AN:/ Thank you for all the understanding and wonderful comments! I know how awful it is to be into a story and then have it not be finished, so thank you for your patience. Apologies for the delay in this chapter, I couldn't post it without a small section rewrite, but here it is. One more finished chapter after this, and then I'll have to see where to go from there. Hope you enjoy!
22
They all turned to look at him. He'd been pretty damn good this whole time, he'd thought. Willow'd come out with another bloody crazy magic trick of hers, and he'd let her do it, even when the blood had ran down Jade's skin and clothes like a sodding waterfall, and he'd heard the pained scream that'd been building in the back of her throat. He hadn't resisted—much, because he knew it was what she wanted. It was something to keep her soul from ever getting nabbed again; he hated it, but he'd support her. 'Course the witch didn't mention the scarring until after the sodding thing was over, trying to look innocent and blameless, and Jade accepted it like she was sodding Christ on a cross, just another lash she accepted. Not that he'd been there for the crucifixion. He wasn't that old.
At least she'd let him stroke her hair while it was happening. He didn't even think she had noticed, but she hadn't jerked away from him, so that was a nice bloody change. Still, her soul was in a safer place. He didn't trust that Mok'Tagar Demon one bit, no matter what 'good' she'd thought she'd done. Well, if she ever tried again with Jade, she'd have one hell of a hard time, and that was a happy thought. And it'd help Jade, he knew that. Knowing that she wasn't so vulnerable to it happening again, that'd take some of the stress off of her mind.
When she'd admitted that she'd lose her soul again for him, he'd been floored. She'd done a pretty good job of being angry at him, part of him thought maybe she'd come to her senses, didn't love him anymore. Now while she hadn't exactly said differently, the thought that he was her weakness was both a thrilling and sobering thought. Couldn't help himself. The same was said for her to him. All they needed to break him was shower him in her ashes, and he wouldn't give a sodding damn anymore.
But she was here, and unliving, and he was giving a sodding damn.
So there was no way in hell that they were going to put a chip in her head.
"I don't believe I was asking," Buffy said back flatly.
"Er, you. She was asking Jade," Willow broke in like she was the sodding diplomat, but farces weren't her specialty. There was no asking about it. This was Buffy telling Jade what exactly the conditions were, and Jade was just accepting it. Bloody torture, sure, bring it on, help make her feel better.
"It's fine," Jade said. She didn't spare him more than a glance, and sod all if he was going to be ignored about this.
"Not a chance in hell," Spike spat out between grit teeth. He turned his anger towards the Slayer and the Witch. "This is your sodding plan? Wire her up like she's some sort of a robot? That'd make you feel better, would it?"
"It's not the same chip that you got, Spike." Buffy responded back. "They've developed it since then."
"Oh, are the shocks more debilitating? Is just thinking about violence enough to get a good old brainshock to the noggin? The wonders of sodding technology, here."
"We can keep it turned off," Willow said softly to Jade. "It'd just be there. And we'd be able to activate it, you know, if…"
"If I lost my soul again," Jade supplied.
"Exactly. We would keep it off until then. You wouldn't notice a change."
"An' who keeps a hold on the sodding remote?" Spike demanded.
"I do." Buffy stated vehemently, her green eyes boring into Spike's.
"Bloody blessing, that." Spike replied caustically. "Now I can relax."
"Spike, I'm fine with this." Jade spoke up, bringing her gaze over to his. Not good. He saw the stubbornness in those blue eyes, that belief that this was the right thing and she was doing it.
"No." Spike repeated, earning a scowl from her. "You don't deserve a sodding chip in your brainpan."
"It won't even be activated," Buffy repeated, exasperated. "It'll be off unless it's needed."
"Oh, and there's no sodding way those things could ever malfunction, could they?" Spike shot back. Hell, bloody hell, he knew that better than anyone. And Buffy sodding well did too, lest she just blocked those instances from her memory. Well he sodding remembered. Knew what it was like, shocking him for no sodding reason, blood dripping out of his nose. Made him feel useless all over again, like when he thought he couldn't fight a thing anymore. 'Cept it was with everything. He had just been waiting for the next time it decided to eviscerate his bloody brain. Stuck in sodding limbo. An' yeah. Part of him thought he'd deserved it. He did, maybe. Not Jade. Never Jade.
