Title: Home Again
Rating: PG
Setting: A month after "Grave"
Spike slept soundly in his aisle seat; the sound of jet engines droning quietly was the most discernible noise in the cabin. It was a red-eye flight and most of the passengers were also asleep. But we only care about Spike, who had apparently adopted a new look on his extended holiday. His hair was longer and mostly light brown with blonde tips. It looked like it hadn't been cut or bleached in a month. He wore blue jeans and a dark grey collar shirt that fit nicely on his slightly bulkier frame. He looked kind of like... James Marsters in August. The captain came over the speaker, announcing, a little too loudly, that they were preparing to land in Sunnydale, California in fifteen minutes. This roused a few passengers out of their slumber including Spike's seat-mate who stirred, stretched and lifted the shade on his window. A harsh panel of bright light fell directly over Spike's face.
Spike immediately put a hand up and recoiled. "Hey!"
"Sorry." Spike's seat-mate shrugged in apology and stared to put the shade down again.
"S'alright," grumbled a very groggy, but most notably UNburned Spike. "It's just a hell of a wake up call, mate. Leave it open, I don't mind."
Both Spike and his equally groggy seat-mate stared blankly out at the sunrise as they began their decent into Sunnydale. A flight attendant walked by, asking them both to put their seats upright for landing.
Spike, in a soft, kind voice asked, "Excuse me, luv. Do you have the time?"
"Just about six a.m., Pacific Coast time." The flight-attendant, Ella if we were to believe her name tag, was instantly charmed by the hunky british guy with the great highlights. "You sure are a sound sleeper. You missed the breakfast burrito."
"Sorry to hear that," replied a not-too-sorry Spike. He spent most of the evening hours drinking from those cunning little bottles and the thought of what may or may not be inside the breakfast burrito caused some unpleasant stirrings in his tummy. "Never have been much of a morning person, though."
***
Spike entered his crypt with some trepidation, not really sure what he'd find there.
"Clem?"
No response.
"Anyone?"
When there was no response, Spike yelled at the top of voice. "Innocent victim here! Disease free with plenty of hot, pumping blood! New to Sunnydale! No family to speak of! ...Lots of cash on me!"
No one took the bait. Spike grinned and walked to the center of the front room. So... all to himself then. It was just like coming home, if your home was a creepy old crypt filled with dust and cobwebs. Not much had changed, except that the place felt colder than he remembered. He shivered as he looked around, the quiet pressing at his eardrums.
"I'm home, sweetheart! Would you be a petal and fetch my slippers n'pipe?" Spike chuckled humorlessly. His voice echoed against the stone walls. Then, quietly, with some awe in his voice he added, "What a dump."
Shrugging it off, Spike decended the ladder to the exploded lower level and began to search through the rubble. After some digging, he found a strong box hidden behind a stone and used the combination lock to open it. His face softed as he lifted out what looked like a very old lace handkerchief, an antique pocketwatch, a leather pouch and a framed picture of a woman and two children dressed in 19th century fashions. He tucked the items delicately into his duffel bag then lifted out a false bottom in the strong box to reveal... nothing.
Spike's brow wrinkled. "Where is it?" His eyes darted suspiciously around the room and then stopped their accusatory dance when Spike realized where he had left the missing item.
***
Spike entered Buffy's house from the always open back door.
"Dawn? Niblet, it's me, you home?"
Again there was no response, but Spike was not in the mood to have any more fun with empty dwellings. He wanted to get in and out of this place as quickly as possible. Stealthily, he darted into the living room and opened the closet there, searching quickly. After a few moments, he closed the closet and looked around. His eyes landed on the staircase. He checked out the window, sighed and took the stairs two at a time.
He stopped short when he entered Buffy's room. This was big crime he was doing here. Dangerous territory.
Screw it. He flung open Buffy's closet and began to push around the clothing hanging there. That's when he saw it. His black leather duster, looking cool even on a hanger. He lifted it out and just stared at it for a moment, drinking in every scuff and wrinkle. Then, quite abruptly, he took it off the hanger, balled it up, stuffed it under his arm and headed for the exit.
He heard the door opening too late. He was already half way down the staircase and staring into the angry face of Xander Harris. Standing next to Xander was Buffy, who looked about as shocked to see him as he was to see her in the reverse position a year ago. Spike couldn't read her face beyond that, because he couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes for more than a second. But he sure knew what Xander was thinking.
And if he didn't, he was about to find out.
