Disclaimer: I own nothing
Faith wondered what her new Watcher's plan was. The plan for if she went bad. She knew he had to kill her if that happened, if she was no longer the weapon they wanted. It was inevitable.
But how would this skinny old stick kill her? A gun? A poison, in her food? Did he have backup hiding somewhere?
He drove in silence, keeping the car exactly at the speed limit, ignoring the cars passing them. He glanced at her. "Do you have a license?" he asked.
She shook her head silently, and he simply nodded.
The little snippets she could hear of his accent were familiar. Giles had spoken that way. And Wesley.
And now that her mind was on Giles she remembered that she'd probably see him in Sunnydale. Her stomach turned at the thought; although she hadn't given him the brutal treatment she'd given, say, Xander, or Willow. Or Buffy, but Buffy definitely wouldn't be there. And that hurt most of all. Why? Shouldn't it have been a relief that she didn't have to face the golden Slayer, with her blonde hair and shiny bright conscience?
Spike waited patiently for the Bit to come home. He sat still on the couch, patiently.
Yes, the Big Bad was now sitting patiently. Baby-sitting a little girl for no other reason than a promise to a lady. Was that pathetic or what?
The demon sat there stoically, ignoring his own doubts, fears, and ramblings. He was not going to die, not here. He was not going to go crazy from grief. Not going to resort to drinking, as he had when Dru left.
Why? Because he had a mission.
A sacred mission. A holy mission.
One that he'd made a promise about. And William the Bloody was many things, but he had never been a liar. He'd saved the world, once. Saved it from Angelus, of all people, the vampire who was the closest thing he'd ever had to a real Sire.
Dru didn't count.
And that was a very pathetic thing, for a vampire.
Not the Sire mix-up. The whole saving-the-world bit.
And then he'd done more pathetic things that he was ashamed of. Fallen in love with the Slayer. He could feel his stomach turn with the sheer wrongness of that.
He'd taken a beating to protect the Slayer's little sister. And that was a very pathetic thing. Very pathetic indeed.
And his undead chest swelled with pride at the thought. That was what he had descended to. Actually enjoying doing a good thing like that. His insides twisted at the thought.
How low was he?
He was so low now that everybody knew he was the Slayer's pet. The 'good' vampire, like Angel.
He could feel himself cringing at the very thought.
And all those thoughts ran underneath the slow, overwhelming torrent of pain that threatened to drive him to death.
But he had a mission, he reminded himself.
Dawn walked in the door, careful to close out the sunlight behind her. "Spike?" she said hopefully.
Fifteen days yesterday. Sixteen today.
"Bit?" He stood up. They had been friends before, but now it was hard. Very much so. She looked at him, and he could see it in her eyes. The silent recriminations. 'You could have saved me. Saved her.' He could see it in her eyes whenever she looked at him.
And he knew what she saw in his eyes. The silent accusation. 'It was your fault. If not for you, she'd still be alive.'
He couldn't help it. He would never say it. He would die before saying that out loud to Dawn, kill any other man who accused her of being responsible for Buffy's death.
But there it was, between them. So difficult that they couldn't even really talk to each other. So difficult that she couldn't believe he was still here. So difficult he couldn't believe he was still here.
But there he was, and there she was.
"Rummy?" he asked, holding up the cards in his hand.
Willow glanced to Xander. "She died in a wash of mystical energy," she told him "That's not a natural death. She, she could be trapped in some hell dimension, suffering torment, because she saved the world. I'm not going to leave Buffy like that."
Xander swallowed. "But Faith—"
Willow's face hardened. "Faith. They let the killer out to guard us all, now? That's all the more reason we need to free Buffy. What if Faith goes bad again? Who's going to stop her? Spike? He can't hurt humans. And he's the closest thing we have to a Slayer right now."
"Besides Faith," said Xander.
"Who tried to kill us!" insisted Willow.
Xander nodded slowly. "Okay. Yeah. I'm with you."
Giles cleaned his glasses. "I'll be...leaving," He told Anya.
"Leaving?" she replied blankly.
"I'll be going back to England. Now that Buffy's...gone. Now that she's gone, I'm not, I'm not needed here."
Anya nodded. "And besides, they're bringing a new Watcher with Faith," she pointed out. "Redundancy issues."
"Er, yes," said Giles, putting his glasses back on. It was amazing that she'd managed to insult him so tactlessly without showing the slightest remorse. "Um, while I'm gone you'll be in charge of the Magic Box." She brightened up instantly. "And, um,"
"When do you leave?" interrupted Anya happily.
