Entry tags:
Fic: Divided Destiny. Chapter 20
This chapter was interesting - ten years ago I had it planned out pretty much word-for-word; except I never wrote it down. So this is... very different (as I just forgot it), but I think this half-recreated, half-completely new is probably more interesting. :)
First chapter & notes here (on LJ), for DW just follow the tags, and Master post of whole 'verse here (also tagged on DW).
Can also be found on AO3.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Rating: Teen. (Same warnings as the show basically.)
Characters: Spike, Angel, Illyria, Buffy, Scoobies + cameos from more or less everyone in the 'verse.
Main Ships: Spike/Buffy, Angel/Nina
Feedback: Is bloody ambrosia! (The secret ingredient is otter...)
Word count (this chapter): 4230 words
Setting and Summary: As before. (Post-NFA epic quest thing.)
Beta: The ever wonderful![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kathyh
Chapter 20
October 2005
Nina stepped back, lowering her brush and critically surveying the canvas in front of her. Then she took another step, and another.
It was done.
Unsure how to feel, she put down the brush in the pot with the other brushes, before fetching a table and picking up the other two parts of her triptych which had been relegated to a corner.
Setting them on the table, leaning them against the partition wall, more or less on a line with the final part, she then studied all three together. Ternisha, in the partition next to her, had stuck her head around the thin wall, waiting.
“Is it finished?”
Nina nodded; feeling both drained and happy, lost and complete.
The news spread, and her fellow students appeared, curious and congratulatory.
“Are you gonna tell us what it is now?” Ternisha asked, eyebrow raised. Nina had been uncharacteristically coy about her painting (the first of her final pieces), and the rest of the year group had been watching her work with great interest and many questions.
“Fine,” she relented, somehow feeling more confident now it was in front of her. The first panel was dark, almost black, with deep red gashes, and a looming red light layered through the black. The middle panel was an explosion of brightness – reds and white and black, with bursts of green, a staggering, disoriented mass of impressions. The final panel was calm; white, black, green and red in horizontal stripes, a stable counterpoint to the chaos of the previous two.
“It’s called ‘Monster’,” she explained slowly, choosing her words with great care. “The first panel shows the birth – it’s dark and painful, like being ripped or torn. The second is… learning to live, or growing; the world is scary, attacking the monster and the monster lashes out in return. It can’t help being what it is, and is both terrified and dangerous. The last panel represents peace; the monster learns to live in the world, finds a balance so it can co-exist with the other creatures.”
“Wow,” someone said, and she smiled nervously, feeling far too naked as she laid her work bare, even as none of them could guess at how personal the paintings were. Even the colours were symbolic, although she wasn’t about to explain what they meant. The black was night time, the white the moon; the red stood for blood, and the green… the green was the world, trees and life and growing things, and yet also the garnish they’d used when she’d been served up as dinner. A world which both pulled her closer, yet also rejected what she had become. And finding the balance was the key.
She thought she might do a sculpture next, carefully weighted globes, maybe metal, or possibly magnets – repelling each other, but through that keeping equilibrium.
It was still only shadows and shapes in her mind, but she knew what she wanted to say.
To be honest she wasn’t sure what she would have done without art. She’d always been figurative in her works before, but her new life seemed to only express itself abstractly. She’d see posters of picturesque wolves beneath a serene moon, and they felt sterilised, pointless. Reality was visceral; blood and sinews and flesh; heightened smell, touch, sound; pain. A ferocity that was mostly dormant, but never gone. The urge to feel bones snap, and meat tear.
She couldn’t express it in words, but in art she could reach for imagery that could communicate her new world.
The teachers noticed, and were pleased.
“I don’t know what happened Nina, but it’s very impressive. You were a solid student before, but the sudden depth and originality of your recent work is outstanding.”
She’d smile, unsure how to take the compliment, and reluctant to discuss it in further detail. She could discuss the works themselves, but not what lay behind and underneath. Some speculated that it was her mysterious new boyfriend, and she supposed there was some truth in that. Could still remember with crystal clarity the moment when he’d looked at her – really looked, caring for no other reason than she existed – and said ‘I am a monster too’. It had made all the difference.
It was the fact that in this new world which was slowly becoming hers – she was not alone. Angel had saved her physically, yes, but more importantly he had given her hope. Had shown her that it was possible to be more than just a monster. That it could be part of you, without defining you.
And she did her best to return the favour, even as she often wondered how much of a difference she made. He’d been the big CEO — now he was more like a terrorist, at least according to himself. But he was still a champion, no matter what he said, fighting a foe she could barely comprehend.
She could now more clearly see how he was driven by guilt… Especially since she had recently started delving into his history, trying to find out more about the man she had fallen in love with.
Then her phone started buzzing. Seeing Buffy’s name, she swiftly excused herself.
“Is everything OK?” she asked, heart abruptly beating and worry shooting through her in bursts, and there was an odd hesitation on the other end of the line.
“Yes,” Buffy replied eventually. “I mean, as far as I know, and apart from the approaching apocalypse, but- Sorry, I’m doing this all wrong. I wanted to ask – I’m going to be in LA next week, could we maybe meet up?”
“Sure. Are they back then?” Nina replied, and there was that odd hesitation again.
“I don’t think so. It’s… you I would like to talk to. Like… I’ll explain. Don’t worry, it’s just me and my issues. Nothing to do with you, I just… need your… perspective?”