"Sweet mother of crap, is this a joke? It has to be a joke. I can't really be seeing Spike in front of me. Because after what Spike did, even he would not be STUPID enough to ever set foot in this house again!"
"I just came for--"
Xander grabbed Spike by the shirt and pulled him down the rest of the stairs, effectively cutting off his explanation. "Are you INSANE? Did you catch Drusilla disease while you were away? What the hell would posess you to come here?"
Buffy shook off her astonishment and tried to clear her head. Spike was here. In her home. She felt a rush of unpleasant emotions, seething anger among them, as she remembered his last visit. But Xander was acting like her bouncer and she didn't like it. This was her house and if there was going to be violence, she should be the one to dole it out. In her jumble of thoughts she noted that Spike looked different. He seemed different. Where had he been? Wherever it was, he looked like he'd been feeding regularly. Great.
"Are you gonna ANSWER ME!?" Xander shook Spike who only glared back at him with hate in his eyes.
"Xander." Buffy's voice cracked as she spoke. She had no idea what she was going to say after that.
"I told you to do the uninvite!" Xander snapped at her, harshly enough to make her jump. Her startled reverie turned to anger pretty quickly. What the hell was he yelling at her for?
"Well, we've been a little tapped for witches if you remember," Buffy snapped back.
Spike barely had a chance to be perplexed by this statement before Xander opened the door and pushed him out on to the porch. "You are one sick little bloodsucker and I for one will be happy to watch you die."
Xander produced a very sharp looking stake from his pocket and Spike held up his hands in surrender, dropping the leather jacket at his feet. "Look, calm down, Harris. I just came for the bloody coat! I didn't think anyone was going to be home. My mistake. But I'm leaving now and I'm not coming back."
Buffy was puzzled. There was no cockiness to Spike at all, it seemed. No swagger. He didn't even seem to be lying. It was all very suspect.
"Not coming back. Yeah, you got that right." Xander made like he was going to stake Spike, then stopped when he saw Buffy jump. Xander sighed heavily, shook his head and pushed Spike hard down the porch steps instead. Right into the blazing, afternoon sun. Spike got to his feet quickly only to be slammed in the stomach with his balled up coat.
"There," Xander hissed, "now you can be pimp daddy of the underworld again. Just take it and get the hell out."
Spike stood. Tears stinging his eyes. He expected to be treated this way. He was prepared for it. But what he wasn't prepared for was the feeling that they had every right to be like this. He had done something awful and he deserved whatever they gave him. It was a sickening feeling. Just get out of here, his mind counselled. But there was just enough of the old Spike left in him to make one final statement. One last grasp at his dignity.
Buffy was staring. She was totally absorbed by the sight of Spike standing in full sunlight. He wasn't burning. She scanned him to see if he was wearing any special rings or amulets and could find nothing. Xander was so pissed he hadn't even noticed.
"Xander," she murmured.
"What?" He looked at her and then followed her gaze. Finally, he realized. "Hey..."
They watched as the still-not-burning Spike turned his coat inside out and tore into the lining. He fished inside and retrieved a leather bound notebook. When he looked up again, he found that he was being watched. He held up the book.
"This is all I wan--" He took a breath and made a correction. "This is all I came for."
He turned and started to walk away. Buffy couldn't stop herself from calling out. "Wait!"
Spike turned, feeling broken and exhausted. "What is it?"
"What did you... What happened to you?"
Spike squinted up at the sun. Oh yeah. He'd almost forgotten. Imagine that. He spread his arms out to give her a better look at his newly human form. "Take a bloody guess, Slayer."
He dropped his arms and gestured toward the ruined coat now lying crumpled on the grass. "Toss that for me would you, Harris?"
He started to walk away, then called over his shoulder, "Or keep it as a souvenir if you like. Something to remember me by and whatnot."
Spike wished comments like that still made him feel better. He kept his back to them in hopes that they would assume he was grinning as he walked away.
***
Anya looked up from the store ledger and felt her heart leap in her chest. She jumped up from her chair, but forced herself to stand still with her hands clasped firmly together in front of her.
"You're back." She exhaled, unable to hide her cheery grin.
Spike smiled softly and walked over to her. "Not exactly. I just came to say goodbye--"
"Your human!" She blurted out.
Spike was only slightly surprised by her quick deduction. Anya was keenly observant after all, and knew about the subtle differences between demons and humans. He simply nodded in response.
