Chapter 17: Adjustments
When Buffy stumbled downstairs, it was early afternoon. They
had gotten back to Sunnydale about an hour before dawn, and though both
The Slayer had been grateful for the seating arrangements, since it meant that Giles couldn’t really talk to her. Buffy didn’t want to talk. She wanted to try and figure out what the blind panic and driving need to get Spike back had been all about. The idea of him not being in her life anymore was frightening—more so than it should have been.
She hadn’t come to any real conclusions during the two hour drive. Spike was still a vampire. He still didn’t have a soul. He could still be annoying and a real pain in the ass.
He could also be sweet, charming, besides being always absolutely gorgeous. Plus, his track record suggested that he might actually stick around, unlike some of her previous boyfriends.
If Buffy lined up the pros and cons side by side, it was easy to see which side outweighed the other. Really, it was only the potential for Spike’s chip not working that was keeping her from being with him. She’d worked around the vampire thing before. Him reverting to eating people wasn’t quite so easy to take.
“Good morning, Buffy.” Joyce smiled at her daughter from where she was perusing the paper, drinking a cup of coffee. “Did you get in late?”
“Yeah,” Buffy said, going to pour her own cup. “Is Spike still sleeping?”
Joyce looked her thoughtfully for a moment before answering. “Yes, he is. I went and checked on him just a little while ago. I’m glad you got him back safely.”
“Me too,” Buffy replied, and Joyce didn’t miss the fervent tone in her daughters voice. Now Joyce hadn’t always been the best of mothers; she could readily admit to that. There were things she had done, things she had said, that she couldn’t look back upon without cringing.
These days, however, she thought she was doing pretty good, and Joyce knew Buffy well enough to know when she had feelings for a particular person. In this case, a particular someone of the undead persuasion, sleeping on a cot in her basement. And, while Joyce liked Spike a great deal, she wasn’t sure she wanted her daughter dating a vampire again.
On the other hand, these weren’t the days when she could politely use emotional blackmail to chase someone off. Buffy was an adult, and somehow Joyce knew that Spike would not be easily dissuaded, if he indeed returned Buffy’s affections.
Joyce already thought she knew how Spike felt. “I take it you and Spike are friends now.”
Buffy shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Sure. He’s not so bad really.”
“More than friends?”
Buffy’s head shot up. “What?”
“Buffy—”
“Don’t say it, Mom,” she replied quickly. “You were the one who told me to be nice to Spike. If I hadn’t followed your advice, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Joyce wasn’t sure what kind of reply she could make to that. “So what is happening, Buffy?”
“I don’t know, Mom.” Her words were very nearly at a wail. “I like him. He’s really cute, and he can be nice when he wants to be, and he gets me.” Buffy sighed. “He understands me, Mom.”
Joyce hesitated before saying, “That’s important, sweetheart, but don’t you want someone who can walk in the sun with you? Give you some semblance of a normal life?”
“I tried normal with Riley, Mom,” Buffy replied. “It didn’t work. He couldn’t handle who I am. And I’m not normal. I’m the Slayer. Most guys wouldn’t be able to handle that. At least Spike can.”
Again Joyce found herself silenced, both by Buffy’s argument and by what had gone unsaid. The likelihood of her daughter living long enough to enjoy a normal life was slim. It wasn’t something she liked to think about, or that Buffy willingly talked about, but it was true.
The small voice in the back of Joyce’s head came unbidden—that perhaps Spike would be able to keep Buffy safe, or safer.
In what was obviously a strategic change of subject, Buffy asked, “What are you doing home now, Mom? Is the gallery closed today?”
“I got someone to cover for me,” Joyce replied. “I had a doctor’s appointment this morning, and I wasn’t sure how long it was going to take.”
“You went to see the doctor?” Buffy asked sharply. “What did he say?”
Joyce grimaced. “What I thought he’d say. He couldn’t see anything wrong, but he was worried enough about the headaches to order an MRI . I’m supposed to go in tomorrow.”
“That quick?” Buffy said. “Does he—I mean, are you going to be okay?”
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Joyce said dismissively, trying to comfort herself as much as Buffy.
Buffy was remembering Drusilla’s uncanny knack for knowing things, and she wasn’t so sure.
~~~~~
Wesley was making tea when Drusilla came to join him in the kitchen. “Are you sorry to be back?”
He looked over at her. “I was happy to have fresh clothing,” he admitted. “And it’s not so bad. I did tell Angel and Cordelia we’d be over later today. I’m afraid we’re rather behind on work.”
“Perhaps I should stay here,” Drusilla suggested. “I wouldn’t want to be in the way.”