This was only marginally reassuring.
They arranged to meet the following Tuesday, at the Hyperion, and on the day Nina found herself restlessly pacing the foyer. She couldn’t imagine what Buffy might want to ask her, and the different possibilities spun out in myriad different directions. All her extra senses, usually half-dormant at this point in the moon’s cycle, seemed more finely honed, and she sensed Buffy’s presence before the Slayer even opened the door.
Buffy was petite and flawless, as always seemed to be the case, yet it seemed to Nina that beneath the bright smile there was deep exhaustion. It reminded her of Angel, that determination to be OK, to just power through.
After some small talk, catching up and trying to pretend that everything was fine, Buffy took a deep breath, almost literally squaring her shoulders.
“Right, I… don’t really know what I’m even asking. But you’re the only one that was there. Except for Harmony I guess, but… no. Not going there.”
Nina wasn’t sure what she meant, and the confusion must have shown on her face. Buffy bit her lip.
“Look, I don’t know how much you know about Spike and me. Or even Angel and me. But there were – are – a lot of issues. And we’re trying to move on, to build something new, to leave the badness behind. But…”
Her voice trailed off, and Nina almost felt unable to breathe. But then Buffy continued, and none of Nina’s unspoken fears came true. (She liked Buffy a lot - but she wasn’t about to discuss her relationship with Angel… and certainly not Buffy’s.)
“This is… kind of personal. If… you’re not comfortable just say. I wouldn’t even ask, except – you might be the only person who knows. And my best friend has disappeared, and I just – I just need someone to talk to. Usually I’d talk to Spike, but he’s part of the problem. No, it’s not a problem, it’s just- complicated. And I’m already babbling. Sorry?”
“Hey, it’s nice to have someone to talk to who doesn’t freak out when I mention the wolf thing. Not that I have told anyone, but…”
She almost added something about not knowing how she would have coped at all if Angel hadn’t saved her, but caught herself in time, changing course.
“I imagine telling my sister, but how do you even bring it up?”
Buffy half-smiled.
“My advice would be to try, any which way. My mother found out I was a Slayer at… the worst possible time. I ended up running away from home.” She stopped, seemingly lost to the distance of time. “I’m not sure I know what that is anymore. I keep moving, I keep travelling – I have a flat in Rome, but that was never home, not really. And Spike-”
She closed her eyes, burying her head in her hands momentarily.
“Spike was- Spike was the guy who was always there. To begin with I hated him, obviously, and he was endlessly annoying - and evil - but I never had to hold back. And then he got a chip and he fell in love and it got really, really, really messy, and god, I have no idea how we ever recovered. No that’s not true, he got his soul back, but then… He acts so confident, but a lot of it is bravado. I’m still not sure he really believes that I want to do this long term. And it’s hard – the way he’s hardly ever here- which you must feel too?”
Nina nodded.
“But that’s not really the issue. I mean, it’s an issue, a big factor, but it’s that… he doesn’t talk about what they do. Or what happened at W&H. And it’s… Look, Angel was always mysterious, y’know? Big tall handsome stranger, and he’d appear and disappear and he never talked much. But Spike is Mr Oversharer once you get him going. And I don’t know how to deal with it. With him not talking, I mean. Like – what happened that year? When he was a ghost and Angel the CEO? I know Fred died, and have seen some of the fallout, but there was just this massive shift… They say they are trying to undo the power of W&H, but what does that even mean? They find a magic key and all the lawyers die? I want to help, but they just keep shutting me out. And sure, I have my hands full with all the baby Slayers and the new apocalypse, and maybe I’m just being resentful because Spike’s not there to support me, but…”
Her voice trailed off and she spread her palms.
“I don’t even know what I’m actually asking. But something happened in that year. Maybe they don’t even realise how much they changed. And I can’t ask what it was, because I don’t know what to ask about… Do you have any idea what I’m even talking about? Am I making any sense?”
Nina worried her lip, pondering. She thought she knew what Buffy meant, remembered how the happy, confident team she had first gotten to know had turned darker and grimmer as the year went on. After Fred…
“I think it was two-fold. Fred’s death was a major turning point. Wesley tried to kill Gunn; they all - they were just devastated. They did everything they could, but it wasn’t enough. And then I think… They ran out of options? Like, there was no way to get out of the deal with W&H. Except what Angel did in the end, burning down the building while they were still inside - that’s how Angel described it to me once. But I don’t know any details.”
She stopped to think.
“There was Eve. She was Angel’s… contact to the Senior Partners? Or something like that. But she changed sides, something about a boyfriend, and she was helping Angel at the end. Creeped me out a bit, if I’m honest - she was always very confident and… condescending? She looked human, but… she could have been anything underneath. I know how that sounds, coming from a werewolf, but if she’d turned out to be some sort of thousand year old witch I’d not be surprised.”
“Eve?” Buffy asked, “Do you know what happened to her? Did she die too?”
Nina shook her head.
“No idea. But... She seemed the type to always have a plan. And she knew… everything.”
“And she helped Angel…” Buffy continued, thoughtfully. “Well, she could turn out useful. If we can find her of course…”
Before she could ask further questions there was a sudden commotion from upstairs. They looked at each other, and Buffy pulled a knife from her pretty purse.
Then Illyria appeared at the top of the stairs, before slowly and stiffly descending, her always immobile face somehow looking particularly pissed-off.
