Other Side 12: Biased Decisions

The Other Side of the Door

Chapter 12: Biased Decisions

Eight years, six months ago
Raleigh, New Salem Territory

Della’s knock on the hotel room’s door was answered by a vampire who looked as though he’d just rolled out of bed. He was barefoot, his shirt was unbuttoned, and his bleach-tipped brown curls were completely unrestrained. 

She laughed at the sight of him. “Late start, Spike?”

“Late night.” He nodded for her to enter the room and closed the door behind her.

She glanced toward the bathroom door on her way by it, identifying Buffy’s location from the sound of the shower running. “I was stopping by to see when you two wanted to check out. At first glance, I’m going to guess you aren’t quite ready.” She stopped and stared at the sight of the two beds. One was a mess of tangled sheet and crumpled coverlet. The other was still as neatly made as it had been at check-in. “Oh.”

Spike followed her gaze, realizing how obvious the beds made the previous night’s activities. He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah.”

“It’s about time.” Della took a seat on the edge of the tidier bed and studied her host. “So it takes being a few hours from your ticket home for you two to finally spend a night together?”

“She said…” Spike glanced toward the closed bathroom door. “Della, I think this is real for her.”

“Obviously. It has been for months.”

“It has?”

“To me it has. I had assumed she was never going to act on it, because you were adversaries in Terra’bo. She’s said some things that amounted to it being unacceptable that you two are close, and that she expects that closeness to have to end when you get home.”

“Home,” he echoed.  “That’s the real question, isn’t it? How much of a home is it, if neither of us is exactly looking forward to getting there?”

“It’s about time you noticed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She counted off her points on her fingers. “You didn’t use the map I stole for you, because you wanted to stay together. You didn’t grab a witch to ask for a portal after reinforcements came to the valley, because you wanted to stay with us. You didn’t ask the base witches at Port Shelby, because apparently getting questioned by RIS agents for two weeks after seven months of living in a war zone still isn’t enough to scare you two off. And now you’re traveling all the way to the heart of New Salem to brief the Coven Elders… Why? Because they asked nicely?”

“Mostly as a favor to Polly, to make sure they understand her bringing us here against our will was a genuine accident.”

“And conveniently allowing you to put off going home just a tiny bit longer.”

“Make your point, Shine,” he grumbled darkly.

“My point is that you’re dragging your feet. You have been since two days after I met you. And I’m not even sure you understand what it is you’re avoiding.” She gestured to the messy bed. “Even now. It doesn’t have to end the second you step through the portal, Spike. You’ll adjust, and continue your lives.” She gave him a pointed look. “I have sound reason to believe you two can take on any situation, and come out of it successfully.”

“You don’t know her friends. I’d rather take another hilltop full of Calanese soldiers than suffer that headache.” He gave her a rueful smile. “You don’t happen to have another war brewing someplace, by chance?”

Her eyes widened with realization. “You’re truly thinking of staying?”

“Beginning to.” He went to the closet, and fished something out of the pocket of his duster. “I met a bloke in Port Shelby, former Royal Marine by the name of Persheth. Seems he’s got some connections in the RIS, and knows what really happened up there. He asked me to consider throwing my lot in with his crew.”

Della took the business card he offered her. “Dorwie Private Security Associates,” she read. “I’ve heard of them. Only about half of what they do is private security. The other half is… Well, what do you know about Dorwie?”

“Persheth said it’s his hometown. Little piece of nowhere just upriver from what’s left of Port Harlan.”

“Harlan is one of the southernmost human settlements, near the old territorial line, so it has a high Rasheeni population, which means everyone took losses when the Calanese Navy attacked the port. The queen at the time -our Queen Grella’s late mother- was losing the war, growing desperate for help, and she knew the coven elders were feeling something similar, because they were mobilizing the Frandrey for a retaliatory attack, something they’d rarely done before. The Frandrey Guard had historically been primarily a defensive force to protect human towns, you understand. The late queen took the opportunity to finally invite the human settlements to come under Rasheeni governance, to join forces. That would take some time to work out, and the people of Dorwie didn’t want to wait on the politicians.”

“Makes sense.” Spike shrugged. “Likely felt exposed.”

“Dorwie is a Rasheeni town, Spike, more heavily populated by hotheaded warriors than carefully trained magic-users. You can guess what happened when the only protection they got to hold them over during the negotiations was a small squad of Frandrey.”

“Bloodshed?” Spike threw a glance toward the bathroom as the water shut off. “They didn’t off the grey uniforms, did they?”

