NIGHT FORTY FIVE

It took her a while to work up the courage to ask him to promise.

They were sitting on the back porch of the cabin. The last delivery of blood had also come with some cigarettes—likely orchestrated by Spike, although there was still no alcohol to come in with the delivery, despite his attempts of intimidation and smooth-talking to the mostly listless delivery demon. Wasn't very successful, for the most part, but they had smokes now, to which Spike heartily approved of, and Jade was content. She didn't care much either way, it had never been an addiction to her, it had started out as a healthy rebellion when she was younger, some way to garner her mother's attention that she never procured, and Bennett had indulged her, or perhaps he had started it, it was hard to tell where their schemes began and ended. They had been so close, her and Bennett. Best friends ever before they were lovers, she missed him still. She hadn't thought about him, not recently, though she should have, with all this time alone, with only Spike for company.

But Spike was more than present, he dominated everything, her thoughts, her time. And there was something she really enjoyed about being here, with little worry, no job, no money to think of, just blood and TV and isolation. There was nothing to fight, nothing to do, really, and with the lack of a computer—though there was a Xbox hooked up to the TV—she should have been bored out of her mind. But she wasn't. She was content. More than content, she was happy to be here, just Spike and her. Though there were certainly activities that they did alone, Jade's flying, and whatever Spike did during that time, they did plenty together, though it was mostly training, playing cards and watching TV. Mundane habits, but they kept her busy.

For now. She knew they couldn't stay up here forever, though the isolation was nice. There were other cabins around, other people, especially near the water, but since they didn't go out in the day, they didn't have to worry much about running into them. And when Jade flew, at night, she went into the thicker parts of the forest where there were even less chances to run into someone. Sometimes, Spike followed her along the forest floor, but not always. He was trying to get her to learn that as much as she was comforted by his presence, the only one that could really stop her was herself. Even in their fights, Spike could hold out but he couldn't win. With the strength of Slayers already being more than that of an average vampire, and her new vampire strength as well, he likened her mammoth strength to something untenable. He had experience, and knowledge about fighting she didn't, but her raw power and speed won over. Still, there was much to learn anyway, from him, ways to get better, and she did so without condescension. Wasn't possible for her to look down on Spike, even for a moment.

They were sitting in a comfortable silence, while the sky had begun to take a lighter tone. Her vampiric sense of time wasn't really developed yet, though she was starting to have a sense when the sun was up, even when she couldn't see it. But Spike, he could tell, sometimes only minutes from the mark, when it would rise again. He was particularly careful with her, being such a young vampire, she couldn't take the sunlight like he could. Couple of seconds would result in her being on fire, and a bit more than that…

She wondered what it would be like to be dust, if it hurt at all. It was so strange to think that she could just explode, everything broken down into little particles, no flesh or hair or anything remaining. Not even a trace. Just dust. Like it had been with Bennett. It had been astonishing, even though he hadn't been the first vampire she had ever dusted. He had been the first she had known. She knew him as a human, every inch, every freckle, every scar, and the fact that he had just vaporized into nothing had struck her as hard as the fact she had done it herself. She remembered trying to scrape up his remains, the dust clinging to her fingertips. She had been distraught then. The only person she would have come to for comfort was gone. So she had gone to her sister, unaware of Pen's involvement, and she had taken any and all training that Pen had told her to do. Hoped being a Slayer would erase the pain, but that had been a betrayal too. She hadn't known what to do after that. Lost the love of her life, and lost her purpose, and she was just lost. Gone to Haven, just a short term plan, with no thought to future, and she didn't care about it either.

Until Spike, really. The Slayer's Organization could be a purpose, she supposed, if she let it, but she hadn't been interested in it, being part of a hive. She was better on her own, involving others just got them killed. Until Spike, whose resilience surpassed even that of Slayers. The whole already dead mortality thing. He was what changed. He made her care again, made her give a damn, made her want to try. He was the purpose for her, and she wouldn't tell him that. Probably scare him off, and she couldn't blame him. The intensity of what she felt scared her too.

But there was something else that scared her even more.

So after putting it off a far too many times, Jade extinguished the butt of her cigarette, pinching it with her fingers and ignoring the sting, because the burn healed far too quickly to be consequential. Spike frowned sometimes when he noticed her doing it, but didn't say anything, and this time he didn't see it, still puffing out into the air, a small, white cloud. She watched it for a moment, and him.

He was leaning back in the lounging chair, a blue long-sleeved t-shirt taut against his chest, far too fitting on him, really, she was conscientiously thankful she no longer blushed, because just glancing at him appreciatively would have warmed her cheeks. But he was there, so casual, and still, his eyes half-lidded. He was completely at rest, harmless even, if Jade didn't know better. He was like a cat laying in the sun, leonine and graceful. Except he was a vampire, and thus, definitely no sun. His body drew her attention, and then his face as always, the sleek lines of it, the curve of his cheekbones—the definition of his cheeks alone was reason for jealousy. He was beautiful, and he knew it, though he never flaunted it with her. Which was good, she had little resistance against him as it was.

"If I lose my soul, I want you to kill me," Jade said, without preamble, because asking him if she could ask him a question would get a snarky response, and they'd play around for a couple minutes before she'd finally get him serious enough to answer. Trying to engage him in idle chatter while she worked a way to it would just irritate him—he could see through that easy enough. He wasn't that easily deceived, so she wasn't even going to try. She glanced at him as she spoke, watched him stiffen. Someone else might not have noticed, if they hadn't known him as well or looked at him as close, but she did.

He waited a second, taking a long drag on his cigarette, and said casually, not looking at her, "What are you yammering about?"

