It was late afternoon when Spike regained consciousness. He was in his bed—good—and clothed—not bad—but his head felt huge and uncomfortable and kind of crusty—bad! Sometimes he did miss mirrors—though with technology moving on like it was—there were photos and movies and video cameras—maybe someday they'd have a camera-mirror just for vampires...Harmony would like that— not to mention Angelus... with a start the vampire realized he'd been drifting back off. Ugh. He felt miserable. Was he hungover? Vampires did not get hangovers. No way. Had he been fighting—yes. Definitely. He wiped some mostly dried blood off his face and smelled it absently while thinking. His; too bad. Was he hit in the head too hard or something?
He got up and stuck his head under the pipe he'd run off the water main, letting the cold water course over his hair and face until he felt clearer. After shaking himself and splattering water everywhere he used his shirt to dry off and headed upstairs for some refreshing mind clearing cold (ugh) blood.
It was too late in the day to open his door all the way—his west facing crypt really wasn't ideal—but he cracked it enough to let in a breeze and sniffed the air appreciatively while fetching his blood. Sea air—lovely stuff. With his intensified senses he had to smell all the smog and smoke as well, but compared to the smells he'd been surrounded by as a young man, that he'd been acutely aware of even with his human senses (but so much more so after the change!), it was paradise. These modern people didn't know how good they had it, no sooty coal smoke, indoor plumbing, the bloody EPA for crying out loud—it was a brave new world, to be sure. Why, he felt better already—so there you had it, vampire = no hangover. That was just a weird anomaly, and now he was ready to be helpful Spike once more.
He reached the front door of the Magic Box soon after dusk. The door had a sign on the outside informing the public that they had closed for the day; Spike pushed it open, wincing as the loud bell rang a few inches from his ear—vampire hearing! not hangover!—and headed for his usual spot on the stairs, well away from any possible attempts to rope him into flipping through all those piles of books and journals. The youngsters were gathered around the table looking unoccupied; he could hear Buffy pummeling the punching bag in the back and a murmur that was Giles' voice with her.
"Ah, hi, Spike," said Tara. Anya and Xander just looked at him; Willow barely seemed aware he'd entered—she was staring angrily at her computer screen. Dawn was glad he was there though—she hopped up and came over looking at him closely. "What happened to your face?" she demanded. "You look awful!"
He put his hand up, trying to feel what she was seeing—he was probably a little bruised but so what? Still, didn't want to worry the Bit. "S'nothing" he muttered, "Just a little demon tussle. Nothin to worry you lot."
She didn't seem convinced. "Yeah," she said dubiously, "you just look...and your hair's kind of—um, different."
He smoothed his hair self consciously—it felt normal! Just a little curly from the salt...wait. Salt? Now that he'd noticed he realized he could smell it all over him—it was like he'd been doused in salt water. But he hadn't—he'd just watched Buffy kill that poor sod, he'd barely been splashed. So how had this happened?
"...Spike? Spike!" he came back to his senses. Dawn was standing in front of him, arms crossed, looking annoyed. "What was that about, it's like you didn't even hear me! Well?"
"Uh, sorry there luv—there was a question?"
"I said, what happened to you?"
"Nothing, nothing happened. Say, you lot finding anything out about that jellyfish thing from last night? Why, what, all that?"
The group at the table (minus Willow, still) just looked at him. He was starting to really get bugged by the sight of all those eyes on him...
"Wow Spike," Xander finally said, "you're even more sensical than usual! Did you take some good drugs or something? Cause jellyfish—not really a big threat around here!"
"I don't think sensical is a word, honey—and jellyfish could be very scary in the right circumstance! Though out of water, not so much... kind of floppy I imagine..." Anya trailed off.
Tara was looking at him more intently than any of them, but somehow he didn't mind as much. "Maybe you could explain a little more Spike? Did you run into something we should know about?"