“Frandrey uniforms were crimson back then. And no. The people of Dorwie were good to their Frandrey squad, grateful for the help, but far from satisfied. They gathered the best warriors in the community -mostly former military, a few hunters. The older ones took control of the fishing boats and armed them, creating a makeshift navy to guard the town from the river. The younger ones returned the favor to the Calanese, sneaking into their territory by land, the same way the Calanese had sneaked up to Harlan by sea.”

“What’d they blow up?”

“Nothing. But they came home to Dorwie on a wave of news reports about a series of Calan military officers dying of gunshot wounds, when they weren’t close to any known Rasheeni unit.” Della handed back the card. “Two generations on, the tradition lives. Only now, they get paid for it.”

“In other words, this Dorwie lot are mercenaries.”

“If that means ‘soldiers for hire, who care little for the rules of law and warfare,’ yes.” She quirked her mouth to the side. “If this former marine knows about Carabon Hill, I can see why he would be interested in you.”

Spike returned the card to his coat pocket and threw another glance at the bathroom door as sink and tooth-brushing noises replaced the shower noises. “I mentioned the offer to her.”

“So she knows you want to stay?”

“Indirectly. I floated the idea of staying last night. By this morning, she seemed like she thought it might be worth stopping to consider. You’ve heard the colonel nudging her to enlist.”

“How could I not? He thinks Buffy would make a fine officer. I’m inclined to agree.” Della’s gaze drifted to the neighboring bed. “But if she doesn’t take him up on the offer, you won’t take that marine up on his?”

“I can’t. I think you know that.”

“I’d like to be entirely selfish, and tell my friends to stay in Rasheen, start new careers, and keep messing up beds together–”

“Thanks, pet.”

“But it isn’t my place. You’ll need to decide this for yourselves.” Della held out a hand, palm up. “Sign your Frandrey service check over to me, and I’ll go find a bank. We’re going to be here for a couple of days.”

“We are?”

“Spike, one of the first things I learned about you is that you’re prone to instant, impulsive actions, but if you stop and think before you act, logic has a chance to take hold.” She smirked. “Well, maybe logic is the wrong word…”

“You think you’re cute, don’t you?”

“And you think being indirect with Buffy and dragging your feet is actually going to accomplish something. I suppose that means we’re both wrong.”

He sighed and went to retrieve the check. “So I’ll get my map in two days? Are we playing this again?”

“You’ll figure out your own map this time, friend. I’ll just be withholding the car keys until you do.”

*~*~*

Buffy came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. “Did I hear Della?”

“She’ll be back shortly,” Spike was sitting on the edge of the bed they’d shared the night before, his eyes on the floor, and his voice low. “I gave her my service check to cash. Should keep us long enough to figure things out.”

“Figure what out?”

“I meant what I said last night.”

“You said a lot of things last night. So did I.”

“Buffy…” He brought his eyes up to hers. “I don’t want to go back.”

After a long, tense silence, she came to sit beside him. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say to that.”

He shifted his position to face her. “They’re willing to call us citizens. Both of us. Pete’s willing to do or say just about anything to get you wearing grey. I’ve got that job offer with that fellow from Dorwie. Staying in Rasheen is an option, love. We’re wanted here.”

“I’m wanted back in Terra’bo, too,” she whispered.

“I’m not.”

It took her a moment to formulate an argument to that bit of truth. “You’re not the most wanted guy ever here, either. Accepting a vampire in their society isn’t the same thing as respecting one. They won’t make it easy for you.”

“If my girl is a Frandrey officer, it’ll help. If she’s not, it’s a moot point. Question is, does she want to be?”

“A Frandrey officer? Or your girl?” She squinted at him as she understood what he was saying. “Wait. Moot point? As in you’ll only stay if I will?”

“Maybe?” He stood up and paced the length of the room, trying to find the right words. “I wanna ask you to choose. Between Terra’bo and me. I want to ask you not to leave me behind. But the truth is, if you left without me, I’d probably give up and follow you the next bloody day.”

“That’s kinda pathetic, Spike.”

“Thanks, Slayer. I love you, too,” he snarked.

“I know,” she whispered, completely unsurprised. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? We’re not just choosing where to live. Where we live is going to impact the rest of our lives -or at least the rest of mine- and how much of that time we get to spend together.”

“You mean without your mates trying to off me, or at least put some distance between us.”

“Among other considerations.” She moved to her duffel bag to pull out some clothes. “I think better while walking. It’s an old human settlement. There’s got to be some good graveyards to wander.”