Anya seemed almost disappointed. "With a soul? How did this happen?"
"I don't think I want to tell you."
"Why? Was it horrible?"
"No, just embarrassing." Spike didn't want to be here anymore. It was like pulling off a bandaid very slowly. He didn't have the heart to make chit chat with old... friends. You don't have any friends. "Anyway, I'm off. I just wanted to say goodbye to you because, you're the only one that..." Don't cry. Don't you dare cry you bloody nance! "...goodbye, Anya."
He akwardly moved to hug her and she awkwardly accepted but once they were in each other's arms there was nothing but comfort. Okay, so maybe you have one friend. Nothing to write home to mum about. 'Specially since you've got no mum, either. Okay, now you're depressing me.
"Don't go" Anya whispered over his shoulder.
"I have to." Spike spoke softly with closed eyes. "The things I've done here. I can't--"
Anya pulled away. "Can't what? Can't face? Please! Join the freaking club!"
Spike cocked his head at her, questioning.
"I mean, after me going all vengence demon again and Buffy trying to kill us all and Dawn stealing and Giles' and Xander's guilt of abandonment and Willow's descent into darkness... we should hold weekly encounter sessions. Hi, my name is Anya and I feel guilty about doing bad things. We'll make little keychains with inspirational sayings on them and serve punch!"
This is not the first time Spike felt lost during one of Anya's rants. "Willow's what?"
"Oh, that's right, you don't know. Um..." She paused, trying to find the right phrasing. "Well... Warren killed Tara. Willow went on a vengence spree, flayed him alive, tried to kill the other nerds, almost killed me and Giles in the process, then ended up trying to destroy the world. Xander saved us all with some story about a yellow crayon. And a whole mess of love. Seems he's got a lot of love in him for people who aren't me. Anyway, you should have been there. Although, you probably wouldn't have been able to help, what with not being able to hurt humans and all."
Spike sat down hard. His mind reeling.
"Oh! Do you still have the chip? Does it still work?" Anya sat down next to him.
"I don't know... Tara's dead?"
Anya looked down, embarrassed. "Yeah. I didn't mean to just spit it out like that. As you can see I have not yet overcome my bluntness problem. I'm sorry. I know you liked her a lot."
"She was... good." Spike's blue eyes began to shine. He struggled against crying but a tear or two finally escaped. How's that cramp, Spike? He put his head down as Tara's sweet face appeared in his mind. Girl could never hurt a bleeding fly. Why is it always the ones who least deserve it? Fuckin' hell. He felt Anya slip a comforting arm around his shoulders.
At first glance, Giles didn't know who it was that Anya had her arm around. He was in the training room and had just finished working on a new exercise program for Buffy. His eyes were tired. When he got his glasses on again, he immediately wished he hadn't. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?"
Spike shot up from the bench and tried to wipe his eyes without drawing much attention to it. He cleared his throat and made a feeble attempt to be cocky. "I could ask the same of you. I thought you were living it up on yorkshire pudding and kidney pies."
"I was needed. You, on the other hand..."
"Oh, don't worry I'm going!"
"Again?"
Frustrating OLD CODGER!! Spike exhaled heavily. "Yes, AGAIN. And also forever. So quit looking at me like you're throwing me out. I was already on my way!"
"Well then, don't let me keep you!"
"You're NOT!"
"Fantastic!"
"Both of you, shut up!" Anya was tired of watching the big ball of testosterone being volleyed back and forth. "God, you two are like a couple of old... guys who bicker a lot."
Spike tried to hide his smile at the cuteness of Anya. He was a little disconcerted when he noticed that Giles was trying to hide the same sort of smile. Nothing in common with him. NOTHING!
Anya waved her arms around Spike as if she were modeling a toaster on the Price is Right. "Giles, Spike is human now."
Of course. That's what was different. Giles watched as Spike looked away, clearly mortified at being outed. "What have you done to yourself?"
"Believe me, Rupert, if I had it to do over again--"
Anya impatiently interrupted. "Yes but you don't. You're just going to have to live with it. But you haven't been human in one hundred and thirty years, how exactly to you intend to make a living? Hobos don't hop trains and eat beans under the stars anymore, they live on street corners and eat out of garbage cans. You need a job."
Spike frowned. "I'm not an idiot, you know. I can get a job."
"Doing what?" Anya demanded. "Where? Where are you even planning to go?"
Spike had absolutely no response. Giles caught himself feeling a little sorry for him. A very, very little.
