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Chapter 49: Strength to Endure
Author’s Note: This chapter covers the same time period as Chapters 29 and 30
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* and Science
*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."
Chapter 49
Strength To Endure
14 March 2001
God, I'm knackered, but... I ought to write this down now.
It's been a bloody long night.
Should have known Louhi was just biding her time. I'd gone out to check on Buffy but... she wasn't home. The witches were at her house, talking loud enough I could catch their conversation through the window. Something about Buffy being on a quest of some sort with the Watcher. They mentioned that Harris and Anya were out on patrol so I figured I'd shank it out to the graveyards and keep tabs on them. Harris couldn't find the sharp end of a stake if it were shoved up his arse.
Didn't find Harris, though, when I got to Restfield. Instead, I found Louhi and Jack, waiting for me.
"I've missed you, my prince," she said. I kept a sharp eye on her and Jack and a careful distance. I'd learned my lesson last time about rushing her. Was wishing for a crossbow, but all I had on me was a stake and a pocketknife. Not the best weapons for taking her out when she could do that little freeze trick of hers.
"Absence makes the heart grow fonder," I said. "So why don't you sod off?"
"Is that any way to speak to your queen?" she said. She pouted. I wanted to heave.
"Look, you dozy bint, in case it's escaped your notice, I'm not much of one for obeying any sort of authority. If you try to make me kneel, I'll rip off your legs and use them to bash your brains in," I said. I will, too.
She laughed.
"Why do you think I will take such pleasure in breaking you, pretty vampire?" she said. "It won't be long, now. Where is your Slayer, tonight? I'd so hoped to meet her. I wanted to give her my condolences on the loss of her mother. Such a tragedy. Mortals are just so fragile..."
"Did you touch her mum?" I growled. "Was it you?" I'd have killed her, right then, right there. I don't know how, but I'd have found a way.
"Ah, I wish I could take the credit, but no," she said. "Just fortunate coincidence. And speaking of..."
She half turned, and that's when I caught it. The old sock stench of Doritos on the breeze, with an under-lying scent of sweat, sawdust, and Harris's cheap cologne. It almost masked the demon girl's scent: perfume, soap, shampoo, and paper money. They were near, probably watching.
"It seems we have company," the White Witch said. "Friends of yours?"
"Hardly," I said trying to suss out a way to get them out of there before she could tear them apart.
"Then you won't mind if I play with them a bit, will you?" she said, turning to her lackey. "Jack... kill them slow. I want to enjoy their pain."
He grinned and then melted into the snow. Snarling, I took off at a run. I don't know why she let me go, maybe just to see what I'd do. Didn't matter.
They were hiding behind the bushes at the edge of the cemetery. "Spike, you are so dust—" Harris said, smugly.
"No time for small talk," I told him. "You need to get out of here."
"Why?" he said with a smirk, "so you can finish double-crossing Buffy ? I saw you—"
"I don't know why I bother," I said and shoved him headfirst into a snowdrift, just as Jack's sword went whistling past the place where Harris' thick neck was. Set off the chip, but at least he kept his head on. I shook off the pain as fast as I could.
Jack stood in front of me, wielding a wicked edged sword that looked like it was made of ice. If so, it was the strongest stuff I'd ever seen. I grabbed a no parking sign and ripped it loose from the ground. Would have to do. He came at me, grinning and showing off all those icicle teeth.
We played for a bit, sword against steel pole. He was good, but I was better. Stronger, too. Only took a couple of minutes to disarm him, then it was all fists. But when he managed to knock me back into the fence, he turned on Harris and Anya. Took me a minute to untangle myself from the bushes, but it was a minute too long. I heard them both scream, then Harris hit the ground, clutching at his leg. Jack had picked up my discarded sign and stood over him, ready to bring it down, the sharp edge of the sign gleaming like an axe.
Managed to grab a hold of it from behind and wrench it out of his hands, but he turned under my guard and clocked me solid under the chin. Didn't send me back as far, and I was back on him before he'd even finished raising his hand to backhand Anya, who was crouching over Harris, trying to protect him. Brave little bird.
About that time, it started to snow.
Frosty and I went a few rounds, but it was obvious that as much as he enjoyed beating on me, I wasn't what he was after. Didn't seem to matter how much damage I did to him, he just kept coming. Finally I managed to scoop up his bloody sword... and if it wasn't ice, it was doing a bloody good job of imitating it, frostbit my hands just holding it for a few moments— and got between him and the humans. Harris had managed to drag his fat carcass up against the fence, and had Anya half behind him. Was as good a place for a stand off as any.
Ol' Jack didn't like me having his sword. He feinted a time or two, but I was ready for him the third time and managed to slice him good, from shoulder to hip. His blood was almost as blue as his hair, and it stank of stagnant water and dead fish. Enough to turn a vamp's stomach.
Don't know if it was enough to kill him, but he did snarl and pull his melting trick in order to vanish. Took the sword with him.
I waited for a mo' to see if he'd come back, but I figured it'd take some time for him to recoup. The snow was coming harder by then, and when I turned back it was obvious Harris was in some serious trouble. His bloody leg was broken. Thankfully not bad enough to break the skin, so I didn't have to smell his stinking blood, but bad enough he couldn't walk. His face had gone gray, which really doesn't do much to improve his looks. Anya was shivering and staring at me wide eyed.
In the snow there was no way he was making it home, or to the hospital.
"What'll we do?" she asked.
In the end the only place close enough to take shelter til the storm blew off was my crypt. Really hadn't fancied on playing Rescue 911, but there was nothing for it. Managed to haul him to his feet without setting off my chip, and Anya got him from the other side. I still ended up carrying most of his dead weight.
Snow picked up bad enough that I had to vamp just to see. Took sodding forever to haul them both through the graveyard and into the crypt. Least there we were out of the wind and the snow. Sat him in my chair and got some candles lit, then tried to suss out what to do.
"Where are we?" he said, looking about sort of dazed.
"Spike's crypt," Anya said, shivering. She looked at me. "I don't suppose you've got any heat?"
"Yeah, lemme just check the thermostat," I said.
"You don't have to be sarcastic," she said. "It's not helping. What about a fire?"
"I'll see what I can do," I said. Only thing I had that would burn were some of the busted up coffins down below. Took an axe to them and chopped them into kindling, careful to avoid flying splinters. Wasn't going to be much of a fire, but it'd do. Rigged up a pit in the corner out of some loose rubble, and used some whiskey to get the fire going.
Harris bitched the whole way over, with me half carrying him the whole time. Course, he yelled like a nancy-boy when I pulled out my switchblade.
"What are you doing?" he asked. Anya was hovering anxiously, twisting her little hands.
"Don't be a git," I said. "Need to get that leg set, so you don't accidentally send a bloody clot to your cholesterol padded heart." I slit his trouser leg up to his thigh and took a look at it. Wasn't that bad. I'd had worse. Hadn't broken the skin. Setting it was going to be a bitch, though. Hunted up some slats to use for splints, and some rags to tie it up with. Then I handed him a bottle of Jack.
"Drink up," I said. Then I downed half a flask of the stuff myself.
"You're going to set his leg drunk?" Anya asked.
"Take more than this to get me drunk, pet. And it's gonna hurt me a hell of a lot worse than him." They both looked confused for a moment, then the light dawned.
"You sure you know what you're doing?" Harris asked, after he'd downed as much of the JD as he could stand.
"Yeah," I said. "I know what I'm doing." Then I stuffed a piece of wood in his mouth for him to bite down on and set to work.
Wasn't lying, either. It hurt the whole bloody time. From the moment I grabbed his leg and started to pull it straight, the bleeding chip started firing worse than ever. Thought my sodding brains were going to boil right out my ears. Took everything I had to keep pulling through the pain. The feel of his bone settling back into place was a relief, and I let go as fast as I could.
I think I passed out for a mo', but I came round before he did.
Anyanka's face was white. "Are you okay?" she asked.
"Yeah," I said from the floor. "Give us a tick. Need to heal a few brain cells."
I'd done a number on my head this time. Good thing I'm already dead, I suppose.
"Do you need blood?" she asked.
"Fridge," I told her, then stared at the ceiling for a bit, 'til the dizziness passed. Heard her get up and go over to the fridge, then come back.
"Here," she said, handing me a blood pack. I didn't bother trying to be dainty. Just bit in and sucked it dry. Wasn't much, but I could feel it starting to work. "You didn't vamp," she said, as I sat up. I just blinked at her. "When you drank, you didn't vamp."
"Don't have to," I said, frowning, but she didn't bother explaining herself. Harris was still passed out, so I trussed his leg up best I could. After the bloody cataclysm in my skull from a few moments before, the little shocks I got from that were almost nothing. He started to come 'round about the time I was finishing. Didn't feel like listening to him whinge so I went back downstairs to fetch up some wood and a blanket and some pillows. They were whispering when I came back up.
"...No, Xander, it really hurt him. He fainted."
"Ahn, it doesn't make sense. Why would he save us?"
"I'm neither deaf nor stupid," I said, tossing the pillow and blankets at them. "Slayer would dust me in a heartbeat if I let anything happen to you. And I didn't faint, I passed out. Whole different thing."
"You didn't have to set my leg," Harris said, glaring at me. Wanker.
"Yeah, I did," I said. "'Cause my luck, you'd make it worse, and bleed all over my crypt, and every vamp for ten miles would be knocking on my door demanding a taste." I set the extra wood near the fire.
"We saw you," he said. "Talking to that demon. That was her, wasn't it? That Ice Demon we've been looking for?"
I started to say "yes." I did. But the bloody word caught in my throat. Sodding fucking curse. Wouldn't even let me talk when he knew what was what. The last thing I needed was to deny it, though. He'd know it was a lie and go back to the Slayer and then I'd be dust. "Don't know what you think you saw," I said carefully. "But I'm not double-crossing the Slayer."
