Change His Stars, Guide His Fate - August 30th
Twisted Shorts August Fic-a-Day Challenge - Day 30
Title: Change His Stars, Guide His Fate
Author: hermione2be
Rating: PG/FR13/K+
Crossover: BtVS/SG1
Disclaimer: I do not own any of BtVS/Angel or Stargate people, places, or ideas. This fiction is done simply for pleasure and I receive no profit.
Summary: Some things were set in motion before Buffy left Sunnydale after defeating Angelus, one of those things came back.
Notes: So this jumps ahead about two years. This is considered Part 7 - Links Page.
Seasons: Early Season 3 of SG1
Characters: Buffy
Word Count: 2935
Buffy sighed as she turned off the engine of her black Jeep Cherokee. She pressed her forehead against the steering wheel and tried to forget exactly how badly her night had gone. The past six attempts at dating should have told to her cancel.
Twice she had been called out due to an SGC emergency. Once something alien-related had interrupted. One date he’d taken one look at her and said she was just all wrong and left the restaurant. One had been just looking for sex. And the latest had been a neighbor of Doctor Fraiser’s who while cute, had been a bit dull.
“I need to stop trying,” she told herself. The truth was between her past as a Slayer and her current top secret work in the SGC, there was very little she could tell any date. The Academy was about the only open topic was her excellence in gymnastics and fencing being the only worthwhile stories. She could not even talk about her friends because she had nearly none of those save the ones she worked with in the Mountain.
Buffy opened her door and slipped her leg from the car, balancing on the heel of her mid-calf boot as she tried to find traction in the three inches of snowfall. Grabbing her purse, she exited and locked the car.
Snow and the freezing temperatures had taken some getting used to. Nothing like PT in four inches of snow to wake you up.
“What happened to meeting a guy at a bar?” she muttered as she stepped through the snow. Well, that would take going to a bar. It would probably mean going alone, or at least not taking two hulk-like Marines. But going without Will and Caleb would just be boring, especially since she did not go to her favorite bar to drink. They had some great barbeque.
At the bottom of the stairs, she looked up. Life would be a bit easier if she could just…connect with people. Or maybe if she could tell them the truth. Not that a military relationship was that much better according to some of the female Airmen who had significant others at other area bases. Buffy was close to her team because they knew the truth. And she was probably closest with Teal’c because he accepted much of the strange things she did, or said, or sensed, with a nod and asking if she could use any help.
She started up the stairs, in no real hurry. The cold wind blew across the back of her neck, making her shiver. She needed to dig out a scarf, assuming she had one that was still in decent condition. It was another thing about mostly working and sleeping at the base, unless you worked on the surface levels, almost everything was cool but not chilly below-ground.
Buffy got to the top floor and paused. Her porch light was out but there was something in the corner.
“Took you long enough, Slayer,” a voice drawled from the darkness.
Surprised, it took her a moment to realize that she had instinctively gone for her gun, halfway raising it from her purse.
“Who’s there?” she demanded, pulling out her gun.
The stranger sighed. “Put it down, love. Won’t do any good.”
Something clicked in Buffy’s brain. “Do I know you?”
The responding chuckle was raspy. The figure stepped forward. “I don’t know, love, do ya?”
Buffy took in the chiseled features and curly brown locks. She knew this person. She was sure of it. Even her Slayer was certain.
He took a step forward, the winter moon catching his bright blue eyes. And highlighting the scar through his eyebrow.
“Spike?”
A smirk took over his face, but it was tired and held no true amusement.
“What are you doing here?” She frowned. “How did you find me?”
“Came looking,” he answered. “Figures you’d end up in the one place with no demons. How’d you manage that, Slayer?”
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. Only a handful of off-world allies used her title. To hear it again, from him.
“I like the haircut,” he told her. “What’s with that?”
“Air Force. Its regulations.”
Spike’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “You. Military?” He laughed then, a loud, boisterous sound that carried on the icy wind.
“Stop!” she said. “If you didn’t find me by my military record, how did you?”
Humor seemed to abandon him at that. “Dru.”
“And what does she want with me?”
He looked away. “I don’t know.” He held out an envelope. The thick vellum had writing that was impossible to read in the dark.