"That was almost seven years ago. They've been working on the chip since then," Buffy pointed out.
"Oh yeah, an' the fact that they've been working on 2 point bloody oh of this thing is such a comfort." He rolled his eyes. He'd never again let that happen. Bloody military types and putting bollocks where it didn't belong.
"This is my choice." Jade stated, struggling to cover her anger with calm. But Spike could see it in her burning gaze. Thought he was coddling her again, and maybe he was, but bloody hell if he was just trying to help her.
"There are other options - what about that bridle thing with the Mandy bint-" Why the hell hadn't they used that thing in the first place, to stop Jade when her soul had been adrift. "That's protection plenty, innit, and it involves no wiring and crafty bits of terrorizing metal."
There was a look exchanged between the witch and the Slayer.
"We don't exactly have it," Willow said after a pause and a glower from an impatient Spike. "We - lent it out? Yeah. As in, someone needed to borrow it, but we'll have it again. Uh, eventually."
"Lent it out?" Spike demanded.
"Not everything world-endy has to do with Jade, Spike," Buffy shot back, her green gaze ablaze. Her idea of a defense was the overly offensive, but that was the blonde Slayer through and through.
"Oh it doesn't, now? Wanna write that bloody down, for the next time you forget, an' treat her as the only big bad that's ever been bad? Need I remind you, the witch on your left there almost ended the whole soddin' world, and -"
"Hey!" Willow protested with a frown.
"Spike." Jade always had a way of saying his name like no-one else ever did, gentle and - kind, even when she was frustrated. Damn thing was his mantle, and not one that could be lent out.
"This could go wrong, Jade. Way bloody wrong."
"It already has," She said softly. "This, this is a way to make sure it never happens again. This is exactly what I need, don't you get it?"
"You don't need to be wired up like some feral animal," He responded sharply. "At the bloody lab coats' mercy. 'Specting them to do their part and nothing extra." He snapped his gaze towards Buffy. "An' you're still bloody trusting them, after everything?"
Buffy's lips thinned into a straight line. "That was the Initiative. That was… different. Now that the world knows about vampires, they rely on us more. Some, I'm not saying all of it, but some of the things they've worked on are useful. They're our allies."
Spike scoffed. "Until they start thinkin', hey, why just stick to experimenting on vampires, let's see if we can wire up a sodding Slayer to do our bidding."
"Won't come to that," Buffy snapped back.
"Why? Think Finn'll wrap them all around his finger, do you? He didn't manage to do a very good job wit' you."
"Shut up, Spike. Riley isn't in charge there, it goes above him."
"Oh, an' that makes me feel better."
"Enough, guys," Willow sounded tired. "I can make you guys get along, you know." She wagged her finger in faux intimidation, trying to be good-natured.
"Yeah, usin' magic to muddle me up, like that'd be a new thing for you," Spike couldn't help but gibe.
"Enough." Jade's hand reached out and gripped Spike's shoulder in a warning, her thumb resting on his collarbone. He leaned into her hand without thought. She was barely touching him now, after the whole incident, and he missed it, missed their easy contact, missed being close since she kept him at bloody arm's length, and he was all too familiar with that. "You shouldn't be talking to Willow like that."
Spike scoffed but didn't answer. Jade had taken a shine to the red-headed witch, but there was still plenty she had to answer for. She waded through her magics like she had some sodding right to them, like there was nothing too far, nothing that maybe she just shouldn't sodding attempt. And people were going to get hurt from it someday—some already had. Didn't remember them much locking up Willow for that either. So she'd been sent away to a magic boarding house or sommat, but that didn't exactly try to strip her of her magic but teach her how to control it, so what kind of a punishment was that for a magic junkie.
"I'm doing this." Jade said. "Support me or don't, but this isn't your decision to make."
He slapped his hand over hers. She winced at the contact, but didn't pull away. He knew what or don't would entail. Undo all what he'd gotten from the last few long days—she wouldn't want him near again. Wouldn't want his help. And he'd just gotten her to let him stay with her in the room, bloody hell if he couldn't throw that away over a temper tantrum. Even if it was a well-deserved. "Won't get in your way. Couldn't," He scoffed. "But if anything happens, I bloody told you so."
