Not Monster Enough
First installment of the Mortal Allies Series
By: Passion4Spike
Story Summary:
Put together one worried mother, one leftover snack, one heartbroken Slayer and one vampire who is perhaps not quite the monster he should be, and what do you get? Mortal allies.
12 Years 12 Seasons Challenge on Elysian Fields, Prompt #2. Banner by the incomparable pfeifferpack
Thanks to my lovely beta-readers, PaganBaby and Holi117. Love your input, ideas, and all the smiley and frowny-faces I get back from you! All mistakes are mine because I can't stop fiddling.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. Joss owns all, I'm just playing in his sandbox.
Small AU adjustment before we start: Story takes place near the end of Becoming, Part II, but the whole time-frame is moved up a bit, and Buffy does not wait for morning to go fight Angelus in the mansion to stop him from activating Acthla as she did in canon. Buffy is fighting Angel in the early morning hours before dawn, but Willow has still had time to do the spell to return Angel's soul. The only real change is that everything is begun earlier and done before the sun comes up.
Spike pulled his dark princess against his side as he sped away from that cursed mansion on Crawford Street where he'd spent the last weeks in his own personal hell. He was finally free of bloody Angelus! Finally getting out of this town that had brought nothing but pain and humiliation down on him.
A little niggling doubt crept into his mind. Maybe he should've stayed and helped the Slayer finish Angelus … made sure that royal pain in Spike's ass was dusted, good and proper. He'd kept his end of the bargain, though, backed her up. Was for her to finish it … though she hadn't been fairing too well when he'd made his escape with his unconscious sire.
He stopped the car in the middle of the suburban street, empty in the wee hours of the morning. Rolling down the DeSoto's blacked-out window, he looked in the sideview mirror, back toward the mansion. He didn't see anything that looked like a portal sucking the world into hell. Perhaps she'd actually done it, actually snuffed that bloody bastard.
He took in a deep breath of relief and let it out slowly, allowing his eyes to close a moment as that thought washed over him. That girl was a bloody work of art. He'd come up against other Slayers in his day – he'd made it his business to – but this one? She was a masterpiece of death and destruction. A bloody firestorm the likes of which he'd never seen before – and bloody well hoped to never see again.
Beside him Dru gasped, her eyes flying open wide, but unseeing – or at least not seeing what was right in front of her. "The sunshine bleeds hot, salty oceans! Pierced with the darkness of a shattered soul! It hurts! Too much! Never asked for this! Why!? Please, why!? It hurts!" she shrieked, writhing wildly and gouging at her chest as if to remove her own heart.
Spike jumped in surprise then grabbed her, trying to stop her from hurting herself. She fought against him a moment, screaming, "Angel! My Angel!"
"Dru, pet, it's alright, baby … I gotcha," he cooed, capturing her clawing hands and holding her tight.
Suddenly, she went still and turned her wide, unseeing eyes on him, all the fight seemingly drained from her. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled over as she whispered, "Oh … my Angel, my love…I'm sorry… forgive me … my love."
"Shh," Spike cooed, his face drawn together in a mixture of anger and hurt. Bloody Angel! Would she ever leave off about him?! Every bloody thing was Angel, Angel, Angel.
"Mom? Mommy…?" Dru cried before slumping back into unconsciousness again.
Spike's expression changed as realization dawned on him. He looked back in the sideview mirror toward the mansion, biting his lip as he replayed all that Dru had said.
"Weren't your words, were they, pet?" he breathed, running a hand soothingly down Dru's chestnut locks. "'Sunshine bleeds'… were the girl's."
That masterpiece of death and destruction, that firestorm of a Slayer … underneath it all, she was just a girl. A heartbroken girl who needed her mother.
"Balls," Spike moaned, rolling his eyes, remembering what he'd heard as he was leaving the Slayer's house earlier that night – her mother telling her not to come back. If the bloody Slayer was shattered with no place t' turn, who the fuck was gonna keep the world safe for Man U and Piccadilly and all the other brilliant pleasures of this world?
As he was contemplating all this, something began growling and tugging viciously on the hem of his jeans, snarling its displeasure and worrying the fabric, as if to rip him to shreds.
Spike frowned and looked down into the floor at his feet. "Bloody hell, Dru! Told ya not t' leave yer leftovers in the soddin' car!" he complained, scooping up the small dog – no bigger than a lapdog but clearly a puppy needing to grow into its paws – up off the floor.
"Think yer somethin', eh?" he asked the pup, who continued to growl at him, baring its needle-sharp, little teeth in warning. "Big Bad in the making, are you? Not bloody likely," Spike snarled as he started to toss the thing out the open window and into the street.
He'd come within a moment of letting it go before an idea came to him.
** X-X-X-X-X **
The woman had a look of caution on her face but her slight stumble had more to do with the amount of Scotch she had been imbibing rather than fear of the Big Bad on her doorstep.
"Look missus, I did my part of the bargain. Gettin' out of Sunnyhell with my lady, like I promised. If everythin' isn't all wallowin' in hell 'fore long, then the Slayer's done her part, too."
The woman just looked at him with owl-eyes.
"Girl's had to snuff her first love. Bound to have issues. Needs her mum to step up and act like the grown up. Heard you tell the girl to not come home, but she'll need you now more than you need another drink."
Spike produced a trembling, small lapdog and thrust it at Mrs. Summers. "Time for the good-guys to take care of their own. Make everythin' safe for puppies and Christmas and all."
