Journey to Destiny - Chapter 2
Dec. 5th, 2003 03:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
psubratAuthor: PSUbrat
Rating: PG-13 Some language and violence
Disclaimer and spoiler warning: All characters, except Geoffrey, Garrick and Bronwyn, belong to Joss Whedon and whomever else he sells them to...I’m just borrowing them for a while. This story is based upon the alternate universe I created in Reset.
Summary: Spike travels to England for help and hope...
Timeframe: A few weeks after "Gift With Purchase"
The flight to England was crowded and noisy, yet Spike heard nothing, not even the child screaming behind him. He sat in his east, as if in a trance, head resting heavily on the window as he stared out into the azure sky, the kind that only comes with being 37,000 feet in the air. It had been almost three weeks since he had followed Zareb to the village elders. There they had given him some type of concoction to help bring back his memories. He had scoffed at the idea of a potion doing what banging his head on a rock and looking at pictures could not. His eyes slipped closed as he remembered swallowing the foul smelling, amber liquid and the burning sensation that had followed - and then the flood of memories and emotions. He winced, opened his eyes again and forced himself to look out the window, hoping that if he watched the passing terrain he could keep the dam of memories from bursting through again.
Why? That was the question of the hour. Why was he human? He had asked the demon to make him what he once was, what she deserved but instead of being a vampire again, he was now a human. Living and breathing. He had assumed asking to be what he once was would have meant turning him back into a monster, but then, he had never been a monster with a soul. A soul. How had that happened? He had been a vampire with a soul. So Peaches hadn’t been so special after all. That thought gave him pause. If he’d had a soul the whole time, then why hadn’t he been all broody, moping over all of the deaths he had caused over the past century? Surely he would have known if he’d had a soul, right? The elders couldn’t, or wouldn’t, explain that particular development. They had told him that all things would be revealed to him in time. In time? Whose time? Certainly it wasn’t on his time otherwise he’d know what the bloody hell was going on. Ponces - the whole sodding lot of them.
He looked down at his hands as rays of sunlight danced off his pale skin. Sunlight. After three weeks, it still amazed him that he could walk in the sun without bursting into flames. There were several things he was sure would take some time getting used to, including the sound of his heart beating. Odd that - he supposed that most people took for granted that their hearts could beat, but it was music to his ears. Now he needed answers.
As the plane banked right to begin its descent into Heathrow airport, the knot in his stomach grew. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, going to search out the one person he knew would probably kill him on sight, especially if Buffy had told him about…. He couldn’t even bring himself to think about that right now, no time; besides, he had committed himself to this trip, even if it meant his death. In his mind he deserved no less.
After what seemed like ages, the plane finally rolled to the terminal and came to rest. While the other passengers scrambled to grab their bags and children, he found himself frozen to his seat, fingers suddenly unable to open his seat belt. Nerves raw, fear and dread gripped his body. Was he really here in England? He hadn’t been here in years, not since before Prague. Would it be the same? Would it feel like home? Probably not. Home was in Sunnydale. Home was in her arms. At least it had been before he...
"Sir?" The flight attendant asked as she approached him. She waited for him to respond but when he didn’t, she tapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Sir?"
He jumped, startled out of his thoughts. "Y-yes?"
"Sir, do you need assistance?"
"Assistance?" He asked with a frown, not understanding. He watched as she gestured to his seat belt. "Oh. No. Sorry. Just a little slow, is all."
"Well, I’m going to have to ask you to gather your things. You’re the only passenger left and we need to get the cleaning crew in."
"Right. Sorry." He finally found the ability to unlatch the belt and grab his bag. As he stood to make his way into the aisle the flight attendant tapped him on the shoulder again.
"Is this your first time back home?"
"Come again?" He asked, surprised and suddenly on edge.
"You just seem like someone who’s coming home again, that’s all. I didn’t mean to upset you."
"No," he replied, softening somewhat. "You didn’t upset me; I just didn’t think it was that noticeable."
"Only to those who have come back after years of being away." She smiled brightly at him. "Been there myself not so long ago. I’m originally from the States...So, are you here to see family?"
"No," he responded as he slowly made his way to the front of the plane, the attendant following after him. "Looking up an old friend."
"Old girlfriend?"
"No. Just an old friend."
"Great!"