She held his gaze and didn't flinch. "Got it." Her hand slipped out from under his.
The rest of the conversation was a blur, and finally Buffy and Willow were on their way out, promising to come back in a few hours. He sipped at his jar of blood, wishing there was a bit more alcohol in it. There was silence then, for a long time after the Slayer and the Witch left, and Jade was sitting on her bed, absentmindedly rubbing her breastbone through her shirt. She'd gone and changed and showered, and the blood was off her again. He hadn't offered to help, of course. Didn't feel much like reading, either. The poems weren't exactly relaxing him, just serving to further piss him off.
"Aren't you going to yell at me some more?" Jade said, running her fingers through her hair that was nearly black while it was soaked through.
"Wouldn't help." He said, a bit too broodily that it reminded him of sodding Peaches, but it was the truth. Not a bloody thing he said stuck in that sodding noggin of hers, just went in one bloody ear and out the other. And now she was going to shove a chip up it, as if that would fix a bloody thing.
"No, it wouldn't." She agreed, looking at him with that interminable gaze of hers. "Spike, this is a good thing. This is exactly what I need."
"You don't deserve bloody government types rooting 'round your noggin fitting sodding circuitry in there. You just think you do."
"If I ever lose my soul again, this could keep me from hurting anyone," She said, and the calm went from her tone somewhat, frustrated now as she looked at him. "This is what I want."
"No, y'think it's what you deserve. More punishment."
"You're not getting it—"
"No, you're not bloody getting it," Spike snapped back. "I know. It was done to me, wasn't it? I bloody know. I know what it's like having that thing in my head. I remember the pain. I also remember the loathing. Being a bloody half thing. Not a demon, not a man. Stuck in the bloody middle. Wanted to off myself. You want control, you don't want to worry 'bout that soulless side of you, but things go wrong. You think having a magic chip in your head will keep you from doing violence? I know you're creative, love. Bloody stubborn. You'd find a way. That's if the chip doesn't just malfunction and blow your sodding brain out. An' what if they decide, hmm, bloody good way to keep the Slaypire in check, why don't we have it on all the time, just in case?"
"My risk to take."
He snorted. "I know I can't change your mind. You want to do good by everyone, show 'em you can be a harmless animal. But I'm telling you: it won't make all your problems go away."
She stepped over to him, wet hair clinging to one pale cheek. "I know that. But if I can do something to keep what happened from happening again, I will. It won't make my problems go away, yes, I know that, Spike. But maybe it'll at least help me sleep."
He didn't want to be there while they did the surgery. Or while they tested it after. Didn't care for Willow explaining that it wouldn't be controlled by an actual remote, but some buggering 'computer system' or something. Accessible. Secure. That's what they wanted to believe. As if it were that sodding simple, like nothing could go wrong. Plenty could. Plenty already had.
He didn't leave the room when she did, getting a few hours of shuteye before he heard the door open again. He'd been sleeping in the chair, and his shoulders felt awful stiff, but he was undead, after all. Sort of used to it.
"And you'll let me know if there's any problems?" Willow was saying, quiet. Acting like she gave a bloody damn. Spike stifled a snort. As if any of them gave two whits. All about doing it right while it wasn't. On Red's list of priorities, Jade was far below Buffy, Kennedy, the Slayers and Sophie. Sure, she might have some concern for Jade, but loyalties were in play first. She'd only ever help Jade if there were anyone in the way.
But Spike would choose her first.
"Of course. But it's fine now, really. And it's off?" Spike couldn't see the two of them from the way his chair was turned, but he knew Jade's expression, littered with apprehension even as she played herself at being aloof.
"Off. Promise. And you know, with your hair like that, you can't even tell."
"I know it's small, can't help but feel self-conscious about it anyway, like a breeze is going to lift my hair up and show my bald spot. Oh well. At least they didn't shave my whole head."
"You can't even tell," Willow repeated in reassurance. "Any lingering effects from the test?"
"No. Not a prolonged pain, thankfully. Although strong. It'll work."
"Good. Not that you'll probably have to worry about it. I mean, you're all precautioned up now. It's all goody, no need to worry."
"Thanks, Willow."