"So, it's settled." Anya smiled and made a gesture as though dusting off her hands quickly. "You'll work here."
Both men looked at Anya and then at each other, surprised and nonplussed. How exactly did they get there?
"What?" Spike asked in a very high pitched voice.
"Oh, no, no, no, no, no." Giles crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame, shaking his head.
Anya pointed accusingly at Giles. "You were just saying we needed another person to help around here. Spike knows magiks, he knows a lot of demon languages, he's been around for a long time and knows his way around the underworld, he's the perfect job candidate."
Spike was outraged. "Look, I've been humiliated. I'm human. I've got a bloody soul and at night I fall asleep thinking the most putrid, self-pitying thoughts ever conjured since the dark days of Angel. I have no self-respect, no personal goals, no special skills and no where to go. But I'll be buggered if I'm gonna stoop to being this man's employee!"
Spike pointed to Giles who shot back a glare.
Anya remained cheeful and oblivious.
"You won't be working for him, you'll be working for me! When Giles went to England he left most of the shop to me. I took over and made twice as much money. I'm the bossman around here, now. So really, you two will just be my bitches."
Spike chuckled out some of his tension at the sight of this sweet, if not slightly crazy, girl. Anya looked back at him, hopeful.
He sighed and smiled, then touched her softly on the arm. "Anya, love, thank you for the thought. But I don't belong here anymore. I'm not wanted. I am, in fact, hated here." He looked up at Giles who shifted uncomfortably but met his eyes. "And sadly enough, I don't blame you for it."
Giles frowned with some suspicion.
Spike recognized it as such and felt the need to clarify. "I didn't come here for pity or forgiveness. I came here to say goodbye."
Anya hung her head. This was a battle clearly lost.
Spike moved in close to her, lifted her chin and gave her a sweet kiss on the lips. When he pulled away he stroked her hair, putting it behind her ear so he could better remember her face. "Goodbye, Anya."
He turned to walk away, then stopped and took her by the hand. "Just remember, with the high and mighty...'
"...always a little patience." Anya nodded and tried to smile as tears started to fall. Spike had to turn away. He slowly let go of Anya's hand as he went.
Giles watched this all very carefully and with great interest. It appeared that Spike really was leaving. It was probably for the best. Of course it was. But... there was so much to... so many changes... so many possibilities. "Spike, wait--"
Spike did not hear him calling, because Buffy had entered the Magic Box and was standing before him, wide eyed and out of breath.
Giles fell silent. Anya braced herself for the worst.
"Don't leave because of me," Buffy said quickly. "If you're going to leave town, do it for your own reasons, but not because of what happened. It won't change anything."
Spike forgot how to speak. He made several attempts before his voice box emitted anything at all. Finally, he said, "I know. Nothing will change it. I wanted to tell you I was sorry. But it seemed... inappropriate."
"So you're just running away, intstead? You have a soul now, so your gonnna sit around and mope and feel sorry for yourself when you could be doing something good for a change?"
Spike was so confused. "I don't... I don't understand."
Buffy was shaking. "I would have thought you had a little more guts than that. What you did... I didn't think you were capable of. But I remember the look on your face... afterward. I know it won't happen again. Especially now. So, if you're leaving town because of me. Don't."
Before Spike could even take another breath, she was out the door again. Spike had to sit down, but there was no chair where he was standing. He dropped to his knees instead. Anya and Giles stood by, feeling every bit of his pain.
"I don't know what to do." Spike muttered, without looking up.
"You're overwhelmed." It was Giles voice. Spike heard footsteps and knew Giles was walking slowly toward him. He closed his eyes and listened to the calming voice of authority. "As you should be. You've dug yourself a very deep hole and I think you realize that the simple presence of a soul is not enough to get you out of it. That's more than I expected of you and it's a good start." Giles crouched down next to Spike, who looked up at him with watery eyes. "You still have a great lot of climbing to do... but you won't have to do all of it alone."
Giles offered a hand and Spike inhaled deeply, startled by this completely unexpected gesture. When he realized he wasn't being teased, Spike took Giles' hand and got to his feet. He barely had his balance when Anya rushed him and threw her arms around him. "I can't fit all of that on a keychain," she cried into his shoulder. "You'll just have to remember it."
Spike smiled at Giles over Anya's shoulder. Giles returned the smile. He had high hopes for this young man before him. He'd been disappointed before, but somehow he felt things would be different this time around.