“You won’t be in the way,” Wesley said quickly. “Although, I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to go. If you want to stay—”
Drusilla laid a hand on his arm. “I cannot stay here, my love.”
He had known it was coming. Wesley had known that Drusilla would leave once their short vacation was over. Her staying with him was becoming awkward. The attraction was there, of course, as well as the admiration and respect, but their relationship was not yet rooted in time. They didn’t yet know if they would weather their first argument, or if their living arrangement ought to be made permanent. “I know.”
“I want my own little place,” Drusilla continued. “For a time anyway. I’ve lived too long at the whim of others.”
Wesley turned to face her. “I know, sweetheart. You should do whatever you need to do to be comfortable.”
“Just because I want to stand on my own two feet doesn’t mean I don’t need someone to stand beside me,” Drusilla said softly. “I’m not really going anywhere.”
Wesley leaned down to kiss her. “That’s fine. Besides, I promised you a trip to the beach, didn’t I?”
“You did,” Drusilla replied. “I can think of another thing that you promised as well.”
Her hand trailed down his chest, and Wesley sucked in a breath. “Are you sure? I would have thought—”
“I know my own mind,” Drusilla replied. “I want to feel you, Wesley. Please. Help me forget all that has come before.”
Wesley hesitated only briefly before kissing her again, this time more demandingly. He thought he should have minded that she was calling the shots, deciding when they would move to the next level. Perhaps he should have cared that Drusilla appeared to be using him to forget something she would rather not remember.
That she was using his hands to block out all thoughts of other hands that had blazed the same trails.
If Wesley thought too terribly hard about it, he would also remember that Drusilla had been Angel’s in every sense at one point in time. She had been a vampire, renowned for her cruelty and malice.
The woman in his arms was fragile as spun glass—deceptively so, since Wesley could taste her strength on his lips. He wanted to care for her, and for her to know she was cared for. He wanted to show her that pleasure was as much about slow, lingering touches as it was about pain, quick and bright.
Wesley wanted to build up to a slow burn so that when Drusilla finally came, she would tumble over the cliff right into his arms.
He wanted to be the only one she would see.
In the end, she filled his vision, and Wesley had no doubts that a man would sell his soul to be with her. He understood why a person might spend centuries with Drusilla, worshipping at her altar.
Wesley was lost, while Drusilla felt as though she had finally been found.
~~~~~
Cordelia was having a hard time processing what she was seeing. “What are you doing?”
“I’m packing,” Angel replied, almost cheerfully.
No, he was cheerful. Cordy sat down in her chair with a thump, watching as the vampire finished zipping his clothes into a bag. “Okay. Who are you and what have you done with the real Angel?”
“Very funny, Cordy,” Angel said. Even her teasing couldn’t put him off. “I just thought that it was time I got out of here. If I keep waiting for the perfect place, it’s going to take way too long.”
“And you’re just now figuring that out?” Cordelia asked with a raised eyebrow. “Seriously, Angel. What brought this on?”
He shrugged. “Drusilla talked to me last night before they left. She said she can’t stay with Wesley right now.”
“I thought they were hitting it off!” Cordelia protested. “She and Wes—”
“Are a couple,” Angel said softly. “Which is why she doesn’t feel comfortable staying with him. I think she said something about them each needing their own space so their relationship could grow. Anyway, she’s going to need a place to stay, and there aren’t a lot of choices.”
Cordelia sighed. It looked as though she was going to get a house guest after all. “For how long?”
Angel leaned back. “Honestly? Probably not that long. Dru’s going to need some help figuring things out, money that sort of thing. I’ll make sure the financials are taken care of, but she needs someone to show her the ropes.”
Cordelia didn’t mind nearly as much as she thought she would. She really liked Drusilla, and thought that they would probably do okay for a while. Not that Cordy wanted a permanent roommate, but it wouldn’t be so bad. It would be nice to have another woman around to balance out all the testosterone, that was for sure.
“Okay,” Cordy finally said. “That doesn’t explain why you’re in such a hurry to get a move on when you’ve been brooding constantly for the last week.”
Angel squirmed uncomfortably. “I wasn’t brooding constantly.”
“Yes, you were,” she replied. “I had to kick your ass to get you to move. So what changed?” Angel was looking anywhere but at her. He mumbled something that Cordelia didn’t quite catch. “What’s that?”
“I saved her, Cordy,” Angel finally said. “That’s all I really wanted to do. Dru went to Spike first, not me. She trusted him, not me. But in the end, I was the one that convinced Wolfram and Hart to leave her alone.”
Cordelia decided not to point out that really Wesley had
been the one to save her with his quick thinking, if you wanted to get
technical. Or that it had been a team effort, with
As long as he gave her plenty of credit, anyway.
