Chapter 8

AN* I know I’m evil, but thank you all for reminding me - LOL. I got this chapter ready quicker than usual as I won’t be around to post next week, and I don’t want to lose you all by leaving the story too long. Plus you all want to know what happened to the chip…….




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Standing barely a few feet from the slayer, Spike could feel her anger radiate towards him. He may have been gone three years, but he could still sense most of her emotions.

“You want to know about the chip?” he asked blithely.

Buffy’s eyes narrowed, and her stance became defensive. Even in her fluffy slippers and sushi pyjamas, she looked dangerous. A cobra ready to strike.

“Yeah, Spike” she replied, her eyes flashing at him. “What happened to the chip?”

Sighing in resignation, Spike reached inside his pocket for his smokes. This explanation he had hoped to stave off for a few days, but when she had attacked him, he had no option but to defend himself. As he lit his cigarette, taking the smoke deep into his lungs, he made a decision.

“This is going to take a while, slayer, so why don’t you go back inside and get dressed. We’ll take a wander to the crypt and we can talk about this.” He smiled at her then. “You can even bring a stake or two if you want.”

She continued to stare at him, legs apart and hands spread on her hips. He could see her conflicting emotions written clearly on her face. Part of her wanted to stake him on sight, while the curious woman beneath the slayer façade wanted answers.

They stood staring at one another for several moments as she fought a war with own thoughts. “Okay,” she finally said. “But you have to come back inside. I don’t want you wandering about my town on your own.”

He almost laughed at her, but knew it just set her off. “Fine, slayer” he agreed. “I’ll go sit with the watcher while you pretty yourself up.”

Smiling sardonically at him, she nodded for him to precede her. “You go in first, Spike. I don’t want to turn my back on an un-chipped, soulless vampire tonight.”

Hurt at her blatant disregard for his integrity, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he nodded his ascent, Buffy stood back slightly allowing him to pass.

As they entered the lounge, Giles stood and stared at the couple. They had been gone less than two minutes, he had not expected them to return so soon. In fact, he had expected to find that Buffy had ripped Spike’s head off, leaving a big pile of dust behind.

Spike walked calmly back to his seat while Buffy made for the stairs. She was but three steps up then she called to Giles. “Keep that stake handy Giles, while I change.” Looking directly at Spike, she continued. “He’s all chip-less now, which means he can eat people. If he makes one wrong move, stake him.” And with that she continued to climb the stairs to her room

Giles left the stake lying just where Joyce had left it. He already knew the chip had been removed a year ago by the Council, one of the payments he had insisted upon for his demon killing work.

“Just what are you going to tell her, Spike?” Giles asked.

Turning his eyes to the watcher, he shrugged. “The truth, I suppose.”

“Well, that’ll be a first.” Dawn’s whine rattled around the room. “You’ve done nothing but lie since you came back, Spike. What the hell makes you think she’ll believe a word you say now?”

Spike did not know how to answer that question. Dawn was right. How the hell was he going to convince the slayer that he was reformed? He anticipated an interesting evening.

“Well, bit” he started.

“Don’t call me ‘bit’ anymore, Spike. You lost that right when you lied and lied to us.” Tears of disappointment sat like diamonds on the edge of her lashes, and Spike felt his heart contract in pain.

Joyce took hold of her daughter’s hand, and squeezed it gently. “I’m sure Spike had his reasons, Dawn, but just now he needs to give his explanation to Buffy. When she hears what he has to say, then Spike will come and talk to us.” Turning a warm smile on the vampire she classed as a friend, she continued. “Won’t you, Spike?”

Thankful that Joyce, at least, had not turned on him, he nodded. “I definitely had my reasons, Joyce, but Buffy and I need to talk things through first.” He gave a small laugh before he continued. “I had it all worked out, you know. I was going to come back to Sunnyhell, save Dawn from the prophecy, and just leave.”

Nodding her head in understanding, Joyce returned his smile. “We won’t wait up for Buffy, Spike. Come back tomorrow and we can talk then.” Turning to Giles, she gave him a knowing smile. “Do you know the story, Rupert?”