“Want company?”

“Maybe later. I think I need some time alone. When Della gets back from the bank, ask her if she knows a good place for a long talk over drinks. We’ll pick her brain about Rasheen tonight. Oh, and I don’t know if you noticed, but I saw something out the window last night.”

“What’s that?”

“There’s a used bookstore across the plaza.” She laughed as his eyes lit up. “Yes, I’ll know where to find you when I get back. But can you do me a favor and not blow half our money before we decide if we’re going to need it for more than a hotel bill?”

*~*~*

Four months, three weeks ago
Sunnydale

Giles handled the letter as carefully as he handled his oldest demon history texts, recognizing the import of the document.

Dear Mom,

I’m so sorry. These last eight months must have been hell for you. I know it’s actually been less than that from your perspective. How much less, I’m not really sure. But it’s been eight months here, so however long it’s been for you probably still feels like way too long.

I guess Faith told everyone where I went, so at least you knew I hadn’t run away again. When I left this time, it was an accident. But maybe knowing that didn’t help much. ‘She fell into a magical portal to a demon dimension’ doesn’t sound all that reassuring, now that I think about it.

Spike and I finally have a way back, now that the war we stumbled into is over. The problem is, we’ve started building a life here. In seven months fighting beside the Frandrey (a mostly human military branch- the politics here are complicated), we earned some respect. As in, lots of people actually know about and appreciate what I can do. It’s kind of amazing.

We’ve been offered citizenship by the government of Rasheen. They were pretty iffy about offering it to Spike, but Lt. Col. Samuels pulled some strings. I’m close enough to human that it wasn’t an issue for me. I think the colonel knew he didn’t stand a chance of talking me into enlisting if Spike wasn’t going to be ok here. We arrived as a package deal, and everyone kinda treats us like we still are. They aren’t totally wrong.

We were going to turn it all down and walk away. The citizenship, my fast-track ticket to the military academy’s officer training program, the friends we’ve made. All of it. We were going to the City of New Salem to have a meeting with the Coven Elders before asking them to send us back to where we came from. We were going to  disappear from this world as suddenly as we’d arrived.

But then we stopped to think about it.

Things are going really good here, Mom. For both of us. Spike’s always going to be less than fully accepted by this society, but I’m pretty sure that bothers me more than it bothers him. He made as many friends during the war as I did. A human surgeon at a military medical center took that chip out of his head, and then took him out for a beer to celebrate. He also met a guy who runs a group of Rasheeni mercs, who wants to put him on their roster. He’s not normal by the standards of this world, anymore than he was in our old one, but he’s a person to them, and he’s not-so-secretly reveling in it.

I had no idea Spike needed people like this. Or how much I’d enjoy watching him hang out on a sunny hotel room balcony like he is right this minute. He’s not doing much, just casually watching the Saturday afternoon crowds moving in and out of the shops on the other side of the plaza while he pretends to write in his journal. I’ve never seen him happier.

I didn’t want to. See him happy, I mean. Before we landed here, I just wanted to see him go away. But a lot can change in eight months, especially in the middle of a war. Most of the people we know have figured out that we’re more than friends at this point. There are occasional snide comments, mostly about him. But no one is openly objecting. No one is telling me I shouldn’t see where this goes. And I really want to.

Things are good for me, too. I don’t have to hide that I’m a slayer. That’s a big one. The first human settlements in Rasheen were founded by witches on the run from persecution, and more witches and warlocks have followed over the centuries (along with a lot of non-witchy people). A human woman with powers beyond the normal is barely worth a shrug around here. I’m different, but I’m not all that weird, you know?

The colonel was super impressed with my work out in the field, hence him trying to get me to become a Frandrey officer. All I did was take charge of a handful of good people and kick some ass. Normal slayer stuff to me. Worthy of a promising career being offered on a silver platter to him.

I’ve never felt so appreciated in my life.

Mom, I’m happy. I’m healthy and mostly safe. I have a good future, lined up and ready to go. I have someone to share it with. We have some really great friends, too. I have everything I need.

I want to stay.

I’m sorry. I know this isn’t what you want to hear. You probably want to know I’m fighting tooth and nail to go back to you, to go home. But I guess the real problem is, this place is starting to feel like home, in ways your world never did. I think I belong here.

Tell Giles to keep an eye on Faith. She needs a good watcher. And to trust her dreams. And everything else I’ve said here, I guess. He’ll want to know I’m ok.

Don’t miss me too much. And don’t worry about me. I’m going to have a good life, and so should you. 

