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He's Back	By : lisay Category: -Buffy the Vampire Slayer > Het - Male/Female > Buffy/Spike(William) > Buffy/Spike(William) Views: 3560 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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- 4
TITLE: He's Back

AUTHOR: Lisa Drexel

EMAIL: lisayd@swbell.net

SUMMARY: What would've happened if Angelus had really lost his soul during the episode, Enemies during Season 3? M/F, M/M, F/F

RATING: NC-17

DISCLAIMER: I don't own nothing--except for the plot--and you know what they say about there hasn't been an original thought in over 2000 years...so, even that's in question, but I did try my best. :) The rest of it--characters and universes are owned by Fox Television, WB network, Mutant Enemy and Joss Whedon...I'm just borrowing them for my own sick

pleasures...

FEEDBACK: Of course!

Chapter Four

"You do know that we are going to talk 'bout this later, right?" she asked the blond vampire who was sitting way too comfortably on her bed�in her bedroom�in her room! And her mother! She clenched her teeth, forcing that desperate urge to scream as well as rip his dead heart out, down.

"Take deep breaths, luv.  It helps."

Her hands balled into fists. "Argh! Coming?"

"Is it sunproof?"

She sighed dramatically.  "I'll just bring it up.  Is that alright, O' Undead King of Irritation?"

"Just peachy, Slayer."

She yanked the door open and stomped through it, slamming it closed after her, cursing the whole time.  "Damn egotistical, peroxide blond, fanged-face asshole! How dare he insinuate himself into my life! Without any say so from me. Next thing I know, my mother'll be the one picking out the fucking china pattern and we'll be married with me flung helplessly over his shoulder like a prized heifer in a cattle auction. Why him? Why does she like him and not Angel�"

She stopped midway down the steps, clutching the hand rail.

"Because," she answered herself.  "Spike doesn't lose his soul like most people misplace their socks, that's why."

Biting the inside of her cheek, she ignored the newest streams of tears as they flooded her eyes.  Barely able to see through the clouds of moisture, she slowly continued down the stairs.

Angel�gone.

Angel was no more�ever.

Only he was never ever really gone.  He'd always been there�on the inside, looking out when the demon was in control.  And now, he was going to die being stuck in a body that was no longer his�if it had ever been, since that night in Galway over two-hundred and twenty years ago.  His last days on this Earth now will be spent watching he's demon-half destroy everything that he had worked so hard to rebuild.

The First Evil did prevail after all.

She wiped her face as she stepped into the kitchen, instantly spying on the box sitting on the counter. Just as she reached for it, she stopped, suddenly unsure. A part of her wanted to open it now, away from Spike's knowing eyes, but as her fingers slipped underneath the edge of the lid, she changed her mind.

She couldn't.  Her heart was racing uncontrollably as that now-familiar feeling of dread filled her. For herself as well as for Spike.

For a whole lot of reasons that she really didn't want to analyze too much, but the chief one being, she didn't want to be alone to suffer Angelus' wrath--if it had to be Spike to stand next to her while she did this, then so be it.

She moved her hand over to the gift card, noting the elegant script of Angel's and sighed when she saw both her and Spike's name.

They both needed to be there for this.

As if reading her thoughts, she heard Spike yelling from her bedroom.

"Don't you even think about it, Pet! Get your bloody arse up here and bring that blasted thing with you!"

"Piss off," she muttered as she picked it up, noting the weight and feeling as her nightmare was just getting worse.

~~~

Xander was late again.

In all the years that Willow and Xander had been friends, that was the one trait that had managed to stay with him when some many of the others had fallen to the wayside.

Well, that and his unhealthy love of Hoho's and less specific, his love of junkfood in general, Willow added silently.

Even at eighteen, he couldn't seem to keep it together enough to be ready on time when she pulled into his driveway. Nevermind that they had discussed this just the night before how they were on for breakfast before meeting up with everyone else at the library at noon.

Nevermind that this 'breakfast' like the past eight Saturday morning get-togethers, was a joint effort between the two childhood friends to build new bridges and mend the broken paths that had been damaged by both of them in the past year so they could and would always be friends.

And finally, nevermind that Willow's Saturday mornings had become a haven of sorts�where she could just be Willow.   Not Oz's girlfriend, or Buffy's best friend, or Giles' research assistant or even resident witch when the need so arose.   These two hours of the week spent in Xander's company helped her remember who she was and how far she had traveled to get where she was now.

It helped her feel better and more secure because no one understood how much Willow had grown in the past three years more than Xander.

Since he had been there from the beginning�when she'd been shy and geeky Willow, friend of Jesse and Xander's.

Only Xander really knew.

And even though she was in love with Oz and would do anything for Buffy and Giles, Xander in some ways would always come first.  Because home, family and hearth always came first.

Because it just was.

Which was why after the third blare of her car horn, Willow began to get worried.

Xander always stuck his head out of his bedroom window after the second horn honking.

And she knew he was at home, because the night before, her and Oz dropped him off a little past midnight after an interesting night at the Bronze.  She still had to call Buffy.  She was worried about the Slayer almost as much as she was about Xander.  Even though she knew the fight had been staged, she couldn't help be feel the 'realness' of it either. Both Buffy and Angel seemed genuinely angry and hurt--and from what Willow had learned from Oz the night before, Angel had acted a bit too much Angelus-like for anyone's taste--no matter if it were just for show.

Shaking her head, as if the action would push Buffy out of her mind, she replayed Xander's last words to her as he stepped out of the van were: "See ya at ten, Will, and thanks, Oz."

And then he closed the van door and sprinted up to his front door. Willow and Oz remained there until he went inside and the porch light flickered on and off.   That had been his signal that all was cool for more years than Willow cared to count.

"Where is he?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

She turned off the engine, pocketed the keys and stared at the front door, silently willing it to open and Xander to step out.

When nearly five more minutes passed, she got out of the car and slowly walked up to the drive, towards the front door.   With each step, the invisible fist that had been clenching her insides since the third horn blare, tightened its grip.

By the time she reached the front door, she shivered, feeling a cold sweat break out across her body.

Something was wrong.

She slowly lifted her hand and knocked once, the hollow sound of her fist impacting the wood door, echoed eerily inside the Harris' home as it swung open and hit the door stop only to stop halfway on its journey back.  Her throat tightened and even though she wanted to go inside, she couldn't make her feet move.   It was as if she were frozen in place.  She coughed lightly, trying to clear her throat, but every time she tried calling out, only pitiful squeaks came out.

And then, a small breeze brushed by her, bringing along with it the metallic scent of blood.

Willow's stomach lurched.

Finally able to get her legs to move, she turned on her heel and ran straight to her car, digging out her car keys as she went.  Moments later, she was out onto Xander's street and heading over to Buffy's.

Change or no change, Willow could not go into that house alone.

Not if she wanted to remain sane.