Joyce watched, bemused, as the frightening man marched off her porch and got behind the wheel of a large black car. She absent-mindedly petted the small dog and tried to collect her wits.
This was all just too much for her. Her whole world had started spinning out of control when her daughter tried to explain about being the Slayer.
The Slayer!?
Joyce had heard that before. She hadn't believed her. She and Hank had taken their only daughter for psychiatric help when she started talking about vampires and demons and Slayers. They'd locked her up until she stopped talking about vampires and demons and Slayers.
But Joyce had seen that man just burst into dust the previous night. He was a vampire. Buffy had explained it all.
And this man … the blond … Spike, right? He was a vampire. But he was a good vampire? Buffy was working with him. Something about Angel, her boyfriend, trying to end the world. It had all gotten just too much for Joyce to follow, nothing seemed real. This must be how people felt when they found out the Earth was round and not flat … well, apart from The Flat Earth Society, she supposed. She didn't want to be a Flat-Earther. She really, really didn't, but vampires? Demons? Slayers? Oh my.
Her mind whirled, the puppy in her arms whined and licked at her hand, bringing her out of her confused reflection. She looked down at the adorable fur-ball. It looked up to meet her eyes, its little head cocking to the side, its too-large ears flopping as it gave another small whine.
Spike's words finally pushed past the fog of confusion, bouncing around painfully inside her scotch-addled mind, 'Girl's had to snuff her first love. Bound to have issues. Needs her mum to step up and act like the grown up.'
What did that mean? She had no idea. What she did know was, if she didn't find out, she'd still be standing here insisting the Earth was flat while it went spinning out of control, taking her daughter with it.
"Oh, God, Buffy," she gasped, looking around the empty yard realizing she had no idea where Buffy was or what had happened to her. How was she supposed to help her girl when she didn't even know where she was?
** X-X-X-X-X **
Spike put the car in drive and sped away from the neat, Craftsman-style house, tires squealing. That was enough! He'd done more than he'd agreed to. Now he had to get the bloody fuck out of this cursed town. Away from that Slayer who had done nothing but bring pain and heartache into his unlife. The girl may be hurting now, but he, of all people, knew how easily heartache could turn into anger and a thirst for revenge.
Before going even a block, he slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to a skidding stop on the deserted, tree-lined street. His unconscious sire rolled half off the seat and onto the passenger side floorboard. He dropped his forehead against the steering wheel as a sob welled up from his shattered heart, shaking his shoulders. He'd hung on to his fury, he'd schemed and planned and made sure Angelus got what he had coming to him. Setting the Slayer up to do what he hadn't been able to do himself – dust that bloody worthless git. But, now that it was over and his anger was fading, the pain of the last months leaked from the cracks of his heart like molten lava spreading over the earth, burning everything in its path.
Another sob shook him as he gripped the wheel with all his strength, trying to hold on to something so he didn't just melt away under the strain.
Dru. His dark princess. His world. His whole heart. She'd fallen into daddy's arms, into his bloody bed, without a thought, without even a glance back at Spike. It was as if the last hundred years hadn't happened. As if it hadn't been Spike at her side all that time. As if he hadn't been the one, the only one, loving her, caring for her, trying his bloody damnedest to keep her safe!
Where was Angelus when that mob in Prague had attacked them and captured her? Where was Angelus when he had been searching for her, frantic and beaten half to death himself? Where was Angelus when he'd dragged her from that church, broken, burned and tortured beyond madness into catatonia? Where was Angelus when he had cleaned her wounds and whispered assurances and fed her every bloody hour, day and night? Where was Angelus when he had been searching for a cure, nursing her back to some semblance of health? Where was Angelus when she'd been wailing and crying, haunted by nightmares and terrorized by visions?
Spike growled through the heartache and shuddering sobs, grabbing Dru up and shaking her like a rag doll with every word. "Where the bloody fuck was Angelus then!?" he screamed at her. "Where was your precious daddy then!? Left you, didn't he? But not Spike! Ole Spike right there with ya, the whole bloody time! But that doesn't count for naught, does it!?"
Spike suddenly pulled her inert form against his chest and sobbed against her shoulder, burying his face in her chestnut locks. "I love you so bloody much. Why, baby, why can't ya love me? Why?"
In the next moment Spike's fury rose again. "Bloody bitch!" He shoved her away, dropping her unceremoniously back down to sprawl half in the floorboard, half in the seat.
Tears streaked down his face as he looked at her, unmoving, draped half on the seat, her dark hair fanned out over her face like a veil. Even at the end when the Slayer had arrived, Dru'd been on Angelus' side, fighting Spike rather than coming with him. Hadn't he always done what was best for her? Always!? But she wouldn't listen … wouldn't see, wouldn't trust him. He'd had to choke her out, kidnap his own sire, to get her to come with him.
He'd been forced to steal her away just as he'd always had to steal her love, always in bits and pieces. She'd rarely given it freely, and certainly never tossed more than crumbs to him, just barely enough to sustain his starving heart. Not like the adoration she lavished on Angelus. The sire who discarded her, the vampire who had killed her family as she watched, who had driven her to madness, who had never given her anything but pain.
Sobs of heartbreak mingled with growls of fury as his heart tried to find some thread of sanity to hold onto. Some hope. Some way to make her his eternal princess and only his. She could love that monster who abused and abandoned her, she gave him everything – unconditionally! But not Spike. Never Spike. No matter what he did, it was never enough. Never enough for her love.