She sighed and took it. She put her gun back in her bag and dug out her keys. She did not take her eyes off Spike, but he remained where he was. She stuck her key in the door and opened it. She crossed the threshold and flipped on the living room light.
Buffy dropped her purse by the door and grabbed a stake from beneath the couch. It was never the first weapon she reached for, but she kept it nearby just in case. She slipped it into the pocket of her coat and returned her attention to the envelope.
Slayer
Winding Meadow Apartments
Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA
Apartment 12 C
The calligraphy was beautiful. Large and flowing. Flicks and flourishes she was certain Daniel would be enthralled with, be able to tell who wrote it and how.
She turned it over and found a wax seal with a large “A” embossed on it. She looked up at Spike. “Am I going to be poisoned or magic’d when I open this?”
Spike shrugged. “I don’t know. It was sealed so you would know I hadn’t read it.”
Buffy held the envelope further away and opened it. Nothing happened. Sighing, she reached in and pulled out a thick piece of paper. She set the envelope on the table next to the door. She leaned against the door interior doorframe, so she could get the best light.
Slayer,
Nothing went as it was supposed to. But you know this. You took a turn, instead of going back to Sunnydale the summer you left. This change in fate has led you to the stars. It led others down paths you are too blocked to imagine.
However, one event was set in motion long before you left Sunnydale and defeated Angelus.
My Spike.
Buffy looked up at the blue eyes glowing in the darkness of the landing. A shiver cascaded down her spine.
I knew I could not let him go with no you to return to. And your friends would not be understanding. So I kept him with me. I thought I could change his stars, guide his fate.
But I have failed, Slayer. And my only hope is you.
Spike has gained his soul. He fought for it. He won it. No amount of happiness or spells can take it from him. It was not his intention, he wanted to rid himself of his feelings for you, to become a monster capable of defeating the Slayer again, to win me back. But there had been no winning me back since he cured me ten years ago.
I don’t know what your fate is now. And the moment I thought to send him to you, Spike’s future is blocked as well. Your Doorway to Heaven is dangerous, but it tends to keep demons away.
I know I cannot ask you to care for him, so instead I ask that you take care of him. Please, Slayer.
Yours Eternally,
Drusilla
Buffy stared at the paper. “What kind of cockamamie scam are you running?”
“I still don’t know what she wrote, Sl - pet.”
“A soul, really?”
He cringed, looking away. “She shouldn’t have told you that.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not something I wanted out to you,” he snapped back, but there was little fire to it.
Buffy shook her head. “Why come to me? What do I have to do with all of this?”
Spike did not answer. A weirdly docile man - vampire - so different from the one she had known. And he was a vampire, despite the cold she could recognize the demon signature. She had grown so used to Goa’uld and aliens with their bright signals, she had missed the subtly of the demon.
“How do I know this isn’t a trick?”
“You don’t.” He replied evenly. “But you were out here, unaware and without a weapon and you got in there unharmed.”
“I would have shot you,” she told him.
Spike shrugged. “Doesn’t do much against vampires, love.” He leaned against the opposite side of the door jam.
He was thinner, she noted. His skin was translucent in some places. Hollow cheeks were gaunt and the depressions below his eyes were deep and dark. His eyes had changed too. There was something there.
A memory flashed. She was standing in Angelus’s mansion, her sword ready when Angelus had changed. And he had looked at her, so very different than how he had just a moment before, she had seen his soul. She had watched Angel return. A decade had dulled the pain considerably, and even blurred a few details, but not that.
“You really have a soul?”
“For a year,” he replied looking at something over her shoulder.
“I must be nuts,” she muttered. “I’m going to blame my job.” She sighed. “Come in, Spike.”
Surprised eye shot to hers. His hand pressed, looking for the barrier and then passed over the threshold.
“Do you have anything?” she asked. “Clothes? Food?”
“In my car,” he replied, his voice full of awe.
“Well, go get it and bring it in.”
He nodded once and disappeared silently down the steps. The door closed behind him, blocking out the winter weather.
