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Chapter 45: Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn't've)?
Author’s Note: This chapter covers the same time period as Chapters 16 &17.
I want to take a minute to thank all of you who have stuck with this story so long, and those of you who are just starting it and catching up. Thank you so much for all the lovely comments and reviews. Even if I don’t have time to respond to all of them, please know that I really, really appreciate them and read them all over and over again. They mean a lot.
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all recognizable characters, locations, and dialogue belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the various writers. Show writers and any other quoted authors have been credited in individual chapters. I'm making no money from this—it is purely in the name of fun.
Betaed by Phuriedae*
*because Spike is English, I’ve made a rather anal retentive attempt to spell things “properly.” My beta (who IS British), has asked that I include the following disclaimer: “Any Britpicking mistakes are my beta's, because she reads too much fic written by you bloody Americans and is used to your bizarre ways by now."
Credits: This chapter contains dialogue from the episode “Triangle” written by Jane Espenson.
Chapter 45
Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t’ve?)
1 January 2001
Vampires are instinctively pack creatures. If you're lucky and your sire's not a total arse, they'll stick around until you rise. You get a ready-made gang, and you pretty much know your place in it. You've got other vamps around to show you the ropes, teach you to hunt, and provide protection from rival gangs. There's something instinctual about nesting, about wanting to be part of a gang. The older you get, the more powerful you grow, the more instinctual it is to surround yourself with other vampires to do the dirty work for you, and younger vamps automatically search out older ones for protection.
You've got to be old enough and strong enough, to make it on your own.
Never was a solitary vamp, before. Always had Dru around. From the day I died until that god-awful night down in Brazil, I had my girl. No matter what. Sure we fought sometimes, split up once or twice. But we always came back together, didn't we?
After we left Angelus, I was Master. Well… Dru was, technically, but she didn't do so well in a leadership capacity. Something about taking orders from a vamp who talks to dolls and pixies doesn't set too well with most minions. So I was Master… and I was bloody good at it. Didn’t mean I liked it, though. Most minions are idiots; mindless demons, all stomach no brains. A dime a dozen, and it's easy enough to make more, even if you don't care to sire them yourself. They like their rituals, their traditions… and Dru and I never much cared for that nonsense. But I was good at it.
Then Angelus came back. Then I was back on the bottom again. Useless waste of immortality, trapped in a bloody wheelchair—until I got my legs back. Then I got revenge.
After Dru… I didn't do so well on my own, that first time. Got drunk and did my best to stay there. Lucky I didn't smash the Desoto somewhere in broad daylight. Wouldn't have been more than a footnote in history, if I had. Just a little bit of English dust somewhere on a Mexican highway.
When I came back to Sunnyhell again, though, I had a purpose. Didn't take too long to find some lackeys to do my bidding. Then there was Harmony, who, while she lacked for brains, made for a decent shag.
And then there was the chip.
The bloody damned chip.
Took away all of it.
Couldn't hunt. Couldn't feed. With no blood, there goes the strength, the speed, the stamina. Couldn't fight, could barely run. Couldn't even go to other vamps for help. They'd have torn me apart. In the end I went to the only place I knew where I figured I'd at least get help—cause that's what do-gooders do, yeah? Help?
Chip did it's best to take my dignity, too. Leaving me tied up in a bleeding bathtub having to beg for blood.
Took my ability to defend myself against the Slayer, against even the most pathetic of humans.
Took away the fight, ‘til I found out I could still hit demons.
Made me an outcast among my own kind.
Now, with Harmony gone… I'm utterly alone. Not a vampire anymore, not really. Sure I've got the fangs, but I can't use 'em. Got the demon, but it’s so whipped at this point the most evil I can get up to is pinching stuff at the corner liquor store. Could maybe get myself a few minions, but I don't really fancy dealing with that again. Nor do I want some pissant little fledge bringing me bloody take home. Be hard to keep their respect, too, if I couldn't show 'em up.
Not a human, though, either. Could pass for one, maybe, if I went somewhere else. Got a bloody job or nicked enough cash. Could find a rat trap apartment and be that dodgy bloke who works nights and sleeps all day and brings his dinner home in paper sacks from the butcher's every Monday. Yeah… some human with a complex would be on me eventually, beat the hell out of me the minute they sussed out I couldn't fight back.
So I got nothing. Living the cliché in a forgotten little crypt, pinching electric and cable off the main lines, drinking cold pigs blood 'cause I can't find a working microwave at the scrap-yard, and playing at being a demon hunter even though it means I'm hated by my own kind.
Chip left me as a husk of a vampire… more so than Angel ever was.
Angel could still do evil, if he wanted. Could still kill. Way the white-hats tell it, hell… the way Angel tells it, only thing that holds him back is that sodding soul. But there're plenty of human wankers out there who manage to out-evil us demons on a daily basis. Don't feed me that rot about the soul being the thing that keeps you from doing harm. Maybe it gives you a leg up on the path to righteousness, but a soul…
It don't have anything on a piece of silicon no bigger than my bleeding' thumbnail.
Been so long now I only dream of drinking hot human blood, fresh from a kill. I still crave it, but… I don’t need it. Not like I used to think I did. Guess it’s true. A body can get used to pretty much anything. Even pig’s blood. Truth is, mix a bit of burba weed in and it's not that bad. Got a bit of a kick. If the chip came out tomorrow, stopped working… not sure what I'd do.
'Cause as much as I hate it for what it's taken… it gave me her.
Wouldn't give her up for all the blood in China.
***
[Note: Several pages here are filled with notes on fighting styles, including techniques and moves, along with dates and notations such as "taught Slayer" or "needs more work on" or "fuck, she’s good at that". Interspersed throughout are doodles and rough sketches, including one detailed image of what appears to be a man dressed in a camouflage toga/loincloth, swinging on a vine and copulating with a monkey. The caption reads "Finn of the Jungle"]
***
My love shines brighter than the jealous sun,
with half of its cruelty, all of its mirth.
Her smile is the dawn that leaves me undone;
her sharp eyes, the glance that cuts me to earth.
If I could just brush the flames of her hair,
or stand for a moment in her embrace,
I am the moth, who is caught by her light.
