aka Karmic Payback Is a Bitch
AUTHOR: Taramisu
WRITTEN: 6/23/02
E-MAIL: taramisu@channelingboards.com
SUMMARY: Spike returns from Africa a changed
man. Buffy admits something to herself.
RATING: PG
A/N: Thanks
be to the betas, Melissa and Jacqueline!
Chapter 1
"E4."
"Miss. A9."
"Miss. E5."
"Miss. C7."
"Miss. E6."
"Miss. And you're never going to hit it playing like that."
"You play how you want, and I'll play how I want…bossy pants."
"Oh yeah?"
As the two women eyed each other, the room became silent, save for the ticking
of the kitchen wall clock. Neither
could tell you to this day who began the assault: elder or younger sister.
Suddenly the air was filled with projectile Cheetos, pretzels and grapes.
Each received their fair share of peltings as carefree laughter filled the room,
then took a detour up the stairs and out the windows.
Buffy shoved her chair back and rose as she attempted to pick grape mush out of
her hair. "Well. Can't continue. Need more snacks."
"We are definitely snack-deprived. Hey! How about some of those
little pizza snacks?"
Their comfortable companionship seemed natural and easy to any outsider looking
in. But for the two involved -- destiny-made sisters, one time reluctant
friends -- they knew that the road to this relationship had been long and
painful. They had finally grown to respect and love each other.
Ergo, many late night pillow fights, Battleship games shared crying over hot
chocolate.
Dawn looked up at her sister to find her peering into the wallet of doom.
"It's your choice." At that,
Dawn knew that Buffy had not found the necessary cash in said wallet.
"Pizza snacks now and Palace Burgers tomorrow after patrol, or no more
snackies and real food for dinner."
It was nice, having this new Buffy. No more lectures. Okay, very few
lectures. But no more demands or assumptions. They worked together
as a team. Everyone's opinion counted. It was a nice, warm feeling.
"I vote for pizza snacks."
"Really?" Buffy asked, surprised with her decision.
"Then snackies it is."
On her way out the front door, she yelled back, "And no looking at my
ships!"
*****************************************
As far as nights in Sunnydale went, this was a beautiful one. Buffy
contemplated her summer with a smile. Sure, Willow was "away,"
but they still wrote. Her rehab was going quite well. She was even
beginning to grieve for Tara in a healthy way. Buffy's heart ached to be
with Willow in England as she dealt with the death of Tara, but this was the
only way. Perhaps Giles would pay for a plane ticket soon for the
Summers' women to visit.
Then there was Anya, cheerfully tending to the store. The woman was
exactly the same now as a demon as she had been as a human. The Slayer
shrugged her shoulders, putting off that thought process to dwell on happier,
less confronting things. Things like the grin on Anya's face whenever a
customer walked into the shop. Or
even her excitement at counting the day's earnings.
It
had been months since they had their "talk". Actually, it was
more a one-way talk. Anya spewed forth her regrets about Spike, and Buffy
tried desperately to tell her that there was no fault. In the end, Anya
felt better, which made Buffy happier. A win-win situation if ever there'd
been one.
As far as Buffy could tell, Xander was getting back on his feet. He hadn't
been sent home drunk since early June. Buffy suspected that he was still
drinking on weekends when the loneliness would strike, but couldn't prove it.
This led to many weekend invitations to join the Summers' brigade on patrol or
movie night. Usually he accepted, which was of the good.
She missed Tara. It was one thing to talk to your sister about your job,
the bills and other of life's stumbling blocks...but a totally different thing
to talk to her about more cough adult matters. Buffy felt thankful
to have at least known Tara Maclay as long as she did. Such a kind soul.
Never a thought for herself. Never a mean word on her tongue.
Oftentimes Buffy would meditate, thinking back to her friend and using her for
inspiration on altering her own attitude. It was the best way she could
imagine to keep the spirit of Tara alive.
Finally, there was Spike. Or rather, there wasn't. Whether he was
dead or alive...undead...she did not know. Her life had been rather busy
over the summer, attending to her own and everyone else's needs. She
hadn't had much time to think about the Spike situation. It was only in
the wee hours of the night that thoughts of Spike sought her out.