"Did I—no, Buffy did! A great big blobby thing, like a pinata only full of saltwater instead of candy! She didn't mention it? Then what are you doing here? What are you looking up?"
"Well, ah..." Tara looked ill at ease. "Nothing really. Just, ah, different dimensions, and their, uh, properties..."
"Look Spike, if Buffy didn't think this demon was a problem, it probably isn't. Did it get away or something? Did it do that to you?" Xander demanded.
"Well no, she killed it and all...and I didn't—no it didn't do anything to me! But it was bloody weird it was, it didn't fight back, and it was miles from the sea, and it was... it just seemed a bit off is all..."
"Well," Anya said cheerfully, "it's dead now and if it didn't even fight back it can't be too much of a problem, can it? I mean, non-fighting demons—not a problem right?"
"Yeeess..." Spike conceded. It was the same thing all over again—something was definitely wrong here, but there was just no way of explaining it!
As he tried to figure out how to go on, Buffy and Giles emerged from the back. Buffy looked startled to see him for some reason. Had she meant to leave her alone for longer? How long? But no, "What happened to you?" she asked, actually sounding somewhat concerned.
"Why does everyone keep asking me that? It's like you lot have never seen a bloke after a scuffle before and I KNOW that's not it! I'm a vampire! I'll be fine, it's just a couple of bruises!"
"Ooh-kay then." Buffy replied. "Just thought it seemed different... or something..." She was still looking at him, puzzled but sort of vague, like she was trying to suss out what was up and looking right through him at the same time. It almost gave him the creeps—almost. Mostly he felt a bit concerned, and more than a little self-conscious.
"So, shall we then?" asked Giles, and the humans all moved to gather around the table. "Buffy, anything unusual to report? Willow, are you with us?"
Willow raised her eyes from the computer and looked around at them all. "Oh! Sorry, yes. I mean, what?"
"Don't worry Will, you haven't missed anything yet. Unless you consider Spike's big jellyfish revelation news..." Xander sniped.
"Jellyfish? There's jellyfish? Spike got beat up by a fish?" Buffy was confused; Willow looked confused but was also looking at Buffy rather more closely than seemed called for, between glances at her laptop.
"He said you did!" said Dawn. "Or, that you beat one up, I mean."
"Oh that—and hello, really not the same! Anyway who cares? It came, I slayed it, it melted, the end."
"There was a, is this right, jellyfish? And you...slayed it?" Giles asked.
"There was an oceany demon, it's gone, let's move on. What are you all looking up out here?" Buffy asked, sounding a bit steelier than usual.
Spike thought her resolve was a bit nice to hear, himself, even if she was just trying to change the subject, but the gang didn't look as pleased. They mostly looked uncomfortable, except Anya, who, unlike him, had probably managed to finally get over feeling awkward at some point around her hundredth birthday. He faked it well, but if she was faking she was Sarah Bernhardt bloody reincarnated, and even then; well, no one was that good an actress. Although, he noticed, even she was unusually silent. But perhaps she was just distracted by whatever she seemed to be trying to telepathically communicate to Xander, who was oblivious.
Giles was looking at the spines of the books collected on the tabletop. "Ah, well, perhaps we should take advantage of this apparent lull in demonic activity," he said. "Buffy, you and Spike can patrol, and we'll just wrap up here and make it an early night, yes?"
Buffy looked as surprised as he, Spike, felt. Come to think of it, everyone did. Well, except Anya, who was gathering her things with a satisfied air, and Dawn, who was looking hopefully at Buffy. And...well, maybe it was just him and Buffy. No, Willow was startled too, but also—angry? She was looking defiantly at Giles; Tara was, predictably, facing towards Willow, concerned. Spike was going to snap necks if he had to be around all these glares and weird currents for another minute; he threw himself to his feet and strode out the door.
