Chapter 13

Spike's good mood evaporated. Buffy was obviously not paying a social call.

"You beast!" Before Buffy could stop her, Lena rushed at the vampire, fists flailing with hysterical abandon. She wanted to destroy him. She wanted him dead. Unfortunately, the Slayer had confiscated her arsenal of stakes before they'd entered the crypt, so all she had were her hands. They would have to do.

Spike stood there, slightly amused, as her punches rained down on his chest. Then she landed one on his nose.

"Ow! You been taking lessons from the Slayer?"

"You . . . killed . . . my . . . family," Lena choked, gagged by the pain of years of despair.

Bloody hell! As if he could undo it, bring them back! The Slayer had ambushed him with this. Angrily he grasped Lena's wrists, forcing her to stop her attack. His icy blue eyes met her soft liquid brown ones and he felt something, a twinge of regret? "Technically, pet, Dru killed them."

"But you were there." Lena struggled against his grip, trying to escape. "You didn't stop her."

Spike shrugged as he released her, and lit a cigarette. "Look, luv. I didn't even want to be there in the first place. Killing your parents caused us nothing but trouble. Besides, your family got their revenge. You almost killed Dru."

"The life of an undead monster in exchange for the lives of my parents? It does not seem a fair trade."

"Can't disagree with you. But I loved her, so what you lot did to her made me suffer. You got me, good and proper. There. Feel better?" Spike exhaled the smoke from his lungs in a defiant burst.

"The only thing that will make me feel better is to see you dead."

Spike raised his eyebrows and considered the silent Buffy. "Best consult with the Slayer. She's in charge of that sort of thing."

"I've told her not to kill you, Spike. I've told her about the chip."

A mirthless laugh erupted from behind the smoldering cigarette. "So Buffy, not in the business of slaying monsters anymore? You know what I did. I expect you know all the gory and delicious details. So why am I not feeling dusty?"

"Because you're not like that anymore."

"Are you sure?" Spike grabbed Lena and held her to him, his blunt teeth poised precariously above her neck. Lena's eyes filled with equal measures of hatred and fear. "Have your attention now, don't I Slayer? Isn't this what you're afraid of?" Spike's game face slipped into place, his eyes glowing a feral yellow.

"No." Buffy forced her voice to be calm. "Stop this Spike."

"Why? I'm a soulless monster right? Isn't that why you brought her here? To make me pay for what I did?"

"You should pay," Lena spat. She turned to Buffy accusingly. "Look at him. He is a monster. You must kill him. It's your duty."

"I thought Lena had a right to face you. But this was obviously a mistake."

"Because I'm EVIL, right?"

"We all can be evil, Spike. We all make choices. You made some horrible ones. But you're not a monster . . . not anymore." Buffy took a step towards him. "Now stop this."

Spike's human features slipped into place. He released Lena and sank down in his battered old chair. "I'm sorry."

The words were obscured as Lena slapped him soundly across the face.

"Lena. It's OK." Buffy reached for the distraught woman and tried to comfort her as best she could.

Spike lit another cigarette and felt his stinging cheek. Why was it all so bloody difficult? It was easier being a monster. At least he felt powerful, in control. How the hell was he supposed to do this? He cleared his throat and said it again, louder this time. "I'm sorry."

Lena looked at him, shaking with rage. "You're sorry? That makes no difference."

"I know it doesn't." Spike paused. "You know why I didn't kill you, why I tried to let you go?"

Lena didn't answer.

"You look like someone I knew a long time ago. You look like my sister, Amanda." Spike smiled ruefully. "I've always been a sentimental bastard."

"Is that supposed to ease my pain? You disgust me."

"Fair enough. Don't blame you for hating me. Just thought you deserved the explanation."

Lena turned to Buffy. "Can we please go now?"

Buffy sighed. Why had she thought this was a good idea? "OK, let's go." She considered the vampire slumped in the chair. "Spike, I'll be by later. We need to have a talk."

The door of the crypt slammed behind the two women.

Spike found a mostly full bottle of whisky in a dusty corner of the crypt and took a healthy swig. He wanted to be unconscious by the time the Slayer returned. Oblivion sounded mighty attractive.

***

After composing herself over a cup of tea at the Slayer's house, Lena Petrovich declined her invitation to spend the night and went outside to her car. At least she knew where the monster lived. This wasn't over. William the Bloody would pay.

