Cold, Cold Heart
“Hey, Spike.”
The vampire looked up from his cold, dark corner. “You’re new.”
“Huh?” Xander stepped a little closer. “No newer than usual.” He looked down at the mad creature. “Spike, I need you. I need you to help me.”
Spike started to giggle. “Buffy, how you’ve changed.”
Xander sat down beside him. “Funny you should mention her. She’s the one who needs your help.”
Spike’s head shot up. “Help Buffy?”
“Right. Help Buffy.” Xander stared at the vampire. “Look, God knows I can’t stand you, and the feeling is mutual. This probably won’t do any good. But I don’t know what else to do, okay?” When the long pause was silent, he repeated himself more loudly. “Okay?”
“Help Buffy what?” Spike muttered.
Xander let out a deep sigh. “There’s something wrong with her. I thought she was over it, when we got along so well over the summer, but she isn’t. Whenever she held back, I assumed it was because she was still dealing with what we did; bringing her back. But it isn’t that either.”
“What happened?”
“Ah, lucidity. Good sign.” Xander shifted, trying to get comfortable against the dank wall. “We really should do something about this basement. We just built it. It shouldn’t be so clammy down here. It’s like there’s rot setting in.” He saw he was losing Spike’s interest. “Buffy. She tried to kill Anya.”
Spike raised his eyebrow. “Why?”
“Because Anya did a little vengeance. Well, a lot of vengeance. Gross and messy vengeance. So Buffy decided she had to take the demon out. Because it’s her job.”
“Isn’t it?” Spike asked.
“Maybe. But Anya’s also her friend. And Buffy ran her through with the sword, anyway.” When Spike became agitated, Xander hastened to add, “But Anya’s okay now. She’s even human again. She’s not the one I’m worried about right now.” He pushed his hands into this pockets. “It’s something Buffy said, at least that’s part of it. She said she would never love anything as much as she loved Angel.”
Spike flinched, pressing his back farther into the wall.
“No,” Xander said. “I didn’t tell you that to upset you. But isn’t it sad? I mean, I love Anya, but I don’t think we’ll ever be together, now. And if I really thought I’d never love anyone again, well, shoot me now.”
Spike smiled at Xander.
“Figure of speech. Anyway, she was saying she could kill Anya because she killed Angel.”
Spike’s eyes clouded over. “No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Xander asked. “She ran him through with a sword and sent him to a hell dimension.”
“I know.” Spike spoke matter of factly. “You can’t kill a vampire with a sword through the heart. You need wood. Buffy knows that. If she wanted to kill Angel, she would have used the sword to behead him. She knew he wasn’t dead. Just gone.”
Xander’s eyes opened wide. “You’re right. I mean, that’s obvious. Then why does she say she ‘killed Angel’?” You should have seen her. She was colder than Mr. Freeze’s underwear.”
“Didn’t kill Angel.” Spike cocked his head to the side. “She killed her love.” The corner of his mouth curled up. “She didn’t drive it through his heart. Through hers.” A tear escaped down his cheek. “It wasn’t me. Maybe.”
“You mean she couldn’t love anyone after that.” His eyes narrowed as the thought penetrated. “Not even Angel. Not really. Oh, God. Poor kid.”
“Poor Buffy.” Spike descended into grief, until he found Xander shaking him.
“Spike, snap out of it. What are we going to do?”
“Do?”
“Listen to me, Spike.” He was kneeling beside the vampire now, his hands on his shoulders. “Last year, and you don’t know how much I hate to admit this, you were the only one who could get through to her. To make her feel anything. I need you to come with me.”
“Can’t.” He wrapped his arms around his body. “Can’t help.”
“Can’t, or won’t?” He shoved the vampire aside with disgust. “Okay. Wallow down here then. Let her fall apart. Or get herself killed.” He brushed the dirt from his pants. “Leave her in her own icy little cocoon. Just never, ever tell me again that you love her. Jerk.”
Xander stormed off down the corridor.
Slowly, Spike pulled himself to his full height. With determination, he followed.