[incomplete]
***
4 January 2001
Ran into her on patrol earlier. Had an idea for a poem and had popped up on top of the Alpert crypt for a quiet spot to work. This cold weather leaves the sky clear as glass, and the stars bright enough to touch. Bloody gorgeous. Enough to make an old romantic… hope.
Was surprised when she actually saw my journal, but I could almost watch the spell turn her interest aside, even as I held it to her face. Maybe if I could get her to look at it long enough she could break the spell all on her own, but the fact that it's something of mine is enough to make her turn up her stubborn little nose.
Still, fact that she saw it at all means there's a chance, yeah?
Got to help her stake a couple of new vamps, though. Even had a fairly non-hostile conversation. It made a nice change from one sided conversations and empty death-threats tossed about in the midst of a fight. I even like bickering with her. It's fun.
Afterwards, she let me walk her home. All in all, not a bad night.
And tonight, hopefully, she'll want to spar some more.
***
9 January 2001
Now that… was fun.
Bit painful, the cracked ribs part, but mostly fun.
Started with a trip to the Bronze for some beer and billiards. Needed some dosh and hustling pool's as good a way to get some as any. Didn't figure on running into Harris though.
Technically he did the running into—wanker spilled my bloody beer and didn't even apologise. How's that for do-gooder manners? Instead I get a lovely, "Spike, don't let me stop you from not being here." Even though I was there first. God forbid I exist in Harris's little world.
Of course, then I had to annoy him. Bloody principle of the thing and all. Specially with him looking like he was about to cry into his nuts.
Tried to convince him he ought to get himself some real food, like maybe some of that flowery onion thing they make, but he didn't seem interested. Wanker knows how to throw himself a pity party. Shame. Could have nicked some of that onion thing.
"Are you talking to me hoping that I'll get so depressed that I'll impale myself on a fork right in front of you?" he asked.
Couldn't let that one go. "Lovely thought. If I don't hurt you myself, the chip wouldn't zap me. I could eat you that way. Beat the onion thing all to hell." Way he was scowling he clearly wasn't capable of understanding sarcasm. That onion thing really is brilliant.
Wouldn't even let me have a sodding peanut. He snapped at me when I reached for one. A bowl of bloody peanuts that they give away for free and he's snarling at me like a hungry fledge hunkering over a fresh kill. Sometimes I just don't understand humans.
"My, my, someone's in a temper," I said, sitting at his table. "What's got your knickers all twisted?"
At first he didn't look like he was going to spill. He stared at me for a bit, and I could practically watch the little tiny thoughts toddling through his brain. Talk to Spike cause he's here? Or be a berk and wallow in misery? Which to choose? Finally: "You ever get caught in the middle of an argument between two women?"
I thought about Darla, Dru, blood, shackles. "Yeah, those were good times."
He gave me a look. "You are a strange, strange… thing. Anyway… Anya's my girlfriend, and I love her but she's… still learning how to be human again. And sometimes she says or does something and it comes off as kinda rude, only I know she didn't really mean it that way. Or maybe she did, but she… doesn't know any better, you know?"
"Yeah," I said. "I get that. Gotta be hard being a demon for so long and then having your powers stripped from you. Suddenly you're not a demon any more… not really a human, but you're expected to act like one—"
"Exactly," he interrupted. "She's human now and there are certain rules and… manners that she doesn't get. But nobody else seems to get that she's trying. I mean, okay, yes, it's embarrassing sometimes when she doesn't understand that you just… don't talk about certain things—"
"Like orgasms?" I said, not really trying not to smirk.
Harris rolled his eyes. "For example. But even though it's embarrassing I still…" He gives me a look that was clearly meant to say that I couldn't possibly understand, being a demon and all.
"Love her?" I said. He looked surprised. "Look, Harris. I've been around a bloody long time, and I'll be the first one to tell you, you don't get to pick who you love. Other people, they're never gonna understand why you'd walk over hot coals for her. In the end, it doesn't matter. Either you love her or you don't, and if you do… then you bloody well love her for what she is."
"Yeah, you and Drusilla are such a great example. What was it she left you for? A slime demon?"
God, he's a prat.
I growled. "Fungus, and you're missing the bloody point, you pillock. You love the girl? You suck it up. It doesn't matter what other people think."
"I do love her, I just… It's not that easy, Spike. Willow's been my best friend since we were old enough to eat crayons, and for some reason she and Anya just… don't get along. And you can't ignore it when your best friend doesn't like your girlfriend." He sighed, looking like someone had just kicked his puppy. "Do you wanna play pool? I need to …"
"Hit something?"
He flashes me a look. "Move, I was gonna say, but if you're volunteering for the position of punching bag—"
"Back off, Itchy. I'll play. Was just trying to be sympathetic," I said. Twitchy bastard.
"Well you suck at it," he said. "Rack ‘em. I'm gonna get another beer."
Wasn't surprised when he didn't bother to pick one up for me. Would it be too much to ask for a little consideration?
Yeah.
Probably.
Thing is, the wanker had a point. Or at least, I think he did. Don't have a lot of experience in the area of interpersonal human relationships—but I can see how Red not liking his girl might make it difficult for him. And if it's hard on him…
Thing is, if I want Buffy to start seeing me as something other than a monster, that means I've got to convince her chums, too. There's not much love lost there, I admit. When I came here the first time they barely registered, except as minor annoyances. Angelus was the one obsessed with killing them. Probably didn't help when I came back the year after, though I was drunk as a lord and don't remember much of how I ended up pinching him and the witch. Still alive, aren't they? Couldn't have done too much. Then there was that little incident with Red right after I got the chip…
Yeah. I've got my work cut out for me, don't I?
But this wasn't too bad. Mostly civil. Maybe I could help the boy out, you know? Give him some advice about women. Earning some points with him… can't hurt things with the Slayer.
"So Willow and Anyanka aren't getting along," I said. "Can see why that might send you fleeing for the hills. Powerful witch and a former vengeance demon, dangerous combination."
He grunted as he lined up a shot. "It's not like that," he said.
"Then what's it like?" I asked, watching with a smirk as he bollixed his next shot. With a sigh he leaned on his cue.
"It's like… it's like they want me to decide between them. Like they expect me to pick, you know? Who's side is Xander on? And it doesn't matter which side I choose, it's the wrong one. And they get in these fights and they're both looking at me like I'm the referee. Also, sometimes I'll say something about Anya and Willow'll get this look, this… um… 'what the hell do you see in her?' look."