Spike's growl overtook the shuddering sobs that racked his strong frame, his anger growing stronger again. "Don't think I'm monster enough, that it?"
Spike glared at his unconscious sire, his demon rising. "You want pain? I can give ya bloody pain! Give you every soddin' drop o' pain you've given me, can't I? Maybe then you'll love me, you bloody bint! Get the hell outta this town and I'll show ya a proper monster, won't I? Bloody right, I will!"
With that plan burning inside, Spike had turned back to the road and had begun to take his foot off the brake when there was a knock at his driver's side window. He jumped, startled. The car lurched forward, then slammed to a stop again as he hit the brake hard.
With another growl, he put the car in 'Park' and jumped out. "What the bloody fuck d' ya mean—" He stopped when he saw Buffy's mum standing there, looking alarmed, still holding the puppy.
"Oh … it's you," he stammered, suddenly feeling embarrassed for his language. "Uhh … pardon the French, missus, I …" he stuttered, shoving his hands into his pockets and shuffling uncomfortably, feeling like a schoolboy caught out for a misdeed.
"No … I mean …" Joyce gave him a forced, tight smile. "It's fine, I've certainly heard it before."
He tilted his head to the side, his saffron eyes studying her intently. "D' ya need something?"
Joyce swallowed, gripping the puppy tight enough to make it squirm. "I … ummm … you …" she stammered, waving her free hand at his demonic face, her eyes reflecting fear and comprehension all rolled into one big ball of apprehension which settled in her gut.
Joyce realized in that defining moment that Buffy really had been telling her the truth. There was no room left for doubt now. It felt like the universe had just hit her with a giant pillow; not exactly painful, but enough to take her breath and make her step back with the impact of it.
Spike frowned, then realized the cause of her discomfort and shook the demon down. "Sorry, missus …"
Joyce's face was awash in so many thoughts and emotions that it made Spike snort an incredulous laugh. How the bloody hell had that Slayer kept her mother in the dark all this time? And in this town, right on the Hellmouth? Bloody impressive, that was. That girl must be a master at hidin' in plain sight.
"Are you … okay?" she asked him then, taking in the streaks of tears that glistened on his cheeks. She took an automatic step forward, reaching a hand out in a mother's impulse to wipe the tears away.
"Right as rain," he snarled, leaning away from her hand and swiping at his cheeks furiously. "Did ya need somethin'?" he asked again irritably. Spike waved a hand at the car. "Need t' be on my way."
"I … ummm …" Joyce stammered, dropping her hand. She'd lost her train of thought for a moment … which had become a habit of late. She was starting to get used to it jumping the tracks and careening off cliffs into deep ravines as she tried to make sense of everything. Everything Buffy had revealed about Slayers and vampires had blown up several miles of track that Joyce desperately needed to keep her thought-train from doing a Thelma and Louise impersonation.
Joyce shook herself, took a deep breath, refocused, and steeled her nerve. "You said Buffy needs my help, but I don't know where she is. I … could you … um … take me to her?"
Spike's brows shot up. "Other side o' town … pretentious manse, can't miss it," he told her, waving a hand vaguely in the direction of the mansion.
"Oh, I …" Joyce looked in the direction he'd waved as if she could see where Buffy was, then looked back at him. "I'm afraid I'm not too steady right now … I just thought … you know where it is. It won't take long, I promise. I just … It's Spike? Right?"
Spike clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, trying to stay calm. He didn't have time for this. He needed out of this bleedin' town and away with Dru before the Slayer came lookin' for them, looking for payback for what she'd had to do.
"I don't really know what's going on, Spike, but you do. I need your help. Buffy needs your help. Please," she finished, her eyes imploring him to help her as only a mother could.
Spike watched her curl her free hand into a fist to try and stop it from trembling. Her heart was skittering like a rabbit's, and fear rolled off her in waves. But here she was asking a bleedin' master vampire for help – for a soddin' ride!
The fluffy puppy looked over at Spike and whimpered pitifully, its own little brown eyes seeming to hold just as much worry as the woman.
"Oh, bloody hell," he groaned, his hands going to his hips as he rolled not just his eyes but his whole head up to the dark sky, looking for help from who, he had no idea.
He sighed and yanked the back door of the DeSoto open. An empty whiskey bottle tumbled out and clattered on the pavement, rolling away under the car. He shoved all the detritus from the seat and the floorboard over to the other side, then stepped back, inviting her to have a seat. Just as he'd stepped back, a fat, grey rat jumped out of the car with a squeak and scurried right toward Joyce.
She screeched and jumped back, clutching the puppy tighter as she scarpered back away from the vermin. "Rat! There was a rat in your car!" she informed Spike, still looking around, trying to find where it went.
"Oh, right … sorry 'bout that," he deadpanned, leaning in to check the car for more live inhabitants. "Another o' Dru's snacks that got away is all."
"What? Snack? Rat?" Joyce stammered, her heart still racing in her chest, her mind unable to form full sentences.
Spike stood back up and waved an invitation for her to get in. "All clear now, no worries."
Joyce looked at him and the car warily, but she had no choice. She didn't know where this manse was or where Buffy was. Her daughter needed her. She had to go. She stepped up a tiny bit closer and looked inside, scanning the interior for any type of movement.
"Are there more … um, snacks running around?" she wondered.
"Naaa … reckon she got the others," he assured her, sniffing.