“Lyria! Lyria, come back! We fr’got to pay!”
The voice was Spike’s, and Illyria with exaggerated slowness turned and walked back up, Nina and Buffy on her heels.
They found the vampires in Angel’s room, surrounded by several crates full of dusty bottles. Illyria was opening a portal, something dark and dingy on the other side, and Spike was digging his hand into a roughly woven sack, bringing out a handful of golden coins, carelessly throwing them through.
“Sorry ‘bout that, this should settle it!” he yelled, then took a few rather wobbly steps back and sank into the sofa next to Angel, who wordlessly handed him a bottle.
“Fanks mate,” Spike said, as Illyria turned to leave the room once more.
Since the god seemed the most rational person there, Buffy tried to question her.
“What happened? Where have you been?”
“They are celebrating,” Illyria replied coldly.
“So you did well?” Buffy asked, and Illyria studied her. “Yes,” she eventually said, then left again.
“Twas fucking brilliant!” Spike called out, raising a bottle. “And yours truly nailed it!”
“And now you are trying to see how much alcohol you can drink before poisoning yourselves?” Buffy said, pointedly, and Spike grinned, lifting his bottle in a mock salute.
“Just watch us!”
“Actually-“ Angel interrupted. “How did you know? Don’t think I ever asked… It was a hell of a risk…”
Spike tried to study him, obviously having problems focussing.
“You never seen Fifth Element?”
Angel shook his head, and Spike’s head slowly swivelled, pointing at Nina.
“Wolf girl! Get ‘im to watch some movies, yeah? S’shockin’ how out of touch he is with popular culture!”
“I’m in touch with the- the cool kids,” Angel protested. “And you haven’t answered the question.”
“He kept going on about how all t’secrets were in him? Sometimes literal is the way to go mate.”
Angel blinked, looking quite adorably confused. Nina had never seen him drunk before, and although she wasn’t sure she was keen on the development, she certainly allowed herself to appreciate a moment of Angel being less guarded than normal.
Buffy, on the other hand, was far more practical:
“Look – where have you been, what did you do?”
Spike smiled widely, twirling a bottle between his fingers.
“Well, yours truly saved the most beautiful dimension you’ve ever seen from a horrible ogre!”
Angel shot him a wry look.
“Are you talking about the dimension, or about Venka?”
“Look, she was bloody amazin’, but I’m spoken for, aren’t I?”
“Who is this?” Buffy asked, a little too quickly, and Spike happily elaborated, explaining how they’d come across a sacked village and had saved the half-dead young warrior.
“Bloody brilliant fighter she was – you’d like her, the protectors of the village were always female. And stop lookin’ at me like that. I liked her yeah, but I wasn’t hanging over her the way Angel was over her sister.”
“I wasn’t… hanging over her,” Angel rebutted grumpily, but Spike merely raised an eyebrow, and then mimed, over-exaggerating:
“’Oh Raavi, that is so interesting, oh Raavi, please tell me more about what you think about restructuring society on a grassroots level, oh Raavi, how are you so capable?’ Like a little lapdog…”
“That girl had seen her been family murdered before her eyes, then kidnapped, enslaved, raped and mind-controlled as a concubine, and she still managed to retain her sense of self, educating herself in secret from Kustos’ library. And now she’s busy leading and restoring her world with her sister’s help; she was inspirational. But if all you can focus on was her pretty face, then all the more fool you. Don’t judge me by your standards, Spike.”
“I’m just saying, she was very cute.”
Nina felt like she ought to say something – was she jealous? She felt like she ought to be…
At this point Spike suddenly started laughing, eyes moving from Buffy’s face to Nina’s, and he elbowed Angel.
“Look at ‘em. Hundred years plus, and nothin’s changed – our women are pissed off!”
“Go on, what were they like, these fabulous women you went ga-ga over?” Buffy asked coldly.
“Um, to look at?” Angel replied. At Buffy’s confirmation, he tilted his head. “Bout Nina’s height I guess. Two horns-“
“Oh they were demons?” Buffy cut in, and Spike raised an eyebrow.
“We’re all demons underneath, pet,” he drawled.
Buffy’s reaction to this was to look as if he’d slapped her, before abruptly turning on her heel and leaving, as Spike (slowly) seemed to realise he’d put his foot in his mouth exceedingly thoroughly.
“Buffy!” he called, trying to get up, but Angel’s arm shot out surprisingly fast for someone so drunk, and held him down.
“Didn’t you see her face? Just leave it.”
“But-“
“Trust me.”
Nina didn’t follow Buffy immediately. Spike’s words had impacted her too, but in a very different way. It was as if someone had described the last panel of her triptych back at her – beneath all ran the blood lust, the desire to tear and maul and devour… She swallowed, staring at Spike like he’d unwittingly read her mind, blurted out truths that were private, secret.
Maybe that’s why Buffy had left? She should probably follow.
Smiling vaguely at the vampires she followed Buffy, finding her in the foyer, looking like she’d had all the wind knocked out of her.
“Buffy?” she asked, worried, and the other looked up at her, the exhaustion she’d held at bay now clearly visible.