Buffy headed straight for her room. She closed the door, glad she had upgraded from a one bedroom to a two bedroom and her couch to a pull out. Only took once trying to arrange more than one member of the team for her to decide it was time to get more room.
She changed into a pair of gray sweats with ‘Air Force’ down the right leg. She pulled on thick fuzzy socks and a long-sleeve pink shirt.
She grabbed a pot and pulled out the milk. It was fresh because she had been home at least once in the last week. She eyed the measurement, adding milk to the pot and putting it on low. She opened the cupboard, finding her bar of chocolate. She opened it, stealing a small corner before setting it on the counter.
There was a timid knock at the door. Buffy walked over and pulled it open, looking at Spike with a raised eyebrow.
He gave her a hesitant smile.
She moved out of the way, letting him step in with an old duffle and a plastic bag. Once the door was secure behind them, Buffy got a good look at Spike. His duster was gone, along with his platinum hair. He sported black jeans and boots, a dark blue sweater, and brown curly hair.
“These - uh - do you have a washer?” he asked softly.
Embarrassed, she realized.
“Yeah, in the bathroom,” she led him to the single bathroom, situated between the two bedrooms. The stacked washer-dryer was in a small opening between the linen closet and the bathtub. “The supplies are under the sink here. Try not to put too many clothes in” She pointed to the vanity. “You can shower, too. My products aren’t flowery. One of my teammates is allergic and the other…is just unique so everything is kind of neutral.”
His hand touched her wrist. “Thank you.”
The touch was ice cold.
“I need to check on the milk,” she said, aware it was a strange statement. But she had been babbling and she was still on awkward footing about seeing him again.
She scurried away, relieved when she heard the shower turn on. She whisked the milk idly, making sure it did not scald. She broke the chocolate bar into small pieces and added a handful at a time. She turned off the burner and picked up the pan whisking until she poured it into mugs. Then she started looking for marshmallows. They were on a high shelf in the pantry.
“Damnit,” she sighed.
“Something wrong?” Spike’s voice startled her. The washer had disguised the sound of the shower stopping.
“Um, I’m short,” she said.
A small smile appeared on his face.
“I mean, the marshmallows are on the top shelf and I can’t reach.” She pointed.
Spike was not much taller than her, but it was enough to snag the bag. He handed them over.
Buffy took them, opening the bag and dispensing a handful into each mug.
“Why’d ya put them on the top shelf?” he asked as she rolled them up and sealed them in a freezer bag.
“I didn’t. If I had to guess…T did. He thinks that since they have no natural ingredients they are not meant for consumption. Possible it was O’Neill, he likes to make my life difficult.”
“Why’s that?”
Buffy handed him the second mug as she picked up hers. “He’s my CO. He likes to do shit like that.”
“Power, thing?”
“No. It’s his sense of humor.” She walked into the living room, taking a seat on the overstuffed chair. She kept her hands wrapped around her mug, enjoying the heat seeping to her fingers.
Spike sat on the edge of the couch. “So you joined the Air Force?” he asked, his eyes on her pants.
“Yeah. Odd life for a Slayer, but it’s strange enough to be my normal.”
“Enlisted?”
She shook her head. “Officer. Did all four years at the Academy right here in Colorado Springs. I’ll be a captain next month.”
“And what do you do?”
“Deep space radar telemetry,” Buffy replied.
He watched her, considering. “Really? You?”
“I didn’t think you’d accept just a flat ‘classified.’”
Spike nodded. They drank in silence for several minutes. “This is good,” he finally told her.
“Two of the scientists I work with are coffee addicts. They believe more in the ritual and quality. So I upped my hot chocolate game.”
"You have an extra toothbrush in the holder.”
“Yeah, that would be Daniel’s. If I drag him off the base, this is about as far as he gets.”
“Your beau?” there was an odd quality to his quiet questions.
“No. No, Daniel’s a civilian PhD. He kind of disappears into his work, lives off coffee and protein bars if left to his own devices.” She grinned. “I like to think I’m saving him from himself, or O’Neill ordering him off base.” She sipped her drink, thinking of her teammate.
They descended into silence for more than twenty minutes. Each of them finished off their hot chocolate, just holding their mugs and trying to find something not-so-awkward to talk about.