“So where are you going?” Cordelia asked.
“It’s not much,” Angel replied. “Just a basement apartment a lot like the one I had in Sunnydale. We’ll have to keep using your place for the business until I can find something better, but it will do for now.”
Cordelia decided not to argue with him keeping her place as a base of operations. At least she’d have some chance of having her apartment to herself occasionally. “What are you going to do about Drusilla, Angel?” she asked instead. “For money, I mean.”
“I didn’t mention that?” Angel sounded as innocent as a newborn babe. Cordelia knew that was a crock.
She gave him a look. “No, I don’t think you did.”
He grinned at her. “Wolfram and Hart is setting up a trust fund, or I come visiting again. We should be getting the packet in the mail in the next couple of days.”
Cordelia wasn’t sure it was the best idea Angel had ever had. It made them all a little too dependent upon the law firm, for one thing. On the other hand, there was a certain poetic justice there. It only made sense for Wolfram and Hart to foot the bill for Dru, since they were the ones who had brought her back.
“Clever,” Cordelia finally said. “But are you sure they aren’t going to use that against her?”
Angel smirked, looking much more like Angelus in that moment than he had in a while. “Not if they don’t want to be eaten.
~~~~~
Spike slept deeply and dreamlessly, waking once only to roll over and go back to sleep. The sun had gone down by the time he rose, feeling much more like his normal self. It would be a while before he would knowingly risk the sunlight again, of that he was certain.
The burn and the cuts on his hand and wrists were healing nicely. In another day they would disappear completely. His hunger was a sharp pain, reminded him that he hadn’t had nearly enough to eat the last couple days.
Silence greeted him as he entered the kitchen, even though Spike knew that there was at least one other person in the house with him. He wondered where Buffy was, and if anything had really changed between the two of them.
He had changed. Drusilla had been right about his feelings for the Slayer, and it was more than just sexual attraction. He wanted her to see him for what he was—or for what he could be. This wouldn’t be the first time that Spike turned his world upside down for the woman he loved.
Buffy still had to be convinced that things could work between them, however, and Spike had no idea of how to convince her. She liked him enough to come rescue him, but was it enough? Or would they be forever meeting in the darkness, where no one could see them?
Would she somehow manage to convince herself that there was really nothing there worth pursuing?
“Hello, Spike.”
“Joyce.” Spike turned to face her, sensing a wariness in her that hadn’t been there before. “Thanks. For lettin’ me crash here again today.”
“Buffy said you had quite an ordeal,” she replied.
He shrugged. “I’ll be out of your way soon as I get somethin’ to eat.”
“I wanted to talk to you about Buffy.”
“Is she here?”
“She went out on patrol,” Joyce replied. “She wanted to let you sleep as long as you needed.”
Spike smiled. “That was nice of her.” He was thinking that she was probably avoiding him.
“You’re in love with her.”
It was a flat statement, not a question, and Spike sighed. “Is this the talk where you tell me ‘m not good enough for her? ‘Cause if it is, I already know that.”
“I’m not going to say that,” she said. “What I will say is that Buffy deserves someone who can be with her in all areas. You can’t walk in the sunlight with her, Spike. You can’t give her a normal life.”
“The Slayer isn’t a normal girl.” Spike hated himself for saying it, but he wanted to be straight with Joyce. She had been nothing but kind to him, and he felt he owed her the truth at least. “She’s never gonna have a normal life. Slayers don’t get to retire. They don’t get married and have 2.5 kids with a picket fence. If I thought that’s what would make her happy, I’d leave town tomorrow.”
His gaze was intense, his blue eyes blazing in the dim lighting. “That’s all I want—to keep her safe an’ make her happy. I think I can do both.”
Joyce could see why her daughter would be so attracted to this vampire. Spike could make you believe every word he was saying was the gospel truth, and she believed him. Joyce thought that Spike might be exactly what the doctor ordered for her girl, as much as it pained her to admit it.
It hurt to give up dreams of normalcy—of church weddings and grandchildren. It hurt to know what she’d already suspected—that Buffy would most likely not live long enough to do any of that anyway.
Maybe, Joyce thought, Buffy’s destiny was always going to involve a vampire.
She sighed, but said with a smile, “I believe you, Spike. I’m making you responsible for my daughter’s safety.”
Spike relaxed slightly. It felt better than he would have liked to admit to have Joyce give her blessing, even if it was with reservations. “’m sorry,” he said suddenly. “’m sorry it had to be this way.”
It was kind of him to say, and she responded by kissing his cheek in a maternal gesture.