Finding the Way Home
by Sandy S.
Three years had passed.
Three bloody years had passed without a word from Buffy outside of the occasional postcard, Christmas card, or phone call about Dawn’s life landmarks.
Why hadn’t she been in touch?
Soon after Spike and Buffy returned to L.A. from Sunnydale, she’d fed him some line about baking cookies, and he’d given her his trademark eyebrow lift, which shut her up real fast. She knew that he saw through her and that there was more to her running away than half-cooked dough. . . something more than a simple analogy could explain.
Hell, he was scared, too. He’d even told her as much.
She left him even though she knew he was struggling. . . that he was trying to adjust to being human again.
Where had she gone?
Buffy had followed Giles around the world, gathering up the new Slayers-in-Training/Slayers and setting up a training facilities and programs for them. She’d settled in one spot after about a year and was trying to provide a stable home life for Dawn.
Spike understood all that. . . but why did she have to stay so separated from him?
And just when Spike was learning to live without her presence, learning to be around Angel and his crew without tangible tension in the air whenever they inhabited the same room, she returned.
She returned as if she’d never left. . . .
He’d glimpsed her in Angel’s waiting area. . . being that Angel’s waiting room was right across from his grandchilde’s office.
She embraced Angel with an energy he hadn’t seen her possess in a while. Thankfully, this time, she didn’t kiss the poof. Spike didn’t know if his heart could take it.
Wait. His heart *could* take it because he was *long* over her. . . with her thick blonde hair and glowing green eyes. He shivered but donned a mask of indifference, straightened his suit jacket, and marched into the waiting room, unflinchingly confronting Angel and Buffy’s sign of affection.
Buffy’s face lit when she saw him, Angel frowned, and Spike felt his heart leap in his chest, but he pushed his feelings aside, keeping his face neutral.
“Spike,” she whispered in his ear as she hugged him tightly. When she drew back, she ran her tiny hands over his chest with joy and surprise. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear a suit before.” Her voice was a little hoarse as if she’d been laughing a lot. He vaguely wondered with whom she’d been having such a good time.
He dropped his eyes from hers. “Yeah, well, you haven’t seen me in a while. And I only wear it to work. . . part of the dress code here. Actually, I don’t wear it unless I have someone I have to impress.” He paused to keep himself from babbling further and studied her again. “You look. . . happy.”
Buffy beamed. “I am. I am.”
“That’s wonderful. How’s Dawn?” He could still show concern for the Bit without seeming too obvious.
“She’s good. She’s started college this year.” Buffy was proud of her little sister.
“So she finally decided that she needed an education?”
“Yeah. Your little speech about school’s producing mindless automatons didn’t help motivate her, by the way. She used that as an excuse for quite a while.” She was more amused than annoyed.
Buffy was bringing up things Spike had said years ago. . . things he hardly recalled saying. Did that mean she still thought of him sometimes? He mentally shook himself. “Well, she always did look up to me.”
“True.”
A familiar throat clearing filled the air. Buffy turned from Spike, whom she had continued touching, and smiled at the source of the noise.
Angel was expertly scowling with crossed arms. “Shall we?” He waved her toward his open office door, implying they should leave Spike behind.
Even though Angel and Spike had developed a tentative trusting relationship, when it came to Buffy, old rivalries died hard.
Intent on following Angel, Buffy broke away from Spike, allowing the air conditioner to sweep cold air between them.
Thinking of Dru and Angelus from Days of Sunnydale unlife, Spike shook off the feeling of déjà vu, swallowed the lump in his throat, and straightened his shoulders. She wanted to be with Angel. She always had. If that’s what she wanted, that’s what she’d get.
But Buffy turned back and grabbed him by the elbow. “Come on, Mr. Stoic. You’re involved in this, too.”
“I am?” He smirked at Angel. “Good. I think.”
* * *
“Vampire Villa, I’ve heard of that before, I believe.” Wesley placed his fingers to his lips with a contemplative expression on his face.
Angel, Buffy, and Spike had been interrupted by the ex-Watcher before they settled down enough to discuss Buffy’s reason for being in L.A. As the only remaining person on Angel’s team that knew Buffy from the beginning or near the beginning, Wesley had been excited to see her again. Now, he was deep in the discussion.
“I have,” Angel noted. “And so has Spike here, but neither of us has ever been there.”
“It’s a vampire city wedged between this dimension and the next,” Wesley thought out loud. “The Council never was able to uncover it. In fact, they believed it to be a myth if I remember right.”
Spike sat forward on the leather seat, touching the tips of his fingers together. “The city has no sunlight. Blood and death twenty-four seven. A vampire paradise.”
“Yeah,” Buffy acceded to both of them, “that’s what Giles said, too. But recently, something’s come up as a new inter-dimensional hotspot, and he believes that it has to do with this city.”
“And what does he want us to do about it?” Angel asked.