"I know that look. Lot of people never really got Dru, you know," I said, trying to commiserate.
"Well, she was insane," he said. He had a point but I think his girlfriend's tactlessness is rubbing off. "Then it's like, well, I get all torn. Because Willow's my best friend and I really value her opinion, but … uh… Anya's my girlfriend, you know?"
I walked around the table, trying to line up a shot. Wanker hadn't left me with much. "You can't pick sides, mate," I told him. "I mean, obviously you've got to support your girl, but them putting you in the middle of their problem… it's not right."
"So… what? I'm just supposed to let them fight?"
I thought about it. "Well, yeah. You just might want to make sure they can't magic each other into oblivion. Or, you know, maybe get them a mud pit?"
For a moment I contemplated the thought of the witch and the ex-demon rolling about in the mud. I guess some things are universal, 'cause if his expression was anything to go by, he was right there with me. Mentally I added a muddied up Slayer as referee, maybe in a little stripy string bikini thing, her perfect tits all perky, tiny little nipples all pebbled and begging to be sucked on, bitten. Be fun to roll her about in the mud a bit, get her all dirty…
Things were just getting interesting when someone banged past me, almost knocking me over. "Hey, watch it, mate," I said turning.
Only to find myself face to face with one of the biggest demons I’ve ever seen. Think his fists were probably about the size of my head. Add to that the green skin and the rank scent of uncured hides, the gigantic hammer… my money was on ogre. Possibly troll.
"On second thought, do what you like," I said. No sense in brassing him off. I might be significantly stronger than a human, but I know my bleeding limits. The giant grunted, picked up a keg, bit through the steel and started draining it.
Yeah. I know my limits.
Ralph Wiggum was clearly having one of his moments of brilliance. "So, uh… think I should run and get Buffy?"
We watched as the troll flagged down a server and demanded more ale and put in an order for babies to eat. Yeah. Definitely troll. Ogres'll eat pretty much anything, but trolls prefer babies. Time to call in the Slayer.
"I'm gonna run and get Buffy," Harris said. "Or… maybe you could fight him?"
"Yeah, I could do that," I said. "And get myself crushed like a tiny little bug."
Suddenly the troll rounded on us. "You there," it growled. "Do you know where there are babies?"
"What do think? Hospital?" I asked Harris.
"What? Shut up!" he said, shooting me a look that said clear as day I'd got the wrong answer. I rolled my eyes. Did he want a brassed off troll? "Uh… listen," he said to the troll.
"I find myself very hungry. And when I'm hungry I grow short of patience." Eloquently put, I thought, for a creature whose intellect rivals a fire hydrant's.
"Well, we can take care of the hungry," Harris said. "So, how's about you just sit down in one of the… sturdier chairs, and we can … have a calm talk and something to eat?"
"Can it be babies?" the troll said hopefully.
"Well, not so much," said Harris.
You know, I don't think I've ever seen a troll pout before. I don't think I ever want to see it again, either.
"But maybe… some roast pigs and… stags… and… much hearty grog!" Harris was clearly reaching. I've seen the Bronze's kitchen and, trust me, there's no bloody grog.
"They've got this onion thing…" I said, but that didn't work.
"You cannot appease me! Do not try!" The troll turned away, on the hunt for more ale.
Right. Clearly it was time to get the Slayer. We were about halfway to the door when in came Willow and Anyanka, looking a bit panicked. Anya threw herself on Harris, babbling about the troll.
"I wish Buffy were here," said Red.
And like that, there she was, waltzing in the door like a ray of bloody sunshine. Even tucked into a heavy coat she's gorgeous.
After that, things got interesting. Didn't take long for Red and Demon Girl to start blame throwing over who did what, at which point the troll chimed in.
"You told the witch to do that, Anyanka. You seem determined to put an end to all my fun. Just like you always did when we were dating!"
God, I love it when life gets interesting.
"You dated him?" Harris asked her. Don’t know what he was so disgusted by. Better than a fungus demon.
"You dated a troll?" said the Slayer, wrinkling up her ridiculous little nose.
"And we're, what? Surprised by this?" said Willow.
"Well, he wasn't a troll then! You know, he was just a big dumb guy and… well, you know… he cheated on me and I made him into a troll, which by the way is… how I got the job as a vengeance demon." And that’s what happens when you’re an over-achiever.
Troll boy roared and smashed in a counter-top with his hammer. "I did not cheat! Not in my heart. It was only one wench! I… I had had a great deal of mead! Next thing I know I'm a troll! Oh… you did this Anyanka. You will die for this!"
"But you seem to… enjoy the… the being a troll," said Harris.
"I adjusted," the troll shrugged. Then he started ranting on about witches and how they'd trapped him in some bloody crystal. Red tried to work her mojo but it fizzed.
That's when all hell broke loose. The Slayer kicked him back as he dove for the witch, then kept pushing him back with each punch. Figured it was a good time to join in, but when I came up behind her, she ducked just in time for Jolly Green's fist to come smashing into my face, knocking me clear. Then he tossed her on top of me.
Would've been a nice time for a grope, but I figured she'd notice. Instead I caught her about the waist and tossed her to her feet, then came up behind her.
That's when the roof came down.
Jolly had taken out the balcony supports with his bloody huge hammer. Saw it start to come down just in time to dive at the Slayer and roll her out from under it. Must've done it right, because the chip never even fired. When we both came up, the troll was gone and the place was trashed.
Hadn't ever been on the rescuing side of a disaster before. People everywhere, groaning, picking their way up out of the rubble. Ordinarily this would be a vampire's dream. So many lovely bleeding people, chaos, confusion. In the old days a scene like this would have had me looking for a quick snack. Now it just left me confused. Even poncy William was a bit at a loss—Victorian gentlemen aren't exactly the heroic labour type. Could leave, go off after the troll, but the Slayer was still sticking around so there clearly was something else I was supposed to be doing. The scent of blood was making my head a bit muzzy, but it was easy enough to tamp down the urge to lick everything in sight. Tried to suss out what Buffy would want done… wounded tended to maybe? Or digging people out?
The little wicca decided me, watching her try to lift a support beam off some injured humans. Right. Dig people out. I could do that.
Helped that I could smell them, down under the debris. Could hear them whimpering and moaning. Was lifting some flooring up when the Slayer found me.