“This apocalypse that’s coming… Not theirs-“ she waved a hand dismissively, “-but the one due next month… I don’t know how to stop it. It’s foretold as The Arrival of Talnor, the Beast Master. And he will bring an army of beasts – and probably, possibly, the texts are vague, he will be able to control all beasts in this dimension. And it’s starting already. Rodents chewing through our databases, a tiger inexplicably getting out of a zoo, targeting Slayers, swarms of wasps attacking a coven; a hundred things like that, each one small, but when you look at the whole picture… How do you fight that?”
Nina didn’t know what to say, and Buffy didn’t seem to need an answer, carrying on almost immediately.
“So that was bad enough. But then we found another text, which said that… that this Beast Master might be able to control demons too. It’s something about the particular translation of a specific word, all very complicated. But… I don’t know if you are aware, but Slayers are ‘Imbued with the strength of the demon’ so in theory…”
Her voice trailed off, and she studied her hands.
“We are this world’s protectors. What happens if we become weapons? If they use us to kill…”
Nina understood far too well. Knew the fear of the wolf taking charge, of not being safe, and coming far, far too close to killing her family…
“Me too, I’m guessing,” she said softly; sudden, familiar fear shooting through her, and Buffy looked up, then nodded.
“Yeah, all those of us who are demons underneath…”
“But can’t you- isn’t there something-”
“We’re working on it,” Buffy replied. “Been looking for months. We’ll find something. We always do.”
But the words sounded rehearsed, hollow.
“Can’t Illyria… something? She’s a god…”
Nina’s voice trailed off, at Buffy’s resigned look.
“Oh yeah. She’d be more than happy to lend us a few hell armies. Because clearly that’s what the situation needs – more demons.”
For a long moment silence reigned.
Eventually Nina tried to break the tension.
“Feel like maybe getting drunk is a good idea…”
Buffy quirked a corner of her mouth.
“You may have a point… I can’t remember the last time.”
So they trudged back upstairs, got the surprised vampires to make room for them, and tried to work out who had the better stamina for drinking - a Slayer or a werewolf.
Nina thought of her painting, and smiled. This was balance.
***
The next morning was full of horrible hangover. Nina’s head felt as if it was somehow crammed with nasty stabby knives, forcing her to leave a still comatose Angel in the bed as she went searching for painkillers.
In the kitchen she found Spike - and even he looked a bit worse for wear, which was oddly reassuring.
“Morning, pet,” he said, then gestured towards the cupboard on her right.
“Drugs are in there, if that’s what you’re wanting.”
“Thanks,” she said, grabbing a glass of water at the same time.
The journey back up the stairs seemed like too much work, so she took a seat across from Spike, waiting for the stabby knives to settle down. Spike - to her surprise - got her a mug of coffee, which seemed to muffle her head a bit.
After a while her brain seemed to reboot, and she recalled his words the previous night. She hesitated, but then thought, what the hell. If Buffy could pour out her worries to someone who was not quite a friend, then so could she.
“Spike, can I -”
Damn, this was difficult. How could she word this?
“Yeah?” He was looking at her, curious, eyebrow raised.
“You and Angel, you go way back, right? And recently, I have been reading about his past…”
Spike pulled back a little, a barely visible shake of the head.
“Not sure that’s a good idea.”
“I know, but I just - I need to know who he is. Who he was. And all the murdering and terror, well, I expected that. He’s never tried to whitewash his past - or his present - in any way. But I just… feel small? Does that make sense? I’m just so ordinary, how do I even fit? Like, there was Darla of course, and Buffy who is already legendary and then Cordelia… Fred told me a good bit - how she was a Seer, and a warrior, and became a higher being-“
Spike held up a hand.
“I’m going to stop you right there. Look, having been around all these ladies…”
He paused, twirled the bloodstained cup in his hands, before shooting her a candid look.
“Well. Darla was a bitch. Buffy… Too complicated. But he went evil and she sent him to hell - not that she and I are much better, but y’know. Hella complicated. And Cordelia - Cordelia was a cheerleader, OK? Queen of her High School, nothin’ on her mind except shoes and hair. So don’t you go thinkin’ you’re not good enough, cause hell knows, no one starts out special. Heck, Darla was a working girl, and as for yours truly…” he chuckled. “Well I was fuckin’ pathetic when Dru found me.”
She hesitated, but then couldn’t help asking:
“And Drusilla? Was she ordinary too, once?”
At her question he went completely still, and when he answered his tone of voice had changed; it was quiet, almost distant. She had a distinct impression that she’d accidentally crossed an invisible line.
“Drusilla was the worst thing he ever did. His masterpiece. And no, she was never ordinary.”
Abruptly he stood, and her suspicions were confirmed - she’d overstepped a boundary.
“Spike, I’m sorry-“
He studied her, then shook his head.
“Not your fault.”
A beat, then he leaned forward, studying her with those piercing blue eyes:
“But here’s the thing. If you wonder why you, what you mean to him, just remember this: He saved you. I was there, I remember – he had the whole of Wolfram & Hart focussed on only you, to find you, and to help you. And he succeeded, pretty much. Everyone else that he cares about was corrupted or killed or destroyed through his contact with him. But you, he saved. I know it sounds like a bloody cliché – the pretty blonde bird saved by the tall dark handsome hero, but since you’ve done a bit of digging, you’ll know how rarely that actually happens. And you can give him that. The knowledge that he can make a difference for the better. And I reckon that most days, that’s what keeps him going. And nobody else can give him that.”
A ghostly smile.