"Oh really, it's no problem. I didn't do that much. I'm just glad I could help. And I'm sorry that I wasn't around for—"
"Not your fault. Don't blame yourself." Smart words, but Spike found them just a tad hypocritical. Chit couldn't take her own advice, but she'd doll it out.
"Can't help it. It's kinda, you know, true. And then Sophie had to go get me back, wow. Big oops on my part. That could have gone very bad. I should have never… put her in a place where she had to do that."
"She loves you. She did it for you and got you back. That's security, there."
"Yeah. She's kinda amazing, isn't she?"
"One of a kind. She's lucky to have you."
"I'll try to bring her around soon. Won't need to keep you in here much longer. You're all…good." Willow's awkwardness was renowned, bloody hell. Eloquence was not her strength, even as a powerful witch, her gawkiness hadn't quite left her. Still, Jade wasn't so elegant herself. A pair the two made, perhaps, even Spike was slower to forgive Willow for being absent, especially since the Witch hadn't been able to offer a real answer as to why she'd been sticking 'round in the nether realm, giving vague answers or not knowing much at all. Not a good enough reason for being away when she was needed, not that anyone else was agreeing with him.
"Thanks," Jade said, and Spike turned to see their small smiles at each other, and then the redhead was gone, through the door. He sighed without meaning to and she turned towards him, stepping in front of the chair so he could see her clearly. "It's done."
"Works like a charm then, does it?" Spike said, sounding irritable. Couldn't help himself. Didn't know he was doing here, where his bloody opinion was ignored and not worth a—
She reached out and gripped his arm, kneeling instead of standing, not looking down at him anymore. "Yes. It does. And it wasn't your choice, it was mine."
Spike tightened his jaw. Never mind the fingers wrapped around his arm, long and pale and strong. "Yeh, I've gotten the gist." He muttered. "Sing a new bloody tune, would you?"
Her fingers tightened, as did the corners of her mouth, and for a long second, there was silence, and maybe he'd ticked her off again; her expression was hard and cold and dangerous—and then it softened with the curve of her lips, amusement making way instead of indignation. "I can if you want me to. I'm such a wonderful singer—"
She was teasing him, and he responded in kind. "You're bloody tone deaf luv, it's a travesty."
"You sure?" She sang the last word, and he winced in pain that was part exaggerated, part authentic. Poor girl. Her voice wasn't terrible always, but she was so bloody lacking in rhythm, and that he couldn't fix.
"Have bloody mercy, will you?" He grumbled, and she laughed. Laughed. That was it, then. She was offering a bridge. Bloody plenty had gone unsaid that ought not to be, but he'd done nothing but argue with her this last little while, and he was tired of it. So was she. It wasn't right, clashing with her like this. Bloody hell, he'd enjoyed some of the verbal battles between he and Buffy. Hadn't much else to look forward to when he was a vampire with a chip. Couldn't exactly throw punches anymore. And they'd always bantered, sometimes on the edge of caustic, and sometimes slipping right over it. But not with Jade. They didn't insult each other for fun, didn't argue and shout. Not like now. And he didn't want it. Didn't need it to be like it was with Buffy, since they were so bloody different. He knew that now. Different, and one was better for him. One soothed him and the other just riled him up, wanting to burn him til there was nothing left.
So he'd let it drop, for now. Bloody hell, he wouldn't be forgetting. But she was right, after all. This was her sodding choice, and what place did he have to stomp all over it, thinking he knew better? That presumptuous manner reminded him of Peaches, and he wasn't going to allow that to stand. Jade was stubborn, the more and more she was thrown into a corner, and she wouldn't relent. Guilt held her in a grip, and he didn't know how it happened, but he wasn't one she'd blindly listen to. Couldn't persuade her out of it. Nothing to do. But let it go, for now. Not forget, not by a bloody long shot, but he'd stop. Or it'd just push her further away. Like she could get any farther. She could barely even touch him lately, and it wasn't enough, just having her hand on his arm. If he reached for her, she'd pull away.