***************************************************
The dreams were all the same. Her instinct told her they were not just
dreams, but her mind and heart insisted the opposite.
Like clockwork, within two hours of falling asleep:
"The only chance you had with me was when I was unconscious!"
"You're beneath me."
"You're disgusting."
"You're a pig."
"You're an idiot."
"I could never love you."
"Get out, Spike."
"Get out, Spike."
"Get out, Spike."
"I couldn't live, her bein' in so much pain."
"I love you."
"You're in my gut."
"You're all I ever think about."
"Buffy!"
"Oh, God, I love you so much."
"Do you trust me?"
"'Til the end of the world. Even if that's tonight."
"Every night I save you."
"How long was it where you were?"
"That's cheating..."
"You know I love you."
The rest of the dream consisted of flashes of memories too painful to bear.
Waking up in Angel's bed alone. Angel telling her she was no good in bed,
tearing her heart out and slamming it to the floor. Waking up in Parker's
bed alone. Parker telling her he had a fun time. Waking up in
Riley's bed alone. Riley on the floor of a filthy hotel room with a
vampire attached to his arm. "Harder." Riley flying away
in a helicopter. Twice.
Then, the dream would turn into a new direction.
Waking up in a demolished house, next to Spike. Waking up in Spike's
crypt, next to Spike. Spike listening to her story of Heaven. Spike
holding her on the porch while she cried. Spike's face when she told him
it was over. Spike's look of panicked regret in the bathroom, just before
he ran out.
And at the end, a wholly unfamiliar scene: Spike screaming in torment as his
body became surrounded by light. Some nights she could make out words in
his screams. Sometimes, they were just screams of pain. Last night
had been the most disturbing, leaving her with thoughts of him that continued to
invade her mind on this nice, happy trip to the convenient store.
"For you, Buffy. For you."
***********
That next morning Dawn could tell something was off. The elder Summers had taken to moping again and had invested herself into the household chores. Finally, after the fourth dusting of one coffee table, Dawn had had enough.
"Buffy."
"Mm, hmm," the elder replied without interest.
"Buffy!" No answer. "Chosen One! Slayer extraordinaire! Mopey Pants!"
Buffy looked up from her dust rag. "Wh-were you saying something?"
"Just that I'm three months pregnant and about to go insane from the syphilis." Dawn stood with her hands on her hips and her head cocked in annoyance.
"Oh. I'm sorry, Bit. I'm a little preoccupied."
Dawn paused a beat to consider the statement, then confronted Buffy. "What did you just call me?"
"Huh?"
"You just called me 'Bit'."
Buffy's eyebrows came together. "I did not."
"You most certainly did. Are you…are you thinking about Spike?"
"What? When…NO!" Buffy's face grew panicked.
Dawn began to skip around the room in a quiet juvenile fashion. "Buffy's thinking of Spiiiike. Buffy's thinking of Spiiiike. Buffy's thinking of Sp…gargh!"
A strong hand yanked the girl out of her path.
"I am not thinking about Spike."
The younger took a second to regain her balance, then addressed her sister. "Buffy. It's me here." Dawn's face softened as she reached out to stroke her sister's blonde locks. "Remember? No more lies. No more omissions. No more secrets."
At her sister's gentle, honest request, Buffy's walls came down just a bit. A few moments passed while she thought of the best way to describe her thoughts. It was so difficult for her to open up to anyone – even family. But, if the past had taught her one thing, it was that no man is an island. Or was that, 'no Slayer is an island'? Buffy knew that she wasn't really living behind that brick wall she had erected to keep out the pain of the world. All it did was keep in the pain.
"I've been having dreams…about Spike." Given the last thing that had transpired between the Slayer and vampire, she waited for Dawn's expression of anger or disgust. When it did not come, her relief was palpable.
"So? Go on. What kind of dreams? Are they naughty, or nice?"
"Dawn Marie Summers!"
"I know, I know. He did bad things. We hate him right now. But we didn't always." Dawn looked at her sideways, awaiting the final decision.