THE END
Rating: PG
Setting: A month after "Grave"
Spike slept soundly in his aisle seat; the sound of jet engines droning quietly was the most discernible noise in the cabin. It was a red-eye flight and most of the passengers were also asleep. But we only care about Spike, who had apparently adopted a new look on his extended holiday. His hair was longer and mostly light brown with blonde tips. It looked like it hadn't been cut or bleached in a month. He wore blue jeans and a dark grey collar shirt that fit nicely on his slightly bulkier frame. He looked kind of like... James Marsters in August. The captain came over the speaker, announcing, a little too loudly, that they were preparing to land in Sunnydale, California in fifteen minutes. This roused a few passengers out of their slumber including Spike's seat-mate who stirred, stretched and lifted the shade on his window. A harsh panel of bright light fell directly over Spike's face.
Spike immediately put a hand up and recoiled. "Hey!"
"Sorry." Spike's seat-mate shrugged in apology and stared to put the shade down again.
"S'alright," grumbled a very groggy, but most notably UNburned Spike. "It's just a hell of a wake up call, mate. Leave it open, I don't mind."
Both Spike and his equally groggy seat-mate stared blankly out at the sunrise as they began their decent into Sunnydale. A flight attendant walked by, asking them both to put their seats upright for landing.
Spike, in a soft, kind voice asked, "Excuse me, luv. Do you have the time?"
"Just about six a.m., Pacific Coast time." The flight-attendant, Ella if we were to believe her name tag, was instantly charmed by the hunky british guy with the great highlights. "You sure are a sound sleeper. You missed the breakfast burrito."
"Sorry to hear that," replied a not-too-sorry Spike. He spent most of the evening hours drinking from those cunning little bottles and the thought of what may or may not be inside the breakfast burrito caused some unpleasant stirrings in his tummy. "Never have been much of a morning person, though."
***
Spike entered his crypt with some trepidation, not really sure what he'd find there.
"Clem?"
No response.
"Anyone?"
When there was no response, Spike yelled at the top of voice. "Innocent victim here! Disease free with plenty of hot, pumping blood! New to Sunnydale! No family to speak of! ...Lots of cash on me!"
No one took the bait. Spike grinned and walked to the center of the front room. So... all to himself then. It was just like coming home, if your home was a creepy old crypt filled with dust and cobwebs. Not much had changed, except that the place felt colder than he remembered. He shivered as he looked around, the quiet pressing at his eardrums.
"I'm home, sweetheart! Would you be a petal and fetch my slippers n'pipe?" Spike chuckled humorlessly. His voice echoed against the stone walls. Then, quietly, with some awe in his voice he added, "What a dump."
Shrugging it off, Spike decended the ladder to the exploded lower level and began to search through the rubble. After some digging, he found a strong box hidden behind a stone and used the combination lock to open it. His face softed as he lifted out what looked like a very old lace handkerchief, an antique pocketwatch, a leather pouch and a framed picture of a woman and two children dressed in 19th century fashions. He tucked the items delicately into his duffel bag then lifted out a false bottom in the strong box to reveal... nothing.
Spike's brow wrinkled. "Where is it?" His eyes darted suspiciously around the room and then stopped their accusatory dance when Spike realized where he had left the missing item.
***
Spike entered Buffy's house from the always open back door.
"Dawn? Niblet, it's me, you home?"
Again there was no response, but Spike was not in the mood to have any more fun with empty dwellings. He wanted to get in and out of this place as quickly as possible. Stealthily, he darted into the living room and opened the closet there, searching quickly. After a few moments, he closed the closet and looked around. His eyes landed on the staircase. He checked out the window, sighed and took the stairs two at a time.
He stopped short when he entered Buffy's room. This was big crime he was doing here. Dangerous territory.
Screw it. He flung open Buffy's closet and began to push around the clothing hanging there. That's when he saw it. His black leather duster, looking cool even on a hanger. He lifted it out and just stared at it for a moment, drinking in every scuff and wrinkle. Then, quite abruptly, he took it off the hanger, balled it up, stuffed it under his arm and headed for the exit.
He heard the door opening too late. He was already half way down the staircase and staring into the angry face of Xander Harris. Standing next to Xander was Buffy, who looked about as shocked to see him as he was to see her in the reverse position a year ago. Spike couldn't read her face beyond that, because he couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes for more than a second. But he sure knew what Xander was thinking.
And if he didn't, he was about to find out.