It was as if her thoughts echoed his own, when her gaze flickered down to her hand holding him, she released him and stood. He bit back a sigh, but not well. No, she still couldn't stand to touch him for long. He couldn't fool himself. It was not alright between the two of them, olive branch or no, it was simply pretense. Jade rose, crawling back into bed. He could smell the acrid scent of recent blood, could see the slightest of a red clump in the back of her head. Willow hadn't been lying at least; Spike couldn't see where they must have shaved part of her head to place the chip in, but he knew where it was. Her healing would have closed the cut by now, stitches not needed as the flesh would knit itself together, but her hair would take a bit longer to grow. Least they hadn't to shave Spike bald with his own chip. Hair was short enough they hadn't touched the bleached locks. He tousled his hair then, stiff and shorn and bleached again—he'd at least used the downtime he'd gotten. His nails were still clear. Didn't paint them as much as he used to, and unless he got really bloody bored here, he wouldn't.
He glanced over to the bed, where Jade was still and her eyes were closed. She was likely sleeping, though it was hard to tell. She was a vampire after all; 'still as death' was something they did rather well.
He reached for the book he'd been reading, that he'd carefully placed so no-one could see the title, a collection of nancy boy poems that he'd never admit to liking. He'd shifted it under Jade's sketching book, and now his fingers hesitated, thumb on the cover. He glanced to the bed again. Eyes were still closed. He had to admit, he was curious. Chit wouldn't tell him all the goings on of that tortured head of hers. How wrong would it be to take a peek?
It was times like this that he missed the simplicity of having no soul. Simply flip it up and have a look, and he wouldn't even have a thought that he should be guilty, let alone swim in it. Still. He knew as well as anyone, consciences could be ignored. People were murderers and liars. He was just curious.
He flipped to the first page, one eye on the bed. No movement. He glanced down at the page. She didn't like coloring pencils, this one, did all her drawing with a mechanical pencil. And call him bloody old, but the concept behind the mechanical pencil was still a bit aweing to him. Pushed a thin piece of lead out by clicking the eraser. Bloody weird. The ballpoint had been a marvel to him in his day, and he'd used one almost religiously, scribbling on paper after paper, blackening his fingers with ink. 'Course, then he'd become a vampire and stained his fingers with blood instead.
The first picture was stuff of nightmares. Hastily scribbled fallen folk, so small he was sure they were children. They were faceless, cept for one that looked familiar, even to him. That little one, Rachel, one of the little kiddies she'd rescued all those months ago, and then killed now. Next picture was the same, more scribbled recreations of blood and slaughter. Could have been from Spike's memories just as easily as it was from hers. Cept he'd never tried to draw his evil deeds. Saw them enough in his head. He'd drawn pictures of Buffy instead, once. Hadn't in a long while. Imagined she'd still think it was creepy, and it made him a bit too similar to Peaches. And Spike hadn't tried to copy him, God no. Wasn't anything like him. Didn't go sending off pictures of people in their sleep. He'd scribbled a bit as a human, and well, he'd lived long. Life wasn't always mayhem. There were down months too, when they'd drawn too much attention to themselves and had to apply themselves to boring tasks. 'Sides, Dru had liked him drawing. And he'd have done anything for her.
He flipped the next page, and he stilled. It was of him. Badly bruised and bloody, shirt ripped. He'd tease her about it being the cover for some romance novel if he didn't see the guilt etched into every line. All his wounds seemed exaggerated, worse. And she'd gotten the look in his eyes wrong: fear. He hadn't been afraid of her, much. Just accepting that he might die there, and he hoped he wouldn't, for her sake.
He flipped to the next page. Him again, just his face this time. The proportions were a bit off: he was sure she'd do better with a model, and not just by memory. His brows were a bit too uneven and his nose too crooked, but his eyes were deep and soulful. Captured him by the eyes and the mouth and cheekbones if nothing else, but she couldn't quite get the emotions right. Dredged in her own guilt, the pictures reflected it too. There were more pictures of him, and even a sketch of Faith. Those bold eyes stared up at him from the paper. Faith hadn't approved of him moping around. Had told him that the best thing for Jade was to 'break her out of her cell', and Spike found he agreed with the wench.
He closed the book. Jade still hadn't stirred, and he was bloody lucky for that. She'd tear his arms off. No. Not really, but she'd bloody embarrassed and even more defensive. Still, it was a risk he found was worth it. He had something to do.
He left to find Buffy. Wasn't that hard. She was in the hall, standing and talking to Willow and a red looking demon. The 'gracious host', Manus, although he wasn't sounding so gracious now.