Giles felt uncomfortable under her gaze. Spike knew that he was aware of all the details of Spike’s years away, and he could hardly lie. Removing his glasses to polish them with his handkerchief, he simply nodded his head.

Both Summers women stared at him. Finally Joyce spoke. “Well when Buffy and Spike leave, you can bring Dawn and me up to date. Can’t you, Giles?”

The faint threat in her voice was not lost on Giles, and he squirmed slightly in his seat. “Yes, yes, of course Joyce. I will tell you everything I know.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will, Giles.”

As Joyce left that statement hanging in the room, Buffy descended the stairs. She was dressed simply in jeans and a high necked shirt, her feet encased in dark brown boots. Face devoid of makeup and her hair pulled back into a simple pony-tail, she looked beautiful. As she made her entrance into the lounge, she made sure her eyes never left Spike as she strategically placed a stake into the back of her jeans.

“Shall we go, Spike?” she questioned. He simply nodded and rose from the chair.

Turning to her mother, Buffy made herself smile. “Don’t wait up, mom. According to Spike, here, he has lots to tell me.” Joyce, smiling back, nodded. Dawn mouth was opening and closing like a fish. It was obvious that the teen wanted to say something, but was valiantly trying to keep quiet.

Without hesitation, Spike led the way from the house. If Buffy was happier walking behind him, then he wouldn’t say anything. She followed about six feet behind him as he made his way to the crypt, and it made him feel strange. Her eyes were boring into his back, and he was sure that she wanted to stake him with every step.

At last the crypt door came into view, and Spike exhaled the breath he had held in his chest all the way from Revello drive. At least he still had his existence; he was just not sure for how much longer.

Clem, who had sensed the approach of his friend, had moved to open the door in welcome. Smiling at the approaching Spike, he missed the slayer marching behind him.

“Hi Spike,” he called to his friend. “You’re back quick, I thought you and Giles were going to talk to Buffy.”

Spike almost groaned as Buffy moved slightly to the side and into Clem’s line of sight. The look of shock on his face was almost priceless; he was all big eyes and sagging skin.

“Clem,” Spike started, not willing to let Buffy take her temper out on Clem. “Can you take yourself off for the night somewhere? Me and the slayer here need to talk, and we need to do it alone.”

Staring open-mouthed at Spike, Clem simply nodded his head. Within moments he had found his voice. “I still have some money left, so I’ll make my way over to Willy’s for some poker. Don’t worry about me; I’ll just crash with a buddy till tomorrow,”

Nodding his head in thanks, Spike pressed some money into his hand as Clem left the crypt. He felt guilty about almost throwing out his friend, but he knew that Buffy and he needed to be alone. Clem’s well-meaning interference would not be welcome by either of them.

As the door of the crypt closed behind his friend, Spike took his time removing his duster and placing it carefully over a chair. Once he was sure his precious coat was neatly folded, he moved into the kitchen to make himself a mug of warm blood. Buffy had not moved from the position she had taken up in front of the crypt door. Her eyes, watchful and resentful, followed his movements around the crypt.

Deliberately taking his time, Spike drank his blood while standing at the entry way to the kitchen. His eyes never left hers as she stared back at him, watching him drink. As he drained the last remnants of blood from the mug, he smiled and asked her if would like coffee.

“Coffee?” she barked. “You have the cheek to stand there and ask me if I want a coffee. Christ, you are a piece of work Spike.”

“Yep, slayer, I am that.”

Her temper rose, and Spike sensed she was about to leap at him…..again!

“Before you get your knickers in a royal twist, slayer, remember I don’t have the chip so I will fight you back. So calm the fuck down, and sit your arse on the couch while we have a little chat.”

Bristling with the need to hit out at him, she took some deep calming breaths. She knew he was right, there was too much unsaid between them. Hearing him out would not take all that much time…….then she would stake him.

“Fine,” she snipped. “Let’s sit down like adults, shall we?”

Spike smiled. She was all fire and power when she was angry, and he really did hope he would be able to calm her down. He could sense that she was willing to stake him on the spot. Nodding his head towards the far end of the sofa, inviting her to sit, he took his place at the other end.