“You’re like the opposite of Dru. I’d say that makes you just about as perfect for him as possible.”
Chapter 21 on LJ
Chapter 21 on DW
First chapter & notes here (on LJ), for DW just follow the tags, and Master post of whole 'verse here (also tagged on DW).
Can also be found on AO3.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Rating: Teen. (Same warnings as the show basically.)
Characters: Spike, Angel, Illyria, Buffy, Scoobies + cameos from more or less everyone in the 'verse.
Main Ships: Spike/Buffy, Angel/Nina
Feedback: Is bloody ambrosia! (The secret ingredient is otter...)
Word count (this chapter): 4230 words
Setting and Summary: As before. (Post-NFA epic quest thing.)
Beta: The ever wonderful
kathyhOctober 2005
Nina stepped back, lowering her brush and critically surveying the canvas in front of her. Then she took another step, and another.
It was done.
Unsure how to feel, she put down the brush in the pot with the other brushes, before fetching a table and picking up the other two parts of her triptych which had been relegated to a corner.
Setting them on the table, leaning them against the partition wall, more or less on a line with the final part, she then studied all three together. Ternisha, in the partition next to her, had stuck her head around the thin wall, waiting.
“Is it finished?”
Nina nodded; feeling both drained and happy, lost and complete.
The news spread, and her fellow students appeared, curious and congratulatory.
“Are you gonna tell us what it is now?” Ternisha asked, eyebrow raised. Nina had been uncharacteristically coy about her painting (the first of her final pieces), and the rest of the year group had been watching her work with great interest and many questions.
“Fine,” she relented, somehow feeling more confident now it was in front of her. The first panel was dark, almost black, with deep red gashes, and a looming red light layered through the black. The middle panel was an explosion of brightness – reds and white and black, with bursts of green, a staggering, disoriented mass of impressions. The final panel was calm; white, black, green and red in horizontal stripes, a stable counterpoint to the chaos of the previous two.
“It’s called ‘Monster’,” she explained slowly, choosing her words with great care. “The first panel shows the birth – it’s dark and painful, like being ripped or torn. The second is… learning to live, or growing; the world is scary, attacking the monster and the monster lashes out in return. It can’t help being what it is, and is both terrified and dangerous. The last panel represents peace; the monster learns to live in the world, finds a balance so it can co-exist with the other creatures.”
“Wow,” someone said, and she smiled nervously, feeling far too naked as she laid her work bare, even as none of them could guess at how personal the paintings were. Even the colours were symbolic, although she wasn’t about to explain what they meant. The black was night time, the white the moon; the red stood for blood, and the green… the green was the world, trees and life and growing things, and yet also the garnish they’d used when she’d been served up as dinner. A world which both pulled her closer, yet also rejected what she had become. And finding the balance was the key.
She thought she might do a sculpture next, carefully weighted globes, maybe metal, or possibly magnets – repelling each other, but through that keeping equilibrium.
It was still only shadows and shapes in her mind, but she knew what she wanted to say.
To be honest she wasn’t sure what she would have done without art. She’d always been figurative in her works before, but her new life seemed to only express itself abstractly. She’d see posters of picturesque wolves beneath a serene moon, and they felt sterilised, pointless. Reality was visceral; blood and sinews and flesh; heightened smell, touch, sound; pain. A ferocity that was mostly dormant, but never gone. The urge to feel bones snap, and meat tear.
She couldn’t express it in words, but in art she could reach for imagery that could communicate her new world.
The teachers noticed, and were pleased.
“I don’t know what happened Nina, but it’s very impressive. You were a solid student before, but the sudden depth and originality of your recent work is outstanding.”
She’d smile, unsure how to take the compliment, and reluctant to discuss it in further detail. She could discuss the works themselves, but not what lay behind and underneath. Some speculated that it was her mysterious new boyfriend, and she supposed there was some truth in that. Could still remember with crystal clarity the moment when he’d looked at her – really looked, caring for no other reason than she existed – and said ‘I am a monster too’. It had made all the difference.
It was the fact that in this new world which was slowly becoming hers – she was not alone. Angel had saved her physically, yes, but more importantly he had given her hope. Had shown her that it was possible to be more than just a monster. That it could be part of you, without defining you.
And she did her best to return the favour, even as she often wondered how much of a difference she made. He’d been the big CEO — now he was more like a terrorist, at least according to himself. But he was still a champion, no matter what he said, fighting a foe she could barely comprehend.
She could now more clearly see how he was driven by guilt… Especially since she had recently started delving into his history, trying to find out more about the man she had fallen in love with.
Then her phone started buzzing. Seeing Buffy’s name, she swiftly excused herself.
“Is everything OK?” she asked, heart abruptly beating and worry shooting through her in bursts, and there was an odd hesitation on the other end of the line.
“Yes,” Buffy replied eventually. “I mean, as far as I know, and apart from the approaching apocalypse, but- Sorry, I’m doing this all wrong. I wanted to ask – I’m going to be in LA next week, could we maybe meet up?”
“Sure. Are they back then?” Nina replied, and there was that odd hesitation again.
“I don’t think so. It’s… you I would like to talk to. Like… I’ll explain. Don’t worry, it’s just me and my issues. Nothing to do with you, I just… need your… perspective?”
This was only marginally reassuring.