"He was threatening her, Xander," Anya pointed out. Yeah. 'Least one of them has some bloody brains.
"Alright," he said. "Prove it. What do you know about her?"
I sighed, trying to reign in my temper. "Look, mate, I was out for a bloody walk. I don't know anything, except I'm beginning to wish I hadn't been so quick to rescue your stupid arse. Now why don't you shut your ungrateful gob and save your strength? Soon as the snow lets up, I'll dump you at the hospital and we can all go back to loathing each other properly."
"You expect me to believe that you were just... what? Out for a walk and happened to run into the demon we've been looking for for weeks now?" he said. "Spike, we live on a Hellmouth. There's no such thing as coincidence."
"I don't have to justify myself to you, Harris," I told him, getting up and heading to the fridge. My head still hurt, and some blood would calm the demon. "Think what you like."
Listened to them argue in whispers for a bit while I got something to eat. Harris was looking like he needed to pass out again soon, his girl looked worried. Finally she got up and came over to where I was sitting in my chair, watching them. "Um, we're really, really grateful for all your assistance. I know, Xander is being kind of... he's in a lot of pain," she gave me a small, embarrassed little smile. Interesting. Harris gets all flummoxed over her behaviour, and she's just as pained by his. "But we're very glad you didn't leave us to die. We just don't really understand why you didn't."
"Yeah, well, told you, Slayer would dust me if I did. Was just saving my own hide."
"Well, that's the thing, you see," she said, looking way too perceptive. "Buffy wouldn't have known you were there, if we were dead. You could have lied."
I glared at her. Trouble with glaring at a former demon is, they're generally not easily frightened.
On the other hand, she's probably the only one of the lot who could possibly understand.
"Do you ever... think about it?" I asked her. "All the death and destruction you caused, when you were a demon?"
She shrugged. "Well, sure. I was a demon for over a thousand years. I've only been human again for, what? Three?"
"You ever regret it?" I asked. Harris was watching us with interest. Didn't much care.
"No," she said. "Not really. Most of them had it coming. It's part of the job title. Vengeance usually means they did something to earn it."
"Anya," Harris said. He tried to sit up further, but it just made him wince.
"Well, they did," she said, watching me with an odd expression on her face. "Do you? Regret it?"
"No," I said, frowning. "Just... Never really thought about it, you know? But... Joyce dying..."
She sat down and looked at her hands. "Yeah...," she said. "I know what you mean."
"Makes it all a bit... different, don't it?" I said. Harris snorted. "What?"
"Oh, please," he said. "What? Buffy's mother dies and suddenly you've got a newfound appreciation for not killing people? Spike, you're a soulless demon—"
That got me out of my chair.
"I told you before, monkey boy, I liked the lady. She was decent and—"
"She was naive," he said, then let out a yelp when I threw a bottle across the crypt and it shattered against the wall. Wasn't anywhere near him, stupid git.
"You shut your gob. Not nice to speak ill of the dead. Especially Joyce. God you're such a fucking hypocrite," I said, getting angry. "Sittin there, mouthing off to me like you're so high and mighty just cause you've got a sodding soul? 'Least I've got an excuse for being an arsehole. What've you got?"
"Oh, right, like I should be taking lessons in manners from you, Fang Face," he said sneering.
"Stop it!" Anya said, getting between us. "Both of you. Just... stop. Okay?"
"He started it," he muttered.
"Should've let you freeze," I said.
"Stop," Anya said, and she sounded close to tears. Maybe that's why we both finally did. "Stop. Please. Can we just... accept that we all miss Joyce? She was nice. Kind. To everyone. That's... what made her special. It didn't matter to her if you were human or a ... a demon or a... human who used to be a demon. She was always kind and welcoming. And that's why it's so hard to think that she's gone and she won't be coming back."
"Ahn, we talked about this," Harris said, sounding... somewhat gentle towards the girl.
"Yes, but... I still don't understand it. Spike is right. A thousand years of death and destruction and... I'm still trying to understand why someone as good as Joyce deserved to die," she said, looking lost and forlorn.
"Nobody deserves to die," Harris said.
"Oh, I can think of a few," I said. "But Joyce didn't. Not like that. Not something so... ridiculous and mundane."
"You'd rather she'd been eaten?" he said, sarcastically.
"No, you berk. I'd rather she'd lived to a ripe old age. Just think it's a stupid way to die. Burst vessel in your brain. Walking along, just fine and then... you're dead. No chance to say goodbye, or finish up your business. Just... stupid."
"Tell that to everyone you've ever eaten," he said.
I snorted. "Yeah, well... I can't, can I? But..."
"It changes it, doesn't it?" Anya said, quietly. "How you think about it?"
"Yeah," I said, looking at her instead of Harris. She knew. "It does."
"So what? What're you saying, Spike? That if you got that chip out of your head tomorrow you wouldn't go around eating people?" he said, sneering.
"No," I said quietly, "I don't think I would." But I might make an exception for him.
"Spike," he said, "I think that last jolt to the brain scrambled something. Have you completely forgotten that you're a vampire? A killer? You don't just st—"
I growled. Couldn't help it. Then I deliberately vamped and got right in his face. He yelped and pushed back against the wall. "No," I said. "I haven't forgotten. I know exactly what I am."
Through the demon's eyes I watched the blood flood his face, watched the pulse in his throat pound. His heart was racing... lagging just a little. Give him another twenty years with his diet and it'd be worse. Could sense the blood pounding in his busted leg like a second heartbeat. Broken leg meant he’d be weak, slow, clumsy. Easy to pick off. His breathing was accelerating. Could smell the fear rising off him, the pain, the sweat, smelling a little like chicken and potatoes, hint of garlic and onion. Witches must have made him dinner. The demon purred hungrily, whispering about all the ways he could die that woudn't set off the chip hardly at all.
Just as deliberately, I shook it off and stood. "I choose to rise above it. You should know all about that, Harris. Just because nature says you've got to be one thing doesn't mean you have to listen to it. You gonna grow up and be just like your dear ol' da? A raging drunk who spends all his time putting down his woman? Going from one deadbeat job to the next?"
"He better not," Anya said.
"That's not the same thing," he said, but I could see the fear in his eyes. Yeah, he's afraid of it. Got a little monster inside of him, too, and it’s gonna destroy him if he doesn’t acknowledge it.
"No," I agreed. "It's not. 'Least I'm aware of my demon. You don't even realize what a hypocrite you are, do you? Sit and mock me for bloody well trying and make every excuse in the world for your girl there who's got ten times the blood on her hands than I do."
Anya shrugged and nodded.
"She's human now," he said.
"And that makes all the difference, does it? You heard her, Harris. She doesn't regret it. Bet if someone offered her her powers back she'd jump on it in a heartbeat. Wouldn't you, pet?" I said.
"Well," she said, looking a bit torn. "Yes. Probably. I hate being mortal. It's so... weak."
"Anya," Harris said, protesting.
"Well, it is," she said. "I don't want to grow old and get all wrinkly. Or die like Joyce did, from some stupid little brain thingie. And there's so much about being human that I don't understand. I try, and I try but... there are all these rules and situations. People saying 'You shouldn't ask those sorts of questions, Anya' or 'Humans don't talk like that, Anya' and I'm expected to know and I don't know anything."
"Ahn," Harris said. "Being evil isn't the answer."
"It's not that simple," she said. "Before... I had a job to do. A purpose. I was powerful. I righted wrongs. Sure I killed a few thousand men, inflicted diseases, destroyed lives. But I was happy."
"And you're not happy now?" he asked, looking hurt. "Being with me?"
"Oh, sweetie," she said, kneeling and putting her arms around him. If they started to snog I was going downstairs. "I am happy. Being with you makes me happy. Makes it easier. It gives me a reason to try." Suddenly she looked up at me. "Is that what you need? A Xander?"
"No," I said, but I was thinking of Buffy. I don't need one. I've already got a reason to change. I lit a cigarette, hoping they wouldn't see the truth.
"He'd need a soul," Harris said.
"What's a soul got to do with anything?" I said. "Look at you, all soul-having and still a total wanker."
"It's what tells you what's right and what's wrong," he said.
"Yeah, I get those mixed up all the time," I said. "Clearly, saving your arse and setting your leg was the wrong thing to do, because now I get to sit here and listen to you whinge at me for doing it. Not to mention getting my brains fried for helping."
"You only did that because you were being selfish," he said.
"Weren't you listening to your girl a moment ago? If I were being selfish, I'd have turned my back on you and left you to die. There's nothing about this situation that does me a lick of good," I said, trying not to growl.
"So why did you?" he said. "If we're such a pain in your ass, why did you? It couldn't have been because you knew it was the right thing to do, Spike."
"Because it was bloody instinct!" I said, surprising myself and him. I thought about that, for a moment, and realised it was true. It hadn't occurred to me to leave them. My demon hadn't cared much, one way or the other, but... the rest of me... Part of it was Buffy. I know that. Part of it was knowing that if something happened to Harris, she'd be hurt beyond repair. Part of it was just... hating Louhi, and wanting to do whatever I could to make her unhappy. And part of it... "There's been enough death here, lately."
We sat there for a bit, silent. I tossed some more wood on the fire, and we watched the flames grow. Outside the wind was still howling, and the windows were whited out with flakes. Looked like we were stuck with each other for the night.
Harris's leg was throbbing. Could feel it in my fangs and it was making them itch. Irritated, I got up and fetched another bottle of whiskey. "Here," I said, handing it down to him. Got to hand it to the boy, he was holding up to the pain better than expected. He regarded it warily. "If it makes you feel better we can call this contributing to the delinquency of a minor. That way it's properly evil, yeah?"
"Thanks," he said, and took the bottle.
I sat back down and lit another smoke. After a while curiosity got the better of me. I'd probably start another argument but anything was better than just sitting there, getting bored.
"Never could suss it out," I said, "why you hate vamps."
"You're soulless, evil killers," he said. "What's not to loathe?"