"Er, I'll need to put my affairs in order first." Insolent, thoughtless child.
"Oh, good," said Anya.
"Probably that will take quite some time," said Giles. He pointedly ignored the way her face fell at the news.
Spike watched Dawn sleep for a while, then slipped downstairs. He'd already staked out the easy chair as his territory. Where he sat when he watched over Dawn.
Sometime later, he knew, the Witches would return, and go to their room. Sometimes they noticed him. Sometimes they didn't. When they arrived he'd leave, slinking off in the dark. He was never there in the morning.
In the day there was light and laughter in the house. He'd told Willow if there wasn't he'd find some way to make good on the bottle promise from so long ago.
Because the Bit needed light and laughter. Two things he couldn't give her.
All he could do is protect her.
And help squash any baddies who put their head up.
Willow and Tara entered the front door, and turned on the lights. Spike blinked the spots out of his eyes, glaring at them.
"Spike?" said Willow uncertainly. "Spike, um, we have a plan."
"A plan?" he asked, glancing at her. Those words, coming out of her mouth, were never good.
"The buffy-bot," said Tara. "We can resurrect it."
Spike felt a white-hot pain in his chest. It's not real. "No need!" he said roughly, standing. "The other Slayer'll be here. No need to lie to keep the demons at bay. No need to make them think she's alive."
He swept out of the room, angry. And he wasn't even sure why he was angry. It's not real.
Once outside he started looking for something to kill. He didn't care what. Harmless demons, dangerous demons, it didn't matter to him. He couldn't kill humans, so they were safe, but if not for the chip, they wouldn't have been. No matter what promises he had made.
Faith glanced at her Watcher. "Last time I was in Sunnydale I stayed at some real dives," she said conversationally. "But this would be the worst."
He glanced at the motel in distaste. "Yes, well, summer is not an ideal time to arrive. This town actually takes in tourists during the summer."
"Tourists?" said Faith, surprised. "What kind of tourists?" She had never been to Sunnydale in the summer.
Except that once when she'd been in a coma, but that didn't really count.
"I think mostly the kind searching for the lost gold mines rumored to be around here, or those who've heard mysterious things happen here and think it's some kind of Bermuda Triangle," replied Gwinn. "Are you ready?"
As they got out of the car Faith looked around, feeling a tingling at the back of her neck. Not a good one, either. She glanced to Gwinn. "You ever get that feeling you're being watched by something with fangs?"
Gwinn hesitated. "Not the sort you get, I don't think, but, yes, I don't think we're alone." He reached into an inner pocket on his suit and came out with a stake, which he tossed to her.
Faith looked around, grinning, trying to pinpoint the source of the tingling. She had worked out in prison, sometimes harder than she should have, but it was hardly a real release for the tension swirling in her. And ever since she heard Buffy had died she had wanted to hit something, to hit it very hard, and she couldn't really explain why.
A demon came flying off the roof of the motel, landing with a crunch next to them. Gwinn jumped back, but Faith hesitated. He hadn't jumped; he had very clearly been thrown.
The demon struggled to his feet. "Crap, crap, crap!" he said, shaking his head. "Come on, you skinny little punk, I'll tear you apart!" he roared at the roof, still shaking his head. He put a hand on each side of his head, groaning with pain.
He was easily seven feet tall. His skin was blue, and the little horns on the back of his arms looked easily able to tear through flesh.
"Excuse me," said Faith sweetly. "What are you doing?" The gentle and meek approach wasn't usually her first choice, but right now she'd settle for it.
The demon glared at her. "Run away," he advised. "Run away now. This thing that's coming, it's bad. Very bad. It'll kill you." He assumed a defensive stance as Faith heard something else launch off the roof. "I'll try to protect you, but I'm not sure I can."
"Why, you think I need protecting?" asked Faith.
The demon focused on her, and paled. "Slayer!" he whispered. He fell to his knees instantly. "Please don't kill me!" he begged. "I can give you important information in exchange for my life."
There was a crunch, and Faith glanced towards the source. The feeling in the back of her neck told her instantly that it was a vampire.
Her eyes told her it was William the Bloody. Spike. The vampire she'd met in Buffy's body. The one who'd threatened to kill her. A skinny, short vampire with bleached hair and a chiseled face.
Wait, was he the one who had killed Buffy? He'd seemed pretty sure of himself then. Promising to kill Buffy. And now she was dead, and he was here.