"What are you doing?"
"Helping," I said, not like it wasn't bleeding obvious. "Someone down there."
Together we shifted the rubble till we could get the bloke out. Bit bashed up, but his heartbeat was still strong. Lot of blood on him, though. I was getting restless with the scent so strong in the air, so close. There was blood trickling down his face, and god it smelled good. Thick and rich and full of pain. Had to swallow heavily just to get rid of the saliva that pooled in my mouth.
I don't think I vamped. If I did, I didn't mean to. But suddenly she had that look on her face again, the one that said I was about three seconds from getting punched. Or staked. "Not gonna sample," I told her, snapping out of the hyper focus I’d unintentionally slipped into. "Know you wouldn't like it."
She frowned. "The fact that it even occurred to you is revolting, you know that? Besides you don't feed off disaster victims because it's wrong, Spike. Not just because you want to avoid getting punched in the face."
I love her, but she's an idiot, sometimes. Even that bigot Harris makes more allowances for his girl than Buffy gives me, and I'm not human. I'm a vampire. And there I was stuck in a room full of bleeding people. I was hungry. I can't fucking help it, now, can I, if I smell blood and the first thing I think about is gorging myself senseless? But I didn't. I wouldn't. She wouldn't like it. Besides, I’m not fucking stupid or a fledge. I’ve had a hundred and twenty years of practise controlling basic bloodlust.
"Look, I can help, yeah? With the troll? Give me something to do. You said you'd give me a chance," I reminded her. Hated that I had to beg, but what's it take?
"I said we'd see," she huffed.
"Extra muscle here, Slayer," I said. "Not asking for anything but a chance to fight. Unless you want me to stick around here and—"
"No, there's too much blood here. I'm not going to risk it," she frowned and I clamped down on the urge to call her a moron. "Fine. Xander's tailing the troll, but I'm not sure where they went—"
"I can track 'em," I said. "That troll's got a stench a few miles long."
"Ewwww," she said, wrinkling her nose. Bloody adorable, even if she is squeamish about the strangest things.
Tara popped up about then and insisted on tagging along, then we were off. Wasn't lying either. That troll laid a trail of rank sweat, uncured hides, ale, and troll funk where ever he'd been. Took me only a minute to figure out which was the fresh trail.
Needn't have bloody bothered, though. 'Course it went straight after the witch and the former demon. I would have. They were the only ones with a chance of locking it back up again.
Once we got there, things went a bit pear shaped. Anya taunting him, Red trying to magic him every which way, and the Slayer and I jumping him like two wolf pups trying to bring down a full grown moose. Except for getting my ribs busted, it was bloody brilliant, if you ask me; but I could tell the Slayer was getting tired of being tossed about like rag doll. Don't know what he said that finally set her off, but after that last toss we managed to get it together.
She was doing most of the work, though, I was just along for the ride. Something therapeutic about beating on something that big. And it’s fucking hot, watching her take on something so huge and beat it to a bloody pulp.
When it was over and they were standing about arguing over what to do with him, I had a thought. So a thousand years ago, Anyanka curses this bloke and turns him into a troll, yeah? Then she becomes a demon and presumably Jolly wandered about for a bit, pillaging and rampaging and noshing on babies until some witches got a hold of him and locked him up in a shiny little crystal. Then a few hundred years later that same bloody crystal just happens to end up here, in Sunnyhell, in the same shop where Anyanka's working? And another witch just happens to undo the curse and release him?
I'd figure the odds, but they'd give me a bleeding headache. Let's just say I'd put money on old Louhi being behind this. Trolls seem exactly like her cuppa.
Luckily there wasn't anything keeping me from pointing out that it was bloody weird. Maybe now I can get the Slayer to start paying attention.
***
10 January 2001
I wonder sometimes, how things really were with her and Angelus. For a girl who practically eats, sleeps, and breathes vampires, she's got a bleeding small amount of knowledge about how we work. Some of that I'll lay at the Council of Wanker's feet… they've been lying to Slayers since the dawn of time. But Buffy's gotten closer to us than most—not that I like thinking about her and the Great Poof—and there are certain things she ought to know by now. For example, how keen our sense of smell is. Far as I can suss out, Angelus never told her a bloody thing about being a vampire.
Probably hid it from her, like he hides from himself. Way she reacted last year when I mentioned him drinking in front of her made me wonder if he ever had. Could have knocked her over with a feather when he went all Angelus on her, too. Like he never told her what he really is, underneath that poncy soul.
I don't think you can love someone without knowing the best and worst of them. It’d be like only loving half the person, if all you ever loved them for was the bits you liked. Buffy's glorious, I'll give her that, but she's got her flaws, too. Self-righteous, sometimes, and blind as hell to what's right in front of her. Can be a right bitch, when she's of a mind—which, with me is pretty much always. She's got a superiority complex, and an inferiority complex about it. Acts like a total nit half the time, even though she's intelligent. Walls herself off to protect herself, and comes across as cold sometimes because of it.
But the truth is, for all the bad stuff about her, she's still beautiful, inside and out. You take all that other shite away and you've got this gorgeous woman who doesn't even know her own worth. Loyal to her friends almost to a fault, loves with her whole soul, and so desperate to be loved back she's aching inside for want of it. Smart, brilliant, and a bleeding incredible warrior. Strong enough to hold the weight of the world on her shoulders, even when she's crumbling inside. And she’s so bloody good, it lights her up from the inside ‘til she almost glows so bright it burns.
When she talks to Mr. G… she lets me see all that, and it's incredible. Some nights I have to bite my tongue bloody to keep from speaking, to keep from telling her how amazing she is. How, being near her like this… makes me want to be a better man.
Makes me want to be a man.
The sort she could count on having by her side, through thick and thin. To watch her back, or just to back her up when she wants it. The sort she could just… be herself with, not having to hide any part of her. Not even the bits that make her self-conscious. I don't just want the Slayer bits, or the Buffy bits… I'm a greedy bastard. I want the whole sodding package, faults and all.
I know I'm a monster, and it's a part of me I can't give up. No going back from what I am. But I'm a man, too. Maybe not a good one. Maybe not much of one at all. But I'd be hers. Man and monster, all of me. Good and bad.
If I thought it'd do any good, I'd beg the Powers That Be for a chance at that, then do my best not to completely cock it up.