"I don't mean you, in particular. Just make sure I don't live on. Unlive on, whatever." She gazed at him tentatively, but he still wouldn't meet her gaze.

"You're not going to lose it," He said, as if it could be so easily decided, as if he was soothing her over-excessive fears, like checking for monsters under a child's bed.

"If I do—"

"You won't." He clamped down stubbornly on the remainder of his cigarette, the next breath of smoky air he exhaled was hasty and short, rather than the billowing wisps previous.

Jade sighed. She leaned forward in her chair, towards him, fixing him with her gaze. "Spike."

"Weren't you the one sayin' that soul isn't everything?" Spike raised his head to catch her eyes doggedly. "I remember those words comin' out of your mouth when you were fighting that lil' slayer a time ago. Barbie, whatever her name was."

"Bailey?" Jade asked blankly, after frowning for a moment, trying to recall what exactly she had done or said.

"I believe your words were, 'Souls don't mean shit.'" Spike continued, without emotion, his dark blue eyes burrowing into hers.

Oh. So he had been listening to that. She had only a brief memory of it, seemed so long ago now, so insignificant. She did remember that that was the turning point in her fight with Bailey, that the younger Slayer's criticism had sparked Jade's anger, the assumption of having a soul meant they were automatically good, while not having one saw them as evil. And Jade knew firsthand that people could do terrible things with one, and she had said as much. She had been thinking of Pen, how Pen had led Bennett into becoming a Vampire, and Jade into killing him. And all the people who had committed crimes all their lives, rape, murder, and were inexorably human, without a trace of demon in them, they had souls. Hadn't stopped them.

"But this is different," Jade said aloud.

"S'not different." Spike argued. He flicked the stub of the cigarette away. "You either believe it or you don't." He looked at her, waiting for an answer.

"I do believe that having a soul isn't everything," Jade allowed after hesitation. "But that doesn't mean—"

"You don't know. You don't know how you'll act. Look, I'm no bloody advocate for peace after death. Seen it firsthand. What they were, they don't come back as. You know that; I know that." His mother. Jade remembered him telling her about it, however briefly. She had come back, like Bennett. And like Jade, Spike had killed her himself. "But you make it sound like the sodding endgame; if you lose your soul, you lose. You don't know that. Hell, Angel's lost his too many times to count, but the sodding bugger keeps coming back to wear the white hat."

"But I'm—" Jade paused, not wanting to sound conceited, but it was true that she was something more than an ordinary vampire.

"We'd find a way," Spike said, as if he knew what she was going to say before she could try to stumble her way through saying it. "Or Red would. Bloody strong witch she is, she'd find a way. Get you back. None the worse for wear." He sat up straight, one of his hands gripping the back of his scalp, massaging the muscles there as he leaned up towards her.

"You can't know that for sure," Jade argued, without much vehemence, deflating in the face of his certainty.

"Gotta least give it a go. Can't give up that easy. Gotta fight." He said it like she had a choice in the matter, like she could just choose not to lose herself if she lost her soul. She touched the small bump under her clothes, the bauble that shone, would shine now in the still-darkness if she revealed it. But she kept it hidden, as always, kept it out of sight and out of mind. Pretend that her soul wasn't hanging so precariously out of her body.

"But if there was nothing anyone could do, and the demon took charge, you—"

"I had a chip," Spike interrupted. "Kept me from hurting people, directly, anyhow. Called that my Soul, if you will. But none of them agreed with that. Not bloody good 'nuf, especially for Buffy." He said the last part bitterly, more to himself than to Jade, but of course she heard it. "But I still wasn't—and don't you repeat this to anyone," He said with as much intimidation as he could muster, "The big bad. Thought I was. Fancied myself still the big dark evil, but truth was, I didn't react like a vampire would. You chip ol' Angelus up, he'd still find a way to kill everyone. Play those games he liked. He'd find a bloody way. Me, I just let it derail me. Found myself fighting on the side of good somehow," He shook his head. "Point is, even if it was the chip that stopped me, and not myself, I still wasn't as bad as I could have been. You might not be either. Don't chalk yourself up to be a big old sadist like Angelus just because he goes Jekyll n' Hyde when he loses his soul. Maybe you'd hold on, yeah? Bit of you, anyway. Or maybe you'd turn into a big moron, like that Mandy." He scoffed a bit.

"Mandy, as… stupid as she was, she and her boyfriend nearly destroyed the world. Or ruled it. She almost had a whole Slayer army."

"The word you should be payin' attention to is almost. All that power and strength, an' she got defeated. Not impossible, luv. Not the end."

"Right," Jade breathed. Spike glanced away from her and up to the sky, where it lightened further. Without a word, he rose to his feet, gesturing her into the house, their chairs abandoned to the rays of sunshine ready to conquer. Spike closed the door behind them, one hand still on the doorknob as Jade looked back at him. "But I feel it, Spike. It's angry. I took its power, and then shoved it away. It didn't get a chance, and it wants vengeance."

"Won't let that happen," Spike asserted stubbornly.

"Alright. I lose my soul, if you can get it back, then do it. Magic, however. I'll be fine with that. But—" She took a step towards him, and he regarded her without moving, his eyes flickering back at her. "If I kill people. Hurt people. If I'm too far gone, and I'm killing, and you have to… please. Make sure I don't come back. Make sure I'm dusted and gone."

"That—" Spike started, but it was her time to interrupt him—he'd done it enough to her, hadn't he?

"Promise me." She said, stoutly and firmly, but then softened her voice and her eyes with a plea. "Please."

He looked at her with an unreadable expression. She thought she might need to remind him, might need to throw Buffy's name into the mix to remind him what could be at stake, but he slowly, after a long pause, nodded. "Alright," He said gruffly. "I promise."