"Yeah, I get that," I said. "Just wondering why you seem to have an extra helping of it. You'd think a vamp ate your best friend or something." He shot me a look that pretty much said everything. "Oh, so that's it."
He glared. "No, that's not it. But...yeah, that's a front page feature."
"When?" I asked.
"Are we really talking about this?" he asked. I shrugged. "Fine. Right after Buffy came to Sunnydale. We... Darla lured Jesse out to the cemetery. Willow followed another vamp out there. Buffy and I ... we managed to rescue Will but..."
"Darla killed Jesse?" I asked.
"They took him down for the Master. Then they used him as bait to lure us there. They turned him," he said. "We... I dusted him. Sorta... on accident. At the Bronze."
Could almost picture it. Fucking Darla. "Lets have the rest of it, then. That only lit your wick."
"I live on the Hellmouth," he said. "It's like Joe's Apartment, only the cockroaches come with fangs and kill people. For every one of you we dust there's a dozen more."
"And then there's Angel," I said, seeing straight through him. Boy can protest as much as he wants, but it's not hard to see that most of his loathing is directed at Angel. And me, though I'm still trying to suss out why.
"And then there's Angel," he agreed, taking a long pull off the whiskey.
"You hate him, too," Anya said, finally speaking up. She'd been so quiet, only her heartbeat had told me she was listening. "Wasn't he your sire?"
"In a manner of speaking," I said, stubbing out my smoke and lighting another.
"You said he was your Yoda," Harris said. "That first night, in the school, when you came to kill Buffy. You said he was your Yoda." He was starting to slur a bit. "I remember, because, you know, between trying not to piss myself and worrying about Angel eating me I thought... hey, I didn't know vampires watched Star Wars."
"That was you?" I asked, frowning. I hadn't gotten too good a look at the kid Angelus had hauled in as bait, but come to think of it... "Yeah, well. Popular film, wasn't it? Should've seen it on the big screen. Bloody brilliant. 'Course that was before Lucas went and turned the Force into a bunch of bacteria and started filming everything with CGI."
"JarJar Binks," Harris said with a derisive snort.
"Don't get me started," I said.
"When's the next one due out?" he asked, leaning his head back against the wall.
"Next year, I think," I said.
"We were discussing Angel," Anya said, rolling her eyes. "Not your execrable taste in movies. I want to know why you hate him."
"You mean besides the fact that he's a total wanker?" I said.
"Manipulative jerkface," Harris grumbled.
"That too," I said.
"He really did a number on us," Harris said, staring at the fire. "First he was all, Mr. Cryptic, with the hints about apocalypses and showing up just to, you know, be mysterious. Then when Buffy went after the Master, I practically had to threaten him to get him to help, and even then he just stood there. I'm the one who saved her. But who did she turn to?"
"Lord Forehead," I said, pulling out my flask and taking a nip.
"You could sell ad space on it," he agreed.
"That was his gig, you know," I said, getting comfortable. "Even before the soul. Liked to follow his prey about, spy on them, pop up unexpectedly, manipulate them into trusting him then... start picking off everything they loved, one by one. Not just his prey, either. Did it to pretty much everyone."
"You?" Anya asked.
"Well, yeah," I said. "He didn't get to fuck with me before I died, so he took a lot of pleasure in making up for it after. Had nearly twenty years to twist my screws, didn't he?"
"Man," Harris shook his head, then looked a bit woozy. "Twenty years of living with Angel? I'd have staked myself."
"Thought about it," I admitted. "Couple of times. There was one morning... woke up to find him shagging Dru, right next to me in bed. Sight of his bare arse... I think I threw up a sumo wrestler."
"You two never...you know?" Anya said with a grin and that gleam she gets in her eyes when she starts talking about orgasms.
"If you answer that question I think I'm going to throw up a sumo wrestler," Harris said.
"Oh, come on," she said, pouting. "They hung out for twenty years! They're demons, not bigots. You have to wonder..."
"No," Harris said. "You don't have to wonder. In fact, wondering is totally overrated. I'm perfectly happy with blissful ignorance. Let's change the subject."
"Let's," I said.
Anya got quiet for a minute, then, "So does that mean yes?"
"ANYA!" Xander said, and she subsided, giggling. I just growled. There are some subjects not even I want to think about.
"So is that it, then?" I said. "The reason you hate vamps? This Jesse bloke and Angelus?"
"Mostly," Harris said. He scowled at me. "Cordelia almost died, because of you."
"Who?" I asked.
"His ex," Anya said, with a bit of heat. "The one who called me here because he couldn't keep his lips off Willow."
"You and Red?" I couldn't help a snicker. There was a mental image.
"So not the issue here, Bleach Boy," he said. "If you hadn't kidnapped us and dumped us in that busted up old factory, none of that would have happened. Not the... smooching or... or Cordy falling and getting ... getting..."
"She got shish-ke-babbed on a metal spike," Anya said. "Sort of appropriate, I guess."
"And then she dumped me and made my senior year miserable," Harris said.
"I was drunk," I said. "And it's not my fault you couldn't keep from snogging the witch. If you're gonna go about pointing fingers, make sure you use a mirror, chum. Might as well say it's Buffy's fault for coming to Sunnyhell in the first place."
"Actually, that's what Cordelia said," Anya said. "That was her wish. That Buffy hadn't ever come here."
Thought of that actually physically hurt. "Yeah? What'd that look like?" I said.
"Pretty much vampire paradise," she said. "Humans never went out at night. Everyone wore black and carried weapons. Willow and Xander were all fangy and worked for the Master. Almost everyone was dead. About what'd you'd imagine."
"Stupid," I muttered.
"Oh, come on," Harris said, leaning his head back and looking sleepy. "You can't tell me that's not what you dream about all day. A world run by vampires."
I rolled my eyes. "As a matter of fact," I said. "No, it's not. It'd be a bloody nightmare. Why do you think I teamed up with the Slayer to stop Angelus and Acathla? Wasn't all just to get Dru back. And a world run by the Master? I'd dust myself before scraping for old bat face. All ritual and bleeding virgins when the moon is in the seventh house and Jupiter aligns with Mars. No surprises. No fun. No people. Never understood all those 'let's destroy the world' wankers. What the fuck do they think they're going to eat when all the humans are dead or turned? And it's not like the demon world likes us any better. What'd Angelus think? That he was gonna get elevated to the Right Hand of Hell? Un-bloody-likely."
"I just figured it was because vampires are kinda dumb," Harris mumbled.
"Most are," I said. "Good thing for me that I got all the brains and the good looks in the family."
Only response I got to that was a snore. Harris was out like a light. Anyanka just shrugged and took the whiskey bottle out of his hand and sat it away from the fire. I ground out my cigarette.
"You're very strange, for a vampire," she said.
"Yeah," I said, staring at the flames. "I know."
She settled down beside the boy, and we listened to the wind howling outside.
When it stopped, abruptly, I opened my eyes. I was in dreamland, and Buffy was waiting for me.
She was sitting on the bed, looking confused and so lost it was all I could do not to wrap her in my arms right then and there. Her head swivelled in my direction and I realised she was dressed to go out. Coat, scarf, gloves, hat, boots, all her kit. Like a displaced snow bunny. "Hey," she said softly. "I guess I fell asleep, huh?"
Yes. I tapped against my thigh. She wasn't the only one not dressed for bed tonight. 'Least I'd gotten out of my duster. Would've been a dead giveaway, that.
I went over and sat on my side of the bed. She crawled up and sat against the headboard, so I did the same. First time since her mum died she wasn't crying. Step forward, yeah?
"I'm... Giles told me about this... vision quest thingy. It's... supposed to help me figure out some... stuff," she said. "But I guess I fell asleep. Some Slayer I am." With a little sigh she turned her face up toward mine. "Will you... can we just rest?"
There's almost nothing in the world I'd deny her. Certainly not that. Yes, I tapped. She snuggled into my side, wrapped her arms around me and got comfortable. After a bit, her arm drifted down to settle around my waist, and she sniffed a bit, as if cold, though how she could be cold when bundled up so heavy I don't know. Seemed to take awhile for her to fall asleep, and I was knackered enough, for once, that I drifted off about the same time.
I woke up to Anya leaning over me, reaching for a sharp piece of wood.
I caught her wrist. "Want to tell me what you're doing, pet?"
"The fire was dying out," she said, trying not to squirm. "I'm cold. You have wood."
"He better not have wood," I heard Harris mumble. I let the girl go and she scuttled back to his side.
"For the fire, Xander," she said. "Although, technically he is male, which means morning erect—" I threw a couple of coffin slats on the fire.
"Oi! No technically about it," I said.
"Do vampires even get morning erections?" Anya asked curiously. Harris groaned and stuffed his pillow over his face. "I mean, usually they're caused by an increased need to urinate, but since vampires don't—"
"Ahn," Harris muttered from under his pillow. "Hangover here and mucho pain. Do you think we could refrain from talking about ... that before I barf?" He wasn't lying. Could hear the gurgles in his stomach from where I was. Not to mention the rumblies in the girl's.
Went over to the fridge and checked the contents. Blood. More blood. Couple of beers. Burba weed. Box of wheetabix. Peanut butter. A take home box of curried chicken from a couple of weeks ago that was starting to turn. Left the chicken to claw out of its grave on its own and grabbed the peanut butter.
"Here," I said. "Eat something." Harris peeked out from under his pillow.
"Does it have blood in it?" he asked, squinting against the firelight and looking a bit green.
"Just Mr. Peanut's," I said. He gingerly sat up and took it from me, then almost drooled into the jar when he opened it.
"Got a spoon?" he asked.
"Do I look like Martha fucking Stewart?" I said. "Use your bloody fingers." Boy has the manners of a monkey, the way he tucked in. Went over to the crypt door and opened it carefully. Snow had stopped, but the sun was up.
"What time is it?" Anya asked.