I know better, but…
Still… I've got to try.
I want to take a minute to thank all of you who have stuck with this story so long, and those of you who are just starting it and catching up. Thank you so much for all the lovely comments and reviews. Even if I don’t have time to respond to all of them, please know that I really, really appreciate them and read them all over and over again. They mean a lot.
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all recognizable characters, locations, and dialogue belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the various writers. Show writers and any other quoted authors have been credited in individual chapters. I'm making no money from this—it is purely in the name of fun.
Betaed by Phuriedae*
*because Spike is English, I’ve made a rather anal retentive attempt to spell things “properly.” My beta (who IS British), has asked that I include the following disclaimer: “Any Britpicking mistakes are my beta's, because she reads too much fic written by you bloody Americans and is used to your bizarre ways by now."
Credits: This chapter contains dialogue from the episode “Triangle” written by Jane Espenson.
Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t’ve?)
1 January 2001
Vampires are instinctively pack creatures. If you're lucky and your sire's not a total arse, they'll stick around until you rise. You get a ready-made gang, and you pretty much know your place in it. You've got other vamps around to show you the ropes, teach you to hunt, and provide protection from rival gangs. There's something instinctual about nesting, about wanting to be part of a gang. The older you get, the more powerful you grow, the more instinctual it is to surround yourself with other vampires to do the dirty work for you, and younger vamps automatically search out older ones for protection.
You've got to be old enough and strong enough, to make it on your own.
Never was a solitary vamp, before. Always had Dru around. From the day I died until that god-awful night down in Brazil, I had my girl. No matter what. Sure we fought sometimes, split up once or twice. But we always came back together, didn't we?
After we left Angelus, I was Master. Well… Dru was, technically, but she didn't do so well in a leadership capacity. Something about taking orders from a vamp who talks to dolls and pixies doesn't set too well with most minions. So I was Master… and I was bloody good at it. Didn’t mean I liked it, though. Most minions are idiots; mindless demons, all stomach no brains. A dime a dozen, and it's easy enough to make more, even if you don't care to sire them yourself. They like their rituals, their traditions… and Dru and I never much cared for that nonsense. But I was good at it.
Then Angelus came back. Then I was back on the bottom again. Useless waste of immortality, trapped in a bloody wheelchair—until I got my legs back. Then I got revenge.
After Dru… I didn't do so well on my own, that first time. Got drunk and did my best to stay there. Lucky I didn't smash the Desoto somewhere in broad daylight. Wouldn't have been more than a footnote in history, if I had. Just a little bit of English dust somewhere on a Mexican highway.
When I came back to Sunnyhell again, though, I had a purpose. Didn't take too long to find some lackeys to do my bidding. Then there was Harmony, who, while she lacked for brains, made for a decent shag.
And then there was the chip.
The bloody damned chip.
Took away all of it.
Couldn't hunt. Couldn't feed. With no blood, there goes the strength, the speed, the stamina. Couldn't fight, could barely run. Couldn't even go to other vamps for help. They'd have torn me apart. In the end I went to the only place I knew where I figured I'd at least get help—cause that's what do-gooders do, yeah? Help?
Chip did it's best to take my dignity, too. Leaving me tied up in a bleeding bathtub having to beg for blood.
Took my ability to defend myself against the Slayer, against even the most pathetic of humans.
Took away the fight, ‘til I found out I could still hit demons.
Made me an outcast among my own kind.
Now, with Harmony gone… I'm utterly alone. Not a vampire anymore, not really. Sure I've got the fangs, but I can't use 'em. Got the demon, but it’s so whipped at this point the most evil I can get up to is pinching stuff at the corner liquor store. Could maybe get myself a few minions, but I don't really fancy dealing with that again. Nor do I want some pissant little fledge bringing me bloody take home. Be hard to keep their respect, too, if I couldn't show 'em up.
Not a human, though, either. Could pass for one, maybe, if I went somewhere else. Got a bloody job or nicked enough cash. Could find a rat trap apartment and be that dodgy bloke who works nights and sleeps all day and brings his dinner home in paper sacks from the butcher's every Monday. Yeah… some human with a complex would be on me eventually, beat the hell out of me the minute they sussed out I couldn't fight back.
So I got nothing. Living the cliché in a forgotten little crypt, pinching electric and cable off the main lines, drinking cold pigs blood 'cause I can't find a working microwave at the scrap-yard, and playing at being a demon hunter even though it means I'm hated by my own kind.
Chip left me as a husk of a vampire… more so than Angel ever was.
Angel could still do evil, if he wanted. Could still kill. Way the white-hats tell it, hell… the way Angel tells it, only thing that holds him back is that sodding soul. But there're plenty of human wankers out there who manage to out-evil us demons on a daily basis. Don't feed me that rot about the soul being the thing that keeps you from doing harm. Maybe it gives you a leg up on the path to righteousness, but a soul…
It don't have anything on a piece of silicon no bigger than my bleeding' thumbnail.
Been so long now I only dream of drinking hot human blood, fresh from a kill. I still crave it, but… I don’t need it. Not like I used to think I did. Guess it’s true. A body can get used to pretty much anything. Even pig’s blood. Truth is, mix a bit of burba weed in and it's not that bad. Got a bit of a kick. If the chip came out tomorrow, stopped working… not sure what I'd do.
'Cause as much as I hate it for what it's taken… it gave me her.
Wouldn't give her up for all the blood in China.
[Note: Several pages here are filled with notes on fighting styles, including techniques and moves, along with dates and notations such as "taught Slayer" or "needs more work on" or "fuck, she’s good at that". Interspersed throughout are doodles and rough sketches, including one detailed image of what appears to be a man dressed in a camouflage toga/loincloth, swinging on a vine and copulating with a monkey. The caption reads "Finn of the Jungle"]
My love shines brighter than the jealous sun,
with half of its cruelty, all of its mirth.
Her smile is the dawn that leaves me undone;
her sharp eyes, the glance that cuts me to earth.
or stand for a moment in her embrace,
I am the moth, who is caught by her light.
[incomplete]
4 January 2001
Ran into her on patrol earlier. Had an idea for a poem and had popped up on top of the Alpert crypt for a quiet spot to work. This cold weather leaves the sky clear as glass, and the stars bright enough to touch. Bloody gorgeous. Enough to make an old romantic… hope.