Rap, rap, rap.

Lena turned to see a familiar small man at her car window. She pressed the unlock button.

"Doctor Black. Why are you here? It is very late."

The small man smiled and opened the car door. "I just wanted to see how things went. So, did you talk to the Slayer?"

"Yes. Thank you for giving me her address."

"And was she helpful?"

Lena sighed. "Not particularly. She certainly did not live up to her name."

"Wouldn't kill him, huh? That's a shame."

"She took me to him though. I know where he lives. I am certain that I will be able to find someone else to help me complete the task."

"I think I may be able to help you with that." Doc--Doctor Black-- smiled and wrote down an address.

***

3:45 a.m.

It had been a long night. Finding out she was an ‘abomination’. Patrolling with Spike. Telling the Scoobies. And then Lena. That had gone poorly. Next time she would leave the intervention stuff to the professionals.

But one good thing had come of it. She realised how terrified Spike was. Everything he had been for over a hundred years was falling away. And why?

Because of her.

"I'm drowning in you Summers . . . I know this is wrong."

His words haunted her. It was wrong for him to love her.

And yet he did.

It was against his nature to feel remorse.

And yet he did.

Whenever Buffy considered the conundrum that was Spike the same question always arose.

If Spike could love her without a soul, why couldn't Angelus?

Angel.

Did he even know she was back? She'd avoided thinking about him and had made no effort to contact him. Was it really fair of her, letting him think she was still gone? But she'd been so preoccupied and Angel was just one more complication.

He really should know.

Tomorrow. I'll call him tomorrow.

Buffy stopped outside Spike's crypt and drew a deep breath. Let's deal with one vampire at a time.

***

"Slayerr."

A blurry-eyed Spike swayed in the doorway.

Buffy rolled her eyes as the alcohol fumes assaulted her nose. "Spike, you really need to find a healthier way of dealing with your problems."

"Like talking?" He wove his way unsteadily to his chair and sat down, draining the last drops from his whiskey bottle.

"Yes. Like talking."

"Great luv. What do you want to talk about?"

"You."

"Figured as much. Wanna drink? I think I still have . . ."

"No Spike. And you don't need one either. Listen to me."

"My, aren't we bossy . . ."

"Spike. Stop."

"If you give me the whole 'I'm very disappointed in you young man' speech, I'm gonna puke."

Buffy shook her head. "Spike, you don't understand. I know you. I can't be disappointed, because I know what you are . . . who you are."

"Yeah, you know all my nasty deeds and how much I enjoyed them." He licked his lips and shot her a predatory look.

"Spike, you've always been so annoyingly perceptive about me and my friends, so how about I return the favour? A little analysis of Spike?"

"Oooh. I'm waiting with bated breath." Spike clenched his fists, wanting to fight, wanting to run.

"Once upon a time there was a man named William."

"Can't you think of a better way to start your story Slayer?"

"Shut up, William."

Spike shut up.

"He was a sensitive man, but no one understood him, not that he made much of an effort to be understood. He lived in his own little world, a world that violence couldn't touch. A world of poems and tea parties and impossible love."

Spike clenched his fists even harder, drawing blood.

"There was one woman in particular, Cecily, that he'd loved from afar. It was easier loving someone from afar because then he didn't have to deal with the messy stuff. The real stuff. But one day he decided to tell her. He wrote a poem. It was bad, but it was sincere. Then his so-called friends stole it from him and laughed at him. Did he stand up for himself and tell them to go to hell? No. Instead he cornered Cecily and spilled his guts. He wanted her to really see him. And how did she respond? 'You're beneath me.' So William ran away. Always the outsider. Never fitting in, right?"

"That's enough, Slayer."

"I'm not finished, Spike."

"I think you are."

"No." Buffy pushed him back in his chair. "It's time for you to listen, to know what I see. Because Spike, unlike Cecily, I really do see you."

"And I'm beneath you, right?" Spike muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm all ears, Slayer. Fill me with your stunning insights. Enlighten me."

