BLOODY CHEESECAKE SURPRISE
Based on Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel Disclaimer: Spike and friends (and enemies) are the intellectual property of people who are not me, and they are likely to stay that way.
by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy
CHAPTER ONE:
Under the Shadow
Yep. Obviously. Definitely not.
These were, in chronological order, the answers to the first three questions that presented themselves in Spike's mind even before he opened his eyes:
One: I'm lying face-down, right? (Yep.)
Two: I'm lying on a hard, cold and uncomfortable surface, right? (Obviously.)
Three: Far as I can remember, I did not for some reason decide to take a nap on a solid marble floor? (Definitely not.)
These conclusions drawn, he decided to risk opening one eye.
Sure enough, he was lying on a solid marble floor, in from what he could make out with his one eye appeared to be a fairly large room, somewhat oddly decorated in that the center of it -- where he was lying -- was completely empty and bare, while a notable amount of furniture (a bed, a couch, a few chairs, a table, a widescreen TV, and even a large refrigerator) was lined up by the walls, as if waiting for some slightly more sensible interior decorator to come and arrange them in that didn't look so completely ridiculous.
He didn't recognize any of it; not the room and not the furniture.
Right. Waking up in a strange place, with no idea of how I got here or how long I've been here. Just terrific.
For a second or two, he considered playing possum a while, in case something was happening that it would be better to pretend not to be awake around, but he quickly decided against it. If anything was happening, he was obviously already part of it, and he'd much rather take an active part in the happenings than lie around like some twisted parody of Sleeping Beauty.
Slowly and carefully, in case some nutter was hiding somewhere and waiting to shoot as soon as he moved, Spike got to his feet and looked around.
He was alone in the room. As far as his sharp vampire senses could tell him, anyway. Now he also noticed that there were no windows in the room, and no visible lamps, but there was still light -- curiously enough falling in wide strips along the walls, leaving a huge square of shade in the center of the room. At the far end of the room was a door, bathed in light and looking all the more inviting for it.
"Hello?" Spike called out, making sure not to do it too loudly. "Anyone here? Well, that's all right," he hurriedly added before anybody could answer. "I'll just let myself out, then."
Quick as only a vampire could be, he bolted for the door...
...and cried out in surprised pain as he stepped out of the shadow, his skin starting to smoke furiously as soon as the light hit it. Turning around, he threw himself back into the shadow, hitting the floor and rolling around and over to get as far away from the light as possible.
"Bloody --!" he cursed, momentarily unable to do anything else. "What the soddin', bleedin', bloomin' --?!"
His beginning tirade was cut short by the unmistakable sound of a door opening behind him. Doing his best to ignore the pain, Spike managed to sit up and turn around just in time to see the woman entering the room.
She looked to be a normal human, possibly in her twenties (not that Spike had ever been too good at telling a human's age just by looking, even back when he had been one himself), with incredibly pale skin and white-blonde hair. To further add to the unsettling feeling that he'd go snowblind if he stared at her too long, she wore a long flowing robe made out of an almost impossibly white material.
Her face brightened even further as she saw him.
"Ah, you're awake," she said in a soft, melodious voice. "My heart is overjoyed, good sir William -- or do you perhaps prefer to be called Spike? -- Overjoyed at seeing that you have finally recovered. Believe me, I would have cried bitter tears if you hadn't woken up soon."
"Yeah, glad to be of service," he snarled, only slightly taken aback with this exaggerated politeness. "Who the hell are you? No, on second thought, sod who you are, where the hell am I?"
"Patience, my friend, patience," said the woman, her face growing solemn. "And please don't try something so thoughtless as to leave the shadow again. I can see that you already made the attempt -- oh, I understand you, how well I understand you, but it would do no good!" She made a sweeping gesture around the room. "All the light you see, and indeed all the light you see by, in this room, is one hundred percent pure sunlight. It would surely reduce even a powerful vampire like you to a pile of dust in a matter of seconds, and what a tragedy that would be, for the both of us."
"...right," said Spike, shaking his head. "Nice speech there. Are you for real?"
"I assure you, I'm quite real."
"And how the hell do you get sunlight inside a --" Spike began, but stopped himself. "No, wait, I know how. It's bloody magic, innit? You've imprisoned me using magic."