“Have you been back to Sunnydale?” Spike asked.
It was an innocent question. But it also was something she tried not to think about. She stood suddenly, taking her mug to the sink and going about cleaning it and the pan. It was about the one thing that her schedule had enforced - always do the dishes and clean like you won’t be back for a month. Once she had actually thought it would be just a day at the base, only to end up in the time well of a black hole through the Gate and it was actually two weeks topside. That bowl she had innocently left in the sink was a full science experiment as was the Chinese leftovers in her fridge.
“I’m sorry, love.” He set his mug next to the sink.
“It’s not your fault,” she replied without looking up. She sighed. “I left and stayed gone.”
“Why?” He set the whisk she had forgotten next to the sink as well.
“Because it was easier,” she answered reflexively. But Spike had been there, had seen more than one embarrassing and soul-wrenching moment. “No.” She turned, the clean whisk in hand. She used her elbow to stop the faucet. “No. It wasn’t easy. It was hell. It was…seventeen and starting over on my own, not knowing where my next meal was coming from.” She brandished the whisk. “It was months of depression and doubt and considering every chance to turn tail and run back and beg forgiveness. Questioning if I was smart enough to pass the SAT and GED.” She flicked the whisk slightly. “Keeping to myself so people wouldn’t ask questions. I couldn’t keep a secret for a day in Sunnydale. In the last ten years, only five people know the truth.”
Spike kept clear of the whisk. His back was pressed to the refrigerator.
“I did it because I chose to do something and I wanted to prove that I could trust myself.” She gestured to her apartment. “This is my second apartment. I don’t have a lot of friends and nearly none of them know everything. But this is the life I built out of the wreckage of Sunnydale. For better or worse.”
Buffy took a deep breath and focused. She retracted the whisk. Realizing what she had done, she turned and finished the dishes, dried them and put them away. Then she cleaned the sink, needing another moment to compose herself.
“I’m sensing some unresolved issues,” he quipped softly.
Buffy chuckled. “Maybe one or two.” She sniffed and exited the kitchen. “I’ve got to call in.” She grabbed the phone and disappeared into her bedroom.
Title: Change His Stars, Guide His Fate
Author: hermione2be
Rating: PG/FR13/K+
Crossover: BtVS/SG1
Disclaimer: I do not own any of BtVS/Angel or Stargate people, places, or ideas. This fiction is done simply for pleasure and I receive no profit.
Summary: Some things were set in motion before Buffy left Sunnydale after defeating Angelus, one of those things came back.
Notes: So this jumps ahead about two years. This is considered Part 7 - Links Page.
Seasons: Early Season 3 of SG1
Characters: Buffy
Word Count: 2935
Buffy sighed as she turned off the engine of her black Jeep Cherokee. She pressed her forehead against the steering wheel and tried to forget exactly how badly her night had gone. The past six attempts at dating should have told to her cancel.
Twice she had been called out due to an SGC emergency. Once something alien-related had interrupted. One date he’d taken one look at her and said she was just all wrong and left the restaurant. One had been just looking for sex. And the latest had been a neighbor of Doctor Fraiser’s who while cute, had been a bit dull.
“I need to stop trying,” she told herself. The truth was between her past as a Slayer and her current top secret work in the SGC, there was very little she could tell any date. The Academy was about the only open topic was her excellence in gymnastics and fencing being the only worthwhile stories. She could not even talk about her friends because she had nearly none of those save the ones she worked with in the Mountain.
Buffy opened her door and slipped her leg from the car, balancing on the heel of her mid-calf boot as she tried to find traction in the three inches of snowfall. Grabbing her purse, she exited and locked the car.
Snow and the freezing temperatures had taken some getting used to. Nothing like PT in four inches of snow to wake you up.
“What happened to meeting a guy at a bar?” she muttered as she stepped through the snow. Well, that would take going to a bar. It would probably mean going alone, or at least not taking two hulk-like Marines. But going without Will and Caleb would just be boring, especially since she did not go to her favorite bar to drink. They had some great barbeque.