"William ran away and met a woman, a dark-haired woman that . . . how did you put it . . . saved you from mediocrity. You wanted it. You wanted her. She accepted you, or so you thought. So you killed for her. She wanted you to be bad, as bad as Angelus, so you killed and maimed. You changed everything. Your hair, your accent, your personality. You hated William, so you became Spike. Dru could love Spike--he killed Slayers. Angelus could almost respect Spike, but you were never quite bad enough for him, were you? You could never quite live up to his standards. Or live down to them."

Spike looked at her impassively even as blood seeped from the half-moon-shaped, self-inflicted wounds on his hands.

"So even within your little undead gang, you were the misfit. Why did Dru eventually leave you? Oh, yeah. She said you'd gone soft. And she knew that you loved me, even before you did." Buffy drew a breath and pressed on. This next part was the hardest. This next part was about her. "But let's back up a little. I don't want to skip over some of the best parts of the story. The parts where you were trying to kill me."

Spike winced. He really needed another drink.

"So, when you first came to town and saw me, God, you wanted to kill me. And, how would you say it, 'shag' me. You watched me dance and thought that I would make a great addition to your dead Slayer collection. Dru would be proud of her boy, right?"

Spike nodded.

"Right. So you tried and failed. And tried and failed. It was getting kind of pathetic, you know? Then I put you in a wheelchair. You hated that. The lack of power. It made you feel like William all over again. Then Dru started sleeping with Angelus. That sent you over the edge. But no matter what you did, Dru still didn't want you. You weren't her first choice. Poor William. Never the first choice."

"Are you finished?" Spike's voice was murderously calm.

"I'm getting there. Eventually you came back to Sunnydale with Harmony the Airhead. She was good in bed though, so I guess I can kind of see it. But Harmony? Spike, that was kind of low, even for you. And you didn't exactly treat her well. I have to hand it to you though. You’re amazingly faithful. Two women in over a hundred years? I've slept with more people than you!"

"I'm not easy, pet," Spike hissed.

"I'm ignoring that. No, really, Spike, it's impressive. It shows the level of devotion you're capable of. Anyway, after getting chipped and making some more lame-ass attempts on my life and the lives of my friends, you decide you love me. So you try to get my attention by helping out, not asking for money, getting new clothes. And hey, when that didn't work, you and your ex-girlfriend decide it's ‘fun time with the cattle prod’."

"Let's cut to the chase, Slayer. I'm getting bored here."

"Fine. Anyway, words don't matter, actions do. That's what William never learned. He'd never done anything to earn Cecily's respect, her love. But you have done something. You didn't give up Dawn to Glory. You brought me back from the dead, not because you missed me, not for selfish reasons, but because you wanted to protect Dawn. With those actions, you proved yourself a better man than William ever was."

Spike's eyes filled with hope. "Buffy. I . . ."

"Spike. I know you love me. You've proved that. I know it's hard for you to be good, but I'll help you. I choose to help you."

"Oh God. Buffy." Spike drew her into his arms, crushing her tightly to him.

"Spike!" Buffy gasped. "Cutting off the circulation here."

Spike loosened his grip and considered her, his Slayer, his Buffy. Without thinking, he moved to kiss her.

The rational part of Buffy wanted to pull away, but another, stronger part of Buffy was incapable of moving. This was a mistake. She hadn't meant . . . mmmmm. His lips erased all that nasty rationality from her mind. Bad Buffy. Bad.

Spike began to tremble as he dragged his lips across the curve of her neck, feeling her fluttering pulse. This couldn't be real.

"Spike," Buffy tried to disentangle herself from the quivering vampire. "Spike."

Buffy broke free, breathing hard.

"I'm sorry, Spike. This isn't fair to you, but . . ."

"Uhhhh." Spike groaned. "I knew it."

"I can't do this."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because, you may know how you feel about me, but I'm still confused. And, until I figure out what I feel, I can't, we can't, well, do what we just did."

"Are you trying to kill me, Slayer? Are the stakes too quick now? You want to torture me?"

Buffy smiled. "No, it's just that you deserve to be my first choice. And, if this happens, I want you to know that there's no one else."

"Angel." Spike said the name tonelessly. "It's always that poofter, getting in the way."

"He doesn't even know I'm back Spike. I have to tell him."

"Fine. Go. Tell Angel. But Slayer . . ."

Suddenly he was behind her, and she felt his lips on her neck as he spoke.

"I'm willing to wait. I've got the time."

End Part 13

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