“Well, with all the Slayers in the world, the vampire populace has been thinned quite a bit. Additionally, we think. . . Giles thinks that the city has grown a lot and that there may be some sort of mystical push for it to spill over into our dimension. It needs to be investigated. Willow senses these changes in our dimension, in the Earth, and she said it’s pretty urgent.”
“Hmmm. We could check with the evil bunch here. See if they have anything on the place,” Spike suggested.
“Good idea.” Wesley stood. “That’s my area.” He didn’t appear proud about saying that. “I’ll check into it.” He nodded to Buffy. “Good to see you.”
“Very good.” Buffy smiled and reached for a brief hug.
Wesley exited, shutting the door with a soft click.
“Thanks,” Angel said belatedly after Wesley, who probably didn’t hear. “So, Buffy, what exactly does Giles want *us* to do about it?”
Buffy wandered to the open window. Sunlight poured over the furniture, spilling onto Angel. “I still can’t get over this. . . seeing you in the sunlight.”
Angel returned her affectionate look, and Spike wanted to gag. He could stand in the sunlight anywhere. . . anytime he wanted.
“Yeah. Even Fred hasn’t been able to duplicate it,” Angel mentioned.
“Too bad,” Buffy sounded a bit sad, and Spike thought that perhaps she was pondering what might have been.
“So,” Spike interjected, disrupting the reverie, “why do you need us?”
“We’re going into Vampire Villa. The three of us to stop them from overtaking the world,” Buffy replied simply.
“What?!” Angel exclaimed.
Spike used Angel’s flurry to remain calm. “Now how would that work, love?”
Angel glared at his use of endearments with Buffy, but Buffy merely smiled.
“Well, there’s a prophecy,” Buffy explained. “And it sa. . .”
“There’s always a prophecy, and prophecies aren’t always right,” Angel stated, thinking of multiple instances where they’d proved greatly inaccurate. Spike snorted in agreement.
Buffy kept speaking as if the two hadn’t made a sound. “And the prophecy says that the Slayer who is a vampire and her two vampire companions will stop the vampires from overtaking the world.”
“I hate to say it, but there’re three problems with that,” Spike said. “One, I’m not a vampire anymore. Two, don’t we already stop the vampires? And aren’t there tons of Slayers now, helping to do just that? And three, you’re not, nor have you ever been a vampire.”
“Well, technically, . . .” Buffy started, recalling a time when a boy’s nightmare had made other nightmares come to life. Then, she shook her head. “But that doesn’t really count. I mean, think about it. We three are probably the strongest warriors in this dimension. Who would be better to stop the city from crossing over?”
Spike leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the desk, which he knew Angel hated. “But you’re not thinking of having me re-vamped or getting vamped yourself, so how’s it going to work for us to go into a city of thousands, if not millions, of vampires?”
“It’s awfully risky, Buffy,” Angel agreed.
Buffy held her hands up, so she could regain the floor. “Well, that’s the thing. . .”
The door banged open, and Fred burst into the room with Wesley on her heels. “Buffy, hi!” she said exuberantly and slightly breathlessly. Buffy gave her a wave in return.
Wesley held a book in his hand and read aloud, “There’s a prophecy. In the time of the. . .”
“We know,” Buffy, Angel, and Spike said at the same time.
“Oh.” He was a bit deflated until he remembered that he had something to add. “Well, Fred here has a solution to getting you three to blend into the vampire society.”
Fred’s brown eyes shone, and she tucked her hands into her white lab coat modestly. “Yes. Buffy, if you haven’t heard, our lab has found a way to blend magick and technology. We can create a spell slash miniature computer chip to insert into your brain to give you and Spike the appearance, strength, and feel of a vampire form without actually turning you into demons. You’d blend seamlessly.” She hesitated briefly. “That is, if you trust our lab. . . and the staff here. . . in this inherently evil establishment. We wouldn’t want you to do anything you felt uncomfortable with.”
“I trust you guys,” Buffy reassured.
“And what did our token evil representatives say?” Angel directed at Wesley.
Wesley clapped the book shut. “They said that what Giles and Willow suggested or found is quite true. In fact, they gave us the coordinates to an entrance from this dimension into theirs.”
“Really,” Spike said without removing the irony from his tone. “How convenient.”
“Willow gave us some, too,” Buffy established. “We’ll use those. . . and be sure to check out the others. . . for clues or something.”
“Sounds good.” Angel rose and picked up the phone. “Let me make some calls, and we’ll be all set.”
* * *
The doorbell rang just as everything in the skillet was sizzling out of control. Cursing to himself, Spike slung the towel on his shoulder to the cabinet top, placed the skillet on a cool burner, and hurried to the door just as the bell rang again.
He jerked open the door in a huff and was surprised to view Buffy standing in front of him. Her hands were clasped behind her back, and her hair was pulled up on the sides, giving her an aura of youth. She blinked up at him with a small smile.
