It was a plan. It wasn’t the greatest of plans. It was hardly something that you would deem elegant but Darla did not care. For the longest time, she held the hope that he loved her, that some part of him deep inside still cared for her. He didn’t.
They slept together after months of denials, failed attempts to save and kill her and other discrepancies. Regardless of centuries and decades, the two of them had been through so much that the idea of him being so willing to toss it and her away angered her like nothing she never knew. She needed to get away, she needed to think.
Lindsay was kind but like so many humans, he was too blinded by his emotions to properly see what anyone else would have no difficulty in seeing. As she made her way to the station, Darla could only think of one destination.
“I’d like one ticket for Sunnydale, please,” Darla smiled at the counter as the sullen woman behind the desk gave her the ticket before casually slurping her coffee and tending to another customer. If she had the time, she’d have feasted on the woman but her bus was leaving so she dashed towards it.
Hours on a cramped bus, looking at everyone else around wasn’t doing much for Darla. Noisy kids, aggravated parents, wistful college kids, the whole experience was nauseating enough to make her want to heave. It also didn’t help that her stomach was growling as well.
And Angel relishes this kind of lunacy, she thought and mumbled angrily to herself. I don’t see a damn human on this bus that’s worth saving if their life was in danger. In fact, I’d kill the lot of them if I could get away with it.
Finally after what had felt like the journey from hell, Darla was in Sunnydale. The place literally hadn’t changed since the last time she had been there. Darla then thought about that night. That night when Angel chose another woman over her and killed her without a care.
It’s all that bitch’s fault. Let’s see how much Angel cares when I kill her.
With that, Darla headed to her destination, pulling a girl into a dark corner, draining her dry and dropping her corpse like it was the least important thing in the world. She needed that blood after that journey. Besides there was only so much inane chatter she could hear about Survivor.
Buffy had been home alone for the past while. Joyce had been on a string of dates and Dawn was staying with Janice, so all Buffy wanted to do was curl up in her bed and happily pretend the last couple of hours never happened.
That would have been a lot easier to do if Spike would just leave her alone. The deluded vampire chained her up in his crypt with Drusilla in some bizarre attempt to prove that he sincerely loved her. If it hadn’t been for Harmony, Buffy might still be with him and Drusilla.
Who’d have thought that I’d be thanking Harmony? Isn’t that a hell of a thing?
Spike was pacing the front yard, smoking. He wanted to apologise and if she’d at least come as far as the window, he would do it. Unfortunately, Spike knew Buffy far better than she thought he did and the only thing she was going to do was probably stake him if he didn’t leave her alone.
Any other vampire would do that – just simply walk away or run frantically for their lives in order to avoid the slayer’s wrath. Spike reckoned that him and Buffy had too much history to simply do that. Besides, it was cowardly and one of many things that Spike prided himself on being was the fact that he wasn’t a coward.
“You’ve got to come out sometime, Summers,” Spike shouted at the window. “You can’t just ignore me forever.”
For a second or two, there was no reply. Then the front door opened, Buffy stood there, stake in hand. The look on her face wasn’t a good sign.
“This whole stalking thing might be have been a turn on for many of the half-wits you’ve sunk your fangs into,” Buffy looked at him intently, her voice sharp. “But I’m going to make this clear, so listen up because I don’t intend on repeating it. I am not interested in you. Not now, not ever.”
“Bet you didn’t say that about Angel,” Spike threw back at her defensively. He was clutching at straws. “You know, I might have killed more people than I count on both hands but unlike your do-gooder ex, at least I haven’t killed any of your pals significant others. Can you say the same about him?”
Buffy paused with that remark, clearing thinking of Jenny Calendar. As Angelus, Jenny met a grisly and untimely end, nearly destroying Giles in the process. For Spike to bring it up in a desperate bid to earn brownie points, only ignited one response.
“You’re right,” Buffy said. As Spike’s features began to soften, Buffy punched him hard across the face and slammed him against a tree when he recovered from the punch.
“What the -,” Spike found a hand clamped over his mouth with Buffy pinning him to the tree. He struggled for a second, and then relaxed. If she wanted him dead, there’d be no better chance than now to do it. Luckily for him, she didn’t. He was helpless against her to an extent anyways and Buffy was using that to her advantage.
“You ever bring up something like that again and I will kill you, do you understand?” Buffy snarled at him. “Angel, Angelus, there is a distinction. Am I clear?”
Spike nodded, muffling his assent. Buffy released her hand from his mouth and then stepped back into her house.
“Get out of my sight, Spike. Now.”
“Your loss, slayer,” Spike groaned, shrugging off her attempts to rough him up as he walked off. Even he knew when to give something a rest.
Spike had smoked the last of his cigarette, stubbing it out on a tombstone. His crypt had been open and given how he was feeling; Spike could do with a smackdown. He could do with pounding the living daylights out of some lower level demon. A part of him was so psyched that he immediately rushed for the crypt without thinking. Never a good thing.
Not another crazy bird. Wasn’t three enough tonight?
“William, I think you and I have some catching up to do,” Alexia had smiled at him, knife edging his throat.
“About those kittens, can I just?” Spike tried to reason, noticing as two demonic goons, her muscle were advancing towards him.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” she smiled. “Deal with him. Trash the place. I’m gonna see what he actually does own that might repay his debt.”
Another knock had been coming from the door. Buffy was determined to ignore it. Maybe it was Spike trying another approach. She knew he was more relentless when he set his mind to it. Three more knocks, making it four and Buffy with stake in hand decided to answer the door.
“If that’s you, Spike,” Buffy muttered as she began to open the door. “You really are gonna be sorry for disrupting me like this.”
When she opened the door, she didn’t have time to register her relief in it not being Spike that awaited her. Shock took over her instead. Her guest was someone she had known was long dead. At least that was what she thought she knew.
“What the hell?”
“That’s as good as any place to start,” Darla smiled. Buffy hadn’t time to use the stake. Darla floored her with one punch, knocking her out cold.
“It’s been a while.”
Darla smiled at the unconscious slayer, closing the door behind them. Revenge would be sweet. It would be very sweet.
