by Nancy Holder
Turning back to the door, Buffy braced herself, then re-entered the house. Sure enough, the gateway was still active and she found herself in the destroyed entryway. Paulina’s headless body remained on the floor of the dining room.
It wasn’t the trophy at all, Buffy thought. Whatever the demon had stolen was still somewhere in this house, and Buffy was going to have to find it to close the gateway and end the spell.
“That’s the fifth pair of shoes I’ve misplaced this week,” Snyder had said.
Buffy took the stairs two at a time on her way back to Cecil’s room. Hurrying to the closet, she glanced at the five pairs neatly lined on the closet floor and the single black dress shoe that had no mate.
“Poetic, I guess, from Paulina’s point of view,” Buffy said aloud. Then she grabbed the single shoe and hurried back downstairs and through the front door again.
This time, there was no mistaking her success. Once Buffy had gained the porch, she turned to see the bright light of the gateway swirling behind her as it started to fade. Finally, as the glowing circle grew smaller and smaller, collapsing in on itself, there was an earth-shaking bang, and Buffy found herself staring only at the normal front door.
As if in answer to her unspoken that had to have worked thought, Buffy was suddenly aware of the faint chirping of birds and the distant barking of a dog.
Good morning, Sunnydale, Buffy thought with a smile.
She had started down the front walk when she realized she was alone. Snyder was gone, though a fresh trail of his blood told Buffy he was limping his way home.
Happy to have avoided any further conversation with the man she could now go back to genuinely disliking, Buffy turned in the opposite direction, grateful that, at last, this much of her work was done and now, like everyone else, she might get a little rest before it was time to face whatever was coming next.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Joyce awakened to find herself in bed and, strangely, in her bathrobe. She couldn’t remember much of the night before, but she thought she’d checked Buffy’s empty room, realized she was still at the library putting in some extra study hours, which hopefully will pay off, and just barely made it into her pajamas before she’d fallen exhausted into bed. She also thought she remembered waking and brushing her teeth, but she decided that must have been one of those early-morning dreams where you thought you were getting up and getting dressed to start your day, maybe even were on the way to work, before your alarm started blaring to remind you that you had yet to accomplish any of those things.
It was disorienting and vaguely unsettling, but Joyce tried to shake it off, along with the nagging sense that she could really use another few hours of sleep.
Still, it was clearly the beginning of a beautiful day, and Joyce decided it was best to make a good start of it. Crossing to her bedroom door, she called out, “Buffy?” Though it wouldn’t have been the first time Buffy had stayed out all night, Joyce wasn’t going to be pleased if her daughter had chosen to spend the evening gallivanting around with her friends rather than getting her rest this close to finals.
“Buffy?” she called again, louder.
Her fears were allayed when she heard from the kitchen below a familiar voice reply, “Mom?”
Joyce barely made it to the staircase landing when Buffy rushed up and threw herself into her mother’s arms, hugging her so tightly, Joyce felt her spine popping.
“Good morning, honey,” Joyce said warmly once Buffy had released her and she found she could take a full, refreshing breath.
“You’re okay,” Buffy said with obvious relief, looking her mother up and down in a manner that suggested Buffy was seriously worried that Joyce might have started dating again.
Joyce examined Buffy more closely. Her ponytail was askew, and telltale wisps of hair surrounding her face gave the impression of a good hairdo gone bad. Her denim jacket had a new tear in the right sleeve, and her jeans sported fresh stains that Joyce wanted to believe were dirt or grass but which gave the uncomfortable impression of something stickier.
“Are you just getting home?” Joyce asked, dismayed.
“It was kind of a long night,” Buffy replied a little evasively.
“Well, you can tell me all about it on the way to school,” Joyce said gamely. She knew Buffy had taken her worries about her studies to heart, and Todd’s reports to Joyce about Buffy’s progress had been promising. Rather than emphasize an understandable lapse, Joyce decided to accentuate the positive and hope for the best. Buffy was a good girl, if a peculiar one, and Joyce knew better than anyone that Buffy was harder on herself than any other critic, including her mother.