—
Buffy couldn't help but feel that Giles was calling off the usual demon roll-call on her account, but she didn't know why, or particularly want to think about it. She thought she was doing pretty well at acting like things were okay, but maybe not. But she just couldn't imagine trying to do more. He wanted her to patrol? Fine. She'd rather go anyway. Let them all do whatever it was that they were doing here without her. Off she'd go. She didn't know if she could stand all the meaningful glances and signals anymore anyway; she had no idea what it was all about and even thinking about trying to untangle it all and have heart to hearts with everyone made her feel tired all over again. She had a nice buzz of momentum going from hitting things in the back room—better to try to keep it going. So, off she went. Avoiding Dawn's hurt look, she got up and headed out. Behind her, Xander put his arm around Dawn and distracted her with a joke. Good old Xander.
Outside she looked around crankily until she saw Spike smoking under a nearby awning. There he was! "What, you couldn't wait a few minutes for me?" she snapped. "You're only immortal, what's the rush?"
He just stared back at her.
"Fine," she sighed, "whatever. Let's go, then." and took off without looking behind her. She heard him start to follow after an almost imperceptible pause. With any luck, now he was pissed off at her too and that would make it an even everyone she knew. Maybe if she pissed them off enough, they wouldn't want to be around her. That would make things easier right? She sighed, again.
"Spike," she started. Then stopped walking and turned towards him. Then changed her mind and started walking again. "Spike..."
"What is it then?"
"Why do you act like... do you really think it makes sense, you hanging around us? Doesn't it bother you? I mean, don't you want to be around other—people—um, beings? Who you have something in common with?"
He didn't answer right away. When she looked over at him, he looked kind of...hurt? But in a flash he was cocky and sure as ever, and giving her that knowing look like he could see right into her. She immediately felt irritable all over again.
"What, you want me to go away again then? So you can take care of all the beasties alone, and the Bit, and spend some quality time with your mates?"
"No I just..." she avoided thinking about how much she didn't want to do any of those things. "I mean, why are you here? You know I'm never going to be with you! And you'll never be human, and we always will and so we'll never really understand each other—it's like we speak different languages or something! And you think you're communicating but really we have no idea what each other are saying..."
He seemed taken aback. "What the hell are you talking about? I always know what you're— we understand each other just great—um, that is, usually..." he trailed off, a bit confused.
"Never mind." Her voice was dull again already. "Let's just do our job and..." she looked ahead.
"It's not my job, you know, pet. I do it cause I choose to." When she didn't respond he let it go. "So what do you figure was up back at the shop tonight? Lotta cloak and dagger and whatnot don't you think?"
She stared blankly at him.
"Oh come on! You had to have noticed something was amiss! And when doesn't Giles want to discuss demons? A damn sign of the apocalypse right there I'd say!"
"What? No, yeah, for sure—cloak?"
"Huh?"
"They just don't want to worry me, probably, I'm sure there's nothing going on." she said, wishing she believed it. "So what did you do last night?" Time to change the subject.
He looked disbelievingly at her, then seemed a little embarrassed. As he turned away to fumble out a cigarette and his lighter he mumbled something indistinct.
"Huh?" she asked.
"Doesn't matter." he said. "Just a bit of drinking. Hanging about with my own kind, you know, just what you wanted. Probably nothing to stand out or anything..."
"Probably?" she probed, feeling a flicker of actual curiosity.
"Well, I don't strictly remember, but I can't imagine it was any different than usual. Some drinks, likely brawling, probably killed something evil..."
"Do you not remember much? What's that about anyway? I've been drunk before and I always remember everything...unfortunately," she added in an undertone.
"You've been drunk before? Couple girly drinks at a college party I imagine? Should come out with me sometime, Slayer, could show you a proper binge! Anyway, Slayer constitution, s'like mine probably—don't get all sleepy and blacked out like the civilians, you know? Just keep on going..."
"So why can't you remember last night then?"
"I, uh..." he seemed non-plussed. "Huh."
"Do you think something wonky happened?" she asked. "Could it be a spell?"