"Sweet mother of crap, is this a joke? It has to be a joke. I can't really be seeing Spike in front of me. Because after what Spike did, even he would not be STUPID enough to ever set foot in this house again!"
"I just came for--"
Xander grabbed Spike by the shirt and pulled him down the rest of the stairs, effectively cutting off his explanation. "Are you INSANE? Did you catch Drusilla disease while you were away? What the hell would posess you to come here?"
Buffy shook off her astonishment and tried to clear her head. Spike was here. In her home. She felt a rush of unpleasant emotions, seething anger among them, as she remembered his last visit. But Xander was acting like her bouncer and she didn't like it. This was her house and if there was going to be violence, she should be the one to dole it out. In her jumble of thoughts she noted that Spike looked different. He seemed different. Where had he been? Wherever it was, he looked like he'd been feeding regularly. Great.
"Are you gonna ANSWER ME!?" Xander shook Spike who only glared back at him with hate in his eyes.
"Xander." Buffy's voice cracked as she spoke. She had no idea what she was going to say after that.
"I told you to do the uninvite!" Xander snapped at her, harshly enough to make her jump. Her startled reverie turned to anger pretty quickly. What the hell was he yelling at her for?
"Well, we've been a little tapped for witches if you remember," Buffy snapped back.
Spike barely had a chance to be perplexed by this statement before Xander opened the door and pushed him out on to the porch. "You are one sick little bloodsucker and I for one will be happy to watch you die."
Xander produced a very sharp looking stake from his pocket and Spike held up his hands in surrender, dropping the leather jacket at his feet. "Look, calm down, Harris. I just came for the bloody coat! I didn't think anyone was going to be home. My mistake. But I'm leaving now and I'm not coming back."
Buffy was puzzled. There was no cockiness to Spike at all, it seemed. No swagger. He didn't even seem to be lying. It was all very suspect.
"Not coming back. Yeah, you got that right." Xander made like he was going to stake Spike, then stopped when he saw Buffy jump. Xander sighed heavily, shook his head and pushed Spike hard down the porch steps instead. Right into the blazing, afternoon sun. Spike got to his feet quickly only to be slammed in the stomach with his balled up coat.
"There," Xander hissed, "now you can be pimp daddy of the underworld again. Just take it and get the hell out."
Spike stood. Tears stinging his eyes. He expected to be treated this way. He was prepared for it. But what he wasn't prepared for was the feeling that they had every right to be like this. He had done something awful and he deserved whatever they gave him. It was a sickening feeling. Just get out of here, his mind counselled. But there was just enough of the old Spike left in him to make one final statement. One last grasp at his dignity.
Buffy was staring. She was totally absorbed by the sight of Spike standing in full sunlight. He wasn't burning. She scanned him to see if he was wearing any special rings or amulets and could find nothing. Xander was so pissed he hadn't even noticed.
"Xander," she murmured.
"What?" He looked at her and then followed her gaze. Finally, he realized. "Hey..."
They watched as the still-not-burning Spike turned his coat inside out and tore into the lining. He fished inside and retrieved a leather bound notebook. When he looked up again, he found that he was being watched. He held up the book.
"This is all I wan--" He took a breath and made a correction. "This is all I came for."
He turned and started to walk away. Buffy couldn't stop herself from calling out. "Wait!"
Spike turned, feeling broken and exhausted. "What is it?"
"What did you... What happened to you?"
Spike squinted up at the sun. Oh yeah. He'd almost forgotten. Imagine that. He spread his arms out to give her a better look at his newly human form. "Take a bloody guess, Slayer."
He dropped his arms and gestured toward the ruined coat now lying crumpled on the grass. "Toss that for me would you, Harris?"
He started to walk away, then called over his shoulder, "Or keep it as a souvenir if you like. Something to remember me by and whatnot."
Spike wished comments like that still made him feel better. He kept his back to them in hopes that they would assume he was grinning as he walked away.
***
Anya looked up from the store ledger and felt her heart leap in her chest. She jumped up from her chair, but forced herself to stand still with her hands clasped firmly together in front of her.
"You're back." She exhaled, unable to hide her cheery grin.
Spike smiled softly and walked over to her. "Not exactly. I just came to say goodbye--"
"Your human!" She blurted out.
Spike was only slightly surprised by her quick deduction. Anya was keenly observant after all, and knew about the subtle differences between demons and humans. He simply nodded in response.