They arranged to meet the following Tuesday, at the Hyperion, and on the day Nina found herself restlessly pacing the foyer. She couldn’t imagine what Buffy might want to ask her, and the different possibilities spun out in myriad different directions. All her extra senses, usually half-dormant at this point in the moon’s cycle, seemed more finely honed, and she sensed Buffy’s presence before the Slayer even opened the door.
Buffy was petite and flawless, as always seemed to be the case, yet it seemed to Nina that beneath the bright smile there was deep exhaustion. It reminded her of Angel, that determination to be OK, to just power through.
After some small talk, catching up and trying to pretend that everything was fine, Buffy took a deep breath, almost literally squaring her shoulders.
“Right, I… don’t really know what I’m even asking. But you’re the only one that was there. Except for Harmony I guess, but… no. Not going there.”
Nina wasn’t sure what she meant, and the confusion must have shown on her face. Buffy bit her lip.
“Look, I don’t know how much you know about Spike and me. Or even Angel and me. But there were – are – a lot of issues. And we’re trying to move on, to build something new, to leave the badness behind. But…”
Her voice trailed off, and Nina almost felt unable to breathe. But then Buffy continued, and none of Nina’s unspoken fears came true. (She liked Buffy a lot - but she wasn’t about to discuss her relationship with Angel… and certainly not Buffy’s.)
“This is… kind of personal. If… you’re not comfortable just say. I wouldn’t even ask, except – you might be the only person who knows. And my best friend has disappeared, and I just – I just need someone to talk to. Usually I’d talk to Spike, but he’s part of the problem. No, it’s not a problem, it’s just- complicated. And I’m already babbling. Sorry?”
“Hey, it’s nice to have someone to talk to who doesn’t freak out when I mention the wolf thing. Not that I have told anyone, but…”
She almost added something about not knowing how she would have coped at all if Angel hadn’t saved her, but caught herself in time, changing course.
“I imagine telling my sister, but how do you even bring it up?”
Buffy half-smiled.
“My advice would be to try, any which way. My mother found out I was a Slayer at… the worst possible time. I ended up running away from home.” She stopped, seemingly lost to the distance of time. “I’m not sure I know what that is anymore. I keep moving, I keep travelling – I have a flat in Rome, but that was never home, not really. And Spike-”
She closed her eyes, burying her head in her hands momentarily.
“Spike was- Spike was the guy who was always there. To begin with I hated him, obviously, and he was endlessly annoying - and evil - but I never had to hold back. And then he got a chip and he fell in love and it got really, really, really messy, and god, I have no idea how we ever recovered. No that’s not true, he got his soul back, but then… He acts so confident, but a lot of it is bravado. I’m still not sure he really believes that I want to do this long term. And it’s hard – the way he’s hardly ever here- which you must feel too?”
Nina nodded.
“But that’s not really the issue. I mean, it’s an issue, a big factor, but it’s that… he doesn’t talk about what they do. Or what happened at W&H. And it’s… Look, Angel was always mysterious, y’know? Big tall handsome stranger, and he’d appear and disappear and he never talked much. But Spike is Mr Oversharer once you get him going. And I don’t know how to deal with it. With him not talking, I mean. Like – what happened that year? When he was a ghost and Angel the CEO? I know Fred died, and have seen some of the fallout, but there was just this massive shift… They say they are trying to undo the power of W&H, but what does that even mean? They find a magic key and all the lawyers die? I want to help, but they just keep shutting me out. And sure, I have my hands full with all the baby Slayers and the new apocalypse, and maybe I’m just being resentful because Spike’s not there to support me, but…”
Her voice trailed off and she spread her palms.
“I don’t even know what I’m actually asking. But something happened in that year. Maybe they don’t even realise how much they changed. And I can’t ask what it was, because I don’t know what to ask about… Do you have any idea what I’m even talking about? Am I making any sense?”
Nina worried her lip, pondering. She thought she knew what Buffy meant, remembered how the happy, confident team she had first gotten to know had turned darker and grimmer as the year went on. After Fred…
“I think it was two-fold. Fred’s death was a major turning point. Wesley tried to kill Gunn; they all - they were just devastated. They did everything they could, but it wasn’t enough. And then I think… They ran out of options? Like, there was no way to get out of the deal with W&H. Except what Angel did in the end, burning down the building while they were still inside - that’s how Angel described it to me once. But I don’t know any details.”
She stopped to think.
“There was Eve. She was Angel’s… contact to the Senior Partners? Or something like that. But she changed sides, something about a boyfriend, and she was helping Angel at the end. Creeped me out a bit, if I’m honest - she was always very confident and… condescending? She looked human, but… she could have been anything underneath. I know how that sounds, coming from a werewolf, but if she’d turned out to be some sort of thousand year old witch I’d not be surprised.”
“Eve?” Buffy asked, “Do you know what happened to her? Did she die too?”
Nina shook her head.
“No idea. But... She seemed the type to always have a plan. And she knew… everything.”
“And she helped Angel…” Buffy continued, thoughtfully. “Well, she could turn out useful. If we can find her of course…”
Before she could ask further questions there was a sudden commotion from upstairs. They looked at each other, and Buffy pulled a knife from her pretty purse.
Then Illyria appeared at the top of the stairs, before slowly and stiffly descending, her always immobile face somehow looking particularly pissed-off.
“Lyria! Lyria, come back! We fr’got to pay!”