He shot her a look of surprise at her response. Why was she so interested in who he was going to see?
"Uhm, I just mean...Good, that you’re looking for a friend; a male friend even."
"Right. Male." He watched as she smiled sweetly at him, he could feel his cheeks beginning to flush under her gaze.
"I was wondering..." she started, batting her eyelashes and stepping closer to him. She had been watching him ever since he boarded and was sure that he was single. There was no telltale mark or band on his left hand that would have given the indication that he was married, nor did he seem in a hurry to meet anyone at the gate. Now was as good a time as any to make her move. "Would you like to get a drink with me while I wait for my next flight?"
He looked at her, eyes wide with shock. "I, uh, I really should..." Dear Lord! Was this woman asking for a date? The Big Bad being asked on a date. The thought was both frightening and exhilarating. He hadn’t thought about dating since, well, since before he had been turned, and now here he was, over a century later, being asked to have drinks. Suddenly he felt nauseas.
"It’s okay," the woman stated quickly as she looked away, trying to hide her embarrassment. "I understand. You’re not interested..."
"It’s not that," he added, a bit uncomfortable with the situation. "Well, it is but...it’s nothing you did...It’s just that..." He stopped as the picture he had been keeping close to him, fluttered from his grasp and onto the floor. Before he had a chance to make a move, the young woman was already picking it up. Slowly he held out his hand to retrieve his most precious possession. With everything that had happened in the last few weeks the furthest thing from his mind was a woman. Actually, strike that, there was a woman on his mind...constantly.
"She’s very pretty," she said as she handed him the picture. She should have known - the good-looking ones were always taken.
He smiled softly at her, nodding his thanks. As he turned his back to her and continued down the ramp into the terminal, he wondered if his face was as red as it felt hot.
After easily clearing customs - a shock even to him - Spike headed towards the underground station to catch the tube into the city. The mojo that the elders had performed seemed to work brilliantly. No one questioned who he was or why he was there. It was almost as if he was invisible, he surely felt that way.
Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he boarded the Piccadilly line and quickly took a seat, trying not to look at anyone in the process. He was convinced that anyone who looked at him was sure to see through his façade, that they would see the murderer and potential rapist that lurked just beneath the surface.
Soon enough, the car lurched forward and began to chug along its rails. His stomach tightened as he heard station after station called out, bringing him closer to his destination. Acton Town, Hammersmith, Gloucester Road - All places that tugged at memories from a lifetime ago. People got on and people got off, but he didn’t notice; his mind was racing elsewhere to memories of another kind.
Ask me again why I could never love you!
The words, her words, rocketed through him, making his breath catch in his chest and his body tense. Burying his face in his hands, he tried not to weep openly in public. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself. Slowly he lowered his hands and eased back into his seat, steadying his breathing and holding in the sobs that wanted to escape from his throat. From the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes his whole being ached. Guilt - Crashed through him, over him, in him, wracking his mind and soul - torturing him.
Her voice. Her face. Everything swirled through his mind, hammering on his conscience. Of all the mayhem, murder and injuries that he had caused over the last century, the one that plagued him continuously was what he had done to her in the bathroom. How could he have done something so despicable to the person who was supposedly his soul mate, the yin to his yang, the half that completed him? Demon or no, he was a monster. And to make matters worse, he’d had a soul when he’d done that. True, the elders had explained that demon had been wrestling with the soul, fighting for control of his body, but he had never realized that was what had been happening. He had always believed it had been the chip keeping him in check, making him whipped. But it wasn’t. He had a soul. And he had hurt her.
He needed to be punished. Perhaps that’s why he was seeking the one person who would happily kill him without giving it a second thought. Was his subconscious trying to tell him something? If he had still been a vampire, the answer would have been simple. He would have found a sharp piece of wood and done the running through himself, or he would have taken a walk in the sun. Easy enough. No fuss, no muss. Being human now made offing himself a bit more difficult, not to mention messy. Thoughts of all that blood and gore definitely did not appeal to him. Plus, it was the coward’s way out and he’d be damned if he was going to let anyone think him a coward. Not after what he had just done...for her. Everything for her. Always.