Was surprised when she actually saw my journal, but I could almost watch the spell turn her interest aside, even as I held it to her face. Maybe if I could get her to look at it long enough she could break the spell all on her own, but the fact that it's something of mine is enough to make her turn up her stubborn little nose.
Still, fact that she saw it at all means there's a chance, yeah?
Got to help her stake a couple of new vamps, though. Even had a fairly non-hostile conversation. It made a nice change from one sided conversations and empty death-threats tossed about in the midst of a fight. I even like bickering with her. It's fun.
Afterwards, she let me walk her home. All in all, not a bad night.
And tonight, hopefully, she'll want to spar some more.
9 January 2001
Now that… was fun.
Bit painful, the cracked ribs part, but mostly fun.
Started with a trip to the Bronze for some beer and billiards. Needed some dosh and hustling pool's as good a way to get some as any. Didn't figure on running into Harris though.
Technically he did the running into—wanker spilled my bloody beer and didn't even apologise. How's that for do-gooder manners? Instead I get a lovely, "Spike, don't let me stop you from not being here." Even though I was there first. God forbid I exist in Harris's little world.
Of course, then I had to annoy him. Bloody principle of the thing and all. Specially with him looking like he was about to cry into his nuts.
Tried to convince him he ought to get himself some real food, like maybe some of that flowery onion thing they make, but he didn't seem interested. Wanker knows how to throw himself a pity party. Shame. Could have nicked some of that onion thing.
"Are you talking to me hoping that I'll get so depressed that I'll impale myself on a fork right in front of you?" he asked.
Couldn't let that one go. "Lovely thought. If I don't hurt you myself, the chip wouldn't zap me. I could eat you that way. Beat the onion thing all to hell." Way he was scowling he clearly wasn't capable of understanding sarcasm. That onion thing really is brilliant.
Wouldn't even let me have a sodding peanut. He snapped at me when I reached for one. A bowl of bloody peanuts that they give away for free and he's snarling at me like a hungry fledge hunkering over a fresh kill. Sometimes I just don't understand humans.
"My, my, someone's in a temper," I said, sitting at his table. "What's got your knickers all twisted?"
At first he didn't look like he was going to spill. He stared at me for a bit, and I could practically watch the little tiny thoughts toddling through his brain. Talk to Spike cause he's here? Or be a berk and wallow in misery? Which to choose? Finally: "You ever get caught in the middle of an argument between two women?"
I thought about Darla, Dru, blood, shackles. "Yeah, those were good times."
He gave me a look. "You are a strange, strange… thing. Anyway… Anya's my girlfriend, and I love her but she's… still learning how to be human again. And sometimes she says or does something and it comes off as kinda rude, only I know she didn't really mean it that way. Or maybe she did, but she… doesn't know any better, you know?"
"Yeah," I said. "I get that. Gotta be hard being a demon for so long and then having your powers stripped from you. Suddenly you're not a demon any more… not really a human, but you're expected to act like one—"
"Exactly," he interrupted. "She's human now and there are certain rules and… manners that she doesn't get. But nobody else seems to get that she's trying. I mean, okay, yes, it's embarrassing sometimes when she doesn't understand that you just… don't talk about certain things—"
"Like orgasms?" I said, not really trying not to smirk.
Harris rolled his eyes. "For example. But even though it's embarrassing I still…" He gives me a look that was clearly meant to say that I couldn't possibly understand, being a demon and all.
"Love her?" I said. He looked surprised. "Look, Harris. I've been around a bloody long time, and I'll be the first one to tell you, you don't get to pick who you love. Other people, they're never gonna understand why you'd walk over hot coals for her. In the end, it doesn't matter. Either you love her or you don't, and if you do… then you bloody well love her for what she is."
"Yeah, you and Drusilla are such a great example. What was it she left you for? A slime demon?"
God, he's a prat.
I growled. "Fungus, and you're missing the bloody point, you pillock. You love the girl? You suck it up. It doesn't matter what other people think."
"I do love her, I just… It's not that easy, Spike. Willow's been my best friend since we were old enough to eat crayons, and for some reason she and Anya just… don't get along. And you can't ignore it when your best friend doesn't like your girlfriend." He sighed, looking like someone had just kicked his puppy. "Do you wanna play pool? I need to …"
"Hit something?"
He flashes me a look. "Move, I was gonna say, but if you're volunteering for the position of punching bag—"
"Back off, Itchy. I'll play. Was just trying to be sympathetic," I said. Twitchy bastard.
"Well you suck at it," he said. "Rack ‘em. I'm gonna get another beer."
Wasn't surprised when he didn't bother to pick one up for me. Would it be too much to ask for a little consideration?
Yeah.
Probably.
Thing is, the wanker had a point. Or at least, I think he did. Don't have a lot of experience in the area of interpersonal human relationships—but I can see how Red not liking his girl might make it difficult for him. And if it's hard on him…
Thing is, if I want Buffy to start seeing me as something other than a monster, that means I've got to convince her chums, too. There's not much love lost there, I admit. When I came here the first time they barely registered, except as minor annoyances. Angelus was the one obsessed with killing them. Probably didn't help when I came back the year after, though I was drunk as a lord and don't remember much of how I ended up pinching him and the witch. Still alive, aren't they? Couldn't have done too much. Then there was that little incident with Red right after I got the chip…
Yeah. I've got my work cut out for me, don't I?
But this wasn't too bad. Mostly civil. Maybe I could help the boy out, you know? Give him some advice about women. Earning some points with him… can't hurt things with the Slayer.
"So Willow and Anyanka aren't getting along," I said. "Can see why that might send you fleeing for the hills. Powerful witch and a former vengeance demon, dangerous combination."
He grunted as he lined up a shot. "It's not like that," he said.
"Then what's it like?" I asked, watching with a smirk as he bollixed his next shot. With a sigh he leaned on his cue.
"It's like… it's like they want me to decide between them. Like they expect me to pick, you know? Who's side is Xander on? And it doesn't matter which side I choose, it's the wrong one. And they get in these fights and they're both looking at me like I'm the referee. Also, sometimes I'll say something about Anya and Willow'll get this look, this… um… 'what the hell do you see in her?' look."
"I know that look. Lot of people never really got Dru, you know," I said, trying to commiserate.