"No way! I'd know if someone put a spell on me, be able to feel it!"
"Well what then? Anyway, how would it feel it if you didn't remember it? So you don't feel different?"
He was silent, brow furrowed as he smoked more aggressively.
"What do you remember? Where did you wake up?"
"I went to Willie's, got a couple drinks... I, hmmm. Nothing weird! I even remember leaving, I went out to the alley for a breather—"
"You don't breathe."
"Doesn't mean I don't enjoy a spot of fresh air! Quit interrupting. I'm trying here, aren't I? So I went out to the alley... And it was nice and fresh out, and I thought, why should I hang around this nasty place, I'mna have a nice walkaround before sunup, and... I... woke up."
"Where?"
"In my bed, that's where! When did you turn into the bitty, blond Torquemada anyway?"
"You sleep in a bed?"
"What did you think, I had a coffin and a casket of earth like old Dracula? Hah! No thanks..."
"Well did you feel different or notice anything? What did you do when you woke up?"
"I felt bloody rotten is what! I washed off the...saltwater...huh." They looked at each other.
"I knew it!" he practically yelled, making her jump a little. "I knew there was something fishy—ah—something going on! That bleeding superior little twat is gonna be sorry when he gets dragged down into Davy Jones' locker, him and all the rest of them! I said they should hit the books, but no..."
"What the hell are you talking about, Spike? Who's going to get dragged where? Did you remember something else or are you just having a little private freak-out here?"
"It doesn't matter," he replied a bit churlishly. "So now do you believe something is going on with your 'jellyfish'?"
"Yeah, I guess it could be connected..." she was trying to imagine how this all made sense. The excitement of figuring something out was fast fading into the realization that they didn't know anything and it was going to be her job to make it all coherent, and then kill whatever needed to be killed. And, sure enough! Here came the overwhelming desire to do anything but this, again. Her first choice was still curl up in bed and see how long she could sleep for, but she was flexible—that drinking binge was even sounding all right. Except for the whole evil fish demons taking advantage and killing her part. And didn't that sound familiar? Although...
"Why didn't they kill you?" she wondered. "Why erase your memory?"
"Well if I knew that...Look pet, can you tell me something?" He sounded sort of hesitant. She looked at him, eyebrow raised, waiting.
"Do I...that is... I don't remember what happened, exactly—"
"Yeah, we covered that."
"Yeah, only—well, what did it do to me? I just figured it was the usual nicks and bruises, but you lot keep looking at me funny and all..."
She was confused at first. "You don't know?"
"Well, just feels a little off, but you know..."
"You can't see yourself!" She was amazed it had taken her so long. "You can't look in the mirror!"
"Yeah, can't see pretty much covered that." He sounded a bit sour.
"Wow, I mean I knew you didn't have a reflection, I just never really...huh. How do you fix your hair? And how do you know if your shirt matches your pants okay—well I guess you just wear a lot of black..."
"I can see my bloody clothes! I'm not blind, I just can't see my own face! Can you just answer the question?"
"Oh, right. You don't have to get huffy! Um, well, your face is kind of all swollen up and puffy on one side is all. And, you know, bruised," she said, grabbing his chin and moving his head side to side.
"Swollen? You mean I've been going around looking like... all swollen?"
She almost smiled at the look on his face, which was pretty puffy. It also had a large bruise down the side of it and the, as he'd put it, 'usual nicks and bruises', but somehow, he still looked as handsome as ever underneath it all. Damn him, she thought; if I was all puffy I would definitely not look that hot. Followed immediately by; Oh god, I did not just think that Spike looked hot. She snapped her hand away and headed back the way they'd come.
"Don't be such a princess" she said. "I think we need to go talk to Giles about all this. He'll know what to do."
She ignored Spike's protests about being seen looking like a "moon-faced pratt", pointing out that everyone had already seen him, and set back off towards the Magic Box.
