Disclaimer: In case you were wondering, Jess Whedon owns all the lovely, imperfect, flawed yet still beautiful characters that I lovingly borrowed to fill with my vision of how much more beautiful they could be ...
Spike leaned back against the wall, running a hand over the light red lines on his face where the sun had breached the thin protection of the blanket. He watched Faith, a dark Slayer with a confused face and bee-stung lips, and he looked past the defenses she was conjuring up, past the face of anger and surliness. Under it she was a hurt young woman, and he knew that it wouldn't take much needling to drive her to something violent.
He wasn't sure if he wanted to, not yet.
"You tried to save her?" She said, confused.
He chuckled. "Pathetic, inn't it?" he said with a broad sneer. "Imagine if you will a vampire so pathetic he tried to save the Slayer. No, worse than that: one so pathetic he failed."
Looking at him she could clearly see the hurt in his eyes, the pain. She glanced at Gwinn, who had a hard expression on his face. She glanced back to Spike. "You still can't hurt humans, can you?" she asked him.
"No," he said, his voice small. "Can't hurt humans." He gave a low chuckle. "You're loving this, aren't you? The big bad vampire who couldn't fight back." He spread his arms wide, leaving his chest wide open.
Spike was relaxed, ready. Death had finally come for him, and he was ready. It would only take a few more carefully chosen phrases about Buffy to drive her to it. A few more needles in her skin, a few more barbs, and he could have the respite he longed for.
A promise to a lady...
His face hardened with the memory, and he snatched his arms back together, folding them over his chest. He pulled the despair back into himself, pulled everything back. He wasn't going to do this.
He wasn't going to commit suicide by Slayer.
He had a job.
So now that he had wound the Slayer up, it was time to let her down. "You done laughing at the failed vampire, Slayer?" And even as he said it, he regretted it. Slayer was Buffy's title, not this wannabe.
She gazed at him darkly. "You know, I can understand Angel." Spike flinched backwards. "He's got a soul. That's why he's good. What about you? Why are you good?"
"I'm not good," growled Spike, forgetting the job of unwinding her. "I'm not some white-hat warrior battling evil. I'm just..." He remembered Buffy, standing on those stairs. Inviting him back into her house. Treating him like a man, not a monster. "I'm just not evil," he finished lamely.
Faith arched an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"
Spike tried to back up, but he was already pressed against the wall so it became a shift, a desperate, trapped shift on his heels. "I made a promise to a lady," he said. "I told her I'd watch over her sister till the end of the world. That's not something I take lightly."
And the Watcher was coming closer, realized Spike with a sinking heart. He hated that. Couldn't they leave well enough alone? No, they had to pry.
Well, try, he silently challenged the Watcher, sliding his expression of sarcastic disdain on like a mask. "Now, you lot going to buy something?" He put his hands down on the counter, leaning forward with a leer. "Maybe Watcher-boy wants a love spell, eh? Though I don't reckon you need em," he added in Faith's direction. She scowled.
Spike leaned forward. "Now, the good stuff's a bit expensive, but on that shiny guilt-free income from the council of wankers, I'm sure you can afford it," he said to the Watcher, who was scowling harder than Faith.
"I cannot believe Rupert trusts a monster such as you," said Gwinn firmly, leaning forward. "How did you convince him to trust you?"
"Convince him?" snorted Spike. "He don't trust me, you're right." He leaned back. "If you're not going to buy anything, can you not stand so close to the counter? You'll keep the other customers from seeing it, an' then they won't buy, and you won't believe how mad her royal capital-ness gets then."
A blonde woman Faith didn't recognize walked in the door, the bell ringing loudly as she did. "Spike! How nice of you to keep the counter for me," she said with a large, fake smile pasted on her face. "Have you scared any other paying customers off yet?"
"No. This lot isn't customers. This is Faith."
The blonde woman recoiled. "Ah! Can you bite her, Spike?"
"Chip," said Spike wearily, leaning back against the wall. Faith stared at the blonde girl.
"Why would you want him to bite me?" she asked.
Anya pouted. "You tried to kill my Xander," she said. "If you had I wouldn't be enjoying orgasms with him."
Faith grinned. "Oh, yeah, those weren't bad," she said.
Anya's mouth dropped open, and she scowled. "You slept with Xander!" she yelled angrily.
Spike chuckled. "Well, in that case I take back what I said about not needing a good love spell."
"Spike," said Anya warningly. "What have I told you about keeping the register?"
Spike sighed. "Just be quiet and sell things. Don't yell, scream, or beat the customers. I got it!"
"I thought you couldn't beat humans?" asked Gwinn, quick to notice the discrepancy.
"And who said all our customers are humans?" asked Spike, moving from behind the counter. "Take it, demon-girl."
"Eep!" Squealed Anya, glancing to Faith. "Not a demon, not a demon!" she said quickly.
"I know," said Faith. Anya gave her an odd look. "Slayer-sense."