"'Bout eleven or so," I said, squinting against the light. Luckily the sun was high enough it didn't poke over the threshold, but it was bouncing off all that snow and painful to look at. I shut the door. "Snow's stopped, but I can't move you till dark. Any idea when the Slayer's supposed to be back?"
"Sometime soon," Harris mumbled around a mouthful of peanut butter. "Was just supposed to be some overnight thing."
"I could go for help," Anya said.
"And leave me here with him?" Harris said.
"Oh, bloody hell. If I were going to eat you, I'd have done it already, you pillock," I said. What had I expected, after all? Save Princess Peach's neck and get his gratitude?
"I just meant...," he said, then flushed and trailed off. "I just meant that we don't really like each other very much."
"Mutual," I said. "But I think if I can refrain from killing you this long another hour or so isn't going to matter."
'Course, at that moment, the crypt door slammed open.
"Spike! Xander and Anya are—" Buffy said, flying in with a look of panic on her face. "...here? Oh." She halted beside me and took in the sight of Harris and Anya cuddled by the fire. Realised she was still wearing her full get up from the night before. Must've gotten home and rushed straight out to look for them. One thing you can always count on, if her friends are in trouble, Slayer will always rush to their rescue.
"Hey Buff," Harris said around a mouthful of peanut butter.
"Buffy! Oh, thank god. Now I won't have to go looking for you. It's very cold out there," Anya said. "Xander broke his leg."
"What?" she hurried over to check on Harris. "Why didn't you go to the hospital? Willow and Tara have been going crazy. They said you didn't check in last night, and then there was that big storm and... they tried a locator spell but something fizzled. We called the hospital and your apartment. What happened?"
Harris and Anya both shot me a glance, which the Slayer followed.
"Bloody hell," I muttered and went to find something to drink.
"Spike?" she said, her eyes narrowing in my direction. Something caught her attention and she froze, staring at me, her eyes drifting south. Her face went white.
"What?" I asked. Whatever erection I'd had when I woke I'd gotten control over before I'd even stood up. Wasn't any reason for her to look so shocked.
“Ah... Um...What happened, last night?” she stammered, still staring at me.
Fuck. Don’t know why I test it every damn time she asks. Know by now that I can’t say anything. Still, got to try, yeah? Didn’t matter, of course, Louhi’s magical muzzle always seems to know when I’m abut to start yapping.
“Well, we finally found our ice demon,” Harris piped up, mouth full of peanut butter. “And guess what? She was chatting with Resident Evil here.”
Bloody hell. Knew he wasn’t gonna let that go.
“What?” she asked, glancing back and forth between us. Least she seemed willing to hear it out.
“Not how it sounds, Slayer,” I said.
“No, that’s just how it looked,” Harris said.
“I saved your life, you dumb git,” I growled, wishing I could throttle him. Do the right thing for once and the stupid plonker still looks for a way to twist it round and blame old Spike.
“Too bad you put it in danger in the first place,” he said.
“And I let you drink my whiskey—”
“Are either of you going to tell Buffy what happened or are you going to keep comparing penis length? Because I don’t mind playing judge so we can get it over with. I’m cold and I’m tired, and I want to get Xander to the hospital and then go home and shower and go check on the store. I’m losing out on sales, here, you know,” Anya jumped in.
Buffy and Harris both blinked at her, too gobsmacked to reply to that, I suppose.
"We were patrolling," Anya said, then went on to fill in the Slayer with the events of last night. 'Least her report stuck to the facts. Harris would have tried to spin it. When she finished up, Buffy was standing with her arms crossed, staring between the three of us in disbelief.
"So... let me get this straight," she said, sounding more like herself than she has in weeks. "You guys ran into Spike, who was threatening our MIA demon chick. She sent her henchman guy out to kill you two, he broke Xander's leg, and... Spike fought him off, then brought you guys here to get out of the storm?"
"And he set Xander's leg," Anya said. "It made Spike pass out and gave him a nose bleed. Spike, not Xander. Xander just passed out."
Buffy just blinked. "And... you guys are still here because?"
"Stormed all night and then there was the little matter of the blazing ball of death up in the sky," I said.
Watched her think things through. Half expected her to call in the paramedics, which would have been a mess. Try explaining to the city officials why I'm living in a converted crypt. Be out on my ears in broad daylight. Not a good option. She surprised me, though. "Okay... we need transportation. Anya, can you drive Xander's car?"
"Sure," she said.
"A world of no," Harris said, going, if possible, even more green about the gills. "Not on icy streets." Anya just shrugged.
"I've got a car," I said before I could talk myself out it. They all turned and looked at me. "What? I do. And I can get to it without the sodding sun being a problem. Just can't get the man who came to dinner here in it."
"I can do that," Buffy said, giving me a considering look. "If you can pull it up to the gates?"
"Yeah," I said, and went to fetch the DeSoto. Anything that got them out of there. Harris may have left off in the harsh light of day, but I figured it was only a matter of time before they started in on me, asking questions about the White Witch I couldn't possibly answer.
By the time I'd gotten around to the gates, they were waiting. Buffy popped the backdoor and poked her head in. I shifted to avoid the light leaking in around her.
"This is the ugliest car I've ever seen," she said. She looked at the blacked out windows. "How can you even see?"
"It's a classic, Slayer, and you're letting the light in. Mind shoving the boy in so we can be off? Passions is coming on soon." She huffed a little sigh, then helped Harris slide in, propping his busted leg on the seat. Anya wedged herself in back beside him and Buffy came round to the passenger's side. With some disgust she pushed a couple of liquor bottles to the floor and climbed in.
Didn't take long to get them to hospital, would've been faster if it hadn't been for some of the roads still being blocked up with snow. Buffy spent most of the time shooting me curious glances. Pulled round to the patient drop off and the Slayer bundled the others out, then poked her head back in. "Stay here, Spike."
I would've anyway, but she didn't need to know that. "I'm not your bleeding taxi," I told her.
"I want to talk to you," she said. "I'm just going to get him in and checked in, then I need a ride home. Thirty minutes, tops."
"Magic words, Slayer," I growled.
"Please, Spike," she said, and sounded like she meant it. I set the brake, and turned on the radio.
True to her word, she was back out in under thirty. Trouble was, I was getting more and more nervous. About jumped through the roof when she opened the door and climbed in. I pulled out of the drive before she could start in on me.
"How old is this car?" she asked after a few.
"Forty years or so, give or take," I said. If she wanted to talk about the car, that was better than asking questions I couldn't answer.
"How long have you had it?" she asked, looking at the muck on the dashboard, the bottles of liquor, and the cans of black spray paint I keep handy. Should've cleaned it out ages ago but... wasn't exactly a priority. How was I to know I'd be chauffeuring the Slayer about?
"'Bout that long," I said. "Got a demon friend who keeps it for me, when I'm out of the country. Gives it new tags every few years or so, keeps the engine purring like a kitten."
"You gonna tell me about what the Ice Queen wanted?" she asked out of nowhere. Bloody hell.
"Was standing right there when Anyanka told you," I said, stepping careful and trying not to choke on the words. "No point in me rehashing it. I can't tell you anything different."
She stared at me awhile longer. Long enough for me to pull up in front of her house. She didn't get out though, just sat there, watching me. "What?" I asked, glaring.
"They said you did a good job, setting his leg," she said.
"Set my own, time or two," I said, frowning at her.
"Why'd you do it, Spike?" she asked. "I know you and Xander can't stand each other. Rescuing him... setting his leg in spite of the chip. Anya said you blacked out for almost half an hour. Why did you do it? I want the truth."
I stared out the peephole in the windscreen at the sun-drenched street. It'd been a long night, I was knackered, hungry, and tired of having to explain myself to humans who wouldn't get it. Tired of... hiding in the dark. Didn't look at her then, couldn't.
"I knew... it would destroy you," I said quietly. "If you lost him, on top of your mum... He's a wanker, and we're never gonna be bosom friends, but... I couldn't just leave him to die. "
"Spike," she said. Something in her voice made me turn and look. She had the oddest expression on her face. Like she saw right through me with those big green eyes. Made me panic a bit.
"Don't make a thing of it, Slayer," I warned her, prepared to lie my bloody head off if she started accusing me of... well... the truth.
But she didn't.
She leaned in, then, and kissed me.
This soft, sweet little kiss.
Wasn't much more than a chaste peck, but... god... I had to fist my hands to keep from reaching for her. It was... like touching sunshine, only it didn't hurt at all. Warm, so gloriously warm. Is this what hope tastes like? I pulled back first, afraid... afraid it was a dream or, worse, that it wasn't and I'd dive back in for more and end up with her fist in my face instead.
"Thanks," she said. Her eyes... god, those eyes. "I won't forget it, Spike," she said.
Then she got out of the car and went inside, leaving me to sit there, confused as hell and wondering what exactly had just happened.
***
All in the time when Earth did most deplore
The cold, ungracious aspect of young May,
Sweet Summer came, and bade him smile once more;
She wove bright garlands, and in winsome play
She bound him willing captive. Day by day
She found new wiles wherewith his heart to please;
Or bright the sun, or if the skies were gray,
They laughed together, under spreading trees,
By running brooks, or on the sandy shores of seas.
They were but comrades. To that radiant maid
No serious word he spake; no lovers’ plea.
Like careless children, glad and unafraid,
They sported in their opulence of glee.
Her shining tresses floated wild and free;
In simple lines her emerald garments hung;
She was both good to hear, and fair to see;
And when she laughed, then Earth laughed too, and flung
His cares behind him, and grew radiant and young.
One golden day, as he reclined beneath
The arching azure of enchanting skies,
Fair Summer came, engirdled with a wreath
Of gorgeous leaves all scintillant with dyes.
Effulgent was she; yet within her eyes,
There hung a quivering mist of tears unshed.
Her crimson-mantled bosom shook with sighs;
Above him bent the glory of her head;
And on his mouth she pressed a splendid kiss, and fled.