"Oh … you reckon … that's not terribly comforting," she admitted.
Spike snorted. "Don't hear any more. If they're in there, they're dead. No little pitter-patter o' vermin feet scurrying about."
Joyce nodded, her face scrunched up in disgust. "Oh, well … umm … that's a plus, I guess?"
"Don't worry, missus," he assured her when she still didn't make any move to get into the car, misreading her hesitation as fear of him rather than rats. "Not keen on clichéd horror movie plots. Bloody ridiculous, if ya ask me. Safe as houses, you are."
"Oh, well, that's good to know," she murmured, still not sure about riding with rats, dead or otherwise, but moving to the open door anyway. "And, it's Joyce … call me Joyce."
Spike blew out a sigh through his nose and nodded. "Joyce, then," he agreed as she slowly, hesitantly climbed in with the puppy and he closed the door. Spike's taxi was now in service. Bloody hell.
Spike got in and checked Dru first thing – still out. Thank bloody Beelzebub. He put the car in 'Drive' and took off, making a left at the next street and heading back toward that cursed place he'd hoped to never see again.
"So, have you known Buffy long?" Joyce asked from the back seat.
Spike looked at her in the rearview mirror and rolled his eyes, though she couldn't see his expression reflected back to her. "Just since ya hit me with that axe … met 'er a few days 'fore that."
"But you're not friends…" Joyce ventured.
"Mortal enemies," Spike agreed.
Joyce nodded. "But you were working with her, helping her."
"Enemy o' my enemy and all that rot for me. Lesser o' two evils for her, I reckon."
Joyce nodded again. "So, Angel was the … greater evil? But wasn't he her boyfriend? You said … her first love?" she ventured.
Spike growled involuntarily at the mention of the name. "Angelus is a bloody …" He stopped and regrouped. "He's not what she thought he was, I reckon. Changed."
Joyce nodded. "She said something about that… he got mean and dangerous."
Spike snorted. "He got back to his bloody natural state, is what he did! Twisted bastard," he insisted with a snarl. "But I reckon none o' that matters now since the world seems to still be spinning and there aren't any dragons swooping down on us."
"Dragons?" Joyce squeaked, trying to see out the window through the streaks of paint blacking it out.
Spike snorted. "No worries, pet. Pure Detroit steel, here," he informed her, banging on the sturdy roof of the car. "Dragons can't touch the stuff. Fae, ya know."
Joyce's brows went up. "Oh, are they?" God, she had so much to learn! Buffy hadn't mentioned dragons!
Spike smirked. "'Course, there's some that eat only Detroit steel," he revealed. "But, I reckon we won't worry 'bout that right now as there don't seem t' be any."
"Oh," Joyce repeated, finding a small opening in the blackout on the window and peering worriedly up into the night sky.
Spike's eyes danced with amusement, but he swallowed the snigger that threatened to give his joke away. He briefly wondered if she would also believe in leprechauns and honest politicians.
Joyce shook herself, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, pulling her quickly-derailing train back onto the tracks. She dragged her eyes from the window to look back into the empty rearview mirror. "So, umm, you said … she had to kill him – Angel, I mean?"
Spike nodded and cleared his throat before answering seriously, "Only way to save the world, by my reckoning."
Joyce looked down at the puppy and ran a hand over its soft, fluffy coat, thinking. How could she possibly make this right? Buffy was the Slayer. Apparently, she had been for years. And Joyce hadn't known … had ignored so many signs instead of asking her daughter about them. The ripped clothes, the blood, the bruises, the fights, the sneaking in and out at all hours. Joyce had been so wrapped up in her own pain and wallowing in loneliness following her divorce, she hadn't let herself notice her daughter's pain. She'd been too focused on trying to make money to pay the bills and in just trying to get from one day to the next, that she hadn't let herself see or acknowledge all those glaring neon danger signs flashing in her face.
"Thank you for helping her," Joyce murmured through an emotion-tightened throat.
Spike looked at her in the mirror and he could see where this Slayer got her strength, where she got her determination and tenacity, where she got her heart. He'd made it his mission to know Slayers, to know what made them tick, to know how they thought and how they felt and how they fought.
He'd spent nearly a century tracking them down, watching them, fighting them, and sometimes killing them. This one was different from all the rest. He'd known it from the start. And this woman riding in his bloody car holding a puppy was part of that difference. A big part, he reckoned.
"Welcome," he whispered back.
Spike turned another corner and Dru flopped around a bit more. He used one hand to shift her to what seemed like a bit more comfortable position.
"Is that your girlfriend … the one you and Buffy were talking about?" Joyce asked.
Spike sniffed, squaring his shoulders a bit. "Yeah, name's Drusilla."
"What happened to her?" Joyce wondered, leaning forward in the seat to get a better look. The little puppy growled a squeaky but persistent rumble, making Spike turn back and arch an incredulous brow at it.
Spike looked back at the road, using one hand to absently sweep Dru's long, silken hair from her face. "Had t' … sedate her. Didn't want to leave Angelus, she didn't."
Joyce's brow furrowed. "But she's your girlfriend, isn't she?"
"It's complicated," Spike muttered.
"That's what my husband said when I caught him with his secretary," Joyce admitted matter-of-factly, sitting back in her seat and soothing the puppy's discomfort. "I never thought love was that complicated. I just … loved. I think love is only complicated when it's conditional. Conditional love isn't truly love."