Anya seemed almost disappointed. "With a soul? How did this happen?"
"I don't think I want to tell you."
"Why? Was it horrible?"
"No, just embarrassing." Spike didn't want to be here anymore. It was like pulling off a bandaid very slowly. He didn't have the heart to make chit chat with old... friends. You don't have any friends. "Anyway, I'm off. I just wanted to say goodbye to you because, you're the only one that..." Don't cry. Don't you dare cry you bloody nance! "...goodbye, Anya."
He akwardly moved to hug her and she awkwardly accepted but once they were in each other's arms there was nothing but comfort. Okay, so maybe you have one friend. Nothing to write home to mum about. 'Specially since you've got no mum, either. Okay, now you're depressing me.
"Don't go" Anya whispered over his shoulder.
"I have to." Spike spoke softly with closed eyes. "The things I've done here. I can't--"
Anya pulled away. "Can't what? Can't face? Please! Join the freaking club!"
Spike cocked his head at her, questioning.
"I mean, after me going all vengence demon again and Buffy trying to kill us all and Dawn stealing and Giles' and Xander's guilt of abandonment and Willow's descent into darkness... we should hold weekly encounter sessions. Hi, my name is Anya and I feel guilty about doing bad things. We'll make little keychains with inspirational sayings on them and serve punch!"
This is not the first time Spike felt lost during one of Anya's rants. "Willow's what?"
"Oh, that's right, you don't know. Um..." She paused, trying to find the right phrasing. "Well... Warren killed Tara. Willow went on a vengence spree, flayed him alive, tried to kill the other nerds, almost killed me and Giles in the process, then ended up trying to destroy the world. Xander saved us all with some story about a yellow crayon. And a whole mess of love. Seems he's got a lot of love in him for people who aren't me. Anyway, you should have been there. Although, you probably wouldn't have been able to help, what with not being able to hurt humans and all."
Spike sat down hard. His mind reeling.
"Oh! Do you still have the chip? Does it still work?" Anya sat down next to him.
"I don't know... Tara's dead?"
Anya looked down, embarrassed. "Yeah. I didn't mean to just spit it out like that. As you can see I have not yet overcome my bluntness problem. I'm sorry. I know you liked her a lot."
"She was... good." Spike's blue eyes began to shine. He struggled against crying but a tear or two finally escaped. How's that cramp, Spike? He put his head down as Tara's sweet face appeared in his mind. Girl could never hurt a bleeding fly. Why is it always the ones who least deserve it? Fuckin' hell. He felt Anya slip a comforting arm around his shoulders.
At first glance, Giles didn't know who it was that Anya had her arm around. He was in the training room and had just finished working on a new exercise program for Buffy. His eyes were tired. When he got his glasses on again, he immediately wished he hadn't. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?"
Spike shot up from the bench and tried to wipe his eyes without drawing much attention to it. He cleared his throat and made a feeble attempt to be cocky. "I could ask the same of you. I thought you were living it up on yorkshire pudding and kidney pies."
"I was needed. You, on the other hand..."
"Oh, don't worry I'm going!"
"Again?"
Frustrating OLD CODGER!! Spike exhaled heavily. "Yes, AGAIN. And also forever. So quit looking at me like you're throwing me out. I was already on my way!"
"Well then, don't let me keep you!"
"You're NOT!"
"Fantastic!"
"Both of you, shut up!" Anya was tired of watching the big ball of testosterone being volleyed back and forth. "God, you two are like a couple of old... guys who bicker a lot."
Spike tried to hide his smile at the cuteness of Anya. He was a little disconcerted when he noticed that Giles was trying to hide the same sort of smile. Nothing in common with him. NOTHING!
Anya waved her arms around Spike as if she were modeling a toaster on the Price is Right. "Giles, Spike is human now."
Of course. That's what was different. Giles watched as Spike looked away, clearly mortified at being outed. "What have you done to yourself?"
"Believe me, Rupert, if I had it to do over again--"
Anya impatiently interrupted. "Yes but you don't. You're just going to have to live with it. But you haven't been human in one hundred and thirty years, how exactly to you intend to make a living? Hobos don't hop trains and eat beans under the stars anymore, they live on street corners and eat out of garbage cans. You need a job."
Spike frowned. "I'm not an idiot, you know. I can get a job."
"Doing what?" Anya demanded. "Where? Where are you even planning to go?"
Spike had absolutely no response. Giles caught himself feeling a little sorry for him. A very, very little.
