Chapter 9: Of Demons and Men
Spike watched Angel's mouth gape slightly and his eyebrows raise enough to rival his hair. He'd seen this expression before, very recently, on Tara's face just before she said...
"Are you crazy?" Yup that was it. Well, close enough anyway.
This time Spike had a nicely planned answer, one that was at least mostly truthful and likely much safer than telling Angel the real reason he was doing this. Besides mostly truthful was still pretty good, considering. He was a vampire after all. "'m not crazy. And, yeah, before you ask, I know what it means. I've got to do this, though."
"Why, Spike? Why would you be willing to do this?" Angel looked truly concerned.
"Lots of reasons. The first being that I love her. Second, as your green demon said, it will keep me from making so many wrong choices." That's close enough to the truth, Spike thought. Third, I have issues with Angelus and would love to get rid of him. And lastly, I love her."
"You said that one already," Angel pointed out.
"Yeah, but I thought it should count as two."
Angel smiled a little at that. "I guess it should." He sighed and ran his hand over the back of his neck. "I'm not sure you're ready for this. Having a soul isn't easy. Not a day goes by that it doesn't hurt." His eyes probed Spike, searching for more.
Damn, he was going to have to tell the truth. He exhaled. "I understand pain. I had 147 days of it this past summer." Angel opened his mouth, but Spike stopped him, with a raised hand. "But it would be worse..." He closed his eyes and let his hand fall back to his side. "It would be worse if I hurt her. Really hurt her. I'd never forgive myself."
Angel growled low in his throat as he figured out Spike's meaning.
Even though he was expecting that response, for some reason it made Spike angry. When he opened his eyes they showed fire. "Oh, come on now. I've bloody tried. Do you know how hard it is? How frustrating? I've been trying for over a year, and still..."
As Angel's growl stopped, he nodded softly. "Yes, I do know how hard it is. I'm surprised you can even do it at all." After contemplating him a moment, Angel's expression became one of resignation. "And if you really want to do this, then... I'll try to help you through it as best I can."
Spike nodded. "That's all I ask. Well, I do have one more request."
Angel raised his eyebrows. "Which is?"
He suddenly looked down sheepishly. "Um, If you could go back to Sunnydale at least one day a month..."
"I hope to go more than that," Angel interrupted.
Spike looked at him. "...to spend a day with Dawn." He tried not to look embarrassed.
Angel considered teasing him about the request, because it would be so easy. And likely fun. But after looking at his hopeful face, he couldn't. By asking, Spike was letting himself be vulnerable in front of him. Angelus had crushed him too many times in similar situations. He couldn't do that to him now.
"I can't not go back to see her," Spike was continuing. "She's had too many men in her life leave her and..."
Angel put a hand on his shoulder. "I promise."
Spike nodded. "Good." He took a breath and squared his shoulders. "I think I'd like to get some rest. It's been a bugger of a week."
Angel led him upstairs and showed him to a room. "We'll talk some more tomorrow." Spike just nodded and closed the door.
Alone with his thoughts, Spike let out a rush of air he didn't need. That had gone more smoothly than he'd hoped. He had worried that Angel might be wary of giving up his inner demon and accepting him instead. Strange that he hadn't been. Almost as strange as the fact that he'd rather be a demon for Angel than for the William whose body he inhabited and whose memories he shared. He guessed that he and his grandsire each had a part of themselves that they didn't like. Those parts just happened to be different.
As his thoughts began to drift into unsettling territory, such as would his own personality be lost when he merged, Spike decided to distract himself by getting ready for bed. Too late to turn back now anyway. He lay on the bed with his back against the headboard, not bothering to get undressed or slide under the covers. He wasn't ready to be comfortable here. This wasn't his crypt. It wasn't home - yet. Gazing around the room at the old-fashioned decor, he snorted. What else could he have expected from his grandsire? Though that peach-colored lamp with the little fringes on it? That just had to be the green demon's doing. Not even Angel's tastes were that poncy. Shaking his head, Spike turned out the light, laid his head on the pillow, and waited for sleep to come.
When Angel descended the stairs, Lorne was waiting for him.
"Did he explain everything?" the green demon asked.
Angel nodded. "But I'm not sure I'll ever understand it. He's a vampire. That's not the kind of demon that would willingly take on the burden he's planning on taking."
"He's unusual as I said. And he's trying hard not to lose the fight."
"Spike mentioned that it was difficult."
"You don't know the half of it," Lorne said. "The emotions raging in that boy sometimes threaten to tear him apart."
"He always was passionate, impulsive," Angel agreed. "And as usual, I'm not sure he's ready for what he's getting himself into."
"Probably not," Lorne agreed. "But he wants to do it. He feels he has to do it. That much I did see. My readings never lie." Lorne shook his head a little. "Though the remorse was unexpected. I've read vampires before, and not including you, I've never seen so much guilt in one."
"Remorse?" It wasn't an emotion Angel had ever associated with Spike before. Unless it was a fleeting twinge for snapping at Drusilla.