"It's been a week. A week, Enchantress Rosenberg. All these little children flittering about."
"I know, Manus. And we're grateful, really. We'll be out of your hair in no time." Willow said, lacking backbone and trying to appease him instead. "Not that you have… much." Red added in a mumble.
"Well, can you keep them from sparring inside? They've put cracks in the walls. Cracks. Do they think I can just fix them with a snap of a finger?"
Buffy glanced to Willow, keeping her mouth shut as the Witch chewed on her lip thoughtfully. "Well… of course not. But you could, though, couldn't you?"
"Of course I could!" The man seemed to swell in size, not taking kindly to a presumed blow to his ego. "But that is not the point!"
Spike took this moment to approach. Didn't seem like Buffy was there for anything more than a buffer zone anyway. "Those Slayers," he tsked. "Such a bother."
Buffy shot a glare at him, curling her arms across her chest. "It during your fight with them that this happened."
"That little sparring match? Hardly got to the exciting bit."
Manus looked startled as he approached, narrowing those yellow eyes as he spared only a glance at the vampire and continued with his diatribe, chest bursting with new ammunition. "And do you know how much blood I've had to provide? My stores are almost depleted."
"For which we are grateful," Willow said. "Lots and lots grateful. And you know I'll help you replenish anything that was taken."
"Of course you will!" The warlock said. He was a bit younger than the other bloke, Cyvus Vail, that had been part of the whole circle of evil thing at Wolfram & Hart, and Spike could tell that he was more bark than bite. He'd been making himself useful and wanted to be patted on the back for his efforts. Spike hid an urge to eyeroll. Oh well. Not his concern anyway.
"Wanna talk to you," He said to Buffy, and she pursed her lips in displeasure, but shrugged, gesturing with her shoulder to follow her.
"Hang on, here!" Manus protested. "I'm not finished."
"Well, you didn't really need me anyway." Buffy said in a tone that was too high. He was sure that she wasn't too eager for a talk with him, but at the moment, Spike beat out listening to the red-skinned demon rant about his problems. "I have complete trust in Willow. I'm sure she'll make it better." The Witch shot a look at her best friend, off-put, but there was no real venom behind it. Hiding a sigh, the red-haired woman looked back patiently as Manus shrugged and continued his tirade.
They stepped off into the next corridor. Buffy shook her head and made a face. "I know he's sheltered us and all that, but he reminds me of Principal Snyder. Like he's going to make me sit in detention if I offend him."
"Gutless sod," Spike offered, vaguely remembering the little man who stood as principal. Not a bit frightening, that one. Spike could have snapped him in two and barely used him for a toothpick, but he supposed it had been different to a bittier Buffy who had put much more stock in the rules of society than he had ever cared about back then.
Buffy nodded, although his British had thrown her off somewhat, and she looked back at him, suspicious. "What is it you wanted, Spike?" She asked, and there was very little patience in her tone.
"Think it's time we went on our merry way, that's what." Spike said without preamble. "Y've done your little rehab program. Her soul's harder to get and she's got a lovely little chip in her head. Congratu-bloody-lations."
Buffy didn't flinch under his glare, returning one of equal strength. "Did what I had to, Spike."
"Yeh, yeh. Protect your own an' all. Whatever. Glad it's done. Doing no good to her, keeping her here. Time we were off."
Buffy pursed her lips together, drawing herself up as far as she could at her five foot three stature. Same height as Jade, though Jade never tried to look down at him. He could tell that stubborn Buffy was coming out to play, and an irritated growl lingered in his throat. "Not yet."
"What else does she need to do?" Spike snapped. "'Cause if you're thinking yourself mighty, wanting to have a trial or somethin', give me a bloody break."
"We're not putting her through a trial," Buffy responded, exasperated.
"Oh, so she'll just sit there until you decide otherwise, will she? No trial then, just one sodding dictator."
"She killed my Slayers, Spike. You want her to go free?"
"I've killed Slayers before. I go free."
Buffy's eyes narrowed, anger blazing in their green depths, her jaw set tight. "Yes, you must be so proud. She's a Slayer of Slayers, just like you. Congratulations, Spike."