At the bottom of the stairs, she looked up. Life would be a bit easier if she could just…connect with people. Or maybe if she could tell them the truth. Not that a military relationship was that much better according to some of the female Airmen who had significant others at other area bases. Buffy was close to her team because they knew the truth. And she was probably closest with Teal’c because he accepted much of the strange things she did, or said, or sensed, with a nod and asking if she could use any help.
She started up the stairs, in no real hurry. The cold wind blew across the back of her neck, making her shiver. She needed to dig out a scarf, assuming she had one that was still in decent condition. It was another thing about mostly working and sleeping at the base, unless you worked on the surface levels, almost everything was cool but not chilly below-ground.
Buffy got to the top floor and paused. Her porch light was out but there was something in the corner.
“Took you long enough, Slayer,” a voice drawled from the darkness.
Surprised, it took her a moment to realize that she had instinctively gone for her gun, halfway raising it from her purse.
“Who’s there?” she demanded, pulling out her gun.
The stranger sighed. “Put it down, love. Won’t do any good.”
Something clicked in Buffy’s brain. “Do I know you?”
The responding chuckle was raspy. The figure stepped forward. “I don’t know, love, do ya?”
Buffy took in the chiseled features and curly brown locks. She knew this person. She was sure of it. Even her Slayer was certain.
He took a step forward, the winter moon catching his bright blue eyes. And highlighting the scar through his eyebrow.
“Spike?”
A smirk took over his face, but it was tired and held no true amusement.
“What are you doing here?” She frowned. “How did you find me?”
“Came looking,” he answered. “Figures you’d end up in the one place with no demons. How’d you manage that, Slayer?”
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. Only a handful of off-world allies used her title. To hear it again, from him.
“I like the haircut,” he told her. “What’s with that?”
“Air Force. Its regulations.”
Spike’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “You. Military?” He laughed then, a loud, boisterous sound that carried on the icy wind.
“Stop!” she said. “If you didn’t find me by my military record, how did you?”
Humor seemed to abandon him at that. “Dru.”
“And what does she want with me?”
He looked away. “I don’t know.” He held out an envelope. The thick vellum had writing that was impossible to read in the dark.
She sighed and took it. She put her gun back in her bag and dug out her keys. She did not take her eyes off Spike, but he remained where he was. She stuck her key in the door and opened it. She crossed the threshold and flipped on the living room light.
Buffy dropped her purse by the door and grabbed a stake from beneath the couch. It was never the first weapon she reached for, but she kept it nearby just in case. She slipped it into the pocket of her coat and returned her attention to the envelope.
Slayer
Winding Meadow Apartments
Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA
Apartment 12 C
The calligraphy was beautiful. Large and flowing. Flicks and flourishes she was certain Daniel would be enthralled with, be able to tell who wrote it and how.
She turned it over and found a wax seal with a large “A” embossed on it. She looked up at Spike. “Am I going to be poisoned or magic’d when I open this?”
Spike shrugged. “I don’t know. It was sealed so you would know I hadn’t read it.”
Buffy held the envelope further away and opened it. Nothing happened. Sighing, she reached in and pulled out a thick piece of paper. She set the envelope on the table next to the door. She leaned against the door interior doorframe, so she could get the best light.
Slayer,
Nothing went as it was supposed to. But you know this. You took a turn, instead of going back to Sunnydale the summer you left. This change in fate has led you to the stars. It led others down paths you are too blocked to imagine.
However, one event was set in motion long before you left Sunnydale and defeated Angelus.
My Spike.
Buffy looked up at the blue eyes glowing in the darkness of the landing. A shiver cascaded down her spine.
I knew I could not let him go with no you to return to. And your friends would not be understanding. So I kept him with me. I thought I could change his stars, guide his fate.
But I have failed, Slayer. And my only hope is you.
Spike has gained his soul. He fought for it. He won it. No amount of happiness or spells can take it from him. It was not his intention, he wanted to rid himself of his feelings for you, to become a monster capable of defeating the Slayer again, to win me back. But there had been no winning me back since he cured me ten years ago.
I don’t know what your fate is now. And the moment I thought to send him to you, Spike’s future is blocked as well. Your Doorway to Heaven is dangerous, but it tends to keep demons away.