"Well, she was insane," he said. He had a point but I think his girlfriend's tactlessness is rubbing off. "Then it's like, well, I get all torn. Because Willow's my best friend and I really value her opinion, but … uh… Anya's my girlfriend, you know?"
I walked around the table, trying to line up a shot. Wanker hadn't left me with much. "You can't pick sides, mate," I told him. "I mean, obviously you've got to support your girl, but them putting you in the middle of their problem… it's not right."
"So… what? I'm just supposed to let them fight?"
I thought about it. "Well, yeah. You just might want to make sure they can't magic each other into oblivion. Or, you know, maybe get them a mud pit?"
For a moment I contemplated the thought of the witch and the ex-demon rolling about in the mud. I guess some things are universal, 'cause if his expression was anything to go by, he was right there with me. Mentally I added a muddied up Slayer as referee, maybe in a little stripy string bikini thing, her perfect tits all perky, tiny little nipples all pebbled and begging to be sucked on, bitten. Be fun to roll her about in the mud a bit, get her all dirty…
Things were just getting interesting when someone banged past me, almost knocking me over. "Hey, watch it, mate," I said turning.
Only to find myself face to face with one of the biggest demons I’ve ever seen. Think his fists were probably about the size of my head. Add to that the green skin and the rank scent of uncured hides, the gigantic hammer… my money was on ogre. Possibly troll.
"On second thought, do what you like," I said. No sense in brassing him off. I might be significantly stronger than a human, but I know my bleeding limits. The giant grunted, picked up a keg, bit through the steel and started draining it.
Yeah. I know my limits.
Ralph Wiggum was clearly having one of his moments of brilliance. "So, uh… think I should run and get Buffy?"
We watched as the troll flagged down a server and demanded more ale and put in an order for babies to eat. Yeah. Definitely troll. Ogres'll eat pretty much anything, but trolls prefer babies. Time to call in the Slayer.
"I'm gonna run and get Buffy," Harris said. "Or… maybe you could fight him?"
"Yeah, I could do that," I said. "And get myself crushed like a tiny little bug."
Suddenly the troll rounded on us. "You there," it growled. "Do you know where there are babies?"
"What do think? Hospital?" I asked Harris.
"What? Shut up!" he said, shooting me a look that said clear as day I'd got the wrong answer. I rolled my eyes. Did he want a brassed off troll? "Uh… listen," he said to the troll.
"I find myself very hungry. And when I'm hungry I grow short of patience." Eloquently put, I thought, for a creature whose intellect rivals a fire hydrant's.
"Well, we can take care of the hungry," Harris said. "So, how's about you just sit down in one of the… sturdier chairs, and we can … have a calm talk and something to eat?"
"Can it be babies?" the troll said hopefully.
"Well, not so much," said Harris.
You know, I don't think I've ever seen a troll pout before. I don't think I ever want to see it again, either.
"But maybe… some roast pigs and… stags… and… much hearty grog!" Harris was clearly reaching. I've seen the Bronze's kitchen and, trust me, there's no bloody grog.
"They've got this onion thing…" I said, but that didn't work.
"You cannot appease me! Do not try!" The troll turned away, on the hunt for more ale.
Right. Clearly it was time to get the Slayer. We were about halfway to the door when in came Willow and Anyanka, looking a bit panicked. Anya threw herself on Harris, babbling about the troll.
"I wish Buffy were here," said Red.
And like that, there she was, waltzing in the door like a ray of bloody sunshine. Even tucked into a heavy coat she's gorgeous.
After that, things got interesting. Didn't take long for Red and Demon Girl to start blame throwing over who did what, at which point the troll chimed in.
"You told the witch to do that, Anyanka. You seem determined to put an end to all my fun. Just like you always did when we were dating!"
God, I love it when life gets interesting.
"You dated him?" Harris asked her. Don’t know what he was so disgusted by. Better than a fungus demon.
"You dated a troll?" said the Slayer, wrinkling up her ridiculous little nose.
"And we're, what? Surprised by this?" said Willow.
"Well, he wasn't a troll then! You know, he was just a big dumb guy and… well, you know… he cheated on me and I made him into a troll, which by the way is… how I got the job as a vengeance demon." And that’s what happens when you’re an over-achiever.
Troll boy roared and smashed in a counter-top with his hammer. "I did not cheat! Not in my heart. It was only one wench! I… I had had a great deal of mead! Next thing I know I'm a troll! Oh… you did this Anyanka. You will die for this!"
"But you seem to… enjoy the… the being a troll," said Harris.
"I adjusted," the troll shrugged. Then he started ranting on about witches and how they'd trapped him in some bloody crystal. Red tried to work her mojo but it fizzed.
That's when all hell broke loose. The Slayer kicked him back as he dove for the witch, then kept pushing him back with each punch. Figured it was a good time to join in, but when I came up behind her, she ducked just in time for Jolly Green's fist to come smashing into my face, knocking me clear. Then he tossed her on top of me.
Would've been a nice time for a grope, but I figured she'd notice. Instead I caught her about the waist and tossed her to her feet, then came up behind her.
That's when the roof came down.
Jolly had taken out the balcony supports with his bloody huge hammer. Saw it start to come down just in time to dive at the Slayer and roll her out from under it. Must've done it right, because the chip never even fired. When we both came up, the troll was gone and the place was trashed.
Hadn't ever been on the rescuing side of a disaster before. People everywhere, groaning, picking their way up out of the rubble. Ordinarily this would be a vampire's dream. So many lovely bleeding people, chaos, confusion. In the old days a scene like this would have had me looking for a quick snack. Now it just left me confused. Even poncy William was a bit at a loss—Victorian gentlemen aren't exactly the heroic labour type. Could leave, go off after the troll, but the Slayer was still sticking around so there clearly was something else I was supposed to be doing. The scent of blood was making my head a bit muzzy, but it was easy enough to tamp down the urge to lick everything in sight. Tried to suss out what Buffy would want done… wounded tended to maybe? Or digging people out?
The little wicca decided me, watching her try to lift a support beam off some injured humans. Right. Dig people out. I could do that.
Helped that I could smell them, down under the debris. Could hear them whimpering and moaning. Was lifting some flooring up when the Slayer found me.
"What are you doing?"