Anya frowned. "Ex-demon, that's what he meant. Fully human now, though!" She scooted behind the counter quickly. "Can I interest you in any of our fine goods?"
Gwinn coughed uncomfortably, watching Spike. Spike glowered at him. "They don't want your spell-stuff, pet," said Spike. "They're just here to watch me."
Anya deflated slightly. "Well, why don't you go back to the house?"
"Because Rupes is bringin the Bit here." Spike eyed Gwinn, who returned the inquisitive gaze.
Faith leaned forward on the counter towards Anya. "So, seriously, you and Xander? Wow. Did he mature, or is he still...?"
"Still," said Anya simply, not needing to elaborate, for once.
Faith laughed. "Lucky guy."
Dawn and Giles entered the shop together at that point, breathing a sigh of relief together at the sight of Spike, not dust.
Giles recovered quickly and headed for the back of the shop. "I'll be doing inventory, Anya," he said cheerfully. He had no intention of inserting himself into this situation.
Dawn eyed Spike cautiously, then moved closer to him. She carefully invaded his personal space, standing with him and glaring at Faith. Spike eyed the two of them a moment more, then put an arm around the Bit's shoulders.
"Ready to go home, Bit?" he asked.
"I have some homework," she said. "I can do it here, can't I?" Spike cringed. He'd allowed it before, but he wanted to get away from the Slayer.
Faith watched Giles go, and felt relief when he was gone. It was hard seeing the Watcher, seeing fear in his eyes.
And then she was angry. She'd paid her debt, hadn't she? She'd gone to prison! Of her own volition she'd turned herself in! She'd done the right thing! And still he had fear in his eyes, still he wouldn't accept what she was giving!
She turned to Spike in anger, shoving him. That was something familiar. "Get your hands off Dawn!" she spat angrily.
Spike growled, shifting to gameface, but then the mask slid off his face, leaving only frustration. Dawn grabbed Spike. "Don't touch him!" she yelled at Faith, moving between them. Faith glowered at her and stalked out the door.
Spike felt an actual pang of sympathy for the Slayer, but tamped it down furiously. "Homework, Bit," he said loudly, pushing her away from the sunlight that pricked angrily at his skin.
That night Spike sat alone on top of a crypt, simply sitting. That pang of sympathy had been all wrong. He was supposed to hate the Slayer, hunt the Slayer. Buffy-obsession aside.
Because you could explain away love. He had loved. Terrific. Okay, and he loved the Slayer. Wow, weird.
But sympathy for a Slayer you weren't in love with? That was inexcusable. He was an animal. A monster.
He wasn't supposed to feel that.
He could hear something creeping beneath him, and he looked down. He could see a vampire, and he could see the Slayer stalking the stubby creature. The vampire didn't see the Slayer, and seemed clueless, simply walking along happily, headed off to a new meal.
Spike considered the odds briefly.
"Oy!" he yelled, jumping down. "Fledgling!"
"What?" said the vampire, spinning around to face Spike, surprised and unhappy.
"You idiot!" said Spike, sneering as he pointed back the way the vampire had come. "Do you see that girl, tracking you?"
Actually, neither of them could see her, thanks to her position, hidden by the gravestones, but they could both smell her, so the vampire nodded.
"She's the Slayer, you git!" said Spike. The vampire would have gone paler, if it had been possible. His eyes widened. "Now, come on, let's see what you've got." Spike jabbed a finger at the younger vampire. "Attack her."
"Are you insane?" asked the vampire. "It's running time!"
Spike shook his head. "She'll catch you. She always does. Just go over there and try to kill her."
"Hey!" said Faith, stepping out from behind a gravestone. "You ruined the element of surprise!"
"Aaaa!" screamed the vampire, in a high-pitched voice, staring at Faith.
Spike shrugged, whipping a stake out of his duster. "It didn't seem fair to me," he said, stabbing the vampire, who was gaping at Faith, in the back. The vampire exploded into dust. "The element of surprise? Would you have stabbed him in the back? Hardly sporting."
"Sporting?" said Faith, moving closer. He squinted at her. "You care about sporting?"
"No. Was hoping to see a fight, that's all." He sniffed, rubbing his nose. "Git wasn't even good for that."
"You hoped to see a fight," said Faith flatly.
"Well, I can beat demons. But you're a Slayer. Watching your lot fight is usually pretty fun."
She shook her head. "How are you insane, let me list the ways." She moved closer. "So you're an evil vampire, but you protect the little sister. Or, rather, you get protected by the little sister."
Spike shrugged, backing up a little. "I'm evil enough."
"Oo," said Faith mockingly. "You're evil. That's why you sat and held her hand while she did homework."
"You know nothing about it!" Now he was angry, and it slipped into his voice.
"I suppose you're going to tell me you're better than all those demons out there." She was just picking up the argument where they had left, interrupted by other people. She was ready to end that argument now.