Spike pursed his lips. He never thought love was complicated either. He just loved. Fully. Completely. Unconditionally. "What did ya do … when ya caught him?" Spike asked, his eyes flicking to watch her in the mirror.
Joyce sighed, still petting the puppy, who had stopped growling and was gnawing happily on one of her fingers. "I cried. I screamed. I raged. I lost my self-respect. I blamed myself. I forgave him. I believed him. I … tried to be better, to be … more lovable. I tried to change, to be what he wanted."
Joyce shook her head and looked in the rearview mirror, instinctively knowing he was watching her, meeting his eyes though she couldn't see him. "It didn't work. Eventually, I figured it out … it wasn't me, it was him. I divorced him, I moved, I took my daughter and I … started over. Trying to change to make someone love you? It never works."
Spike shifted his gaze back to the road, making the last turn onto Crawford Street. "Me and Dru, we're eternal … literally," Spike explained. "Just needs a bit more monster in 'er man, she does." He sniffed. "Not a problem."
Joyce gave him a sad smile. "That sounds like a very lonely way to spend eternity, trying to be what you aren't."
Spike stiffened, amber flashing briefly in his eyes. "Vampire, yeah? Bloody definition of a monster, aren't I?" Spike shot back, his voice cold and hard.
Joyce nodded, that melancholy smile still on her lips, but didn't say any more.
** X-X-X-X-X **
Spike pulled into the garage of the mansion and cut the engine, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out in a sigh. There was no telling what Joyce would find on the other side of the door leading into the mansion itself.
He'd reckoned he'd just drop her off and scarper away, but … what if the girl was lying dead in a pool of her own blood, having been mortally wounded before dispatching the enormous git? How could he just leave a mother t' face that alone?
He clenched his jaw, frustrated with himself. What bloody difference did it make? Why should he care? What the fuck was wrong with him!? Thinking like a bloody twat, having soddin' feelings. That was part of his problem, wasn't it? Not bloody monster enough, was he? Well, he damned well was!
"Right! Off ya go! In there!" he barked at Joyce, waving a hand at the door leading into the mansion. "Done enough good deeds for this bleedin' century. Well's run dry."
Joyce nodded and pulled on the handle of the door, but it didn't open. She shoved against it with shoulder, and still nothing.
Spike rolled his eyes. He forgot about that … well, maybe he did go in for horror movie clichés now and then.
He got out and pulled the door open for her with an impatient sigh. "Right, then," he said again. "Just in there."
Joyce clutched the warm, soft puppy against her like a lifeline and nodded, giving the vampire a nervous smile. "Thank you, again, Spike," she muttered as she slipped past him and over toward the door.
Spike nodded his acknowledgment and slammed the back door closed. He could finally get the bloody fuck outta this town!
He'd just gotten back into his seat when Joyce stepped through the door to the great room and gasped in a horrified lungful of air. "Buffy!" she cried, hurrying out of sight of Spike, though he could still hear her calling her daughter's name, becoming more and more anguished with each repetition.
He gritted his teeth, clenched his jaw, and started the car. He put it in reverse and began backing out of the garage, Joyce's voice carrying clearly to his vampire senses over the rumble of the engine. "Buffy, oh, my girl! Buffy!"
"Oh, bloody hell," he groaned, jerking the car back into 'Park' and cutting the engine at the same time. He slammed the car door open, making the hinges squeal in protest, and stomped into the mansion behind the wailing woman.
"Buffy, Buffy, Buffy, please! Can you hear me?" Joyce cried, dropping down onto the floor next to her daughter's prone form.
Spike strode several paces into the room but stopped short of the women. The Slayer wasn't dead, he could hear two heartbeats, plus the little skittering heart of the puppy. The girl lifted up from where she'd been curled into a ball on the floor, her eyes swollen and rimmed in red, an ocean of tears left on the marble beneath her. She lurched into her mother's arms, sobbing and babbling incoherently.
Angelus, Spike noted happily, was nowhere to be seen. The sword was once again embedded in the heart of the world-ending rock-demon.
Joyce wrapped her free arm around her distraught daughter, the puppy wedged between them, wagging its tail and trying to lick Buffy's face. Buffy pulled back, surprised and clearly unsure what kind of monster was attacking them now. Spike watched as the pain in the Slayer's eyes softened just the slightest bit as she took in the small fur-ball who was whimpering and wiggling, trying to reach her. Buffy leaned forward and let the puppy lick her tear-streaked chin. A small, sob-dusted laugh fell from her lips as the happy little animal did what it had been meant to do – take the pain from her broken, bleeding heart.
Spike smiled sadly and nodded to himself, the cracks in his own heart mending slightly. They'd both had their hearts torn out by Angelus in different ways. They'd both learned painful lessons, too. Lessons he was sure would not soon be forgotten. Maybe he wasn't monster enough for Dru yet, but he could be. He bloody well could be.
Joyce looked up at him, meeting his eyes over Buffy's head. Spike prided himself on reading human emotions, but there were so many washing through her expression that he had a hard time pinning any of them down. Mostly she looked relieved and grateful.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The flicker of esteem and respect for the woman which had been kindled earlier redoubled. She'd had to process a lot in the last few hours. It couldn't have been easy, but she'd managed it and come through for her girl. They'd be okay now.
Spike turned away from the scene, leaving the Slayer and her mother to their tearful confessions and apologies. He hadn't gotten fully turned back around when the world exploded. Bright lights flashed across his vision and he stumbled back, falling on his ass on the hard floor.