“Um, Mom,” Buffy said, “it’s actually Saturday.”
“What?” Joyce asked. She was certain it was Friday.
“Trust me,” Buffy said.
Joyce marched back up the stairs behind Buffy and turned on the morning news in her bedroom. Sure enough, she was greeted by the weekend anchors. As she struggled to remember what had happened to Friday, Buffy surprised her by wrapping an arm around her waist.
Joyce responded automatically, draping her own arm over Buffy’s shoulder and giving her a firm snuggle.
“Someone’s affectionate this morning,” she said, smiling.
“I just really love you, Mom,” Buffy said simply.
“I love you, too, sweetie,” Joyce said, trying to keep the surprise out of her voice. Buffy was sweet, but it had been some time since she’d willingly sought the comfort of her mother’s arms. “Are you okay?” she found herself asking.
“Sure,” Buffy replied. “I think I’m just appreciating you more than usual right now,” she finished.
Oh, God, Joyce thought, and placed the palm of her hand to Buffy’s forehead.
“What?” Buffy asked.
“Either you’re running a temperature, or you want something,” Joyce replied firmly.
Please tell me you didn’t burn down the school gymnasium again, Joyce mentally added to the list of things that might be wrong.
“A girl can’t just love her mother?” Buffy asked a little defensively.
“A girl can—she just usually doesn’t express it this way unless she’s brought home a bad test score or found a really cute dress at the mall,” Joyce replied.
“Well, this morning, the answer is neither,” Buffy said, smiling. “But sometimes I forget how lucky I am to have you as my mom.”
“Okay,” Joyce said, still at a loss to see where this might be leading.
“You really are something,” Buffy finished.
“Where do you think you get it from?” Joyce asked, smiling.
Buffy rewarded her with another squeeze and then started for her room.
“Don’t you have another study session this afternoon?” Joyce asked Buffy’s back.
Buffy’s shoulders slumped visibly. “Oh, that’s right.”
“How about some pancakes for breakfast?” Joyce asked. “Get the morning started with some good brain food.”
“Since when are pancakes brain food?” Buffy asked.
“Since I didn’t make it to the store this week and we’re out of eggs and cereal,” Joyce answered.
“Sounds perfect,” Buffy replied. “Just after you’ve had your coffee, okay?”
Joyce smiled in reply. As her daughter headed toward her bedroom, she sighed, deeply touched by Buffy’s uncharacteristic expression of love and happy to take it as a small blessing. She honestly didn’t know if she would ever truly understand the little girl she’d brought into the world, but on mornings like this, it hardly mattered.
Buffy was the littlest bit grateful for her evening spent with the Snyders. Though Joyce certainly had her moments, on her worst day she wasn’t in the same ballpark, let alone county, as Paulina Snyder. Buffy rarely thought of herself as lucky these days, but the glimpse she’d had into her principal’s childhood had been a visceral reminder that there were many people in the world who had it much worse, even if you cou
nted the fact that Buffy had been called to a sacred duty she often wished had been passed to someone else.
As soon as she reached her bedroom she put in a quick call to the library. She spoke to Giles for a few minutes, receiving confirmation that he, Willow, Xander, and Cordelia had all awakened that morning a little worse for wear, but certainly in good form. Though he attempted to quiz Buffy on the night’s events and her encounter with Paulina, Buffy desperately needed a shower and breakfast before Todd showed up, so she deferred his questions to Willow and promised a full debriefing session on Monday morning before class. When Giles asked if she’d had any opportunity to locate Callie, Buffy admitted that she’d seen the whole sleeping spell as the higher priority, and he heartily concurred but insisted that she patrol that evening in search of the young vampire.
Buffy agreed, then called Willow’s house to confirm that her best friend had made it home after waking up in the library with Xander and Giles. Willow also wanted a blow-by-blow description of the demon dimension, and given the amount of effort Willow had put into resolving the crisis, Buffy felt honor-bound to satisfy at least some of her curiosity before thanking her profusely and jumping into the shower.