The voice was Spike’s, and Illyria with exaggerated slowness turned and walked back up, Nina and Buffy on her heels.
They found the vampires in Angel’s room, surrounded by several crates full of dusty bottles. Illyria was opening a portal, something dark and dingy on the other side, and Spike was digging his hand into a roughly woven sack, bringing out a handful of golden coins, carelessly throwing them through.
“Sorry ‘bout that, this should settle it!” he yelled, then took a few rather wobbly steps back and sank into the sofa next to Angel, who wordlessly handed him a bottle.
“Fanks mate,” Spike said, as Illyria turned to leave the room once more.
Since the god seemed the most rational person there, Buffy tried to question her.
“What happened? Where have you been?”
“They are celebrating,” Illyria replied coldly.
“So you did well?” Buffy asked, and Illyria studied her. “Yes,” she eventually said, then left again.
“Twas fucking brilliant!” Spike called out, raising a bottle. “And yours truly nailed it!”
“And now you are trying to see how much alcohol you can drink before poisoning yourselves?” Buffy said, pointedly, and Spike grinned, lifting his bottle in a mock salute.
“Just watch us!”
“Actually-“ Angel interrupted. “How did you know? Don’t think I ever asked… It was a hell of a risk…”
Spike tried to study him, obviously having problems focussing.
“You never seen Fifth Element?”
Angel shook his head, and Spike’s head slowly swivelled, pointing at Nina.
“Wolf girl! Get ‘im to watch some movies, yeah? S’shockin’ how out of touch he is with popular culture!”
“I’m in touch with the- the cool kids,” Angel protested. “And you haven’t answered the question.”
“He kept going on about how all t’secrets were in him? Sometimes literal is the way to go mate.”
Angel blinked, looking quite adorably confused. Nina had never seen him drunk before, and although she wasn’t sure she was keen on the development, she certainly allowed herself to appreciate a moment of Angel being less guarded than normal.
Buffy, on the other hand, was far more practical:
“Look – where have you been, what did you do?”
Spike smiled widely, twirling a bottle between his fingers.
“Well, yours truly saved the most beautiful dimension you’ve ever seen from a horrible ogre!”
Angel shot him a wry look.
“Are you talking about the dimension, or about Venka?”
“Look, she was bloody amazin’, but I’m spoken for, aren’t I?”
“Who is this?” Buffy asked, a little too quickly, and Spike happily elaborated, explaining how they’d come across a sacked village and had saved the half-dead young warrior.
“Bloody brilliant fighter she was – you’d like her, the protectors of the village were always female. And stop lookin’ at me like that. I liked her yeah, but I wasn’t hanging over her the way Angel was over her sister.”
“I wasn’t… hanging over her,” Angel rebutted grumpily, but Spike merely raised an eyebrow, and then mimed, over-exaggerating:
“’Oh Raavi, that is so interesting, oh Raavi, please tell me more about what you think about restructuring society on a grassroots level, oh Raavi, how are you so capable?’ Like a little lapdog…”
“That girl had seen her been family murdered before her eyes, then kidnapped, enslaved, raped and mind-controlled as a concubine, and she still managed to retain her sense of self, educating herself in secret from Kustos’ library. And now she’s busy leading and restoring her world with her sister’s help; she was inspirational. But if all you can focus on was her pretty face, then all the more fool you. Don’t judge me by your standards, Spike.”
“I’m just saying, she was very cute.”
Nina felt like she ought to say something – was she jealous? She felt like she ought to be…
At this point Spike suddenly started laughing, eyes moving from Buffy’s face to Nina’s, and he elbowed Angel.
“Look at ‘em. Hundred years plus, and nothin’s changed – our women are pissed off!”
“Go on, what were they like, these fabulous women you went ga-ga over?” Buffy asked coldly.
“Um, to look at?” Angel replied. At Buffy’s confirmation, he tilted his head. “Bout Nina’s height I guess. Two horns-“
“Oh they were demons?” Buffy cut in, and Spike raised an eyebrow.
“We’re all demons underneath, pet,” he drawled.
Buffy’s reaction to this was to look as if he’d slapped her, before abruptly turning on her heel and leaving, as Spike (slowly) seemed to realise he’d put his foot in his mouth exceedingly thoroughly.
“Buffy!” he called, trying to get up, but Angel’s arm shot out surprisingly fast for someone so drunk, and held him down.
“Didn’t you see her face? Just leave it.”
“But-“
“Trust me.”
Nina didn’t follow Buffy immediately. Spike’s words had impacted her too, but in a very different way. It was as if someone had described the last panel of her triptych back at her – beneath all ran the blood lust, the desire to tear and maul and devour… She swallowed, staring at Spike like he’d unwittingly read her mind, blurted out truths that were private, secret.
Maybe that’s why Buffy had left? She should probably follow.
Smiling vaguely at the vampires she followed Buffy, finding her in the foyer, looking like she’d had all the wind knocked out of her.
“Buffy?” she asked, worried, and the other looked up at her, the exhaustion she’d held at bay now clearly visible.
“This apocalypse that’s coming… Not theirs-“ she waved a hand dismissively, “-but the one due next month… I don’t know how to stop it. It’s foretold as The Arrival of Talnor, the Beast Master. And he will bring an army of beasts – and probably, possibly, the texts are vague, he will be able to control all beasts in this dimension. And it’s starting already. Rodents chewing through our databases, a tiger inexplicably getting out of a zoo, targeting Slayers, swarms of wasps attacking a coven; a hundred things like that, each one small, but when you look at the whole picture… How do you fight that?”