"No!" said Spike, his voice lowering dangerously. "I'm worse."
"I suppose it's all some big tragic story," said Faith. "The great love affair of our time. Funny, I thought that was Angel's gig."
Spike growled at the mention of his Grand-Sire. "A love affair involves two people in love. You're thinking of a great, grand obsession."
She paused. "But she trusted you, apparently. She didn't stake you, at least."
"She nearly did." He wasn't sure what else to say. Why didn't she? Because he helped her? Because he protected her sister? It didn't matter.
Faith eyed him warily. "You're right. You're a dangerous vampire."
He smirked. "Really?" he asked hopefully.
"You're twisting and bending the rules, acting good. But you're not good at all, you're just pretending. Why do you pretend? Is it the chip?"
He twisted his mouth into a scowl. "It's not the bloody chip!" he said angrily. "I was evil even with the chip! O' course, you weren't here. But I did evil things! I perpetrated evil! I was the Big Bad!" He vamped out, his face shifting into a demonic mask.
"And then your little Buffy obsession made you good." There was a mocking tone in her voice, and she stepped closer.
"Don't you talk about Buffy," he growled.
She felt her stomach jump when he said it, remembering his words. You can't replace her. "What's the matter, no lips good enough to even say her name?"
"Don't talk about what you don't know about!" he said, his voice rising. He was almost shouting.
"Aw, poor Spike. Not good enough, and you know it."
He swung for her, hard. He connected, the punch striking her dead on in the face, knocking her backwards against the tombstone behind her. She was surprised, especially since she'd thought he was completely toothless. The blow was enough to knock her dizzy, and she staggered, held up only by the tombstone she'd run into.
Spike let out a cry of agony and clutched his head, falling to the ground and curling into a ball. "No, no..." he muttered, wrapping his arms around his head.
She shook her head, regaining her equilibrium. He remained curled up, and she kicked him in the ribs viciously. "What'sa matter, Spike, forget you have no teeth?"
He sniffed, rolling to his feet unsteadily. He met her gaze evenly, his cool once again firmly in place. He backed away from her, and for a second she saw something besides hatred in his eyes.
She saw pity.
"I'm not your problem. Not yet."
He turned his back on her to walk away, and she was once again possessed of the urge to hit him for his smugness. She started towards him, and he turned around, alarmed. She threw a punch at his face.
He caught the punch in his hand, holding it securely without hurting her in the slightest. "What do you think I am, your punching bag?" he growled, angry again.
"Oh, like you've never been hit by a Slayer before," she replied cockily. He tilted his head.
"That's different," he said, pushing her back, off balance. "The ones I fought before, sure they hit me. But I always hit first. And last. And Buffy?" He leered at her. "I enjoyed being hit by Buffy."
She rolled her eyes. "Right, I'm sure you did." She moved forward, finding her balance, ready for a fight.
His eyes narrowed. "You really want to fight me, huh?"
She shrugged, and he threw another blow at her. She caught it, surprised he didn't fall to the ground screaming again. "What happened to your chip?"
"It's all in the intent," he replied smugly. "If the punch isn't going to land..." He whirled, throwing a wild punch that went over her head. As she ducked his foot came up towards her. She grabbed it, using it to flip forward, kicking at him with both feet.
He grabbed her feet, swinging her around. She let go of his leg and grabbed a headstone, pulling free, letting him stagger away from her. She righted herself and threw a kick at him. He blocked easily.
"Oh, come on," he said. "All that time in the lockup make you soft?" He threw another punch, and she blocked it, even though she knew now it would never hit her anyway.
His actions were graceful, controlled. He was dancing with her, his body moving perfectly, quickly.
It was unlike anything she'd ever fought. Even fighting Buffy hadn't been like this. She understood suddenly how he had been able to kill two Slayers. It wasn't about speed, or strength. It was about this, the dance.
And if anybody else could dance like this, she would have liked to know. It was like nobody she'd ever fought before.
"Enjoying yourself?" he asked with a sneer. She caught his punch, holding him still.
"All that and you never beat Buffy?"
He shrugged, and she could see the hurt in her eyes. She could feel her own stomach tightening at the mention of Buffy, but she had to ask.
"She was better than the other Slayers," he said, stepping back, pulling out of her grip. "She didn't fight harder...she didn't fight better...she was just so full of spirit. So full of life." He blinked tears away. "She was the best." He turned his head away, unwilling to let her see him cry.
She swallowed. Of course he was right. B was the best. She'd beat Faith, hadn't she?
And here was Faith, trying to replace her.
"You can't replace her," whispered Spike, glancing back at Faith. "So don't even try. Just do her job, because you can do that."
Faith shook her head. "What did I do last time I tried to do her job?" she asked bitterly. "I betrayed her. I stole her life!"
Spike chuckled. "Last time I tried to do her job, I got her killed," he told Faith. "Bet you didn't do that badly."
He turned and stalked away gracefully, leaving Faith alone with her calling.