-Edna Wheeler Wilcox
"Summer's Farewell"
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* and Science
*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."
Strength To Endure
14 March 2001
God, I'm knackered, but... I ought to write this down now.
It's been a bloody long night.
Should have known Louhi was just biding her time. I'd gone out to check on Buffy but... she wasn't home. The witches were at her house, talking loud enough I could catch their conversation through the window. Something about Buffy being on a quest of some sort with the Watcher. They mentioned that Harris and Anya were out on patrol so I figured I'd shank it out to the graveyards and keep tabs on them. Harris couldn't find the sharp end of a stake if it were shoved up his arse.
Didn't find Harris, though, when I got to Restfield. Instead, I found Louhi and Jack, waiting for me.
"I've missed you, my prince," she said. I kept a sharp eye on her and Jack and a careful distance. I'd learned my lesson last time about rushing her. Was wishing for a crossbow, but all I had on me was a stake and a pocketknife. Not the best weapons for taking her out when she could do that little freeze trick of hers.
"Absence makes the heart grow fonder," I said. "So why don't you sod off?"
"Is that any way to speak to your queen?" she said. She pouted. I wanted to heave.
"Look, you dozy bint, in case it's escaped your notice, I'm not much of one for obeying any sort of authority. If you try to make me kneel, I'll rip off your legs and use them to bash your brains in," I said. I will, too.
She laughed.
"Why do you think I will take such pleasure in breaking you, pretty vampire?" she said. "It won't be long, now. Where is your Slayer, tonight? I'd so hoped to meet her. I wanted to give her my condolences on the loss of her mother. Such a tragedy. Mortals are just so fragile..."
"Did you touch her mum?" I growled. "Was it you?" I'd have killed her, right then, right there. I don't know how, but I'd have found a way.
"Ah, I wish I could take the credit, but no," she said. "Just fortunate coincidence. And speaking of..."
She half turned, and that's when I caught it. The old sock stench of Doritos on the breeze, with an under-lying scent of sweat, sawdust, and Harris's cheap cologne. It almost masked the demon girl's scent: perfume, soap, shampoo, and paper money. They were near, probably watching.
"It seems we have company," the White Witch said. "Friends of yours?"
"Hardly," I said trying to suss out a way to get them out of there before she could tear them apart.
"Then you won't mind if I play with them a bit, will you?" she said, turning to her lackey. "Jack... kill them slow. I want to enjoy their pain."
He grinned and then melted into the snow. Snarling, I took off at a run. I don't know why she let me go, maybe just to see what I'd do. Didn't matter.
They were hiding behind the bushes at the edge of the cemetery. "Spike, you are so dust—" Harris said, smugly.
"No time for small talk," I told him. "You need to get out of here."
"Why?" he said with a smirk, "so you can finish double-crossing Buffy ? I saw you—"
"I don't know why I bother," I said and shoved him headfirst into a snowdrift, just as Jack's sword went whistling past the place where Harris' thick neck was. Set off the chip, but at least he kept his head on. I shook off the pain as fast as I could.
Jack stood in front of me, wielding a wicked edged sword that looked like it was made of ice. If so, it was the strongest stuff I'd ever seen. I grabbed a no parking sign and ripped it loose from the ground. Would have to do. He came at me, grinning and showing off all those icicle teeth.
We played for a bit, sword against steel pole. He was good, but I was better. Stronger, too. Only took a couple of minutes to disarm him, then it was all fists. But when he managed to knock me back into the fence, he turned on Harris and Anya. Took me a minute to untangle myself from the bushes, but it was a minute too long. I heard them both scream, then Harris hit the ground, clutching at his leg. Jack had picked up my discarded sign and stood over him, ready to bring it down, the sharp edge of the sign gleaming like an axe.
Managed to grab a hold of it from behind and wrench it out of his hands, but he turned under my guard and clocked me solid under the chin. Didn't send me back as far, and I was back on him before he'd even finished raising his hand to backhand Anya, who was crouching over Harris, trying to protect him. Brave little bird.
About that time, it started to snow.
Frosty and I went a few rounds, but it was obvious that as much as he enjoyed beating on me, I wasn't what he was after. Didn't seem to matter how much damage I did to him, he just kept coming. Finally I managed to scoop up his bloody sword... and if it wasn't ice, it was doing a bloody good job of imitating it, frostbit my hands just holding it for a few moments— and got between him and the humans. Harris had managed to drag his fat carcass up against the fence, and had Anya half behind him. Was as good a place for a stand off as any.
Ol' Jack didn't like me having his sword. He feinted a time or two, but I was ready for him the third time and managed to slice him good, from shoulder to hip. His blood was almost as blue as his hair, and it stank of stagnant water and dead fish. Enough to turn a vamp's stomach.
Don't know if it was enough to kill him, but he did snarl and pull his melting trick in order to vanish. Took the sword with him.
I waited for a mo' to see if he'd come back, but I figured it'd take some time for him to recoup. The snow was coming harder by then, and when I turned back it was obvious Harris was in some serious trouble. His bloody leg was broken. Thankfully not bad enough to break the skin, so I didn't have to smell his stinking blood, but bad enough he couldn't walk. His face had gone gray, which really doesn't do much to improve his looks. Anya was shivering and staring at me wide eyed.
In the snow there was no way he was making it home, or to the hospital.
"What'll we do?" she asked.
In the end the only place close enough to take shelter til the storm blew off was my crypt. Really hadn't fancied on playing Rescue 911, but there was nothing for it. Managed to haul him to his feet without setting off my chip, and Anya got him from the other side. I still ended up carrying most of his dead weight.
Snow picked up bad enough that I had to vamp just to see. Took sodding forever to haul them both through the graveyard and into the crypt. Least there we were out of the wind and the snow. Sat him in my chair and got some candles lit, then tried to suss out what to do.
"Where are we?" he said, looking about sort of dazed.
"Spike's crypt," Anya said, shivering. She looked at me. "I don't suppose you've got any heat?"
"Yeah, lemme just check the thermostat," I said.
"You don't have to be sarcastic," she said. "It's not helping. What about a fire?"
"I'll see what I can do," I said. Only thing I had that would burn were some of the busted up coffins down below. Took an axe to them and chopped them into kindling, careful to avoid flying splinters. Wasn't going to be much of a fire, but it'd do. Rigged up a pit in the corner out of some loose rubble, and used some whiskey to get the fire going.
Harris bitched the whole way over, with me half carrying him the whole time. Course, he yelled like a nancy-boy when I pulled out my switchblade.
"What are you doing?" he asked. Anya was hovering anxiously, twisting her little hands.
"Don't be a git," I said. "Need to get that leg set, so you don't accidentally send a bloody clot to your cholesterol padded heart." I slit his trouser leg up to his thigh and took a look at it. Wasn't that bad. I'd had worse. Hadn't broken the skin. Setting it was going to be a bitch, though. Hunted up some slats to use for splints, and some rags to tie it up with. Then I handed him a bottle of Jack.
"Drink up," I said. Then I downed half a flask of the stuff myself.
"You're going to set his leg drunk?" Anya asked.
"Take more than this to get me drunk, pet. And it's gonna hurt me a hell of a lot worse than him." They both looked confused for a moment, then the light dawned.
"You sure you know what you're doing?" Harris asked, after he'd downed as much of the JD as he could stand.
"Yeah," I said. "I know what I'm doing." Then I stuffed a piece of wood in his mouth for him to bite down on and set to work.
Wasn't lying, either. It hurt the whole bloody time. From the moment I grabbed his leg and started to pull it straight, the bleeding chip started firing worse than ever. Thought my sodding brains were going to boil right out my ears. Took everything I had to keep pulling through the pain. The feel of his bone settling back into place was a relief, and I let go as fast as I could.
I think I passed out for a mo', but I came round before he did.
Anyanka's face was white. "Are you okay?" she asked.
"Yeah," I said from the floor. "Give us a tick. Need to heal a few brain cells."
I'd done a number on my head this time. Good thing I'm already dead, I suppose.
"Do you need blood?" she asked.
"Fridge," I told her, then stared at the ceiling for a bit, 'til the dizziness passed. Heard her get up and go over to the fridge, then come back.
"Here," she said, handing me a blood pack. I didn't bother trying to be dainty. Just bit in and sucked it dry. Wasn't much, but I could feel it starting to work. "You didn't vamp," she said, as I sat up. I just blinked at her. "When you drank, you didn't vamp."
"Don't have to," I said, frowning, but she didn't bother explaining herself. Harris was still passed out, so I trussed his leg up best I could. After the bloody cataclysm in my skull from a few moments before, the little shocks I got from that were almost nothing. He started to come 'round about the time I was finishing. Didn't feel like listening to him whinge so I went back downstairs to fetch up some wood and a blanket and some pillows. They were whispering when I came back up.
"...No, Xander, it really hurt him. He fainted."
"Ahn, it doesn't make sense. Why would he save us?"
"I'm neither deaf nor stupid," I said, tossing the pillow and blankets at them. "Slayer would dust me in a heartbeat if I let anything happen to you. And I didn't faint, I passed out. Whole different thing."
"You didn't have to set my leg," Harris said, glaring at me. Wanker.
"Yeah, I did," I said. "'Cause my luck, you'd make it worse, and bleed all over my crypt, and every vamp for ten miles would be knocking on my door demanding a taste." I set the extra wood near the fire.
"We saw you," he said. "Talking to that demon. That was her, wasn't it? That Ice Demon we've been looking for?"
I started to say "yes." I did. But the bloody word caught in my throat. Sodding fucking curse. Wouldn't even let me talk when he knew what was what. The last thing I needed was to deny it, though. He'd know it was a lie and go back to the Slayer and then I'd be dust. "Don't know what you think you saw," I said carefully. "But I'm not double-crossing the Slayer."
"He was threatening her, Xander," Anya pointed out. Yeah. 'Least one of them has some bloody brains.