I know I cannot ask you to care for him, so instead I ask that you take care of him. Please, Slayer.
Yours Eternally,
Drusilla
Buffy stared at the paper. “What kind of cockamamie scam are you running?”
“I still don’t know what she wrote, Sl - pet.”
“A soul, really?”
He cringed, looking away. “She shouldn’t have told you that.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not something I wanted out to you,” he snapped back, but there was little fire to it.
Buffy shook her head. “Why come to me? What do I have to do with all of this?”
Spike did not answer. A weirdly docile man - vampire - so different from the one she had known. And he was a vampire, despite the cold she could recognize the demon signature. She had grown so used to Goa’uld and aliens with their bright signals, she had missed the subtly of the demon.
“How do I know this isn’t a trick?”
“You don’t.” He replied evenly. “But you were out here, unaware and without a weapon and you got in there unharmed.”
“I would have shot you,” she told him.
Spike shrugged. “Doesn’t do much against vampires, love.” He leaned against the opposite side of the door jam.
He was thinner, she noted. His skin was translucent in some places. Hollow cheeks were gaunt and the depressions below his eyes were deep and dark. His eyes had changed too. There was something there.
A memory flashed. She was standing in Angelus’s mansion, her sword ready when Angelus had changed. And he had looked at her, so very different than how he had just a moment before, she had seen his soul. She had watched Angel return. A decade had dulled the pain considerably, and even blurred a few details, but not that.
“You really have a soul?”
“For a year,” he replied looking at something over her shoulder.
“I must be nuts,” she muttered. “I’m going to blame my job.” She sighed. “Come in, Spike.”
Surprised eye shot to hers. His hand pressed, looking for the barrier and then passed over the threshold.
“Do you have anything?” she asked. “Clothes? Food?”
“In my car,” he replied, his voice full of awe.
“Well, go get it and bring it in.”
He nodded once and disappeared silently down the steps. The door closed behind him, blocking out the winter weather.
Buffy headed straight for her room. She closed the door, glad she had upgraded from a one bedroom to a two bedroom and her couch to a pull out. Only took once trying to arrange more than one member of the team for her to decide it was time to get more room.
She changed into a pair of gray sweats with ‘Air Force’ down the right leg. She pulled on thick fuzzy socks and a long-sleeve pink shirt.
She grabbed a pot and pulled out the milk. It was fresh because she had been home at least once in the last week. She eyed the measurement, adding milk to the pot and putting it on low. She opened the cupboard, finding her bar of chocolate. She opened it, stealing a small corner before setting it on the counter.
There was a timid knock at the door. Buffy walked over and pulled it open, looking at Spike with a raised eyebrow.
He gave her a hesitant smile.
She moved out of the way, letting him step in with an old duffle and a plastic bag. Once the door was secure behind them, Buffy got a good look at Spike. His duster was gone, along with his platinum hair. He sported black jeans and boots, a dark blue sweater, and brown curly hair.
“These - uh - do you have a washer?” he asked softly.
Embarrassed, she realized.
“Yeah, in the bathroom,” she led him to the single bathroom, situated between the two bedrooms. The stacked washer-dryer was in a small opening between the linen closet and the bathtub. “The supplies are under the sink here. Try not to put too many clothes in” She pointed to the vanity. “You can shower, too. My products aren’t flowery. One of my teammates is allergic and the other…is just unique so everything is kind of neutral.”
His hand touched her wrist. “Thank you.”
The touch was ice cold.
“I need to check on the milk,” she said, aware it was a strange statement. But she had been babbling and she was still on awkward footing about seeing him again.
She scurried away, relieved when she heard the shower turn on. She whisked the milk idly, making sure it did not scald. She broke the chocolate bar into small pieces and added a handful at a time. She turned off the burner and picked up the pan whisking until she poured it into mugs. Then she started looking for marshmallows. They were on a high shelf in the pantry.
“Damnit,” she sighed.
“Something wrong?” Spike’s voice startled her. The washer had disguised the sound of the shower stopping.
“Um, I’m short,” she said.
A small smile appeared on his face.
“I mean, the marshmallows are on the top shelf and I can’t reach.” She pointed.