"Well. They…the dreams…are very, um, emotional. I keep seeing all the things I said and did to him. Then I see all the wonderful, heartmelting things he's said to and done for me." She paused, fighting back a slew of tears. As she continued, her voice was soft and deliberate. "I've done horrible, horrible things, Dawn."
She hung her head low, leaving Dawn at a loss for what to do. They had discussed this once before and Dawn thought Buffy had worked through most of her regrets. Apparently, she hadn't.
"Are you sorry because you treated someone poorly, or because you treated someone you love poorly?"
Buffy liked to picture her sister as perpetually naïve about life. The reality was a bit different, as Buffy was slowly learning. The times that Dawn imparted wise advice, or uncovered the down-and-dirty truth were becoming more and more frequent.
"I don't love him. I never loved him," Buffy said.
Dawn pulled her sister's face up to her own and their eyes met. "Look me in the eye next time you lie."
Chapter 2
Buffy shook her head in a vain attempt to shake the thoughts of Spike (and
Dawn's brazen statements) from her mind. "Snacks. I am
getting snacks. Not thinking about the evil dead thing who attacked me
then left. Bad, bad vampire." It wasn't working. No
matter how many times she told herself how bad and wrong Spike was, she could
not seem to keep her most private thoughts from wandering to him. Where
was he? Why did he leave her? How could he leave her? What was
happening to him?
While Xander certainly had Spike tried and convicted in his mind, she wasn't so
sure. Their relationship had been many things, but normal was never one of
them. Her best friend would never understand that. He would never
understand the passion that lived in Spike. The fierce devotion he
possessed. He would never hurt her -- that she was sure of.
He just got a little...derailed by that passion. Honestly, she didn't know
what to think. Perhaps she would have had a heated, hate-filled
argument with him had he been there to hear it. But he was gone.
Just gone. And she had no clue as to when he would return, if he ever
would. No matter how many times she tried to repress her feelings, her
tenderness for one soulless vampire fiend with a love the size of Texas could
not be exorcised.
Buffy sighed and continued on her way.
While she was walking along, thinking of pizza treats and Hershey bars (oh, yes,
this night would definitely have to include good old Mr. Hershey), she heard the
sounds of a struggle coming from the park. 'Oh, great. Don't these
people understand the meaning of the word, "Hellmouth"?
Why can't they all just stay home after dark?'
Within three seconds, the Slayer had located the scuffle. Men. Big
men with bandannas on their unkempt hair and torn blue jeans on their legs
surrounded a smaller man with very short brown hair. Just as she arrived,
Buffy noticed the smaller punk of the bunch pull a knife out from his boot.
Quickly, the Slayer intervened, grabbing the offending object and dispersing the
pile of stinky men as easily as if they had been made of paper. Amazingly,
none advanced upon her in retaliation. These men could sense real danger
when faced with it and instinctively, all fled. With the attackers gone,
Buffy turned her attention the poor soul at the heart of this unfortunate
attack. He was a thin man, cowering in fear, his arms covering his face.
"Sir?" Buffy laid a gentle hand on his shoulder in an attempt to
comfort him. His hair was so short, almost military-like. She
absentmindedly wondered how a skilled fighter could react in this manner, but
then realized that if he were a fighter, he wouldn't be in this mess to begin
with.
She knelt beside him. "It's okay. They're gone now. I
can't believe..." What she saw before her stopped her voice
instantly. The man had uncovered his face to look at his savior.
That face. It was familiar. It was…
"Spike?!"
Immediately, he stood up, dusting himself off in a futile attempt to regain some
composure. "Buffy! I...I wanted to…this is just not how I
wanted to meet you." She noted the shiny gleam of a tear in the
corner of his eye. "Please. Let me do this properly."
"Spike? What's going on? Where have you been? Your
hair." Her eyes searched him, taking in the figure of a man so
familiar and yet so alien at the same time.
There was a big gash across his left cheek where a fist must have made
contact, and his light grey shirt had a small tear at the sleeve.
"Buffy," he said again. This time, he was forcing himself to be
calm. Spike bowed his head slightly as he continued. "I did
something to you I need forgiveness for. I have to explain that to
you."