"Alright," he said. "Prove it. What do you know about her?"
I sighed, trying to reign in my temper. "Look, mate, I was out for a bloody walk. I don't know anything, except I'm beginning to wish I hadn't been so quick to rescue your stupid arse. Now why don't you shut your ungrateful gob and save your strength? Soon as the snow lets up, I'll dump you at the hospital and we can all go back to loathing each other properly."
"You expect me to believe that you were just... what? Out for a walk and happened to run into the demon we've been looking for for weeks now?" he said. "Spike, we live on a Hellmouth. There's no such thing as coincidence."
"I don't have to justify myself to you, Harris," I told him, getting up and heading to the fridge. My head still hurt, and some blood would calm the demon. "Think what you like."
Listened to them argue in whispers for a bit while I got something to eat. Harris was looking like he needed to pass out again soon, his girl looked worried. Finally she got up and came over to where I was sitting in my chair, watching them. "Um, we're really, really grateful for all your assistance. I know, Xander is being kind of... he's in a lot of pain," she gave me a small, embarrassed little smile. Interesting. Harris gets all flummoxed over her behaviour, and she's just as pained by his. "But we're very glad you didn't leave us to die. We just don't really understand why you didn't."
"Yeah, well, told you, Slayer would dust me if I did. Was just saving my own hide."
"Well, that's the thing, you see," she said, looking way too perceptive. "Buffy wouldn't have known you were there, if we were dead. You could have lied."
I glared at her. Trouble with glaring at a former demon is, they're generally not easily frightened.
On the other hand, she's probably the only one of the lot who could possibly understand.
"Do you ever... think about it?" I asked her. "All the death and destruction you caused, when you were a demon?"
She shrugged. "Well, sure. I was a demon for over a thousand years. I've only been human again for, what? Three?"
"You ever regret it?" I asked. Harris was watching us with interest. Didn't much care.
"No," she said. "Not really. Most of them had it coming. It's part of the job title. Vengeance usually means they did something to earn it."
"Anya," Harris said. He tried to sit up further, but it just made him wince.
"Well, they did," she said, watching me with an odd expression on her face. "Do you? Regret it?"
"No," I said, frowning. "Just... Never really thought about it, you know? But... Joyce dying..."
She sat down and looked at her hands. "Yeah...," she said. "I know what you mean."
"Makes it all a bit... different, don't it?" I said. Harris snorted. "What?"
"Oh, please," he said. "What? Buffy's mother dies and suddenly you've got a newfound appreciation for not killing people? Spike, you're a soulless demon—"
That got me out of my chair.
"I told you before, monkey boy, I liked the lady. She was decent and—"
"She was naive," he said, then let out a yelp when I threw a bottle across the crypt and it shattered against the wall. Wasn't anywhere near him, stupid git.
"You shut your gob. Not nice to speak ill of the dead. Especially Joyce. God you're such a fucking hypocrite," I said, getting angry. "Sittin there, mouthing off to me like you're so high and mighty just cause you've got a sodding soul? 'Least I've got an excuse for being an arsehole. What've you got?"
"Oh, right, like I should be taking lessons in manners from you, Fang Face," he said sneering.
"Stop it!" Anya said, getting between us. "Both of you. Just... stop. Okay?"
"He started it," he muttered.
"Should've let you freeze," I said.
"Stop," Anya said, and she sounded close to tears. Maybe that's why we both finally did. "Stop. Please. Can we just... accept that we all miss Joyce? She was nice. Kind. To everyone. That's... what made her special. It didn't matter to her if you were human or a ... a demon or a... human who used to be a demon. She was always kind and welcoming. And that's why it's so hard to think that she's gone and she won't be coming back."
"Ahn, we talked about this," Harris said, sounding... somewhat gentle towards the girl.
"Yes, but... I still don't understand it. Spike is right. A thousand years of death and destruction and... I'm still trying to understand why someone as good as Joyce deserved to die," she said, looking lost and forlorn.
"Nobody deserves to die," Harris said.
"Oh, I can think of a few," I said. "But Joyce didn't. Not like that. Not something so... ridiculous and mundane."
"You'd rather she'd been eaten?" he said, sarcastically.
"No, you berk. I'd rather she'd lived to a ripe old age. Just think it's a stupid way to die. Burst vessel in your brain. Walking along, just fine and then... you're dead. No chance to say goodbye, or finish up your business. Just... stupid."
"Tell that to everyone you've ever eaten," he said.
I snorted. "Yeah, well... I can't, can I? But..."
"It changes it, doesn't it?" Anya said, quietly. "How you think about it?"
"Yeah," I said, looking at her instead of Harris. She knew. "It does."
"So what? What're you saying, Spike? That if you got that chip out of your head tomorrow you wouldn't go around eating people?" he said, sneering.
"No," I said quietly, "I don't think I would." But I might make an exception for him.
"Spike," he said, "I think that last jolt to the brain scrambled something. Have you completely forgotten that you're a vampire? A killer? You don't just st—"
I growled. Couldn't help it. Then I deliberately vamped and got right in his face. He yelped and pushed back against the wall. "No," I said. "I haven't forgotten. I know exactly what I am."
Through the demon's eyes I watched the blood flood his face, watched the pulse in his throat pound. His heart was racing... lagging just a little. Give him another twenty years with his diet and it'd be worse. Could sense the blood pounding in his busted leg like a second heartbeat. Broken leg meant he’d be weak, slow, clumsy. Easy to pick off. His breathing was accelerating. Could smell the fear rising off him, the pain, the sweat, smelling a little like chicken and potatoes, hint of garlic and onion. Witches must have made him dinner. The demon purred hungrily, whispering about all the ways he could die that woudn't set off the chip hardly at all.
Just as deliberately, I shook it off and stood. "I choose to rise above it. You should know all about that, Harris. Just because nature says you've got to be one thing doesn't mean you have to listen to it. You gonna grow up and be just like your dear ol' da? A raging drunk who spends all his time putting down his woman? Going from one deadbeat job to the next?"
"He better not," Anya said.
"That's not the same thing," he said, but I could see the fear in his eyes. Yeah, he's afraid of it. Got a little monster inside of him, too, and it’s gonna destroy him if he doesn’t acknowledge it.
"No," I agreed. "It's not. 'Least I'm aware of my demon. You don't even realize what a hypocrite you are, do you? Sit and mock me for bloody well trying and make every excuse in the world for your girl there who's got ten times the blood on her hands than I do."
Anya shrugged and nodded.
"She's human now," he said.
"And that makes all the difference, does it? You heard her, Harris. She doesn't regret it. Bet if someone offered her her powers back she'd jump on it in a heartbeat. Wouldn't you, pet?" I said.
"Well," she said, looking a bit torn. "Yes. Probably. I hate being mortal. It's so... weak."
"Anya," Harris said, protesting.
"Well, it is," she said. "I don't want to grow old and get all wrinkly. Or die like Joyce did, from some stupid little brain thingie. And there's so much about being human that I don't understand. I try, and I try but... there are all these rules and situations. People saying 'You shouldn't ask those sorts of questions, Anya' or 'Humans don't talk like that, Anya' and I'm expected to know and I don't know anything."
"Ahn," Harris said. "Being evil isn't the answer."
"It's not that simple," she said. "Before... I had a job to do. A purpose. I was powerful. I righted wrongs. Sure I killed a few thousand men, inflicted diseases, destroyed lives. But I was happy."
"And you're not happy now?" he asked, looking hurt. "Being with me?"
"Oh, sweetie," she said, kneeling and putting her arms around him. If they started to snog I was going downstairs. "I am happy. Being with you makes me happy. Makes it easier. It gives me a reason to try." Suddenly she looked up at me. "Is that what you need? A Xander?"
"No," I said, but I was thinking of Buffy. I don't need one. I've already got a reason to change. I lit a cigarette, hoping they wouldn't see the truth.
"He'd need a soul," Harris said.
"What's a soul got to do with anything?" I said. "Look at you, all soul-having and still a total wanker."
"It's what tells you what's right and what's wrong," he said.
"Yeah, I get those mixed up all the time," I said. "Clearly, saving your arse and setting your leg was the wrong thing to do, because now I get to sit here and listen to you whinge at me for doing it. Not to mention getting my brains fried for helping."
"You only did that because you were being selfish," he said.
"Weren't you listening to your girl a moment ago? If I were being selfish, I'd have turned my back on you and left you to die. There's nothing about this situation that does me a lick of good," I said, trying not to growl.
"So why did you?" he said. "If we're such a pain in your ass, why did you? It couldn't have been because you knew it was the right thing to do, Spike."
"Because it was bloody instinct!" I said, surprising myself and him. I thought about that, for a moment, and realised it was true. It hadn't occurred to me to leave them. My demon hadn't cared much, one way or the other, but... the rest of me... Part of it was Buffy. I know that. Part of it was knowing that if something happened to Harris, she'd be hurt beyond repair. Part of it was just... hating Louhi, and wanting to do whatever I could to make her unhappy. And part of it... "There's been enough death here, lately."
We sat there for a bit, silent. I tossed some more wood on the fire, and we watched the flames grow. Outside the wind was still howling, and the windows were whited out with flakes. Looked like we were stuck with each other for the night.
Harris's leg was throbbing. Could feel it in my fangs and it was making them itch. Irritated, I got up and fetched another bottle of whiskey. "Here," I said, handing it down to him. Got to hand it to the boy, he was holding up to the pain better than expected. He regarded it warily. "If it makes you feel better we can call this contributing to the delinquency of a minor. That way it's properly evil, yeah?"
"Thanks," he said, and took the bottle.
I sat back down and lit another smoke. After a while curiosity got the better of me. I'd probably start another argument but anything was better than just sitting there, getting bored.
"Never could suss it out," I said, "why you hate vamps."
"You're soulless, evil killers," he said. "What's not to loathe?"