"It was definitely there. He really did blame himself for Buffy's death even though he tried to prevent it. If not for his promise and the little girl, I'm not sure he would have made it through the summer."
"He really loves Buffy that much?"
"I'm afraid so."
"No, that's good, because he's going to need it." Angel knew that more than anyone. Defeating Angelus wasn't going to be easy. Neither would surviving the remorse the soul would cause. He might feel it for Buffy now, but the guilt that came from causing so many deaths was an entirely different kind of pain. Angel knew Spike would need his love if he ever hoped to survive it.
Gnash smiled at his new toy. He took the amulet Spike had recently acquired for him and placed it around the statue's neck. After incanting a few words, he waited impatiently, gazing into the large eyes of the odd bust. He snorted when nothing seemed to happen. Infuriating legends: one never could be too sure which were real and which were only myth. He opened his toothy mouth to try again, but stopped as a light started to shimmer in the statue's eyes.
He rubbed his hands together. "Well what do you know? You were just a little rusty," he said to the bronze monstrosity. This would make things so much easier. Now he could spy on others without having to actually travel to where they were. "Hmm, who to check up on first?" he asked no one in particular. As the answer came to him, his smile widened. Of course. There was a certain traitorous vampire who should soon be bringing Angelus back into play. If he hadn't done so already. Gnash had wanted be a fly on the wall to see that. And now he had the chance. As long as the delay to find the statue hadn't made him miss it, that is. Taking a breath to calm his excitement, the demon said the words that would give him a window on Spike and hopefully let him see how his plan was progressing.
When the scene coalesced, the smile soon disappeared from the demon's lips. He listened as Spike explained to Angel how he intended to get around the problem with the spell. Gnash's carefully planned spell. "How did he find out?" The demon felt rage and a desire to wreak bloody revenge on the vampire, but he knew Spike was out of reach unless he went there and that... well, that wasn't his way. He didn't get directly involved. That was for other demons, lesser demons. His roar of frustration almost made him miss the sudden appearance of the odd woman in his room.
"I'm the demon Anyanka here to help you in your quest for vengeance," the woman intoned with little enthusiasm and an expression even more bland. If that was even possible.
Staring at her in confusion, the rage fizzling from him like a candle flame being snuffed out with wet fingers, Gnash was speechless. The woman, however, gave him no time to recover before her entire attitude changed abruptly.
"What the hell! You're not a woman. And you're a demon." She looked around his home. "A demon who does magic, and therefore doesn't need me." She placed her hands on her hips, somehow making the mundane gesture seem intimidating. "Are you deliberately trying to waste my time, because I do have a shop to run?"
Gnash wrinkled his leathery brow. "I didn't mean to." He hadn't called a vengeance demon, had he? Sometimes the ever present magic that was part of him did have unexpected consequences.
The woman threw her hands up and then let them slap against her skirt-clad thighs. "Oh, sure men never mean to. They make it seem like they're being nice by letting you do it. 'Do it however you want, Honey.' Then they never even consider telling you otherwise until it's much too late. So they chicken out instead, but you've already made all the plans and preparations, so instead you look like the idiot while he's off somewhere tra la la." She looked at him with contempt. "Well don't look at me. Do your own stupid vengeance!"
Before Gnash could even breathe, she had vanished. He'd never seen a more confusing or irritating woman. He should have zapped that demon where she stood for talking to him like that. At least he should have, but all he could do was smile. What a woman. He could think about that one all the rest of the night. Turning to the statue, a smirk still on his face, he chanted the words to put the spell to sleep. Revenge could wait until tomorrow.
Anger. Humiliation. He still felt it even now, a day later. It wouldn't let him sleep. Warren wasn't sure how that bitch had known about the orbs, but in one moment she had undone so much of his careful work and planning. No matter what he seemed to do, somehow she always seemed to mess up everything. God, he missed Andrew right now. If Andrew were here, Warren was sure he could talk the skinny nerd into helping him get rid of the Slayer.
He sighed. Maybe he was trying too hard. Maybe it was time for something simpler. Dead was dead, no matter how someone got that way. Buffy might be strong, but she wasn't Superman. At the thought, an evil smile crossed his lips. No, she wasn't Superman. Her body wasn't impervious, she wasn't faster than a speeding bullet, and he didn't even need kryptonite. Opening a desk drawer, Warren let his hand slide over the cool metal of the handgun that lay inside. Fine. A bullet it would be.
Except... he didn't have any bullets. He double-checked all the drawers just to be sure, and then yelling in frustration at the ceiling, he made himself a promise. Tomorrow he would have them. And tomorrow the Slayer would die.
Across town, Willow turned in her sleep, waking herself. She looked around a moment, but couldn't discern any reason her rest had been disturbed. Tara's sleeping form distracted her half-hearted investigation, making her suddenly glad she had woken. As she took in the tangle of hair covering the pillow, the slightly parted lips, and the peaceful expression of the woman beside her, Willow smiled. Tara was finally getting some well-needed rest.