As the car began to slow, his stop was announced. Spike ran his fingers through his increasingly thickening hair and took a deep breath to steady himself before gathering up his bag and walking out onto the underground platform. Slowly he climbed the steps to the outside world. South Kensington. He had never seen anything so comforting and alien in his whole life. Nothing and everything had changed, making his return a bittersweet moment. It was almost as overwhelming as his guilt. Almost.
Absently he searched his jeans pocket for the slip of paper that held the information he needed to track down the only one that he could trust. The elders had assured him that the man he sought would indeed be in town when Spike arrived. All he had to do was to go to this address and knock on the door. Sounded easy enough. But he was troubled. Magic always had consequences and he was just waiting to see what consequences he would suffer as a result of the elders’ mojo and his becoming human. He shuddered at the thought.
Setting aside his thoughts, he picked his way carefully through the crowds, hoping to locate a taxi. Finding one with its sign on, he opened the door and slid into the backseat with an audible sigh.
"Where to, mate?" The driver asked with a thick Cockney accent and a raised eyebrow.
"Uhm," he hesitated as he squinted at the slip of crumpled paper. "5-6 Manson Place."
The driver laughed. "Would drive you there if it weren’t a five minute walk, but I will, up to you."
"So it’s not far then?"
"It’s just up this street and over the way there, to the right," the driver said, pointing. "Want to walk or ride?"
Spike sighed. The walk would do him some good; calm his nerves but he was concerned he would get cold feet and run in the opposite direction. "I’d like the ride if it’s not a problem with you."
"Not at all," the driver replied, moving off. He could sense the man’s uneasiness, but he had made it a habit a long time ago to not ask his fare any questions. It was better that way, especially around here. Too many up-tight gits in suits telling him to mind his own business. The man in the back didn’t strike him as one of those, but he was heading to an address that housed many of them. He hoped the man knew what he was getting himself into.
Less than two minutes later, the taxi came to a stop in front of an old, large Victorian-esque type building. The sign outside told Spike that he was at the Queensgate Apartments. Clearly, he was at the right place. He reached into his pocket and paid the driver, tipping him generously for taking up his time.
Several minutes passed before he could will his feet to move towards the door. He still couldn’t believe he was doing this, then again there were a lot of things he couldn’t believe he was doing anymore. Checking the slip of paper again, he realized that the flat number wasn’t provided. He would have to stop by the porter’s desk and have them ring the man.
"Can I help you?" A young woman in a neatly pressed uniform asked, first eyeing him suspiciously and then appreciatively.
"Yes. I’m looking for Rupert Giles. I don’t have his flat number so I was wondering if you could ring him for me."
She tossed her chestnut brown hair over her shoulder and smiled. "I know for a fact that Mr. Giles is not at home at this moment. He stepped out earlier this morning. Would you like to leave a message for him?"
His shoulders slumped. "Do you know if he’ll be returning today?" The thought of Giles being out of town on business had never crossed his mind but it would be just his luck if he were.
"I’m not really privy to Mr. Giles comings and goings," she stated, watching with great interest as the man’s face fell further. "However, I believe he shall be back this evening."
Spike looked up, giving her a small smile. "Thanks. I’ll try again later."
"Is there a message?"
"No. No message."
"Very well then. Have a good day."
"Right. You too."
Just his bloody luck that Giles chose this particular day to step out. Turning on his heel, he stalked out of the building, swearing softly to himself. He never noticed the young woman pick up the phone as soon as his back was turned.
What was he going to do now? He certainly couldn’t sit outside waiting for Giles to return, not without drawing undue attention to himself. Looking up between the trees, he noticed that the sun was now lower in the sky. A slight breeze blew through the leaves and ruffled his hair. At least it was a nice day.
After several moments, he decided that a trip into London proper sounded like a brilliant idea. Maybe a little sightseeing or he could always "people watch" down by the Thames. He wished he had brought something to read with him, something to pass the time and keep his mind off of her and the guilt that consumed him. Well, if it was good reading he wanted, he knew exactly where to go.
Using a map to re-familiarize himself with the London underground, he took the Piccadilly line to Leicester Square. From there he decided to walk the short distance to Charing Cross Road Station. Since it was such a beautiful day, the populace was out in droves. Every shop, pub and tourist attraction bustled with activity. Slowly he wound through the hordes of young girls that seemed to come from everywhere, giggling at their latest purchases and talking about boys. Ah, the blissfulness of youth and innocence. Had he ever been that young or that innocent? If he had, it had been far too long ago to remember.