"So, it's settled." Anya smiled and made a gesture as though dusting off her hands quickly. "You'll work here."
Both men looked at Anya and then at each other, surprised and nonplussed. How exactly did they get there?
"What?" Spike asked in a very high pitched voice.
"Oh, no, no, no, no, no." Giles crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame, shaking his head.
Anya pointed accusingly at Giles. "You were just saying we needed another person to help around here. Spike knows magiks, he knows a lot of demon languages, he's been around for a long time and knows his way around the underworld, he's the perfect job candidate."
Spike was outraged. "Look, I've been humiliated. I'm human. I've got a bloody soul and at night I fall asleep thinking the most putrid, self-pitying thoughts ever conjured since the dark days of Angel. I have no self-respect, no personal goals, no special skills and no where to go. But I'll be buggered if I'm gonna stoop to being this man's employee!"
Spike pointed to Giles who shot back a glare.
Anya remained cheeful and oblivious.
"You won't be working for him, you'll be working for me! When Giles went to England he left most of the shop to me. I took over and made twice as much money. I'm the bossman around here, now. So really, you two will just be my bitches."
Spike chuckled out some of his tension at the sight of this sweet, if not slightly crazy, girl. Anya looked back at him, hopeful.
He sighed and smiled, then touched her softly on the arm. "Anya, love, thank you for the thought. But I don't belong here anymore. I'm not wanted. I am, in fact, hated here." He looked up at Giles who shifted uncomfortably but met his eyes. "And sadly enough, I don't blame you for it."
Giles frowned with some suspicion.
Spike recognized it as such and felt the need to clarify. "I didn't come here for pity or forgiveness. I came here to say goodbye."
Anya hung her head. This was a battle clearly lost.
Spike moved in close to her, lifted her chin and gave her a sweet kiss on the lips. When he pulled away he stroked her hair, putting it behind her ear so he could better remember her face. "Goodbye, Anya."
He turned to walk away, then stopped and took her by the hand. "Just remember, with the high and mighty...'
"...always a little patience." Anya nodded and tried to smile as tears started to fall. Spike had to turn away. He slowly let go of Anya's hand as he went.
Giles watched this all very carefully and with great interest. It appeared that Spike really was leaving. It was probably for the best. Of course it was. But... there was so much to... so many changes... so many possibilities. "Spike, wait--"
Spike did not hear him calling, because Buffy had entered the Magic Box and was standing before him, wide eyed and out of breath.
Giles fell silent. Anya braced herself for the worst.
"Don't leave because of me," Buffy said quickly. "If you're going to leave town, do it for your own reasons, but not because of what happened. It won't change anything."
Spike forgot how to speak. He made several attempts before his voice box emitted anything at all. Finally, he said, "I know. Nothing will change it. I wanted to tell you I was sorry. But it seemed... inappropriate."
"So you're just running away, intstead? You have a soul now, so your gonnna sit around and mope and feel sorry for yourself when you could be doing something good for a change?"
Spike was so confused. "I don't... I don't understand."
Buffy was shaking. "I would have thought you had a little more guts than that. What you did... I didn't think you were capable of. But I remember the look on your face... afterward. I know it won't happen again. Especially now. So, if you're leaving town because of me. Don't."
Before Spike could even take another breath, she was out the door again. Spike had to sit down, but there was no chair where he was standing. He dropped to his knees instead. Anya and Giles stood by, feeling every bit of his pain.
"I don't know what to do." Spike muttered, without looking up.
"You're overwhelmed." It was Giles voice. Spike heard footsteps and knew Giles was walking slowly toward him. He closed his eyes and listened to the calming voice of authority. "As you should be. You've dug yourself a very deep hole and I think you realize that the simple presence of a soul is not enough to get you out of it. That's more than I expected of you and it's a good start." Giles crouched down next to Spike, who looked up at him with watery eyes. "You still have a great lot of climbing to do... but you won't have to do all of it alone."
Giles offered a hand and Spike inhaled deeply, startled by this completely unexpected gesture. When he realized he wasn't being teased, Spike took Giles' hand and got to his feet. He barely had his balance when Anya rushed him and threw her arms around him. "I can't fit all of that on a keychain," she cried into his shoulder. "You'll just have to remember it."
Spike smiled at Giles over Anya's shoulder. Giles returned the smile. He had high hopes for this young man before him. He'd been disappointed before, but somehow he felt things would be different this time around.
THE END