Her lover had been so affected by their visit to Spike's earlier that day; it had tugged at Willow's heart. She had the feeling that Tara and Spike had perhaps gotten closer over the past few days as they worked together on the spell. Tara was so caring; she could see the potential for good in almost anyone. Even a vampire named Spike.
Gently touching a lock of the golden hair beside her, Willow took a measured breath. She would make sure the spell went okay. Even if she couldn't do the magic herself, her experience would allow her to give Tara some excellent guidance. And maybe Buffy could finally have some happiness again in her life. Willow's smile wavered as she ignored the whisperings of her conscience, the ones that told her Buffy wouldn't need cheering up if it wasn't for her, the ones that chided her for missing Buffy's pain so that her friend had to turn to a vampire for solace instead. She shivered and curled herself closer to Tara, taking comfort in the warmth of her form and the soothing nature of her scent. They would make it better for Buffy. They just had to.
Gnash gazed into the eyes of the bronze statue and found the scene had changed little from earlier that day. After a pleasant night of contemplating the strange woman demon that had visited him and her parting words "Do your own stupid vengeance," Gnash had decided to try doing just that. Spike had been asleep, however, as had the vampire Angel, so the demon had spent the rest of the waning morning using his new toy to spy on others of interest. Now as afternoon set in, Spike still slept - the lazy creature - and Angel had just woken. Deciding not to let that deter him, Gnash decided he'd look in on some of the other potential players in his little scheme.
The demon watched the Slayer and her sister leave their home, and would likely have followed their progress if something moving in the backyard hadn't caught his eye. It moved clumsily and with no stealth, and after watching a little longer, Gnash recognized that it was a human male. The frustration and anxiety etched in the man's facial expressions and body movements seemed almost palpable. Gnash rubbed his hands in anticipation. This human was definitely up to no good. What an interesting place to start.
Buffy felt content. And she still rode a high from having put a stop to Warren's little power trip two days ago. Sure, in a few hours or so it might get a little boring, but then again, she could live with a little boring right now. Besides, there was always patrolling later on that night if she needed a little excitement. So here she sat with a hot fudge sundae. Okay, so it had frozen yogurt instead of ice cream. There was still fudge. And nuts. Even a little whip cream. That meant it still counted as a hot fudge sundae. Nodding in satisfaction, she took a bite, savoring the taste while she waited for Dawn to come join her with her... what was that?
"That's not a hot fudge sundae."
"Very observant of you," Dawn retorted with a smug smile.
"You were supposed to be getting a hot fudge sundae," Buffy complained, adding a big sister pout. "The calories are only guilt-free if you get one too."
Dawn smiled in satisfaction. "I decided on this instead." She scooped a few bites of ice cream out of a tall glass and into her mouth, savoring the taste, before she used the spoon to mix the rest vigorously.
"And 'this' is?" Buffy prompted.
"A root beer float," Dawn told her before she took a sip, letting the froth get on her lips then licking it off.
Buffy caught the look in her sister's eyes and knew there was more to this than Dawn was telling. Her sister had one of those secret smiles that came from a memory you hesitated to share, because half the fun came from it being yours alone. At least for a little while. Taking another bite of her sundae, Buffy smiled at her sister. "I didn't know you liked root beer floats."
Dawn took another sip, closing her eyes briefly as she swallowed. She smiled warmly back at Buffy. "Oh I do, but a friend recently reminded me just how good they are."
Buffy was itching to know, but she wouldn't ask. She didn't want to do anything to break this spell, this moment of shared happiness. So she'd let Dawn have her secret for a while. That's what big sisters did.
Warren crept along the backyard of Buffy's home on Revello Drive for a moment before deciding he shouldn't have to skulk along. He had bullets in his gun now, and he would show Buffy just how dangerous he could be. Striding with more purpose, he walked up to the door and knocked. She would open the door even if she did see him through the window, that's how overconfident she was. Hah. Thought she had stopped him, had she? Well she'd learn soon enough. As Warren waited, he became angrier. Open the door, bitch, he thought, and began pounding insistently. Nothing. After circling the house, looking in all the windows, Warren noted that the TV was off, and no lights were on. He let out a short barking yell of anger. Just like a woman nowadays. They never stayed home where they belonged anymore. Well, he'd just go in and wait.
Warren was so involved in his new plan to break a back window and creep in, he didn't notice the demon that had materialized beside him until it cleared its throat.
"There's a much more subtle and satisfying way to do this, you know."
Warren jumped then froze. He couldn't will his body to flee from the terrifying monster beside him. If only he still had his orbs, if only… He raised a shaking hand, pointing the gun in the demon's direction.
Warren watched the demon's eyes take in the gun for only a moment before pointedly ignoring it. It smiled at him chillingly. "Now, now. No need for violence." A talloned hand landed on his shoulder in a parody of familiarity. "If we work together it will be much less messy. For you," the demon added pointedly. Cold, black eyes stared into his. "What do you say?"