I love you. Always.
Buffy

P.S. Spike sends his best, and wants me to tell you to think of him when you have a mug of hot chocolate. Della says the mini-marshmallows aren’t very popular here, and he’s going to struggle to find stores that carry that version. I expect to be subjected to a long term mini-marshmallow shopping odyssey. So have a mug for me, too, in pity and solidarity. I’ve hooked up with a freak with a sweet fang and an obsessive personality. I need all the help I can get.

Giles stared at the second page for a long time after he finished reading, taking it all in. “Eight months,” he eventually whispered. He looked back to the postscript on the envelope. “In those first two weeks, while we were flailing about for a book or a spell that would bring her home, she went through a war, made friends, completely lost her reason in regard to Spike -again- and decided to join the military.”

“She’s growing up and starting a new life,” Joyce said softly.

*~*~*

Eight years, six months ago
Raleigh, New Salem Territory

Buffy folded the letter and slid it into an envelope, but left it unsealed. She then took it outside to their hotel room balcony.

“Hey.”

Spike looked up from his journal. “Saw you scribbling away in there. More pro and con lists?”

“I think I’m finished with those.”

He looked out to the plaza, afraid to see the answer in her eyes before he heard it. “So what’s it gonna be after we brief the Coven Elders? A portal or the immigration office?”

“Both.”

He slowly brought his gaze back to her, one eyebrow raised in question.

She held out the envelope. “I want to send this to Mom.”

“You mean…?”

“Yeah.” She shook the envelope, encouraging him to take it.

He accepted it cautiously. “You want me to read it?”

“I think it explains things, but I want your opinion.” Buffy took a step backward, looking uncomfortable. “I’m going to run over to Della’s room, to see when she wants to check out. Don’t be surprised if you hear cheering and shouting from the next balcony. She may not be able to restrain herself.” She was gone before he could come up with a reply.

Spike read the letter three times, completely entranced by the warmth and certainty in the words. She’d made up her mind, and put his happiness near the center of the decision. He was still struggling to comprehend the reality of it all when she returned to the balcony.

“So what do you think? Anything to add?”

“Uh, send her my best,” he said distractedly. “Tell her to keep me in mind when she has a mug of hot chocolate. She’ll like that.”

“Ok. I can do that. Anything else?”

He shook his head, closed the letter into his journal, and rose to his feet. “Tell me Shine’s not gonna be ready to hit the road for a few hours.”

“She thinks we should head out after dinner, when the downtown shopping traffic dies down.”

“Good.” He pulled her into a kiss while lifting her to carry her back into the room, bound for their bed.

They’d nearly reached it when a loud throat-clearing sound drew their attention.

Buffy slid out of Spike’s arms and turned to wave at their friend, blushing. “Sorry, Dell. I got distracted. Uh, Spike, we have an offer of a celebratory dinner out before we leave.”

“And you two will have the rest of your lives to mess up beds together.” Della grinned, barely resisting the urge to bounce on her toes. “In Rasheen!”

Spike laughed at her excitement. “If we can get this reaction from someone we could’ve got killed…”

“Just wait until the colonel hears!” Della finished. She grabbed Buffy in a hug. “It is strange that I can’t wait to call you ‘sir?’”

Buffy returned the hug, laughing. “You don’t have to stay an enlisted man, Della. Apply to the Academy with me.”

“No way. Not only could the Frandrey not pay me enough to live in Vereen City for a year, but I’d likely get some awful posting after.” She shook her head. “I like where I am, thank you, right beside the colonel.”

“So I guess the next question is, which of us calls Pete with the news?” Spike asked.

“And Drav.”

“And Polly.”

“And Tray.”

“And Dr. John.”

“Ooh! Do you think this might get Charlie to stop feeling so guilty about spilling the beans?”

“Not bloody likely.” Spike gestured toward his coat, indicating the business card in one of the pockets. “But I know who I’ll be calling from New Salem.”

Della looked worried. “Buffy, you know what kind of people he’s signing up to work with, don’t you?”

“He told me.” Buffy shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“Truly?”

“The infamous serial killer is going semi-legit. This is not bad news, Dell.”

“This from a woman who used to off a half dozen of my kind for her evening warm up.”

Della shook her head as she led the way to the door. “I can’t believe I’m encouraging this.”

*~*~*

Four months, three weeks ago
Sunnydale 

“So if a week here is approximately four months there, and she’s been gone about five and a half weeks…” Giles took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “She’ll have been there two years by the time we reach the weekend.”