“Buffy.”
She sniffed the air. “Somethin’s burnin’,” she teased.
“Yeah. My dinner.” Unsure if he wanted her to invade his personal space, he blocked the entrance with his arm propped up on the wooden frame. Truth be told, his heart was hammering despite his outward calm.
“And you look much better in jeans and T-shirt. That suit didn’t suit ya.” She giggled at her own humor. “I wanted to see your place,” she said brightly, trying to peer around his body into his home. “Angel said you moved into your own apartment.”
“Yeah, and you’ve seen it. Now go away. I’m cooking dinner.” His words came out harsher than he meant them to, and he inwardly cringed.
Hurt drifted across her face. “Really? I can’t come in?”
He felt like she was requesting entrance into his heart. “Um, no. Not right now.”
“Why not?” Stubborn Buffy was emerging.
He was quite familiar with stubborn Buffy. Was he willing to fight her? He reminded himself that he should pick his battles, and he sighed. “Okay. You can come in.” Backing away, he held the door for her as she entered, taking everything in with wide eyes. “Not that I really understand why you want to come in,” he included under his breath.
Buffy stopped in her tracks and rounded on him, sending tingles of desire he’d thought long dead rippling over his skin. “What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
She advanced on him with her finger pointed. “No, mister. You said something. Something about not understanding why I wanted to come in.”
“Yeah. So?”
“Explain yourself.”
Bloody women always wanted explanations for everything. Still, the truth came flowing out of him like he’d been a huge water balloon, and she was a needle who pricked his skin. “What happened? I mean, between us. I know you don’t like to talk about. . . *us*, but I need to. If I’m going to work with you, I need to. You came and found me in Sunnydale on a *feeling*, and you never bothered to explain that to me. You just brought me back to L.A., stayed a few weeks, and left with your Watcher. Nothing was explained, and I-I was trying to be human again, you know?”
He couldn’t look at her anymore, so he stared off to the left. “You can’t just come in here after three years and act like you never left. . . touching me, coming inside. It’s not fair.” He inhaled deeply. “And. . . and I have to know. Are your cookies cooked yet? And by the way, Angel *told* me that you *told* him the same thing you *told* me. Only you told *him* first.” His last words came out accusingly and ended in him being a little amazed at what he’d just said.
Buffy stared at him.
He waved a hand at her. “Don’t worry, Angel didn’t tell me all that sober. He was right drunk when he told me that one, so there, his precious reputation stays intact.”
Feeling deflated, Buffy plunked down on the edge of his leather sofa, folding her hands on her lap. “I’m sorry. I-I thought I was doing what you wanted.”
Now she was turning on her tears, and Spike was falling for it. He wanted to fall for it. He sat beside her and spoke softly, fighting the desire to take her into his arms. Not for the first time, he wondered how human Buffy would feel in his human arms. One time was hardly enough to go on. “I don’t understand. What did you think I wanted?”
“You wanted me to go. . . to be myself. . . to be strong. . . to be ‘the One.’”
He tried to catch her eye. “But Buffy, you don’t have to be ‘the One’ anymore. There’s more than enough ‘the One’s’ available.” He chuckled. “That didn’t make a whole lot of sense.”
She sniffed. “Yeah, it did.” Wiping her eyes, she apologized, “I didn’t mean to cry.”
“You’re allowed. You got to hear my outburst. It didn’t come out exactly right, but it’s there nonetheless.” He handed her a tissue, and her fingers brushed his.
“Yeah. I needed to go. I was twenty-two-years-old, and I had no clue who I was if I wasn’t special. . . if I wasn’t *the* Slayer, aside from Faith, and I-I felt overwhelmed. There were too many pressures from my friends, from the new Slayers, from you. Something had to give.”
“And that was me.” He kept his tone even and low.
“I couldn’t exactly give up my identity completely. It would be too scary to go from. . .”
“From being a Slayer who was responsible for so many lives to being one person helping just one other person?”
She nodded. “Uh huh.” She took his hand in hers, and he allowed the touch. “Your hand is so warm.” She smiled through fresh tears. “I forgot that it would be.”
“Did you figure it out? Did you figure out who you want to be?”
“Almost, yeah, I think so.” Her lips lifted a bit as she peered up at him. “What about you?”
Squeezing her hand and then letting it go, Spike sighed and moved back against the sofa. “I’m still figuring. Took me a bit to get my human legs, get used to not having extra physical strength. But it’s coming. I’m a work-in-progress.”
Buffy imitated his movement. “Me, too. You think we ever stop being works-in-progress?”
“Only if we’re dead, pet, only if we’re dead.”
“That’s good. ‘Cause I think I may need all the time I can get. A-and I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.”
“I’m still here, aren’t I? Think we can work together?” Spike asked, playing with the tips of her long hair.
She smiled. “We’ll muddle through. Now. . . what’s for dinner? All that emotional release made me hungry.”