As he continued to pass through the crowd, a young girl with long brown hair caught his eye. She had her back to him but he could tell that she was engaged in an animated conversation with her friends. Suddenly, his heart ached as he watched her throw her head back with laughter, the sun catching the highlights in her hair. Dawn. She reminded him of his Niblet. He laughed. His Niblet. She would never be his again. Not ever. Still, he wondered what she was doing at this moment in time. Did she even notice he was gone? Did she care? Sighing, he realized that it didn’t matter anymore. More than likely she was too busy bugging big sis or hanging out at the mall with her friends, typical things that a girl her age should be doing.
All of a sudden he felt as if he were being watched. He didn’t know how or why he knew, but he knew. Slowly, he turned away from watching the girl and her friends and scanned the crowded street, trying to make it look as casual as possible. His senses were on overload. Whoever was watching him was close by. A quick assessment of the area found no one out of the ordinary, just the usual blokes and birds going about their business. Things still didn’t feel right with him though; his gut told him that things were far from ordinary. It was almost as if he still possessed his vampiric senses. That couldn’t be though since he was now human. Maybe it was residual; after all, he had been a vampire for a very long time, long enough to know what’s what.
The feeling intensified and he spun around, hoping to catch the person by surprise. Instead, it was he who was surprised. Standing in the shadows by a flower shop, was Zareb, or someone who looked just like him. Spike squinted into the sun, trying to make sure that his eyes weren’t betraying him. No doubt about it. Securing his bag, he sprinted towards his African friend. As he came within five feet of his destination, the man turned and headed into the dark alley.
"Zareb!" Spike yelled, hoping to catch the man’s attention. When his friend didn’t stop, he picked up his pace and hurried into the alleyway after him.
Rounding the corner just seconds after Zareb, Spike ran into a young couple, their arms laden with shopping bags.
"Hey! Watch where you’re going!" The male growled in an obvious American accent.
"Sorry," Spike said apologetically, briefly taking his eyes off his friend to help the tourists pick up their bags. By the time he finished helping the couple, Zareb was gone, if it’d been him to begin with. Was he seeing things? No, he couldn’t be. He would definitely know the man he had spent the last three weeks with, right? Then again, he had been noticing that his eyesight wasn’t exactly what it had been as a vampire. Damn. This being human thing definitely had its setbacks.
Casually he took in his surroundings, noticing that shops lined both sides of the alleyway. Zareb could have entered any one of them. "Bloody hell," he said to himself before he tried calling to his friend one last time. "Zareb?"
Nothing but the busy sounds of Charing Cross reached his ears. Sighing, he looked up to read the sign above his head. To his amusement, he found that he was standing in front of an occult bookshop. Well, if he were a wagering man, which he used to be, he’d wager that Zareb would have ducked inside this particular shop - made perfect sense to him.
A bell above the door, much like the one that hung at the Magic Box, announced his entry. The shop was a good size and was eerily similar to the one back home in California. He half expected Red or Glinda, even Anya, to pop out to assist him or give him a hard time. It even smelled like home. Amazing how the odor of musty books and magic supplies could bring about an overwhelming feeling of homesickness, so much so that it choked him with memories and longings for things that he would never have again. The thought of never seeing Sunnydale again was hard to deal with, especially since he had so many questions. What was he going to do with his new life? What could he do? He certainly hoped that Giles would help him; otherwise he feared he’d fall into a downward spiral and end up like his poofter grandsire - eating rats off the street. The thought made his shudder.
Trying to ignore his latest train of thought, he moved deeper into the shop, browsing the spines of old books that were lined up neatly along the far wall. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it was Sunnydale and that he had passed through a portal somehow. The only thing that seemed to be missing was the Scoobies, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. This was definitely a surreal experience.
As he pulled out a rather old text to peruse, he heard footsteps behind him. Assuming that it was just the shopkeeper coming over to offer his aid, he only half turned towards the footsteps. Never looking up from the page he was scanning, he casually stated, "Just looking ‘round, mate. Don’t need assistance."
The footsteps began again, stopping right beside him. "Is there a..." he started with some irritation but before he could finish his sentence, the person standing next to him took in a sharp breath and spoke.
"Spike? Dude is that you?"