He shook his head, trying to get all the marbles back into their proper slots, and caught a glimpse of red velvet and black lace streaking past him, heading right for the two defenseless, distraught women. He lunged for Dru, barely catching her ankle with the tips of his fingers, but it was enough to send her sprawling, face-first onto the floor.
She hit with an audible thud and a grunt of expelled breath, but she didn't stay down for more than a second.
The mad vampiress turned on her childe, fangs and claws flashing, and attacked with an ear-splitting screech of fury. Spike's demon rose in an instant as she landed atop him, clawing and ripping and snapping at his face, neck, chest, stomach – anything she could reach.
Buffy jumped up, instincts overtaking her despair, and put herself between her mother and the two furious vampires. She watched as Spike and Dru grappled on the floor, rolling one way and then the other like two lions fighting for dominance of the pride. Bellows, growls, and shrieks flooded the large room, echoing off the bare walls and filling the air with the rage and pain of the two lovers.
Buffy tried to move in, to do something, but they were moving too fast, switching positions at supernatural speed, one gaining the upper hand only a moment before being usurped.
Buffy searched around for a weapon, running over to pick up the stake she'd dropped earlier. "Let's go," she told her mother, guiding her toward the garden doors.
"But, Spike!" Joyce protested, unable to take her eyes off the two snarling demons.
"Forget Spike! Let's go!" the Slayer insisted, bodily pushing her mother away.
"He helped you! He helped me find you! We can't just—"
"Mother!" Buffy ground out in frustration. "He's a vampire!"
"But he helped you," Joyce asserted again in her best 'mom' voice, catching hold of the door frame to keep Buffy from pushing her out into the stone-walled garden. "This isn't right. We need to help him, Buffy."
"Argh!" Buffy screamed in frustration, whirling back around to see what was happening between the two vampires. "You stay here! I'll … I'll do something," she agreed reluctantly.
Buffy looked at her stake and sighed. If she dusted Dru, Spike would consider their deal null and void. She wasn't sure she could take him in a fight right now, she was too exhausted – emotionally and physically. With sudden inspiration, she tucked the stake away and ran out into the garden to grab the base of a heavy birdbath that had gotten knocked over during her fight with Angelus.
"Hurry, Buffy! Hurry! She's going to kill him!" Joyce cried, clutching the little puppy against her chest like a shield as it alternatively barked and growled at the struggling vampires.
Buffy sighed and rolled her eyes. "That could only make my life easier," she muttered as she hoisted the heavy pillar over her head with both hands and waited for her chance.
It didn't take long. Her mother was right – Dru was winning. The moment the shrieking brunette rolled back to the top, pinning her childe down with her hips and ripping at his face with her deadly claws, Buffy flung the pedestal down atop the dark vampire with all her strength. It smashed over Dru's head, breaking into hundreds of marble shards and scattering over the floor like confetti.
Apart from the squeaky growl of the puppy in Joyce's arms, everything went completely still and silent as Dru crumpled almost comically and fell off Spike's bleeding, bruised, and battered form. Spike took a deep breath and let his eyes fall closed in relief, then realized there was a bloody Slayer standing over him, and he jerked back to full alert. He pushed Dru off and staggered to his feet clutching at the deep gouges in his stomach, boots crunching on the remains of the pedestal.
"Tried t' leave, didn't I?" he defended, gasping with pain as the words spilled out. "Yer mum's fault I'm still here, it is! Ask her! I bloody well told her—"
"It's fine, Spike," Buffy sighed as her mother came up to stand just behind her and to one side.
"You're bleeding! Hurt! Buffy! Help him!" Joyce insisted.
"Mom," Buffy ground out between clenched teeth. "He's a vampire!"
"Yes, but…"
"'S alright, Joyce," Spike stopped her, drawing a raised eyebrow from Buffy at him using her mother's given name, like they were old friends. "Just be on our way, we will. Thanks for the assist, Slayer."
Buffy sighed and crossed her arms over her chest impatiently. "Just go, Spike … and don't come back."
Spike pursed his lips and gave her a nod. "Deal's a deal," he agreed, reaching down to grab one of Dru's wrists. He gasped in pain as he bent, stopping abruptly and clutching his ravaged, bleeding stomach with a groan.
"At least help him get her to the car, Buffy," Joyce prodded.
"Oh, my God. Two days ago you didn't know vampires existed and now, what? You're the president of the Vampire Relief and Assistance Corps? What's next? Blood drives? Bake sales?"
Her mom sighed and gave her one of 'those looks' … the ones that said she was being impolite and/or downright rude and she needed to just get over herself.
"Fine," Buffy spat, stepping past Spike and hoisting Dru up onto her shoulder. "Where do you want your crazy ho of a girlfriend?"
"Buffy," Joyce chastised again, drawing another eye-roll from the Slayer.
"Car." Spike jerked his head toward the garage, before turning back and giving Joyce a grateful, if blood-stained, smile and nod. Behind him, Buffy stomped out into the garage with her bloody, inert velvet-wrapped package.
"Take care of her. She's a bloody force o' nature, that one," he told Joyce, tipping his head after Buffy. "But she's still a girl with broken bits inside that need mending."
Joyce nodded and stepped forward. "Thank you for your help. I … I don't know what I would've done if … well … thank you."
Spike pursed his lips and dipped his head in a respectful nod. "Take care, Joyce."
"You too, Spike. Good luck with … everything."