"Yeah, I get that," I said. "Just wondering why you seem to have an extra helping of it. You'd think a vamp ate your best friend or something." He shot me a look that pretty much said everything. "Oh, so that's it."
He glared. "No, that's not it. But...yeah, that's a front page feature."
"When?" I asked.
"Are we really talking about this?" he asked. I shrugged. "Fine. Right after Buffy came to Sunnydale. We... Darla lured Jesse out to the cemetery. Willow followed another vamp out there. Buffy and I ... we managed to rescue Will but..."
"Darla killed Jesse?" I asked.
"They took him down for the Master. Then they used him as bait to lure us there. They turned him," he said. "We... I dusted him. Sorta... on accident. At the Bronze."
Could almost picture it. Fucking Darla. "Lets have the rest of it, then. That only lit your wick."
"I live on the Hellmouth," he said. "It's like Joe's Apartment, only the cockroaches come with fangs and kill people. For every one of you we dust there's a dozen more."
"And then there's Angel," I said, seeing straight through him. Boy can protest as much as he wants, but it's not hard to see that most of his loathing is directed at Angel. And me, though I'm still trying to suss out why.
"And then there's Angel," he agreed, taking a long pull off the whiskey.
"You hate him, too," Anya said, finally speaking up. She'd been so quiet, only her heartbeat had told me she was listening. "Wasn't he your sire?"
"In a manner of speaking," I said, stubbing out my smoke and lighting another.
"You said he was your Yoda," Harris said. "That first night, in the school, when you came to kill Buffy. You said he was your Yoda." He was starting to slur a bit. "I remember, because, you know, between trying not to piss myself and worrying about Angel eating me I thought... hey, I didn't know vampires watched Star Wars."
"That was you?" I asked, frowning. I hadn't gotten too good a look at the kid Angelus had hauled in as bait, but come to think of it... "Yeah, well. Popular film, wasn't it? Should've seen it on the big screen. Bloody brilliant. 'Course that was before Lucas went and turned the Force into a bunch of bacteria and started filming everything with CGI."
"JarJar Binks," Harris said with a derisive snort.
"Don't get me started," I said.
"When's the next one due out?" he asked, leaning his head back against the wall.
"Next year, I think," I said.
"We were discussing Angel," Anya said, rolling her eyes. "Not your execrable taste in movies. I want to know why you hate him."
"You mean besides the fact that he's a total wanker?" I said.
"Manipulative jerkface," Harris grumbled.
"That too," I said.
"He really did a number on us," Harris said, staring at the fire. "First he was all, Mr. Cryptic, with the hints about apocalypses and showing up just to, you know, be mysterious. Then when Buffy went after the Master, I practically had to threaten him to get him to help, and even then he just stood there. I'm the one who saved her. But who did she turn to?"
"Lord Forehead," I said, pulling out my flask and taking a nip.
"You could sell ad space on it," he agreed.
"That was his gig, you know," I said, getting comfortable. "Even before the soul. Liked to follow his prey about, spy on them, pop up unexpectedly, manipulate them into trusting him then... start picking off everything they loved, one by one. Not just his prey, either. Did it to pretty much everyone."
"You?" Anya asked.
"Well, yeah," I said. "He didn't get to fuck with me before I died, so he took a lot of pleasure in making up for it after. Had nearly twenty years to twist my screws, didn't he?"
"Man," Harris shook his head, then looked a bit woozy. "Twenty years of living with Angel? I'd have staked myself."
"Thought about it," I admitted. "Couple of times. There was one morning... woke up to find him shagging Dru, right next to me in bed. Sight of his bare arse... I think I threw up a sumo wrestler."
"You two never...you know?" Anya said with a grin and that gleam she gets in her eyes when she starts talking about orgasms.
"If you answer that question I think I'm going to throw up a sumo wrestler," Harris said.
"Oh, come on," she said, pouting. "They hung out for twenty years! They're demons, not bigots. You have to wonder..."
"No," Harris said. "You don't have to wonder. In fact, wondering is totally overrated. I'm perfectly happy with blissful ignorance. Let's change the subject."
"Let's," I said.
Anya got quiet for a minute, then, "So does that mean yes?"
"ANYA!" Xander said, and she subsided, giggling. I just growled. There are some subjects not even I want to think about.
"So is that it, then?" I said. "The reason you hate vamps? This Jesse bloke and Angelus?"
"Mostly," Harris said. He scowled at me. "Cordelia almost died, because of you."
"Who?" I asked.
"His ex," Anya said, with a bit of heat. "The one who called me here because he couldn't keep his lips off Willow."
"You and Red?" I couldn't help a snicker. There was a mental image.
"So not the issue here, Bleach Boy," he said. "If you hadn't kidnapped us and dumped us in that busted up old factory, none of that would have happened. Not the... smooching or... or Cordy falling and getting ... getting..."
"She got shish-ke-babbed on a metal spike," Anya said. "Sort of appropriate, I guess."
"And then she dumped me and made my senior year miserable," Harris said.
"I was drunk," I said. "And it's not my fault you couldn't keep from snogging the witch. If you're gonna go about pointing fingers, make sure you use a mirror, chum. Might as well say it's Buffy's fault for coming to Sunnyhell in the first place."
"Actually, that's what Cordelia said," Anya said. "That was her wish. That Buffy hadn't ever come here."
Thought of that actually physically hurt. "Yeah? What'd that look like?" I said.
"Pretty much vampire paradise," she said. "Humans never went out at night. Everyone wore black and carried weapons. Willow and Xander were all fangy and worked for the Master. Almost everyone was dead. About what'd you'd imagine."
"Stupid," I muttered.
"Oh, come on," Harris said, leaning his head back and looking sleepy. "You can't tell me that's not what you dream about all day. A world run by vampires."
I rolled my eyes. "As a matter of fact," I said. "No, it's not. It'd be a bloody nightmare. Why do you think I teamed up with the Slayer to stop Angelus and Acathla? Wasn't all just to get Dru back. And a world run by the Master? I'd dust myself before scraping for old bat face. All ritual and bleeding virgins when the moon is in the seventh house and Jupiter aligns with Mars. No surprises. No fun. No people. Never understood all those 'let's destroy the world' wankers. What the fuck do they think they're going to eat when all the humans are dead or turned? And it's not like the demon world likes us any better. What'd Angelus think? That he was gonna get elevated to the Right Hand of Hell? Un-bloody-likely."
"I just figured it was because vampires are kinda dumb," Harris mumbled.
"Most are," I said. "Good thing for me that I got all the brains and the good looks in the family."
Only response I got to that was a snore. Harris was out like a light. Anyanka just shrugged and took the whiskey bottle out of his hand and sat it away from the fire. I ground out my cigarette.
"You're very strange, for a vampire," she said.
"Yeah," I said, staring at the flames. "I know."
She settled down beside the boy, and we listened to the wind howling outside.
When it stopped, abruptly, I opened my eyes. I was in dreamland, and Buffy was waiting for me.
She was sitting on the bed, looking confused and so lost it was all I could do not to wrap her in my arms right then and there. Her head swivelled in my direction and I realised she was dressed to go out. Coat, scarf, gloves, hat, boots, all her kit. Like a displaced snow bunny. "Hey," she said softly. "I guess I fell asleep, huh?"
Yes. I tapped against my thigh. She wasn't the only one not dressed for bed tonight. 'Least I'd gotten out of my duster. Would've been a dead giveaway, that.
I went over and sat on my side of the bed. She crawled up and sat against the headboard, so I did the same. First time since her mum died she wasn't crying. Step forward, yeah?
"I'm... Giles told me about this... vision quest thingy. It's... supposed to help me figure out some... stuff," she said. "But I guess I fell asleep. Some Slayer I am." With a little sigh she turned her face up toward mine. "Will you... can we just rest?"
There's almost nothing in the world I'd deny her. Certainly not that. Yes, I tapped. She snuggled into my side, wrapped her arms around me and got comfortable. After a bit, her arm drifted down to settle around my waist, and she sniffed a bit, as if cold, though how she could be cold when bundled up so heavy I don't know. Seemed to take awhile for her to fall asleep, and I was knackered enough, for once, that I drifted off about the same time.
I woke up to Anya leaning over me, reaching for a sharp piece of wood.
I caught her wrist. "Want to tell me what you're doing, pet?"
"The fire was dying out," she said, trying not to squirm. "I'm cold. You have wood."
"He better not have wood," I heard Harris mumble. I let the girl go and she scuttled back to his side.
"For the fire, Xander," she said. "Although, technically he is male, which means morning erect—" I threw a couple of coffin slats on the fire.
"Oi! No technically about it," I said.
"Do vampires even get morning erections?" Anya asked curiously. Harris groaned and stuffed his pillow over his face. "I mean, usually they're caused by an increased need to urinate, but since vampires don't—"
"Ahn," Harris muttered from under his pillow. "Hangover here and mucho pain. Do you think we could refrain from talking about ... that before I barf?" He wasn't lying. Could hear the gurgles in his stomach from where I was. Not to mention the rumblies in the girl's.
Went over to the fridge and checked the contents. Blood. More blood. Couple of beers. Burba weed. Box of wheetabix. Peanut butter. A take home box of curried chicken from a couple of weeks ago that was starting to turn. Left the chicken to claw out of its grave on its own and grabbed the peanut butter.
"Here," I said. "Eat something." Harris peeked out from under his pillow.
"Does it have blood in it?" he asked, squinting against the firelight and looking a bit green.
"Just Mr. Peanut's," I said. He gingerly sat up and took it from me, then almost drooled into the jar when he opened it.
"Got a spoon?" he asked.
"Do I look like Martha fucking Stewart?" I said. "Use your bloody fingers." Boy has the manners of a monkey, the way he tucked in. Went over to the crypt door and opened it carefully. Snow had stopped, but the sun was up.
"What time is it?" Anya asked.