He knew he would have to start the conversation. She was too angry to speak, but he hoped she was not too angry to listen. As she seated herself stiffly at the opposite end of the couch, he breathed a sigh of relief. The empty seat between them, barely two foot long, felt like a mile.

“Right then, pet, what do you want to know first?”

For the first time since his return, he called her ‘pet’. How many times in the last three years had she dreamed of that endearment on his lips? The small three-letter word rang in her ears, and a feeling of calm swept over her. Suddenly a smile parted her lips as she turned her body slightly to look at him.

Noticing the smile, Spike returned it. Suddenly the tension in both their bodies dissipated. Both knew, without a word spoken, that they would be able to talk like adults.

“What happened to the chip, Spike?” she asked; no trace of anger in her voice.

The truth Spike said to himself, tell her the god-damned truth.

“I spent the first year roaming round the planet, just spending money and getting pissed.” When she opened her mouth to speak, he lifted his hand. “Please, Buffy, do me a favour luv, and just let me talk. Okay?”

Nodding, Buffy made a motion of buttoning her lips and throwing away the key. Spike could not help himself, he let out a burst of mirth and a warm feeling passed over him when he saw her smile at him.

“I have money, Buffy. Serious money. When I died I was worth about a million pounds, and that was in 1880. Before anyone realised I was dead, I moved the money from the Bank of England and left it with a firm called Wolfram and Hart to invest.”

Buffy could not help herself, she did not want to interrupt him, but she had to ask about Wolfram and Hart.

“Who are they?”

“It’s like a demon legal firm. They have offices all over the world. In fact the closest is in L.A. They’ve been in business for as long as there have been demons on the planet, luv, and everyone in the demon world knows about them. Peaches has investments there too; that’s how he got the money for that old Hotel he lives in now.”

Stunned, Buffy just stared at him. “Does the Council know this? And Giles?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

Still shocked, she continued to stare at him. “Why have we never tried to take them down, if they are some evil, demon loving law firm?”

He smiled at her naivety. “’Cos in my world, pet, they are bigger than the Council of Wankers, and they know it. The Council like to keep their slayers on a short leash. They figure you’ll die soon enough without Wolfram and Hart getting their hands on you.”

As she winced at his comment about her death, he felt a tightness roll in his gut. He should never have said anything about the short shelf-life of a slayer. Inwardly, he kicked himself for his stupidity. His need to give her comfort over-rode his common sense, and he moved closer to her on the couch and took gentle hold of her hand. When she didn’t pull away, he clasped her hand, keeping it enfolded in his grasp.

“I’m sorry, luv” he whispered.

Buffy, staring down at their enclosed fingers, just nodded. He took it as his cue to continue.

“Before I bummed around the world for a while, I made arrangements with Wolfram and Hart to send money on a regular basis to Clem. I had already given him the crypt, and I knew a little money would help him set it up nice.”

His eyes roamed the room at his comment. He knew he had done the right thing. The inside of the crypt looked like an expensive penthouse in L.A. His money had not been wasted on gambling and drink. He was glad.

Buffy’s eyes had followed his as they had travelled around the crypt. “Dawnie and me helped him fix the place up. I never asked where the money came from. I thought he was winning money at poker and wanted to have a nice home.”

Spike revelled in the feel of her hand in his, and returned his attention to her face. “Buffy, luv, Clem never plays for money. It’s all about the kittens.”

When her face scrunched up in disgust, he had never thought her so adorable. It took all the willpower he possessed not the pull her towards him and kiss her senseless….maybe later. No! his inner voice preached to him. Don’t break this fragile truce by giving in to desire, he told himself fiercely.

“Anyway,” he continued. “About a year after I left, I ended up in London. Your precious Council of Wankers tried to send an assassin to kill me off…..bad move.” He smiled in remembrance of that encounter. Every bit of pain the chip had handed out had been worth it. “I got really mad, sweetheart. So mad that I couldn’t think straight.”

Buffy wondered if he realised how many times in their conversation that he had used endearments, or how tightly he held on to her hand.