He gave her another thoughtful nod and followed Buffy out to the garage. She'd already dropped Dru into the front passenger's seat where the vampire had clearly come from – the door had been standing open. Buffy may or may not have banged the dark vampire's head on the edge of the door frame when she'd put her in the car. Okay, who am I kidding? Of course she did.
"Thanks, pet," Spike said as she stepped back away from the car. He gave Dru a cursory check just to make sure she was still out and closed the door.
"Not your 'pet'," Buffy informed him, ignoring his expression of gratitude.
"Thanks fer seeing my mum safely here," Spike mocked in a high falsetto, before answering in his normal voice, "No worries, Slayer. She was right worried about ya. She's a nice lady."
Buffy rolled her eyes. Now a vampire was critiquing her manners? She sighed. "Thank you," she ground out grudgingly. "Go away and don't come back."
"Such heartfelt gratitude. Feel myself tearing up … coming over all verklempt," he mocked as he began hobbling around to the driver's side.
Spike stopped and looked back at the firebrand of a Slayer who was glaring daggers at him across the hood of the car. "You should talk to yer mum, reckon she knows a thing or two about love and betrayal. Might have some advice worth hearing."
"You don't know me, and you don't know my mom! So just stop acting like you give a good goddamn about us!" Buffy huffed.
Spike stiffened, his face growing hard. "Know more 'bout you than you'd like, I reckon! Killed your first love, didn't ya? Broken a bit inside, aren't ya? When you give all your love to someone, when ya trust them, and they spit it all back in your face? Bloody well hurts, doesn't it, Slayer? Feels like your heart's being beaten like a bloody pinata until all the shattered bits spill out, and no matter what ya do, you can't gather 'em back up, can't put it back like it was. Ever."
Buffy's bravado slipped as she stared at him, feeling as if he'd looked into her and saw everything … things she didn't want him to see, things she didn't want anyone to see. He couldn't have surprised her more or hurt her worse if he'd punched her. She blinked and swallowed hard, willing her tears back, willing her chin not to quiver. She didn't succeed.
Spike's shoulders slumped. "Sorry, pet … didn't mean t'—"
"Just stop talking," she ground out, recovering herself, sniffing back the pain. She'd become an expert at that lately.
Spike gave her a wan smile. "Asking too much now, you are. Can help ya save the world, but stop talking?" He shook his head negatively. "Like askin' you to open up, let the pain out, and give yer mum a chance t' help, innit?"
Buffy's glare returned. "Has anyone ever told you what a gigantic pain in the ass you are?" she wondered.
Spike shrugged. "To my face? None that lived t' tell about it. Anyone told you what a bloody ungrateful bitch you are?"
"None that lived to tell about it," Buffy retorted, crossing her arms over her chest and giving him an insincere smile.
"Reckon that makes us even then, Slayer," he drawled as he opened his door and slid behind the wheel.
Buffy arched a brow and shrugged in agreement as Spike started the car. Joyce came out of the house and stood next to her daughter as Spike backed out of the garage, down the long driveway, and into the street. He stopped there, blinking and wiping blood from his face and eyes. His shirt was shredded, as were his chest and abs … his face and neck couldn't be in any better condition.
He scowled and began fishing around the car seat until he found his cigarettes, half-crushed beneath Dru. Sighing, he pulled one out of the pack, straightened it the best he could, and lit it, flicking the top of his Zippo closed with a 'snap' before shoving it back into his pocket.
He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, gathering his strength and steadying his nerves a moment before he set off out of this bloody town. The sun was just starting to lighten the horizon to the east, tingling a warning over his skin. He was beyond exhausted, bleeding and hurting, but it didn't matter – none of it mattered. He'd drive until he couldn't drive anymore, get as far away as he could, and then try to find a way to put all his own bits back into the pinata.
Over the rumble of the engine he heard Joyce and Buffy talking as they walked out of the garage together.
"Isn't he adorable? Spike gave him to me," Joyce was saying. "Something about saving the world for Christmas and puppies?"
"Spike?" Buffy asked incredulously. "Are you sure it's not booby-trapped or a demon waiting to kill us in our sleep?"
"Buffy, don't be that way," Joyce chastised lightly. "He seemed sincerely worried about you, and he did help me find you."
Buffy sighed, shaking her head, unsure what to make of that. Spike was like that saying she'd learned in World History: A mystery wrapped in an enema inside a Rubik's Cube … or something like that. He was also a gigantic pain in the ass – thus the enema, she supposed. But he had kept his part of the bargain … honestly, he'd done even more, bringing her mom here. His creepily accurate description of how broken she was wigged her out, though – how could a vampire know how that felt?
"Are you okay, honey?" Joyce asked worriedly, wrapping and arm over her daughter's shoulders as they walked down the driveway.
"Not even a little bit," Buffy replied, her voice suddenly shaky and full of barely-contained tears. "But I will be, I think. Thanks … thanks for coming. I … I'm sorry for…"
"No, Buffy, I'm sorry. I just— it was a lot to take in and I freaked out. I love you."
"I love you too, Mom."
"Do you want to talk about what happened? About Angel and everything?" Joyce asked tentatively, casting a side-long glance at her daughter.
Buffy sighed, but nodded, turning to look up at her mom. "You know … yeah, I really do."
Joyce smiled affectionately. "I'll make some nice hot chocolate when we get home, and I think we have ice cream and lots of Hershey's syrup. We can talk … like old times."