"'Bout eleven or so," I said, squinting against the light. Luckily the sun was high enough it didn't poke over the threshold, but it was bouncing off all that snow and painful to look at. I shut the door. "Snow's stopped, but I can't move you till dark. Any idea when the Slayer's supposed to be back?"
"Sometime soon," Harris mumbled around a mouthful of peanut butter. "Was just supposed to be some overnight thing."
"I could go for help," Anya said.
"And leave me here with him?" Harris said.
"Oh, bloody hell. If I were going to eat you, I'd have done it already, you pillock," I said. What had I expected, after all? Save Princess Peach's neck and get his gratitude?
"I just meant...," he said, then flushed and trailed off. "I just meant that we don't really like each other very much."
"Mutual," I said. "But I think if I can refrain from killing you this long another hour or so isn't going to matter."
'Course, at that moment, the crypt door slammed open.
"Spike! Xander and Anya are—" Buffy said, flying in with a look of panic on her face. "...here? Oh." She halted beside me and took in the sight of Harris and Anya cuddled by the fire. Realised she was still wearing her full get up from the night before. Must've gotten home and rushed straight out to look for them. One thing you can always count on, if her friends are in trouble, Slayer will always rush to their rescue.
"Hey Buff," Harris said around a mouthful of peanut butter.
"Buffy! Oh, thank god. Now I won't have to go looking for you. It's very cold out there," Anya said. "Xander broke his leg."
"What?" she hurried over to check on Harris. "Why didn't you go to the hospital? Willow and Tara have been going crazy. They said you didn't check in last night, and then there was that big storm and... they tried a locator spell but something fizzled. We called the hospital and your apartment. What happened?"
Harris and Anya both shot me a glance, which the Slayer followed.
"Bloody hell," I muttered and went to find something to drink.
"Spike?" she said, her eyes narrowing in my direction. Something caught her attention and she froze, staring at me, her eyes drifting south. Her face went white.
"What?" I asked. Whatever erection I'd had when I woke I'd gotten control over before I'd even stood up. Wasn't any reason for her to look so shocked.
“Ah... Um...What happened, last night?” she stammered, still staring at me.
Fuck. Don’t know why I test it every damn time she asks. Know by now that I can’t say anything. Still, got to try, yeah? Didn’t matter, of course, Louhi’s magical muzzle always seems to know when I’m abut to start yapping.
“Well, we finally found our ice demon,” Harris piped up, mouth full of peanut butter. “And guess what? She was chatting with Resident Evil here.”
Bloody hell. Knew he wasn’t gonna let that go.
“What?” she asked, glancing back and forth between us. Least she seemed willing to hear it out.
“Not how it sounds, Slayer,” I said.
“No, that’s just how it looked,” Harris said.
“I saved your life, you dumb git,” I growled, wishing I could throttle him. Do the right thing for once and the stupid plonker still looks for a way to twist it round and blame old Spike.
“Too bad you put it in danger in the first place,” he said.
“And I let you drink my whiskey—”
“Are either of you going to tell Buffy what happened or are you going to keep comparing penis length? Because I don’t mind playing judge so we can get it over with. I’m cold and I’m tired, and I want to get Xander to the hospital and then go home and shower and go check on the store. I’m losing out on sales, here, you know,” Anya jumped in.
Buffy and Harris both blinked at her, too gobsmacked to reply to that, I suppose.
"We were patrolling," Anya said, then went on to fill in the Slayer with the events of last night. 'Least her report stuck to the facts. Harris would have tried to spin it. When she finished up, Buffy was standing with her arms crossed, staring between the three of us in disbelief.
"So... let me get this straight," she said, sounding more like herself than she has in weeks. "You guys ran into Spike, who was threatening our MIA demon chick. She sent her henchman guy out to kill you two, he broke Xander's leg, and... Spike fought him off, then brought you guys here to get out of the storm?"
"And he set Xander's leg," Anya said. "It made Spike pass out and gave him a nose bleed. Spike, not Xander. Xander just passed out."
Buffy just blinked. "And... you guys are still here because?"
"Stormed all night and then there was the little matter of the blazing ball of death up in the sky," I said.
Watched her think things through. Half expected her to call in the paramedics, which would have been a mess. Try explaining to the city officials why I'm living in a converted crypt. Be out on my ears in broad daylight. Not a good option. She surprised me, though. "Okay... we need transportation. Anya, can you drive Xander's car?"
"Sure," she said.
"A world of no," Harris said, going, if possible, even more green about the gills. "Not on icy streets." Anya just shrugged.
"I've got a car," I said before I could talk myself out it. They all turned and looked at me. "What? I do. And I can get to it without the sodding sun being a problem. Just can't get the man who came to dinner here in it."
"I can do that," Buffy said, giving me a considering look. "If you can pull it up to the gates?"
"Yeah," I said, and went to fetch the DeSoto. Anything that got them out of there. Harris may have left off in the harsh light of day, but I figured it was only a matter of time before they started in on me, asking questions about the White Witch I couldn't possibly answer.
By the time I'd gotten around to the gates, they were waiting. Buffy popped the backdoor and poked her head in. I shifted to avoid the light leaking in around her.
"This is the ugliest car I've ever seen," she said. She looked at the blacked out windows. "How can you even see?"
"It's a classic, Slayer, and you're letting the light in. Mind shoving the boy in so we can be off? Passions is coming on soon." She huffed a little sigh, then helped Harris slide in, propping his busted leg on the seat. Anya wedged herself in back beside him and Buffy came round to the passenger's side. With some disgust she pushed a couple of liquor bottles to the floor and climbed in.
Didn't take long to get them to hospital, would've been faster if it hadn't been for some of the roads still being blocked up with snow. Buffy spent most of the time shooting me curious glances. Pulled round to the patient drop off and the Slayer bundled the others out, then poked her head back in. "Stay here, Spike."
I would've anyway, but she didn't need to know that. "I'm not your bleeding taxi," I told her.
"I want to talk to you," she said. "I'm just going to get him in and checked in, then I need a ride home. Thirty minutes, tops."
"Magic words, Slayer," I growled.
"Please, Spike," she said, and sounded like she meant it. I set the brake, and turned on the radio.
True to her word, she was back out in under thirty. Trouble was, I was getting more and more nervous. About jumped through the roof when she opened the door and climbed in. I pulled out of the drive before she could start in on me.
"How old is this car?" she asked after a few.
"Forty years or so, give or take," I said. If she wanted to talk about the car, that was better than asking questions I couldn't answer.
"How long have you had it?" she asked, looking at the muck on the dashboard, the bottles of liquor, and the cans of black spray paint I keep handy. Should've cleaned it out ages ago but... wasn't exactly a priority. How was I to know I'd be chauffeuring the Slayer about?
"'Bout that long," I said. "Got a demon friend who keeps it for me, when I'm out of the country. Gives it new tags every few years or so, keeps the engine purring like a kitten."
"You gonna tell me about what the Ice Queen wanted?" she asked out of nowhere. Bloody hell.
"Was standing right there when Anyanka told you," I said, stepping careful and trying not to choke on the words. "No point in me rehashing it. I can't tell you anything different."
She stared at me awhile longer. Long enough for me to pull up in front of her house. She didn't get out though, just sat there, watching me. "What?" I asked, glaring.
"They said you did a good job, setting his leg," she said.
"Set my own, time or two," I said, frowning at her.
"Why'd you do it, Spike?" she asked. "I know you and Xander can't stand each other. Rescuing him... setting his leg in spite of the chip. Anya said you blacked out for almost half an hour. Why did you do it? I want the truth."
I stared out the peephole in the windscreen at the sun-drenched street. It'd been a long night, I was knackered, hungry, and tired of having to explain myself to humans who wouldn't get it. Tired of... hiding in the dark. Didn't look at her then, couldn't.
"I knew... it would destroy you," I said quietly. "If you lost him, on top of your mum... He's a wanker, and we're never gonna be bosom friends, but... I couldn't just leave him to die. "
"Spike," she said. Something in her voice made me turn and look. She had the oddest expression on her face. Like she saw right through me with those big green eyes. Made me panic a bit.
"Don't make a thing of it, Slayer," I warned her, prepared to lie my bloody head off if she started accusing me of... well... the truth.
But she didn't.
She leaned in, then, and kissed me.
This soft, sweet little kiss.
Wasn't much more than a chaste peck, but... god... I had to fist my hands to keep from reaching for her. It was... like touching sunshine, only it didn't hurt at all. Warm, so gloriously warm. Is this what hope tastes like? I pulled back first, afraid... afraid it was a dream or, worse, that it wasn't and I'd dive back in for more and end up with her fist in my face instead.
"Thanks," she said. Her eyes... god, those eyes. "I won't forget it, Spike," she said.
Then she got out of the car and went inside, leaving me to sit there, confused as hell and wondering what exactly had just happened.
All in the time when Earth did most deplore
The cold, ungracious aspect of young May,
Sweet Summer came, and bade him smile once more;
She wove bright garlands, and in winsome play
She bound him willing captive. Day by day
She found new wiles wherewith his heart to please;
Or bright the sun, or if the skies were gray,
They laughed together, under spreading trees,
By running brooks, or on the sandy shores of seas.
They were but comrades. To that radiant maid
No serious word he spake; no lovers’ plea.
Like careless children, glad and unafraid,
They sported in their opulence of glee.
Her shining tresses floated wild and free;
In simple lines her emerald garments hung;
She was both good to hear, and fair to see;
And when she laughed, then Earth laughed too, and flung
His cares behind him, and grew radiant and young.
One golden day, as he reclined beneath
The arching azure of enchanting skies,
Fair Summer came, engirdled with a wreath
Of gorgeous leaves all scintillant with dyes.
Effulgent was she; yet within her eyes,
There hung a quivering mist of tears unshed.
Her crimson-mantled bosom shook with sighs;
Above him bent the glory of her head;
And on his mouth she pressed a splendid kiss, and fled.
-Edna Wheeler Wilcox
"Summer's Farewell"
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