“What did you do, Spike?” she asked in trepidation.

“I waited until it was dark. It was winter in London and dark by four in the afternoon. I just walked into their offices and demanded to speak to the Chief Wanker.”

She couldn’t help it. Her laughter bubbled to the surface. She could so see him doing just that.

When she had calmed down, he continued. “Eventually I got in to see some guy called Travers. Right ponce he is, pet. Anyway we came to an agreement. I would kill demons all over the planet, while you watched over the hellmouth.”

He stopped then and waited for her to ask questions. He did not have to wait long.

“Are you trying to tell me that you were a free-lance demon fighter for the Council?”

Nodding, Spike held her hand tighter. If she had been human, the bones of her fingers would have crushed long ago. As it was, they sat in companionable silence as he answered her.

“Yes, luv. That’s exactly what I was.”

Buffy was confused. Why had she never heard of this? Had Giles known for two years what Spike had been doing? She had a sneaking suspicion he did. She was SO gonna have words with him when she got home.

“Did they pay you, Spike?” she asked, not sure if she wanted to hear his answer.

Taking a deep breath, Spike made himself continue. “They used to, luv. I was paid a certain amount of money for each demon I put to death.” He paused for a few seconds. The next part of his story held painful memories for him, but she deserved to hear everything. “One night I was chasing a pack of demons through a cemetery in the East End of London. I didn’t realise it was a trap, and they led me straight to a bunch of humans armed to the teeth with almost everything except guns.”

She could feel his distress, and his hand clasped tighter to hers. Just as he had felt the need to comfort her, she felt she need to comfort him. Lifting her free arm, she gently ran her hand down his soft cheek.

“What did they do to you, Spike?” she asked quietly.

He turned his face into her palm and closed his eyes. He could smell the faint scent of vanilla that clung to her skin from her recent shower, and he wanted to bury his nose into her neck. Not now, he told himself sternly. Finish the story.

“What didn’t they do, luv. I was lucky they left me alive. The Council found me spread out on a grave, waiting for the sunrise. They had beaten me to a pulp, and had staked my hands and feet to the ground. The bastards had left me lying there in the shape of Christ on the cross. I was too weak to move and I was unconscious when some watchers found me. They got a tip off that I was a target, and they managed to find me in time.”

Her hand had continued its gentle stoking while he talked. As the images of a battered and broken Spike filtered through her head, she knew what he needed. Closing the distance between them, she gently placed her closed lips on his. A soft, gentle kiss passed between them. It was not a kiss of passion, but a kiss of solace and understanding. As their lips slowly drew apart, their bodies unconsciously moved closer together until her face was buried against his chest and his arms were closed around her.

Neither spoke for a few moments; the feeling of closeness they shared did not need words.

“What happened then, Spike?” she asked, her voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

Spike rubbed his cheek against her hair. Three years he had forced himself to live without her in his arms. He must have been mad.

“It took me three months to get back on my feet. The Council knew I needed blood to heal, but the bastards just kept filling me with pigswill. I was healing, but it was too slow for them. They needed me out on the street killing the demons, so they started to feed me human blood.” He deliberately did not mention that some of the blood had been pure slayer. Nothing healed a broken vampire quicker than pure slayer blood. Just where the Council managed to get packets of her blood, he never knew, but he suspected Giles might.

He could never tell her that he had tasted her blood, and revelled in his recovery. It was the closest he thought he would every be to her again, and he had savoured every last drop. He had known as soon as he had taken his first sip of the special chalice the Wankers had brought him that it was her blood. Nectar of the Gods.

“Once I was back on my feet, I made them a deal. Remove the chip, forever, or I would never kill another demon for them.”

Buffy had absently started to stroke his chest through the thin material of his shirt as he had told her of his struggle. Suddenly her hand stopped, and she took a long indrawn breath.

“I take it they agreed, ‘cos we both know it’s gone.”

Spike tightened his arms around her. “Yes, they took it out, but not before I agreed to something that only they could give me.”

Lifting her head slightly from his chest, she lifted her eyes to his. “What was that?”

“My soul.”