Spike was not much taller than her, but it was enough to snag the bag. He handed them over.
Buffy took them, opening the bag and dispensing a handful into each mug.
“Why’d ya put them on the top shelf?” he asked as she rolled them up and sealed them in a freezer bag.
“I didn’t. If I had to guess…T did. He thinks that since they have no natural ingredients they are not meant for consumption. Possible it was O’Neill, he likes to make my life difficult.”
“Why’s that?”
Buffy handed him the second mug as she picked up hers. “He’s my CO. He likes to do shit like that.”
“Power, thing?”
“No. It’s his sense of humor.” She walked into the living room, taking a seat on the overstuffed chair. She kept her hands wrapped around her mug, enjoying the heat seeping to her fingers.
Spike sat on the edge of the couch. “So you joined the Air Force?” he asked, his eyes on her pants.
“Yeah. Odd life for a Slayer, but it’s strange enough to be my normal.”
“Enlisted?”
She shook her head. “Officer. Did all four years at the Academy right here in Colorado Springs. I’ll be a captain next month.”
“And what do you do?”
“Deep space radar telemetry,” Buffy replied.
He watched her, considering. “Really? You?”
“I didn’t think you’d accept just a flat ‘classified.’”
Spike nodded. They drank in silence for several minutes. “This is good,” he finally told her.
“Two of the scientists I work with are coffee addicts. They believe more in the ritual and quality. So I upped my hot chocolate game.”
"You have an extra toothbrush in the holder.”
“Yeah, that would be Daniel’s. If I drag him off the base, this is about as far as he gets.”
“Your beau?” there was an odd quality to his quiet questions.
“No. No, Daniel’s a civilian PhD. He kind of disappears into his work, lives off coffee and protein bars if left to his own devices.” She grinned. “I like to think I’m saving him from himself, or O’Neill ordering him off base.” She sipped her drink, thinking of her teammate.
They descended into silence for more than twenty minutes. Each of them finished off their hot chocolate, just holding their mugs and trying to find something not-so-awkward to talk about.
“Have you been back to Sunnydale?” Spike asked.
It was an innocent question. But it also was something she tried not to think about. She stood suddenly, taking her mug to the sink and going about cleaning it and the pan. It was about the one thing that her schedule had enforced - always do the dishes and clean like you won’t be back for a month. Once she had actually thought it would be just a day at the base, only to end up in the time well of a black hole through the Gate and it was actually two weeks topside. That bowl she had innocently left in the sink was a full science experiment as was the Chinese leftovers in her fridge.
“I’m sorry, love.” He set his mug next to the sink.
“It’s not your fault,” she replied without looking up. She sighed. “I left and stayed gone.”
“Why?” He set the whisk she had forgotten next to the sink as well.
“Because it was easier,” she answered reflexively. But Spike had been there, had seen more than one embarrassing and soul-wrenching moment. “No.” She turned, the clean whisk in hand. She used her elbow to stop the faucet. “No. It wasn’t easy. It was hell. It was…seventeen and starting over on my own, not knowing where my next meal was coming from.” She brandished the whisk. “It was months of depression and doubt and considering every chance to turn tail and run back and beg forgiveness. Questioning if I was smart enough to pass the SAT and GED.” She flicked the whisk slightly. “Keeping to myself so people wouldn’t ask questions. I couldn’t keep a secret for a day in Sunnydale. In the last ten years, only five people know the truth.”
Spike kept clear of the whisk. His back was pressed to the refrigerator.
“I did it because I chose to do something and I wanted to prove that I could trust myself.” She gestured to her apartment. “This is my second apartment. I don’t have a lot of friends and nearly none of them know everything. But this is the life I built out of the wreckage of Sunnydale. For better or worse.”
Buffy took a deep breath and focused. She retracted the whisk. Realizing what she had done, she turned and finished the dishes, dried them and put them away. Then she cleaned the sink, needing another moment to compose herself.
“I’m sensing some unresolved issues,” he quipped softly.
Buffy chuckled. “Maybe one or two.” She sniffed and exited the kitchen. “I’ve got to call in.” She grabbed the phone and disappeared into her bedroom.