"Oh, let's not use such an ugly word," she said with a mildly disapproving look. "Let's just say that I'm honored to have you here as my guest, for the time being."
Spike sighed. "All right, luv," he said, resigning himself to his fate for the time being. "I'll play along. What did I do? Kill your parents? Your children? Someone else you knew?"
"Actually, I don't believe you have killed a single person of my acquaintance."
"You been hired by someone with a grudge against me?"
"Most certainly not. I'm proud to say that I work for no man, woman, demon or god."
"All right, then I guess you just decided to put me away because you knew of my reputation and how I'm a terrible menace to society."
She laughed. "No."
"Well," said Spike. "Then I'm kinda stumped here. Unless you're hoping to use me in order to get to someone else, or wanting to get some sort of information out of me, I've pretty much run through all the usual reasons people have for wanting to keep me a 'guest.'"
"You do lead an interesting life, don't you?" The woman smiled.
"Vampire, aren't I? Been alive for more'n a hundred years, most of which were spent killing and maiming the innocent. You don't get to do that without making yourself quite a lot of enemies."
"That is such a shame," she said cheerfully. "But I assure you that you're quite safe from all your enemies for the moment. Nobody even knows you're here."
"Bloody brilliant," he muttered. "And you've brought me here out of the goodness of your heart, I expect."
Her expression turned solemn again. "No," she said. "Much as your presence here is a joy to me, I must regretfully admit that I have an ulterior motive in bringing you to my humble abodes. You might say that I am 'wanting to get some sort of information out of you', as you put it, but don't worry -- as long as you cooperate, I'll do my utmost to see to it that you're comfortable."
"Well, aren't I just the luckiest bugger in the world," said Spike sarcastically. "So what do you want from me?"
"Allow me to explain," said the woman, making a grand, sweeping motion with her hand. "My name is Wanda, and I am a humble demonologist, having devoted my life to the special study of the more unusual members of the species. And, may I add, after careful research of the impressive history of William the Bloody, also known as Spike --" (she smiles and motioned towards him) "-- I have come to the conclusion that there is hardly a more unusual specimen around than you."
"Yeah, yeah, vampire with a soul, that sorta thing," said Spike, who had heard similar statements before and learned to dislike them very strongly -- usually when statements like this were made, something unpleasant was about to happen, generally to him. "I'm not the only one around, you know. Hell, I'm not even the original one," he said, getting an idea. "Who you really want is Angel. He had his soul long before it got cool to have one. Me, I just jumped on the bandwagon."
"I'm sure that Angel is a most praiseworthy person," said Wanda, "but to my regret, he's not the one I want. In your case, it's not the soul in itself that makes you unique."
"It's not?"
"Oh, please don't misunderstand me, an ensouled vampire is indeed a most rare thing, but it's hardly unique. There are others out there... although none of them, I must say, will probably ever reach the fame that you and Angel have."
Spike frowned slightly. The stories of vampires with souls -- unlucky sods who had been cursed some way or another -- occasionally resurfaced in the vampire communities, but most vamps agreed that they were just fanciful stories made up by people with slightly more imagination than was really good for them. He had certainly never met any other ensouled vampires other than Angel and, recently, himself.
Still... when you thought about it, it might not be such a far stretch that there could be one or two others out there, who'd ticked off some vengeful gypsy or sorcerer.
"Most of them don't last for very long," said Wanda, as if she'd read his mind. "Unable to live with themselves and the horrible things they did when they were soulless monsters, they complete their own tragedy by deciding to end it all. Very few actually persist, but some, very much to the joy of the world, do."
"Right, and among them you find me," said Spike. "Champion of the world, scourge of the wicked and all that rot. And now we're back at the refrain here, luv: What do you want from me?"
"I merely wish to find out what makes you so unique," said Wanda. "You are not like other vampires, sir William. Ensouled vampires have existed before you, and will exist after you... but for all of them, their souls were forced upon them like a curse. None of them, not one, ever sought out their souls, much less fought for the privilege of getting it back. You did."
"Oh. That." Spike paused. "Well, a bloke does all sorts of crazy things when he's in love, don't he?"