"Helping," I said, not like it wasn't bleeding obvious. "Someone down there."
Together we shifted the rubble till we could get the bloke out. Bit bashed up, but his heartbeat was still strong. Lot of blood on him, though. I was getting restless with the scent so strong in the air, so close. There was blood trickling down his face, and god it smelled good. Thick and rich and full of pain. Had to swallow heavily just to get rid of the saliva that pooled in my mouth.
I don't think I vamped. If I did, I didn't mean to. But suddenly she had that look on her face again, the one that said I was about three seconds from getting punched. Or staked. "Not gonna sample," I told her, snapping out of the hyper focus I’d unintentionally slipped into. "Know you wouldn't like it."
She frowned. "The fact that it even occurred to you is revolting, you know that? Besides you don't feed off disaster victims because it's wrong, Spike. Not just because you want to avoid getting punched in the face."
I love her, but she's an idiot, sometimes. Even that bigot Harris makes more allowances for his girl than Buffy gives me, and I'm not human. I'm a vampire. And there I was stuck in a room full of bleeding people. I was hungry. I can't fucking help it, now, can I, if I smell blood and the first thing I think about is gorging myself senseless? But I didn't. I wouldn't. She wouldn't like it. Besides, I’m not fucking stupid or a fledge. I’ve had a hundred and twenty years of practise controlling basic bloodlust.
"Look, I can help, yeah? With the troll? Give me something to do. You said you'd give me a chance," I reminded her. Hated that I had to beg, but what's it take?
"I said we'd see," she huffed.
"Extra muscle here, Slayer," I said. "Not asking for anything but a chance to fight. Unless you want me to stick around here and—"
"No, there's too much blood here. I'm not going to risk it," she frowned and I clamped down on the urge to call her a moron. "Fine. Xander's tailing the troll, but I'm not sure where they went—"
"I can track 'em," I said. "That troll's got a stench a few miles long."
"Ewwww," she said, wrinkling her nose. Bloody adorable, even if she is squeamish about the strangest things.
Tara popped up about then and insisted on tagging along, then we were off. Wasn't lying either. That troll laid a trail of rank sweat, uncured hides, ale, and troll funk where ever he'd been. Took me only a minute to figure out which was the fresh trail.
Needn't have bloody bothered, though. 'Course it went straight after the witch and the former demon. I would have. They were the only ones with a chance of locking it back up again.
Once we got there, things went a bit pear shaped. Anya taunting him, Red trying to magic him every which way, and the Slayer and I jumping him like two wolf pups trying to bring down a full grown moose. Except for getting my ribs busted, it was bloody brilliant, if you ask me; but I could tell the Slayer was getting tired of being tossed about like rag doll. Don't know what he said that finally set her off, but after that last toss we managed to get it together.
She was doing most of the work, though, I was just along for the ride. Something therapeutic about beating on something that big. And it’s fucking hot, watching her take on something so huge and beat it to a bloody pulp.
When it was over and they were standing about arguing over what to do with him, I had a thought. So a thousand years ago, Anyanka curses this bloke and turns him into a troll, yeah? Then she becomes a demon and presumably Jolly wandered about for a bit, pillaging and rampaging and noshing on babies until some witches got a hold of him and locked him up in a shiny little crystal. Then a few hundred years later that same bloody crystal just happens to end up here, in Sunnyhell, in the same shop where Anyanka's working? And another witch just happens to undo the curse and release him?
I'd figure the odds, but they'd give me a bleeding headache. Let's just say I'd put money on old Louhi being behind this. Trolls seem exactly like her cuppa.
Luckily there wasn't anything keeping me from pointing out that it was bloody weird. Maybe now I can get the Slayer to start paying attention.
10 January 2001
I wonder sometimes, how things really were with her and Angelus. For a girl who practically eats, sleeps, and breathes vampires, she's got a bleeding small amount of knowledge about how we work. Some of that I'll lay at the Council of Wanker's feet… they've been lying to Slayers since the dawn of time. But Buffy's gotten closer to us than most—not that I like thinking about her and the Great Poof—and there are certain things she ought to know by now. For example, how keen our sense of smell is. Far as I can suss out, Angelus never told her a bloody thing about being a vampire.
Probably hid it from her, like he hides from himself. Way she reacted last year when I mentioned him drinking in front of her made me wonder if he ever had. Could have knocked her over with a feather when he went all Angelus on her, too. Like he never told her what he really is, underneath that poncy soul.
I don't think you can love someone without knowing the best and worst of them. It’d be like only loving half the person, if all you ever loved them for was the bits you liked. Buffy's glorious, I'll give her that, but she's got her flaws, too. Self-righteous, sometimes, and blind as hell to what's right in front of her. Can be a right bitch, when she's of a mind—which, with me is pretty much always. She's got a superiority complex, and an inferiority complex about it. Acts like a total nit half the time, even though she's intelligent. Walls herself off to protect herself, and comes across as cold sometimes because of it.
But the truth is, for all the bad stuff about her, she's still beautiful, inside and out. You take all that other shite away and you've got this gorgeous woman who doesn't even know her own worth. Loyal to her friends almost to a fault, loves with her whole soul, and so desperate to be loved back she's aching inside for want of it. Smart, brilliant, and a bleeding incredible warrior. Strong enough to hold the weight of the world on her shoulders, even when she's crumbling inside. And she’s so bloody good, it lights her up from the inside ‘til she almost glows so bright it burns.
When she talks to Mr. G… she lets me see all that, and it's incredible. Some nights I have to bite my tongue bloody to keep from speaking, to keep from telling her how amazing she is. How, being near her like this… makes me want to be a better man.
Makes me want to be a man.
The sort she could count on having by her side, through thick and thin. To watch her back, or just to back her up when she wants it. The sort she could just… be herself with, not having to hide any part of her. Not even the bits that make her self-conscious. I don't just want the Slayer bits, or the Buffy bits… I'm a greedy bastard. I want the whole sodding package, faults and all.
I know I'm a monster, and it's a part of me I can't give up. No going back from what I am. But I'm a man, too. Maybe not a good one. Maybe not much of one at all. But I'd be hers. Man and monster, all of me. Good and bad.
If I thought it'd do any good, I'd beg the Powers That Be for a chance at that, then do my best not to completely cock it up.
I know better, but…
Still… I've got to try.
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