Joyce made good on her pancake threat, and nourished by the delicious and filling breakfast, Buffy decided to forgo her much-needed nap and complete a few of Todd’s assignments instead. She was actually feeling quite proud of herself a few hours later when Todd knocked on her bedroom door and she could honestly say she was prepared to work with him.
Todd entered Buffy’s room with two tall Styrofoam cups of cold soda already in hand.
“So you’re a full-service tutor?” Buffy asked playfully, hoping he would forgive the lack of returned phone calls over the past few days.
His sincere smile and flirty “Let’s sit down and define some of those terms” in response put the Slayer immediately at ease.
They were interrupted briefly by Joyce, who poked her head into Buffy’s room to announce that she was going to run by the gallery for the afternoon and ask if she could bring home pizza for dinner for all of them. Appropriately embarrassed, Buffy suggested that Todd probably had better things to do, but he seemed to warm to the idea and, with a grateful smile, accepted Joyce’s kind offer.
“You’ve got a great mom,” Todd said, once Joyce had left them to work.
“I really do.” Buffy nodded, then wondered momentarily if actually liking one’s mom would lose her any cool points with Todd. To change the subject, she asked how Todd had been the past few days, apologizing somewhere in the middle for not calling him back sooner.
“Oh, it’s no problem,” Todd replied quickly. “I actually slept in most of the day yesterday. I don’t know what happened. I hope I’m not catching that flu bug that’s been going around,” he added.
“I’m sure it’s nothing a few hours of English history won’t cure,” Buffy teased as she took a hearty sip of the soda Todd had placed beside her.
“Well, I’m game,” Todd replied, searching Buffy’s face for something she truly hoped was a sign that she was seriously falling in like with him.
“By the way,” Todd continued as he pulled a few reference books out of his backpack, “I haven’t seen any sign of the boyfriend you were so worried about.”
Buffy felt the tension in her neck and shoulders begin to relax at his words. “I’m glad to hear that,” she responded honestly. “He tends to be a night person,” she added, hoping to keep Todd on his guard.
Quite suddenly, that sense of relaxation spread down her arms and legs.
Maybe that nap would have been a better idea after all, Buffy thought, worrying that she had finally pushed herself too far.
“Buffy?” Todd asked with genuine concern.
The next thing she knew, Buffy could barely keep her eyes open.
“Buffy?” Todd asked again.
Buffy took a deep breath and tried to reach again for her soda, hoping the caffeine might rejuvenate her somewhat. She fumbled clumsily for the cup and ended up knocking it over onto her desk. Though her instinct told her to jump up and out of the way, she felt positively glued to her chair. To her surprise, Todd also remained where he was, studying her carefully.
“Don’t … know … wha-… wrong,” Buffy tried to say, but her voice and eyes were beginning to fail her.
The last thing she thought she heard as her world started to spin toward oblivion was Todd saying softly, “I’m so sorry, Buffy.”
What the bloody hell?
Someone was screaming, someone with a high-pitched piercing wail that Spike could not immediately identify. As the shrieking continued behind him, followed by the distinct sound of the slamming of doors, Spike came fully awake and found himself seated in his wheelchair in Dru’s bedroom before the empty four-poster bed.
What was I just doing? Spike wondered. The alarm tightening his gut told him that it was probably important, but clearly not important enough to have stayed awake for.
“Oh, no, you don’t, you little brat!” came clearly to Spike’s ears.
Angelus.
But Angelus was supposed to be dead.
In a flash, Spike suddenly remembered his last conscious thoughts. Angelus had been sleeping with his beloved Dru, and Callie had carved a small stake that had a date with Angelus’s heart.
Spike’s unease grew perceptibly as he realized that the stake intended for Angelus now rested with its pointy side embedded deeply in the fabric of his wheelchair, directly between his legs.
“Well, that’s rude,” Spike muttered aloud before tossing the stake aside and wheeling himself quickly toward the living room.
Once he’d arrived, the story of the last few minutes was painfully clear to him. Angelus and Drusilla stood by the closed French doors. Beyond them, cowering in the few remaining shadows of the patio, which was about to be drenched by full exposure to the morning sun, was Callie, screaming, positively begging to be rescued.