"No explanations needed, okay. Let's just get you cleaned up.
You look terrible." Buffy just wanted to get him out of there.
Seeing him in the middle of the park, so beaten and helpless.
It just wasn't right. But Spike had other priorities.
"No, Buffy. Now, you've always had the last say in matters.
Just let me say something here." Buffy then listened in silence.
"I am sorry. So very sorry. I…" Spike swallowed hard.
"...took advantage of your trust for me. You may say you never had
any, but I know better. You trusted me with your life, and I blew
it...again. But I can say I'm sorry now, Buffy. I can really say it
and mean it." He was beginning to talk very quickly, almost
feverishly, which made Buffy a bit nervous. She had never seen him this
way; so regretful and insistent on setting things right.
"I can finally tell you that I will never hurt you. And you can
finally trust that it's true."
He took one more large breath as Buffy leaned in about to ask what he was
talking about. But Spike seemed to sense her question and answered it
before she could open her mouth. "I have a soul."
Chapter 3
"A soul?" She looked in his sparkling blue eyes with
incredulity. "How..."
"I earned it. I fought for it. I won it. It's mine.
I won't ever lose it. And most importantly, I'll never hurt you, or anyone
I love again."
-------------
It was a terribly long walk home for the two.
Spike was a bit concerned with Buffy's lack of response to his
confession, while Buffy was stunned. She
had a lot of things to work through in her mind before she could process this.
This, strangely enough, was not unfamiliar territory for her -- a vampire
with a soul. Of course the first
time had not gone too well. No, it
went anything but well. A part of
her wanted to deny her feelings for Spike, just to keep from rehashing all the
old Angel issues. But the rest of
her knew that was not the way to go. Spike
wouldn't let her just push him aside…and apparently, neither would Dawn.
Did
the soul mean that Spike was now someone who could be loved and trusted?
She knew he would insist that was the case.
And if he were trustworthy, would he one day lose that and
kill her and her friends? Probably
not, but knowing her own track record, she couldn't discount the possibility.
'Oh, God.' This was all just too
much to consider. Too much a
reminder of past scars. Too much of
a reason to allow herself to love him.
-------------
"Dawn! I'm back!"
From the kitchen, the younger Summers yelled in mock irritation.
"It's about time. What? You
decide to make the pizza snacks yourself from scratch?"
"I brought you something special."
"Ooo! Chocolate?" Dawn's footsteps started out toward the
front door.
"No. Something better."
Dawn was just coming into eyesight. "Better than choc…oh my God.
SPIKE!"
Spike found himself plastered up against the door in a near-Slayer-strength
embrace. It felt so good to feel some genuine fondness from another
individual. The last few months had been nearly impossible for the vampire
to bear.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, the girl let go and looked at her friend.
"You cut your hair. What's up with that?"
"I cut it off."
"You cut it off? Why would you…"
Buffy grabbed Dawn's arm gently to interject. "I think he has
something a little more important to tell you. Don't you, Spike?"
Two pairs of eyes focused on him making him feel like an animal in a zoo.
Any minute now, one of them would tap on the glass and make little obnoxious
noises, or maybe throw peanuts.
Dawn took in his new demeanor, specifically noting his reluctance to speak.
"It's okay. You don't have to tell me. I'm not all that curious
anyhow."
"Liar," Buffy said as she smiled.
"This is…all a bit much for me." He
was so thin – no, emaciated, and dirt and blood was plastered to his tiny
frame. Dawn backed off in an
attempt to give him some space, while Buffy gently lead him to the couch.
Whatever it was that had happened to him, it left him a broken man.
Even Buffy could see it.
"Here.
Sit." Buffy motioned to
the seat while clearing away some throw pillows and grapes.
On his questioning look, she just smiled and shrugged.
"Mutant Grape Demon?" He
smirked back weakly, desperate for a comfortable environment, but not sure yet
if this was his refuge.
Suddenly, Dawn jumped, making the rest of the people in the room do the same.
"Ooh! Bad hostess!" Her
eyes widened. "I never offered
you anything. Do you want something
to drink? How about some blood?