Nina didn’t know what to say, and Buffy didn’t seem to need an answer, carrying on almost immediately.
“So that was bad enough. But then we found another text, which said that… that this Beast Master might be able to control demons too. It’s something about the particular translation of a specific word, all very complicated. But… I don’t know if you are aware, but Slayers are ‘Imbued with the strength of the demon’ so in theory…”
Her voice trailed off, and she studied her hands.
“We are this world’s protectors. What happens if we become weapons? If they use us to kill…”
Nina understood far too well. Knew the fear of the wolf taking charge, of not being safe, and coming far, far too close to killing her family…
“Me too, I’m guessing,” she said softly; sudden, familiar fear shooting through her, and Buffy looked up, then nodded.
“Yeah, all those of us who are demons underneath…”
“But can’t you- isn’t there something-”
“We’re working on it,” Buffy replied. “Been looking for months. We’ll find something. We always do.”
But the words sounded rehearsed, hollow.
“Can’t Illyria… something? She’s a god…”
Nina’s voice trailed off, at Buffy’s resigned look.
“Oh yeah. She’d be more than happy to lend us a few hell armies. Because clearly that’s what the situation needs – more demons.”
For a long moment silence reigned.
Eventually Nina tried to break the tension.
“Feel like maybe getting drunk is a good idea…”
Buffy quirked a corner of her mouth.
“You may have a point… I can’t remember the last time.”
So they trudged back upstairs, got the surprised vampires to make room for them, and tried to work out who had the better stamina for drinking - a Slayer or a werewolf.
Nina thought of her painting, and smiled. This was balance.
The next morning was full of horrible hangover. Nina’s head felt as if it was somehow crammed with nasty stabby knives, forcing her to leave a still comatose Angel in the bed as she went searching for painkillers.
In the kitchen she found Spike - and even he looked a bit worse for wear, which was oddly reassuring.
“Morning, pet,” he said, then gestured towards the cupboard on her right.
“Drugs are in there, if that’s what you’re wanting.”
“Thanks,” she said, grabbing a glass of water at the same time.
The journey back up the stairs seemed like too much work, so she took a seat across from Spike, waiting for the stabby knives to settle down. Spike - to her surprise - got her a mug of coffee, which seemed to muffle her head a bit.
After a while her brain seemed to reboot, and she recalled his words the previous night. She hesitated, but then thought, what the hell. If Buffy could pour out her worries to someone who was not quite a friend, then so could she.
“Spike, can I -”
Damn, this was difficult. How could she word this?
“Yeah?” He was looking at her, curious, eyebrow raised.
“You and Angel, you go way back, right? And recently, I have been reading about his past…”
Spike pulled back a little, a barely visible shake of the head.
“Not sure that’s a good idea.”
“I know, but I just - I need to know who he is. Who he was. And all the murdering and terror, well, I expected that. He’s never tried to whitewash his past - or his present - in any way. But I just… feel small? Does that make sense? I’m just so ordinary, how do I even fit? Like, there was Darla of course, and Buffy who is already legendary and then Cordelia… Fred told me a good bit - how she was a Seer, and a warrior, and became a higher being-“
Spike held up a hand.
“I’m going to stop you right there. Look, having been around all these ladies…”
He paused, twirled the bloodstained cup in his hands, before shooting her a candid look.
“Well. Darla was a bitch. Buffy… Too complicated. But he went evil and she sent him to hell - not that she and I are much better, but y’know. Hella complicated. And Cordelia - Cordelia was a cheerleader, OK? Queen of her High School, nothin’ on her mind except shoes and hair. So don’t you go thinkin’ you’re not good enough, cause hell knows, no one starts out special. Heck, Darla was a working girl, and as for yours truly…” he chuckled. “Well I was fuckin’ pathetic when Dru found me.”
She hesitated, but then couldn’t help asking:
“And Drusilla? Was she ordinary too, once?”
At her question he went completely still, and when he answered his tone of voice had changed; it was quiet, almost distant. She had a distinct impression that she’d accidentally crossed an invisible line.
“Drusilla was the worst thing he ever did. His masterpiece. And no, she was never ordinary.”
Abruptly he stood, and her suspicions were confirmed - she’d overstepped a boundary.
“Spike, I’m sorry-“
He studied her, then shook his head.
“Not your fault.”
A beat, then he leaned forward, studying her with those piercing blue eyes:
“But here’s the thing. If you wonder why you, what you mean to him, just remember this: He saved you. I was there, I remember – he had the whole of Wolfram & Hart focussed on only you, to find you, and to help you. And he succeeded, pretty much. Everyone else that he cares about was corrupted or killed or destroyed through his contact with him. But you, he saved. I know it sounds like a bloody cliché – the pretty blonde bird saved by the tall dark handsome hero, but since you’ve done a bit of digging, you’ll know how rarely that actually happens. And you can give him that. The knowledge that he can make a difference for the better. And I reckon that most days, that’s what keeps him going. And nobody else can give him that.”
A ghostly smile.
“You’re like the opposite of Dru. I’d say that makes you just about as perfect for him as possible.”
Chapter 21 on LJ
Chapter 21 on DW
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