giles always insists on reading chapters from A Christmas Carol and I won’t even begin to tell you about Xander and Willow and their traditions!”

Spike tightened his arms round her for just a second, burying his face in her hair until what was left of his common-sense returned. They were friends, allies, no more than that.

Buffy broke away and headed back to the car. She opened the door, then suddenly spun round and, to Spike’s amazement, she was laughing. “You realise The First will think we’ve all gone completely mad!”

“Bonus, then, pet.”

“Next year I’ll make Mom’s eggnog. You’ll love it!”

Spike paused before getting behind the wheel. His head was spinning and the breath he didn’t need to take was catching in his throat. Next year! She expected him to still be around, still in her company next year. And as they drove back down into the darkness, the vampire smiled. He reckoned his love had just given him the best Christmas present he would ever have.

The end.