“And it sounds like everything after the first eight months has been voluntary,” Faith said. “She didn’t say a word about deciding to stay being a one-shot deal, and from what I’ve seen of the magic they have on tap, portals probably aren’t hard to come by if she changes her mind.”

He put his glasses back on, reread the letter, then folded it up and returned it to its envelope. “Two years,” he said again, still trying to absorb the information. “I don’t know what to say to comfort you, Joyce. I wish I had some wisdom to provide.”

“I’m trying to make my peace with it. My baby grew up and started a life and career of her own, just as I’d always hoped she would. In my daydreams, I was a part of that life, but…”

“But at least she got off the slayer hamster wheel,” Faith finished. “If she doesn’t get into another war, she’ll probably be the first ever to get a full-length life.” She reached out to give Joyce’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “Not that that makes it all sunshine and roses.”

“It certainly helps,” Joyce admitted. 

“I suppose it does.” Giles leaned over the coffee table to return the letter to its owner. “Why October?”

“The letter will match the time here,” Joyce explained. “And showing Buffy’s friends the envelope will be optional. It also gives me more time to get used to the idea, as I’m afraid I might have to defend Buffy’s choice to them.”

“Not alone,” Faith assured her. She looked to Giles.

“Of course,” he said as soon as he’d shaken off his surprise at Faith’s comment. “Although I must admit to having some reservations about the choices themselves.”

“Like William the Bloody?” Faith asked with a smirk.

“For example.”

“Yeah, I figured your panties would be in a knot about that part.” She shrugged. “B’s got a type, and it’s not Caveman. I think she already kinda knew that, but Riley Joe Normal with the pulse and the generic personality seems like what you guys liked to see, so she just went with it.” Her smirk returned. “And look what happens the second she’s out of everybody’s line of sight.”

“Please tell me you don’t mean to tell Riley…”

“Buffy’s young man will see the letter when everyone else does,” Joyce said as she stood to return it to the desk. “What he does with that information will be his business.”

“I have a feeling it’ll be mine,” Faith grumbled. “I’ll probably end up defending the local vampires.”

Giles leaned back in his chair with a thoughtful expression. “Willow’s reaction will likely be the greater concern. I can make subtle efforts in the meantime to obstruct her research, but if I’m to lead her to believe I’m an active participant, such moves cannot be frequent.”

“So jump on the ‘believing she’s dead’ train with me.” Faith winced slightly at Joyce’s expression. “Sorry, Joyce. It’s just practical. She’s not coming back, so it washes out the same.”

“What’s believable coming out of your mouth may not be believable coming out of mine, Faith. It makes sense for you to hold to the conclusion you jumped to after Buffy’s disappearance came so close on the heels of your shared dream. For me, it would look as if I’ve given up on my slayer overnight.” The watcher shook his head. “I couldn’t. No one would believe it.”

“We know you wouldn’t give up on her, Rupert,” Joyce said gently. “But the alternative to pretending to believe she’s passed is to spend the next six and a half months lying to them outright, breaking their trust. I know you don’t want to do that.”

“She’s got a point.” Faith leaned forward on the couch. “If they find out in October I’ve been lying my ass off about what I think happened to B, no one’s gonna blink. If they find out Joyce has been holding out on them, they’ll get it. But you…” She shook her head. “It’ll be the end of the Scooby gang, man. ‘Cause honestly? You and hope for getting Buffy back are all that’s keeping them together. I’m just a placeholder.”

“So I won’t show them the envelope,” Joyce decided. “They never have to know we kept the letter secret for so long. If eight months is long enough to change Buffy’s life, perhaps it will be long enough to change her friends’ minds about bringing her back.”

“Perhaps,” Giles mused as he studied Faith across the coffee table. “And I’m inclined to agree with the idea of never sharing the envelope, as unsavory as I may find the idea of an even longer term deception.”

“It might be the safest way to both keep the peace and make sure B gets left alone, Giles.”

He nodded, still studying her through slightly narrowed eyes. “You don’t want to be a placeholder,” he murmured. “And you don’t want to continue to be thought of as a liar.”

Faith frowned. “I thought we were talking about B.”

“Joyce said you talked her into telling me about this.”

“So?”

“Why?”

She hesitated before admitting, “I just thought if you knew I wasn’t holding out something important, you might maybe trust me a little, you know? Kinda like how you trust B?”

“Faith, is this your way of asking me to be your permanent watcher?”

<Chapter 11: Facing Homeward
Chapter 13: Bad Magic>