Callie saw Spike before the others did. She started to reach out for him with both arms, calling, “Please, Daddy!” and was rewarded for her efforts by hitting a patch of sun and singeing her arms. She pulled them back instantly but soon cried out for him again.
Spike instinctively moved closer, the whole time figuring the distance to the doors as well as the number of seconds remaining in Callie’s afterlife if he didn’t do something.
“Don’t even think about it, Roller-boy,” Angelus said, turning on Spike sharply.
“Oh, I was just moving in for a better view,” Spike quipped, hoping his feigned nonchalance would keep Angelus off his guard.
“Callie was a bad, bad girl,” Dru offered. “She tried to hurt Angelus.”
“I see,” Spike said calmly. “While that’s most regrettable, don’t you think the little bit has learned her lesson?” he asked.
“She’s about to,” Angelus said menacingly.
He was baiting Spike, and though sorely tempted, Spike refused to rise to it for the moment.
“You know, love,” Spike said, turning toward Dru, “she’s only a child. Your child,” he added with emphasis. “Don’t you think she deserves a chance to at least explain herself? I mean, Angelus threatened to kill her not two days ago. Maybe she’s just … acting out?”
“She doesn’t love me, Spike,” Dru said sadly. “I tried to make her love me, but she won’t.”
“In fact, the only one in this house she seems to listen to is you, Spike,” Angelus added. “Makes me wonder whose idea it was to crawl into my bed with a stake this morning.”
“Oh, don’t waste your time, mate,” Spike replied. “If I wanted you dead, you’d already be a footnote in history.”
Angelus growled, baring his fangs at Spike.
“Now, boys,” Drusilla interrupted, “play nice. Callie has come between us all. I think Angelus is right. Things were better before she was here.”
Spike didn’t know what angered him more, Drusilla or Angelus. Drusilla was insane. He’d always
known that and, to a degree, that fact mitigated most of her actions. It was, after all, a good insane, one he’d found incredibly twisted and tempting over the years. But Angelus was playing Dru, pretending to be threatened by Callie because he already knew that Spike had taken a liking to the little girl.
Damn his soulless body to hell.
Spike had options here. His strength had already started to return weeks ago, and for reasons even he was at a loss to delve into too deeply, he had chosen to keep that piece of information from both Angelus and Dru. Still, he was more than capable of rising from his chair and rushing to Callie’s rescue, but that would have betrayed his secret. Put simply, Spike had serious “trust” issues with Angelus, and he couldn’t afford to squander the only advantage he had over him. Dru, he somehow knew, would completely understand and forgive the little deception, should she ever learn of it. In fact, she would probably find it charming. The question was, was Callie worth it?
Spike’s heart surprised him for the first time in a long time by saying yes.
Callie continued to cry out to him, her screams growing louder as the sun encroached millimeter by millimeter upon her little corner of life.
Callie was a child, but she was also a good student. Given time and patience, she would become every bit as fierce a companion as Drusilla had been to him. She had already learned to silence what little remained of her conscience, and Spike had delighted in watching her take her first steps into the world of her new vampire existence. It was rewarding in a way he had never before experienced to watch her abandon her old ideas and spark to newer, darker dreams.
Strange as it might seem, Spike had to admit that since Angelus had returned to his and Drusilla’s world, Spike had lost something of his love. Dru’s attention had been divided at first, but lately, Angelus had been the one she had turned to in most of her needs, and he had gloried in satisfying her, all the while pretending to defer to Spike’s intimacy with Dru but clearly only waiting to take Dru from Spike forever.
But Callie was his. She had no love or patience for Angelus and only a little for Dru. Much as Dru said she had wanted this child, the moment Callie had become difficult, Dru had lost interest where Spike had found a project he could literally and figuratively sink his teeth into. Hunting and killing had become new to him, as he experienced them through Callie’s eyes, and her uncomplicated love for Spike had soothed the part of his heart so carelessly bruised by Drusilla.