~~~

Buffy had barely made it through her bedroom door when Spike shot up out of her bed and yanked the box out of her grasp.

"Spike! Chill!"

"Blood, Slayer!   I smell blood," he explained as his fingers slid underneath the lid.

Her mouth dried.  "Blood? Why would he...?"

"Talk to any of your mates today?"

"No, just Mom and you. Although you hardly qualify as a 'mate.'"

"Just keep telling yourself that, pet, and maybe one day you'll be believe it," he said smirking at her as he began to lift the lid off the box.

Before either of them could see what was inside, they were interrupted by a loud, frantic pounding of her front door.

He stopped, allowing the lid to fall haphazardly back down onto its home. "Expecting anyone?"

"No�"

"Buffy�wake up.  It's Xander�"

"Willow."

"The witch."

"I'll be right back," she told him as she left her bedroom.

~~~

Spike knew as soon as he heard the witches cries, what was Buffy's half of the present.

Knowing Angelus, it could be a whole array of bloody, body parts.  A heart maybe? Or one of the poor bloke's eyes.  Or maybe some other errant piece of the whelp that the pillock cut off in a moment of demonic glee.

He shut his eyes, instantly remembering the year before when Angelus gave Drusilla a heart for Valentine's Day.  Although Dru was thoroughly impressed and oohed and ah'ed over it, all Spike could think of was how much that one little act reminded him of a cat bringing home its kill as an offering.  How animalistic and useless.  Sunshine was definitely a better gift�although Dru did turn the poor pup after forgetting to feed the pitiful thing for a couple of days.  A demonic puppy was a sight to behold and was one of the only things that kept Spike entertained for the following three months�until Angelus dusted it after Sunshine was honing in on some of the demon's meal.

Gods, he hated that asshole.

Which brought him back to the contents of the box.  What had Angelus left for him?

"Bloody hell," he growled, impatient with himself and that tendril of fear that was weaving its way into his being.  Fed up, he yanked the lid upwards.

And gasped.

A dozen long-stemmed red roses lay perfect on the bosom of a very familiar china doll�the latest Miss Edith--which in turn, was covered with a bloodied and torn flannel shirt. Beside the flowers lay a battered leather wallet.

Growling, he dumped the box's contents onto the Slayer's bed and found himself actually sighing in relief when he saw that there were no ashes in there.

Drusilla was still alive.

At least for now.

But the message was clear: anytime, anyplace, any reason.

He picked up the wallet and was about to open up when he heard a loud gasp.

"Xander's! That's Xander's.   I know�'cause I got it for him�two Christmas' ago."

Spike turned to see Willow crumble, nearly hitting the floor before the Slayer shook herself out of her own stupor and caught her.

After she sat Willow down, Buffy walked over to him, all the while studying the items on her bed.  "The shirt's his too. He was wearing it last night." She picked it up, noting the blood.   "Is it fresh?"

Spike nodded.  "A few hours�maybe four at the most, luv."

Buffy nodded and reached for the box lid and pulled off the card.  Ripping open the envelope, she pulled out the note.

"'A Token of My Love, '" she read from the front.  "Bastard," she whispered as she opened the card.  "'To my dearest Buffy and Spike...

'"As you know by now, I have returned with Dru and the lively and witty Faith, at my side.  I always did have a thing for Slayers, but then you already knew that, didn't you, Buff ? We will be looking forward to the next time we meet.

"'Oh yes, one other thing: tell Willow thank you for once again banishing me to the confines of that wuss' brain and for that, I'll make sure Xander visits her first when he awakes.

"'Pleasant dreams.  .  .

.  .  .  .  .  .  Angelus.'"
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He's Back