Go to chapter three...
Rating: PG-13 Some language and violence
Disclaimer and spoiler warning: All characters, except Geoffrey, Garrick and Bronwyn, belong to Joss Whedon and whomever else he sells them to...I’m just borrowing them for a while. This story is based upon the alternate universe I created in Reset.
Summary: Spike travels to England for help and hope...
Timeframe: A few weeks after "Gift With Purchase"
- 2 -
Seeking Shelter
Seeking Shelter
The flight to England was crowded and noisy, yet Spike heard nothing, not even the child screaming behind him. He sat in his east, as if in a trance, head resting heavily on the window as he stared out into the azure sky, the kind that only comes with being 37,000 feet in the air. It had been almost three weeks since he had followed Zareb to the village elders. There they had given him some type of concoction to help bring back his memories. He had scoffed at the idea of a potion doing what banging his head on a rock and looking at pictures could not. His eyes slipped closed as he remembered swallowing the foul smelling, amber liquid and the burning sensation that had followed - and then the flood of memories and emotions. He winced, opened his eyes again and forced himself to look out the window, hoping that if he watched the passing terrain he could keep the dam of memories from bursting through again.
Why? That was the question of the hour. Why was he human? He had asked the demon to make him what he once was, what she deserved but instead of being a vampire again, he was now a human. Living and breathing. He had assumed asking to be what he once was would have meant turning him back into a monster, but then, he had never been a monster with a soul. A soul. How had that happened? He had been a vampire with a soul. So Peaches hadn’t been so special after all. That thought gave him pause. If he’d had a soul the whole time, then why hadn’t he been all broody, moping over all of the deaths he had caused over the past century? Surely he would have known if he’d had a soul, right? The elders couldn’t, or wouldn’t, explain that particular development. They had told him that all things would be revealed to him in time. In time? Whose time? Certainly it wasn’t on his time otherwise he’d know what the bloody hell was going on. Ponces - the whole sodding lot of them.
He looked down at his hands as rays of sunlight danced off his pale skin. Sunlight. After three weeks, it still amazed him that he could walk in the sun without bursting into flames. There were several things he was sure would take some time getting used to, including the sound of his heart beating. Odd that - he supposed that most people took for granted that their hearts could beat, but it was music to his ears. Now he needed answers.
As the plane banked right to begin its descent into Heathrow airport, the knot in his stomach grew. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, going to search out the one person he knew would probably kill him on sight, especially if Buffy had told him about…. He couldn’t even bring himself to think about that right now, no time; besides, he had committed himself to this trip, even if it meant his death. In his mind he deserved no less.
After what seemed like ages, the plane finally rolled to the terminal and came to rest. While the other passengers scrambled to grab their bags and children, he found himself frozen to his seat, fingers suddenly unable to open his seat belt. Nerves raw, fear and dread gripped his body. Was he really here in England? He hadn’t been here in years, not since before Prague. Would it be the same? Would it feel like home? Probably not. Home was in Sunnydale. Home was in her arms. At least it had been before he...
"Sir?" The flight attendant asked as she approached him. She waited for him to respond but when he didn’t, she tapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Sir?"
He jumped, startled out of his thoughts. "Y-yes?"
"Sir, do you need assistance?"
"Assistance?" He asked with a frown, not understanding. He watched as she gestured to his seat belt. "Oh. No. Sorry. Just a little slow, is all."
"Well, I’m going to have to ask you to gather your things. You’re the only passenger left and we need to get the cleaning crew in."
"Right. Sorry." He finally found the ability to unlatch the belt and grab his bag. As he stood to make his way into the aisle the flight attendant tapped him on the shoulder again.
"Is this your first time back home?"
"Come again?" He asked, surprised and suddenly on edge.
"You just seem like someone who’s coming home again, that’s all. I didn’t mean to upset you."
"No," he replied, softening somewhat. "You didn’t upset me; I just didn’t think it was that noticeable."
"Only to those who have come back after years of being away." She smiled brightly at him. "Been there myself not so long ago. I’m originally from the States...So, are you here to see family?"
"No," he responded as he slowly made his way to the front of the plane, the attendant following after him. "Looking up an old friend."
"Old girlfriend?"
"No. Just an old friend."
"Great!"
He shot her a look of surprise at her response. Why was she so interested in who he was going to see?