"Don't punish her because of your sodding girl-jealousy," Spike snapped, though his heart panged painfully. Was true, wasn't it. And he'd carried that title with pride. Was no elder vampire, living a hundred years. Barely over a hundred years to his name and he'd killed two. Had wanted Buffy to be his third. But after… after he'd gotten his soul back, that wasn't a badge of honor anymore. Just a reminder of the blood he dragged behind him.
"I can't just release her. My Slayers wouldn't—"
"So it's a political thing, is it? 'Fraid there'll be some dissent in the ranks? Bet Kennedy's just hopin' for that to happen. Drag your feet right out from under you. Yeah, bloody justice, I'm sure."
Buffy's hands shook, as if she wanted to hit him, but she curled them into fists and didn't move them. He raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, learned restraint, have we? Not goin' to beat me until black an' blue? Suppose it's best, want to set a good example for your little ones an' all, shame you have to miss out on your favorite pastime, 'kick the Spike."
Buffy let a rough breath out from between her teeth. "You got off on it," she muttered, for lack of a better answer. That was something she couldn't quite deny. He'd been her punching bag loads of times. Sometimes he'd deserved it. Was easier for her, to take her anger out on something that wasn't human. Kept her conscious all nice and clear.
"Little bit," he admitted as a small show of mercy. Guilting her and pissing her off weren't really the way to go, and she relaxed, if only barely.
"I'm considering it," She said then, and he growled, but she blinked back up at him, not relenting. "But not yet. When I say, and not before. I have other things to think about, Spike. I have a new base to find, and I just don't have time for this."
"So she just sits there while you take your sweet, bloody time?"
"And where would you take her?" Buffy challenged.
"Somewhere she can fight. Do some bloody good." Spike answered immediately.
But Buffy's expression didn't relent. Didn't much matter what he would have said, likely. "We're leaving in a couple days. We've set up a smaller, much smaller, safe house in San Francisco. Get out of this crypt at least." She wrinkled her nose, and then looked back at Spike. "And she's coming with us."
Spike growled.
"For now," Buffy amended. "Just be patient. And don't do anything stupid, Spike. I mean, if that's even possible."
"I'm not patient," he warned her.
"Yeah, well. It doesn't seem like she's that eager to run anyway. So maybe you'll have to be," Buffy countered, and damn her if she wasn't close to the mark. For all his sodding bluster, it was true. Jade wouldn't want a rescue attempt, no, she'd been good and obedient. Which was why he'd gone to Buffy in the first place, 'stead of trying to break Jade out. Knew his Slaypire wouldn't go, not until Buffy's say so. She knew that, unfortunately, same as he did.
"She wants to make it up to you," Spike said, switching tactics for Jade's sake. "The others, anyway. Give her something to do and she'll prove her bloody mettle tenfold. She helped lit'l Sophie get Willow back, didn't she? Hasn't that earned her a thing?"
"It's helped. But Spike, it's not that simple. If one of my Slayers did something like this—"
"What, lose their soul? Bit harder as a human, but yeah, possible, what with the black market an' all—"
"Killed our own," Buffy interrupted him right back. "I wouldn't be letting them go after a week."
"She had no soul!" Spike growled. "Wasn't like she was filling out her grocery list. She'd never have done it if that bitch of a demon hadn't taken her soul."
"I know that. But that doesn't bring those Slayers back. Young girls. The point of this whole organization is so that less Slayers would go to their death, not more."
"I know you bloody blame yourself. But being a Slayer hasn't changed. Know you want them all to have long, good lives, but that isn't in the sodding job description. It's a dangerous sodding world, no matter how many of you super girls are running around. But you can make it safer. Jade makes it safer."
Buffy's jaw clenched. A hesitation reached her eyes, a softness and vulnerability that reminded Spike Buffy was only twenty five, 'bout to be twenty six in a couple days. She was young still, but that never deterred her. Had the whole world on her shoulders. Had all these Slayers at her command, making sure some of them could live normal lives, go to colleges, but she hadn't had that for herself. Had a lot of lives balanced on her shoulder, and she was trying to do her best by them. He just wished some of that went towards Jade without him asking for it. "She comes with us." Buffy said finally. "And then, after that, I'll think about it." She turned to leave.
He wasn't getting anything better from her. Stubborn bint, that one. And he could understand, though grudgingly.
He let her go.