And he was looking at Faith in a way that made her really, really uncomfortable. A cold, calculating look. And she could see the bloodlust behind his eyes, the need for the fight.
He stalked forward. The demon was trembling, backing away.
"Get lost," said Spike to Faith, moving around her.
She moved quickly, swinging her arm around in punch that sent him staggering backwards. His eyes widened, and he rubbed his chest. "Bloody—!" He cut himself off as realization flooded his eyes. "You're Faith," he said coldly.
Peter Gwinn grabbed a crossbow off the back seat of his car, aiming it at Spike and firing. Faith had seen Angel catch a crossbow bolt, so it didn't surprise her that Spike was also able to do the same.
What surprised her was that he then glanced at the Watcher, some emotion in his eyes. Gratitude? No, that wasn't quite it. But it was a happier sort of attitude in his eyes. "Nice try," he said, tossing the crossbow bolt aside. He glanced to the demon. "I'm just doin a bit of pest control here, pet. Step aside and let me on with it then, eh?"
"Help me, please?" whimpered the huge, muscle-bound demon.
Spike growled.
Faith stood between the two demons, twirling a stake in her hand. Spike watched her eyes, ignoring the stake. The vampire's eyes narrowed, and his face shifted. The human façade fell away, replaced by his real face.
Faith ignored the change. Her best friend in the world right now was a vampire with a soul. Did he intend to intimidate her with that face?
"You're not letting me by," pointed out Spike. "Now, much as I'd hate to get off on the wrong foot with you, you're making me mad." He began to circle, going around her to get the demon, who skittered back behind Faith, keeping her between them.
Spike moved forward then, trying to go around her fast. She moved to intercept, and he lunged towards her. Her instincts told her to jump out of the way of his lunge, but her eyes told her otherwise. His legs were already set to catch him, to stop the lunge, and she held her ground.
He stopped in front of her, still with too far to go to actually hurt her. He'd gambled on her dodge, planned to use it to grab the demon, but he hadn't meant to hit her.
Interesting.
"Still a little neutered, Spikey?" she asked with a sneer. A full-on Faith sneer, complete with the tilt of her hips.
He leaned forward, now dangerously close to her. "You can't replace her," he hissed, his voice low and deadly. His words hit their target, and she flinched. "You can't even hope to be good enough to kiss her dead, rotting feet." And then he turned, walking away.
"Whoo," said the demon behind her. "That man has problems! Big problems."
Faith turned, grabbing the demon. "Why was he chasing you?" she asked, hauling him to his feet.
The demon flinched, held securely by her hand. "He's, he's been that way. He's turned on his own kind. Ever since those Initiative people came around, he's hunted demons."
"And what's this information you'll trade your life for?" asked Faith.
The demon fidgeted. "Well...uh..." There was desperation on his face, and she could see lies setting themselves up behind his eyes.
"You'll think of something?" mocked Faith.
"Uh, yeah, that's the idea," said the demon, worried now. Faith sighed.
"Go on, tell me you're not evil. You're just a cuddly demon." With each mocking phrase he seemed to shrink a little. There was panic in the demon's red eyes now, and he started to struggle, trying to escape.
"I'm just a scavenger!" he whined. "I only eat people after they've been dead for weeks! I don't kill them, honest! I'll never do it again, I'll never—!"
Faith punched him away, knocking him to the ground. He landed on his butt, surprised. "You owe me one," she said, threat in her voice. She twirled the stake in her hand. "When I come to collect, you better be ready, or I'll find you."
Gwinn cleared his throat. "Are you sure you want to start out on this foot? Start your new Slaying career by letting that piece of trash go?"
"The riff-raff need to know there's a new Slayer in town, and he's the best sort of messenger--the spineless sort," said Faith, walking around the car to join her Watcher, who was stowing his crossbow back inside the car, under the seat. "If you really want him dead, just shoot him."
"I'll bow to your judgment in this case," he replied. "I just want to avoid making it a habit to let demons live."
As the two of them walked away the demon gasped for air, leaning back on his arms and letting his head roll back to stare up at the sky. "Suckers," he muttered.
From this vantage point he could see Spike looking down at him from directly behind him, grinning.
"Aw, man, no!" said the demon, trying to stand up. "I don't kill humans!"
"I don't care," replied Spike, grabbing the demon by the neck. "I don't bloody care!" He sank his teeth into the large demon's neck, sucking the demon's blood out of him. Demon's blood was disgusting, and not very nutritious, but there was life in it, and it was free. And he felt more like his former self when actually draining the life out of something.