"Uhm, I just mean...Good, that you’re looking for a friend; a male friend even."
"Right. Male." He watched as she smiled sweetly at him, he could feel his cheeks beginning to flush under her gaze.
"I was wondering..." she started, batting her eyelashes and stepping closer to him. She had been watching him ever since he boarded and was sure that he was single. There was no telltale mark or band on his left hand that would have given the indication that he was married, nor did he seem in a hurry to meet anyone at the gate. Now was as good a time as any to make her move. "Would you like to get a drink with me while I wait for my next flight?"
He looked at her, eyes wide with shock. "I, uh, I really should..." Dear Lord! Was this woman asking for a date? The Big Bad being asked on a date. The thought was both frightening and exhilarating. He hadn’t thought about dating since, well, since before he had been turned, and now here he was, over a century later, being asked to have drinks. Suddenly he felt nauseas.
"It’s okay," the woman stated quickly as she looked away, trying to hide her embarrassment. "I understand. You’re not interested..."
"It’s not that," he added, a bit uncomfortable with the situation. "Well, it is but...it’s nothing you did...It’s just that..." He stopped as the picture he had been keeping close to him, fluttered from his grasp and onto the floor. Before he had a chance to make a move, the young woman was already picking it up. Slowly he held out his hand to retrieve his most precious possession. With everything that had happened in the last few weeks the furthest thing from his mind was a woman. Actually, strike that, there was a woman on his mind...constantly.
"She’s very pretty," she said as she handed him the picture. She should have known - the good-looking ones were always taken.
He smiled softly at her, nodding his thanks. As he turned his back to her and continued down the ramp into the terminal, he wondered if his face was as red as it felt hot.
******
After easily clearing customs - a shock even to him - Spike headed towards the underground station to catch the tube into the city. The mojo that the elders had performed seemed to work brilliantly. No one questioned who he was or why he was there. It was almost as if he was invisible, he surely felt that way.
Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he boarded the Piccadilly line and quickly took a seat, trying not to look at anyone in the process. He was convinced that anyone who looked at him was sure to see through his façade, that they would see the murderer and potential rapist that lurked just beneath the surface.
Soon enough, the car lurched forward and began to chug along its rails. His stomach tightened as he heard station after station called out, bringing him closer to his destination. Acton Town, Hammersmith, Gloucester Road - All places that tugged at memories from a lifetime ago. People got on and people got off, but he didn’t notice; his mind was racing elsewhere to memories of another kind.
Ask me again why I could never love you!
The words, her words, rocketed through him, making his breath catch in his chest and his body tense. Burying his face in his hands, he tried not to weep openly in public. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself. Slowly he lowered his hands and eased back into his seat, steadying his breathing and holding in the sobs that wanted to escape from his throat. From the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes his whole being ached. Guilt - Crashed through him, over him, in him, wracking his mind and soul - torturing him.
Her voice. Her face. Everything swirled through his mind, hammering on his conscience. Of all the mayhem, murder and injuries that he had caused over the last century, the one that plagued him continuously was what he had done to her in the bathroom. How could he have done something so despicable to the person who was supposedly his soul mate, the yin to his yang, the half that completed him? Demon or no, he was a monster. And to make matters worse, he’d had a soul when he’d done that. True, the elders had explained that demon had been wrestling with the soul, fighting for control of his body, but he had never realized that was what had been happening. He had always believed it had been the chip keeping him in check, making him whipped. But it wasn’t. He had a soul. And he had hurt her.
He needed to be punished. Perhaps that’s why he was seeking the one person who would happily kill him without giving it a second thought. Was his subconscious trying to tell him something? If he had still been a vampire, the answer would have been simple. He would have found a sharp piece of wood and done the running through himself, or he would have taken a walk in the sun. Easy enough. No fuss, no muss. Being human now made offing himself a bit more difficult, not to mention messy. Thoughts of all that blood and gore definitely did not appeal to him. Plus, it was the coward’s way out and he’d be damned if he was going to let anyone think him a coward. Not after what he had just done...for her. Everything for her. Always.
******
As the car began to slow, his stop was announced. Spike ran his fingers through his increasingly thickening hair and took a deep breath to steady himself before gathering up his bag and walking out onto the underground platform. Slowly he climbed the steps to the outside world. South Kensington. He had never seen anything so comforting and alien in his whole life. Nothing and everything had changed, making his return a bittersweet moment. It was almost as overwhelming as his guilt. Almost.