I think there's one fresh bag left in the back of the fridge."
Dawn grinned evilly at her sister's shocked face.
Of course she knew that Buffy had been secretly stashing away blood all
summer. That's not typically an
item you miss while scavenging for lunchables on a Saturday afternoon.
"Not that we've been expecting you or anything."
Dawn kept her eyes on Buffy, enjoying the ripe flush creeping up her
face.
"It's not…human, is it?"
Dawn gave a confused little "huh?" But for Buffy, it was all making sense. The weight loss, the timid man surrounded by humans. He really did have a soul. And he was obviously not doing well without help. "Spike." One gentle hand went to his. "It's human, but it's out of date, discarded blood from the blood bank. No one was hurt or killed for it. Please." She nodded her head at Dawn, indicating for her to retrieve it. You need to eat. You're wasting away."
His first thought was to refuse it on principle. No one was to take pity on the once great Spike. He could handle anything the world threw at him. And, hey! This was something he had asked for. But then, he saw a look in Buffy's eyes. It was an expression of kindness and caring instead of pity. He couldn't remember ever having seen that particular face directed at him.
"Okay."
Chapter 4
He drank with a fervor, not having realized at first how very hungry he really was. It had been 147 days since he left and over 4 months with this soul. In all that time, he'd not been able to bring himself to kill anything. Not even small animals. As for his hair, one day shortly after the re-souling, he had realized that his hair was still the platinum blonde that it had been since the 70's. He had fortunately shed the black leather duster, and now he felt it was time to abandon the last remaining symbol of his destructive persona. Had anyone been near him at the time, he or she would have heard a man weeping as he angrily ran a razor over his head, tossing the shorn locks onto the ground. In an almost ritualistic display, Spike gathered up the remains and burned them under the light of the full moon.
Now, after all those months of self-loathing and living in the
most disgusting of alleyways and sometimes even underground for the day, he
found himself in the most unlikeliest of places: Buffy's home. Not
only had she seemed to have forgiven him, but she had brought him into her
home, offering nourishment and kindness.
It was novel. It was
comfortable. It was…unnerving. She was touching him gently, handling him as an honored
guest, and even talking to him with respect and consideration.
Something had happened between then and now.
Something that he was not prepared for.
"I just want to know one thing, Buffy. And tell me the truth,
please."
"What is it?" She regarded his features with doubt.
"Do you love me?"
Buffy's breath caught as her heart squeezed too hard. Hadn't they already been through this numerous times?
Hadn't he demonstrated that he was not trustworthy, and thereby unworthy of
her love? Why was he doing this? Never mind the fact that she had
been asking herself that very question for the past 147 nights. Never
mind that Dawn was convinced she had fallen in love with him. There was
only one answer that was going to come out of her mouth.
"No. You know that." She
steeled herself for the emotion that was bound to follow. Would he be crushed?
Would his heart be broken, yet again?
"Good."
Good? Did he just say, 'good'? What did that mean? What the
hell did that mean?!
"G-good?"
His eyes softened from their previous state of anxiety. He smiled a sad
little smile - the kind that wrinkled the skin just at the corners of his
mouth while his eyes declared his emotions. Oh, God. She had his
facial expressions memorized. This could lead to nothing good.
"I'm not the same man, Buffy. You of all people should know what a
soul means to a vampire. The demon loved you." Spike
straightened up, tilting his head and looked like he was consulting a voice in
his head. "Well, it loves you. But I don't. I see
everything in you that it does. I
see exactly why a man could fall in love with you. I've seen your ability to love, to hate, to be kind,
to be cruel. The demon could
ignore all the heartless things you've done, but I can't.
I'm a man, Buffy, not a monster."
Buffy had not yet begun to breath again. It was as if her entire world
had come crashing down around her. Her vision tunneled until the living
room was gone, and all that remained was a blurred Spike face, looking sad and
thoughtful. 'But I love him.' There! She finally admitted it
to herself. She loved Spike. That was the first step. But
then again, there would be no more steps, for he no longer loved her.
There was nowhere to go with her new realization of love-type feelings, for he
had lost his.