Buffy returned the smile, tears prickling her eyes. "That would be of the good."
Despite the realization that she was following the advice of an evil vampire, Buffy felt a weight lift off her with just the idea of telling her mom everything. She used to be able to talk to her mom about anything: boys, school, boys, cheerleading, boys, homework, boys, makeup, boys, clothes, boys … But, since becoming the Slayer, she just couldn't. She'd had to keep it all a secret since they'd locked her up in that mental institution. She didn't want to go back into that place ever, so she'd pulled away, stopped sharing, stopped talking to her mom about anything remotely important in her life.
Willow was her best friend and Buffy shared everything with her, but sometimes you really just needed your mom to feed you chocolate, hug you, and tell you everything would be alright.
Joyce handed Buffy the puppy. The Slayer's sad smile curved into something more lighthearted as she lifted him up to touch a kiss on his furry little head. She inhaled deeply, burying her face in his plush coat. He smelled like 'puppy'. Buffy sighed, her mood buoyed, as the soothing aroma washed through her – they really should bottle that smell and put it in a bubble bath. There was nothing else in the world that smelled like 'puppy', and it was impossible to not feel better just breathing that scent in. Like the perfume of fir trees at Christmas or pumpkin pie baking at Thanksgiving, the smell of a puppy was a balm to the soul.
The little fur-ball began to wriggle and waggle, as only happy puppies can, trying to return the kiss. Buffy lifted her chin and pulled her lips between her teeth as the little thing licked her face joyfully, drawing some genuine non-grief-tinged laughter from the Slayer.
"What breed is it?" Buffy asked, trying to keep her lips closed as the dog licked at her tear-stained skin.
Joyce shook her head. "I'm not sure, something small, I think."
"Well, you just jinxed that," Buffy informed her, tucking the puppy under her chin to stop it's licking-assault on her face. "It's gonna be a small horse now, you know that, right?"
Joyce laughed and reached over to pet it. "I think we should name it 'Little Spike', what do you think?" she wondered as they turned and began walking down the sidewalk toward home.
Spike watched in the sideview mirror as Buffy cuddled the puppy against her chest, its head tucked under her chin affectionately.
Buffy barked out a laugh. "'Little Spike'?" Have ya seen Spike? Pretty sure that bulge in his jeans is anything but 'little.'"
"Buffy!" Joyce exclaimed in mock-horror. "I can't believe you were ogling his goods! I knew I should've sent you to the convent when you were five."
"Sorry, Mom, but, evil or not, when eye candy like that crosses your path, you gotta bask in the hotness." Buffy shrugged. "Anyway, if he didn't want everyone looking, he shouldn't wear such tight jeans."
"Honestly, I hadn't gotten past the cheekbones and those dreamy eyes," Joyce admitted. "Would you call them azure or cerulean? Oh! Maybe sapphire."
"MOM!" Buffy shrieked in horror.
"What?" Joyce countered. "I'm supposed to be blind?"
"There are some things daughters do not want to know about their mothers!"
"Like how hot your mom thinks that whole bad-boy vibe is? With the leather duster and the hair? And that scar through his eyebrow. I wonder how he got that?" Joyce continued teasing.
"LA-LA-LA-LA!" Buffy chanted, drowning out her mother.
"And what about that sexy accent? Man, that's something you could just listen to all night, isn't it?" Joyce continued when Buffy stopped, widening her eyes dramatically at her daughter.
"Mother! I am not hearing this!"
Joyce laughed, shaking her head good-naturedly. "Okay, how about just 'Spike' then, for the puppy, I mean?" she suggested.
"Anything, if you'll just stop talking about the evil Spike with his sexy accent and cobalt eyes!" Buffy agreed.
"Oh, you're going for cobalt, huh?" Joyce teased. "I'll claim azure then."
Buffy rolled her eyes, holding the puppy up to face-level again and considering it as her mother continued to laugh. Like every other human on the planet, the Slayer switched to baby talk to address the puppy, "Are you a sweet, wittle baby Spike? Kinda the anti-Spike, huh? Are you? Huh?"
As she spoke, the puppy's mouth dropped open and its tongue lolled out in a puppy-grin that would've melted even the Grinch's heart.
"I think he likes that name," Joyce observed as they turned a corner at the end of the block and disappeared from Spike's view.
Spike took another drag on the cigarette and allowed himself a smug smile. Ogling the goods, eh? Eye candy? Dreamy eyes? Sexy accent? Too bloody bad Peaches didn't live long enough t' hear his precious Slayer say that.
Spike sighed contentedly. The Slayer would be fine. What with his namesake there t' see after her, cuddle up alongside, and watch chick flicks with. He wondered if she'd let the pup sleep with her. That made his smile turn a little feral. Did the Slayer sleep in the nude? Now that had bloody possibilities. He'd never been jealous of a mangy mutt before, but …
Dru moaned beside him and Spike sighed. He took one more long drag of nicotine and flicked the cigarette out into the street.
"'S alright, ducks," he assured her, dragging her upright and against his side as they set off into the night. "One made-to-order monster, comin' up."
THE END.
**END NOTES**
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little drabble of a story (trust me, for me, this is a drabble!). Stop in and let me know! I don't think I've ever written anything this short, so I'd love to know if you liked it.
This is the first story in a series called Mortal Allies, which will feature more short stories of the two reluctant heroes having to work together. Of course, Spike the dog? He'll be along for the ride too! So, keep a watch out for those!