"Yes, the vampire who loved a Slayer." Wanda smiled. "Who set out to regain his soul so he'd be worthy of her. I know the story, a most romantic and tragic story. It didn't exactly work out the way you had hoped, did it?"
Spike felt like making a face, but decided against it. True, his Great Quest for a Soul hadn't exactly turned out as planned.
Back when he'd had the idea, it had seemed so simple: A soulless vampire like he had been back then, no matter how good his intentions were, would never manage to raise above the level of "monster." Even chipped and de-fanged, he was still a danger, still unworthy of and incapable of truly getting the love he'd so desperately craved, something that had hit him pretty hard in that painful moment of self-realization.
So he'd gone off on a road trip to get a soul and become the man he was supposed to be, and had fought bravely and bitterly towards his goal -- only to discover when he'd finally reached said goal that it hadn't been what he'd expected.
Getting a soul hadn't changed him much, really, not the way he'd thought it would and not the way it had Angel. What it had done was change the entire bloody world. It had turned the world from a very simple place to a hopelessly complicated one where it suddenly mattered whether complete strangers lived or died, and where "I felt like doing it" and "it seemed like a good idea at the time" were not the universal excuses they had once been. A world where there were huge consequences and repercussions to even the smallest of actions (many of which did not make a lick of sense), and worst of all where it was depressingly obvious what a bloody idiot Spike had been.
A soul didn't automatically make you good, or worthy. It didn't erase who you had been before, or cancel out the many terrible things you'd done while soulless. It just made you care about them, made you realize just how much of a monster you'd been. You couldn't say "that wasn't really me" or "I couldn't help it." Your soul didn't listen to such arguments. It knew, and made sure you knew, that you were responsible for your own actions.
He'd known then, even if he'd pretended not to for a long time, that he couldn't ever really be the man worthy of the Slayer's love, because... some things couldn't ever be made right again.
Didn't mean he couldn't try, though. If he was just going to give up, then he might as well crawl into an alleyway to brood and eat rats, and bugger if he'd ever go down that path.
He looked at Wanda. "I made some choices," he said. "Some of 'em were good, some of 'em were bad -- a lot of 'em were bad, actually -- but they were my choices, and I'm prepared to live with them."
"Ah, and here we have arrived, at the main question," she said in a satisfied tone. "Why did you make them in the first place? I've seen a lot of your actions, even before you got your soul. And while many of them were, and I do hope you'll forgive me for being so blunt about it, the blackest acts of villainy, I also saw surprisingly many noble deeds -- far more than one would have expected from any soulless creature."
"Noble? Oh, please," said Spike. "Hate to break it to you, but I was purely in it for myself. Yeah, I helped saved the world a couple times, fought with the Slayer on the side of good, but that was only to cover my own arse, get what I wanted, and not to forget avoid being staked. If I'd had my chance, I'd have killed the lot of 'em, and I wouldn't have shed so much as a bleedin' tear over it."
She smiled. "Even the Slayer's mother and little sister?"
"Joyce and Dawn?! Well, obviously not them," said Spike. "I mean, they never did anything to me, did they? Knew how to treat a bloke decently, they did. Besides, the Slayer woulda had my hide if anything happened to --"
"And let's not forget your own mother. Most vampires, after being sired, delight in killing their human families. You tried to save yours."
"Fat lot of good that did me. Or her."
Wanda smiled again. God, was that starting to become infuriating. "Even so, I hope you can see that even without a soul, and for a vampire, you could be surprisingly human at times. Moreso than any of your peers. Even in your diet -- how many other vampires do you know who would willingly eat onion flowers?"
"Yeah, remind me of them, why don't y-- hang on, have you been spying on me?!"
"Oh, no, please don't think so lowly of me as that. I have simply done some research. You would be amazed as to how much a person can find out if she looks in the right places, without having to stoop to such despicable levels as spying on the unaware."
"Yeah. Right."
"You don't believe me, I take it." Wanda sighed theatrically. "Well, of course you're completely free to judge my character as you see fit -- but that doesn't change the facts, does it? You have never been like other vampires. There was always something more there, something that didn't quite fit with the vampiric nature, and not even the fact that you fell in love with a Vampire Slayer could begin to explain it all. So I would like to find out exactly what it is that makes you so unique, and why."
"So obviously you had to kidnap me."