Absently he searched his jeans pocket for the slip of paper that held the information he needed to track down the only one that he could trust. The elders had assured him that the man he sought would indeed be in town when Spike arrived. All he had to do was to go to this address and knock on the door. Sounded easy enough. But he was troubled. Magic always had consequences and he was just waiting to see what consequences he would suffer as a result of the elders’ mojo and his becoming human. He shuddered at the thought.
Setting aside his thoughts, he picked his way carefully through the crowds, hoping to locate a taxi. Finding one with its sign on, he opened the door and slid into the backseat with an audible sigh.
"Where to, mate?" The driver asked with a thick Cockney accent and a raised eyebrow.
"Uhm," he hesitated as he squinted at the slip of crumpled paper. "5-6 Manson Place."
The driver laughed. "Would drive you there if it weren’t a five minute walk, but I will, up to you."
"So it’s not far then?"
"It’s just up this street and over the way there, to the right," the driver said, pointing. "Want to walk or ride?"
Spike sighed. The walk would do him some good; calm his nerves but he was concerned he would get cold feet and run in the opposite direction. "I’d like the ride if it’s not a problem with you."
"Not at all," the driver replied, moving off. He could sense the man’s uneasiness, but he had made it a habit a long time ago to not ask his fare any questions. It was better that way, especially around here. Too many up-tight gits in suits telling him to mind his own business. The man in the back didn’t strike him as one of those, but he was heading to an address that housed many of them. He hoped the man knew what he was getting himself into.
Less than two minutes later, the taxi came to a stop in front of an old, large Victorian-esque type building. The sign outside told Spike that he was at the Queensgate Apartments. Clearly, he was at the right place. He reached into his pocket and paid the driver, tipping him generously for taking up his time.
Several minutes passed before he could will his feet to move towards the door. He still couldn’t believe he was doing this, then again there were a lot of things he couldn’t believe he was doing anymore. Checking the slip of paper again, he realized that the flat number wasn’t provided. He would have to stop by the porter’s desk and have them ring the man.
"Can I help you?" A young woman in a neatly pressed uniform asked, first eyeing him suspiciously and then appreciatively.
"Yes. I’m looking for Rupert Giles. I don’t have his flat number so I was wondering if you could ring him for me."
She tossed her chestnut brown hair over her shoulder and smiled. "I know for a fact that Mr. Giles is not at home at this moment. He stepped out earlier this morning. Would you like to leave a message for him?"
His shoulders slumped. "Do you know if he’ll be returning today?" The thought of Giles being out of town on business had never crossed his mind but it would be just his luck if he were.
"I’m not really privy to Mr. Giles comings and goings," she stated, watching with great interest as the man’s face fell further. "However, I believe he shall be back this evening."
Spike looked up, giving her a small smile. "Thanks. I’ll try again later."
"Is there a message?"
"No. No message."
"Very well then. Have a good day."
"Right. You too."
Just his bloody luck that Giles chose this particular day to step out. Turning on his heel, he stalked out of the building, swearing softly to himself. He never noticed the young woman pick up the phone as soon as his back was turned.
What was he going to do now? He certainly couldn’t sit outside waiting for Giles to return, not without drawing undue attention to himself. Looking up between the trees, he noticed that the sun was now lower in the sky. A slight breeze blew through the leaves and ruffled his hair. At least it was a nice day.
After several moments, he decided that a trip into London proper sounded like a brilliant idea. Maybe a little sightseeing or he could always "people watch" down by the Thames. He wished he had brought something to read with him, something to pass the time and keep his mind off of her and the guilt that consumed him. Well, if it was good reading he wanted, he knew exactly where to go.
******
Using a map to re-familiarize himself with the London underground, he took the Piccadilly line to Leicester Square. From there he decided to walk the short distance to Charing Cross Road Station. Since it was such a beautiful day, the populace was out in droves. Every shop, pub and tourist attraction bustled with activity. Slowly he wound through the hordes of young girls that seemed to come from everywhere, giggling at their latest purchases and talking about boys. Ah, the blissfulness of youth and innocence. Had he ever been that young or that innocent? If he had, it had been far too long ago to remember.