"Keep you as my honored guest."
"An honored guest who was brought here against his will and isn't allowed to leave? Yeah, I can see how that's completely different." Spike snorted. "You haven't told me why you're doing this, though."
"Because I want to find out why you are --"
"Yeah, all right, I got that part. But why does it even matter why I am the way I am? What do you get out of it?"
"Would you believe that I'm merely a curious nature?"
"Go through all this just for curiosity's sake? Not a bloody chance. I've seen people, luv, and you don't even begin to qualify as the type to do anything unless there's something in it for you."
"Might I remind you," (Wanda's tone, while still exceedingly polite, seemed quite a few degrees colder as she said this) "that you are a guest in this house and as such expected to follow certain rules of etiquette? Now, you can cooperate with me, or you can refuse, but I assure you that I will eventually find out your secret."
"Haven't got one." Spike grinned, pleased that he'd finally managed to hit a nerve. "Or if I do, it's so secret even I don't know it. 'Sides, if I don't behave like a good little guest, what are you gonna do -- kick me out?"
"I can make your stay quite unpleasant, you know."
"Yeah, you do that. Be interesting to see if you can manage to do anything to me that I haven't already gone through. The universe has always had a fondness for knocking me down and then kicking me in the balls before I can get up again... but you know what? I always do get up again. I've been tortured, held prisoner, almost killed, actually killed, trapped in various hell dimensions, had my heart ripped out and stomped on both metaphorically and literally, forced to spend time as a ghost and haunt locations I absolutely hated, and, worst of all, been the roommate of Xander Harris." Spike looked at his captor, allowing just a hint of stubborn triumph shine through in his voice. "And despite all that, I'm still here. What have you got?"
Wanda looked at him, silent for a long time. Then, she motioned to all the furniture that was stacked against the wall. "I have an offer. I trust you see this furniture? There is a very comfortable bed here, a high-quality couch, a couple of nice chairs, and a functional widescreen television set. Cooperate with me on this, and you have my word of honor that it'll all be moved to under the shadow, where you can freely use it all. Refuse, however, and everything stays here in the light, just out of your reach. And -- it truly pains me to inform you this, but so does the refrigerator Which, at the moment, contains not only several packets of fresh blood, but also." she paused to give him an unpleasant smile, "one dozen onion flowers. And you won't get a single one."
"Bloody hell, woman!" Spike exclaimed, shocked.
"So, my most esteemed guest, what happens next is really up to you," said Wanda, once again all exaggerated hearty politeness. "Are you going to cooperate, or not?"
Spike drew in a huge breath, more out of frustration than because he actually needed to breathe, and let it slowly out again. "All right," he said through clenched teeth. "I'll bloody do whatever you say. For now."
"It pleases my heart greatly to hear this," said Wanda with a self-satisfied smugness in her voice that almost made Spike regret agreeing to her terms.
Almost.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Author's Notes: Here you go, my first fanfic taking place in the Buffyverse, and also a story I've been wanting to write for quite some time! I'm not quite sure of how long it'll be yet, but I think you can expect at least a novella-length story -- four or five chapters, possibly more. I don't know yet. (And thanks to Sarah for the title, by the way!)
Wasn't quite sure whether to put this in the Buffy or Angel category, given that the central character played important roles on both shows, but as the plot developed, I decided that the story was probably closer to the Buffy end of things... so that became the category.
This takes place after Angel's Season Five, sometime after the canonical After the Fall comics and during Buffy's Season Eight comics (yes, the comics count as canon for this one, but don't worry if you haven't read them -- the actual events of the comics don't come much into play here, since Spike (so far) isn't present in the Buffy comic, and is gone from enough issues of the Angel comic that there's plenty of time for an "unseen adventure." I'm sorta treating this in the vein of the Spike-centric comics Asylum and Shadow Puppets, which don't directly contradict the canon of the show but don't go out of their way to explain exactly where they fit in either. Suffice to say, the Spike of this story has a soul, is not in Hell, and has left Los Angeles and Angel -- for now.
Oh... and since we're acknowledging the comics here anyway, don't be too surprised if Spike's telepathic flying fish pal, Betta George (from the comics Asylum, Shadow Puppets and After the Fall) makes an appearance.