As he continued to pass through the crowd, a young girl with long brown hair caught his eye. She had her back to him but he could tell that she was engaged in an animated conversation with her friends. Suddenly, his heart ached as he watched her throw her head back with laughter, the sun catching the highlights in her hair. Dawn. She reminded him of his Niblet. He laughed. His Niblet. She would never be his again. Not ever. Still, he wondered what she was doing at this moment in time. Did she even notice he was gone? Did she care? Sighing, he realized that it didn’t matter anymore. More than likely she was too busy bugging big sis or hanging out at the mall with her friends, typical things that a girl her age should be doing.
All of a sudden he felt as if he were being watched. He didn’t know how or why he knew, but he knew. Slowly, he turned away from watching the girl and her friends and scanned the crowded street, trying to make it look as casual as possible. His senses were on overload. Whoever was watching him was close by. A quick assessment of the area found no one out of the ordinary, just the usual blokes and birds going about their business. Things still didn’t feel right with him though; his gut told him that things were far from ordinary. It was almost as if he still possessed his vampiric senses. That couldn’t be though since he was now human. Maybe it was residual; after all, he had been a vampire for a very long time, long enough to know what’s what.
The feeling intensified and he spun around, hoping to catch the person by surprise. Instead, it was he who was surprised. Standing in the shadows by a flower shop, was Zareb, or someone who looked just like him. Spike squinted into the sun, trying to make sure that his eyes weren’t betraying him. No doubt about it. Securing his bag, he sprinted towards his African friend. As he came within five feet of his destination, the man turned and headed into the dark alley.
"Zareb!" Spike yelled, hoping to catch the man’s attention. When his friend didn’t stop, he picked up his pace and hurried into the alleyway after him.
Rounding the corner just seconds after Zareb, Spike ran into a young couple, their arms laden with shopping bags.
"Hey! Watch where you’re going!" The male growled in an obvious American accent.
"Sorry," Spike said apologetically, briefly taking his eyes off his friend to help the tourists pick up their bags. By the time he finished helping the couple, Zareb was gone, if it’d been him to begin with. Was he seeing things? No, he couldn’t be. He would definitely know the man he had spent the last three weeks with, right? Then again, he had been noticing that his eyesight wasn’t exactly what it had been as a vampire. Damn. This being human thing definitely had its setbacks.
Casually he took in his surroundings, noticing that shops lined both sides of the alleyway. Zareb could have entered any one of them. "Bloody hell," he said to himself before he tried calling to his friend one last time. "Zareb?"
Nothing but the busy sounds of Charing Cross reached his ears. Sighing, he looked up to read the sign above his head. To his amusement, he found that he was standing in front of an occult bookshop. Well, if he were a wagering man, which he used to be, he’d wager that Zareb would have ducked inside this particular shop - made perfect sense to him.
A bell above the door, much like the one that hung at the Magic Box, announced his entry. The shop was a good size and was eerily similar to the one back home in California. He half expected Red or Glinda, even Anya, to pop out to assist him or give him a hard time. It even smelled like home. Amazing how the odor of musty books and magic supplies could bring about an overwhelming feeling of homesickness, so much so that it choked him with memories and longings for things that he would never have again. The thought of never seeing Sunnydale again was hard to deal with, especially since he had so many questions. What was he going to do with his new life? What could he do? He certainly hoped that Giles would help him; otherwise he feared he’d fall into a downward spiral and end up like his poofter grandsire - eating rats off the street. The thought made his shudder.
Trying to ignore his latest train of thought, he moved deeper into the shop, browsing the spines of old books that were lined up neatly along the far wall. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it was Sunnydale and that he had passed through a portal somehow. The only thing that seemed to be missing was the Scoobies, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. This was definitely a surreal experience.
As he pulled out a rather old text to peruse, he heard footsteps behind him. Assuming that it was just the shopkeeper coming over to offer his aid, he only half turned towards the footsteps. Never looking up from the page he was scanning, he casually stated, "Just looking ‘round, mate. Don’t need assistance."
The footsteps began again, stopping right beside him. "Is there a..." he started with some irritation but before he could finish his sentence, the person standing next to him took in a sharp breath and spoke.
"Spike? Dude is that you?"
Go to chapter three...
