Best Beloved
In a world where the light has long since crept away, they stand and look at the
soil. It is only earth, yet a further glance would reveal a headstone, marble and
cold. The earth becomes a grave, and the couple stood by it mourners. Look
closer still, and they are revealed as two separate people. Not a lovers pair.
There is a noticeable distance between them. Tears on the cheeks of the young
girl. She turns to the older man, angry with grief. Her voice is quiet. Restrained.
"Go away. You don't belong here."
"I just came to say my goodbyes, pet."
"Why bother? You're probably glad she's dead."
He paused, and their eyes met. Dawn bit her lower lip, and turned back to the
grave. It was undeniable. And surreal, at the same time, that her mother should
be buried there. She couldn't see the sun, or feel the breeze, or do anything at
all.
"I liked your mum. She was nice to me."
"Good for you. When I die, will you stand around my grave and say you liked me,
I helped you get all stalker guy with my sister?"
"No. I probably won't be around when you snuff it, nibblet."
"I thought vampires lived forever. As long as Buffy doesn't get in the way."
He smiled at that.
"Nah. I'm not staying in Sunnyhell forever."
"Oh yeah. That's what you said the last three times. Pet."
At that the vampire shrugged.
"Well…place used to have an attraction for me. If you know what I mean. Now…I
don't like it so much. Never really bloody did."
They continued to stand in silence for a while. Could have been minutes, could
have been hours. It didn't make any difference, here. Dawn felt like crying again.
She didn't think that she'd ever not feel like crying. Everything reminded her of
Mom. It was funny how people became parts of things, left their mark.
"Why are you crying?"
She sniffed hard. It was getting worse, she hadn't even felt the tears start. Her
words were choked.
"You wouldn't understand."
"Oh, sorry, forgot that you people were the world authority on my feelings."
"What?"
"Well, how do you know that I wouldn't understand? I've lost a lot of people, you
know. People who I loved."
"Did it hurt, each time? Does it get easier?"
Spike raised an eyebrow, and tilted his head to one side.
"You want the truth, petal? Or a reassuring lie?"
"Truth."
"It gets harder all the time."
"So the last person who died meant more…more than the others?"
He sighed, and sat down on the damp grass, lit a cigarette. Dawn frowned at
him.
"You said it gets harder each time. So who was the hardest?"
"Questions, little sister? Why do you want me to answer, after all, I'm just some
vampire. I don't understand."
With an annoyed thud she sat down next to him, by her mother's grave.
"Say…say you do understand. Maybe you can tell me how I can stop crying."
He took a long drag on the cigarette, then flicked the ash to the floor.
"It was around 1950."
"What does this have to do with anything?"
"Hey. You asked me how I stopped crying. Well, this is it. It was around 1950.
21st October, 1956 if I remember right. Which I do, of course. Now you see, I was
in love with Drusilla. But…well. She was crazy, out of her mind. Didn't make
much sense even to me, and I'd listened to her for seventy years. Not that I
minded, because I loved her. But sometimes, you want someone to talk to, share
a laugh with. Someone you can do stuff with…"
"And a normal person would have summed that up with 'friend'."
"Fair enough. I wanted a friend. God, that sounds pathetic. Anyway, only way I
was ever going to get a friend, a real friend, would be to turn someone. Have my
own childe. It was a bloody big decision, I'll tell you that."
"Childe? What's so special about that? I mean, there's tons of vampires just
running around."
"Difference is they're minions, luv. Stupid. They just follow orders, only feel hate
and death. Now a childe…it becomes a part of you. Bound together forever."
"I thought you didn't love Drusilla anymore?"
"I don't…it's hard to explain. Just take it from me. Some things are stronger than
love. Anyway. Back to the story. I wanted a childe of my own. More than a
friend…someone that belonged to me in the way I belonged to them. My best
beloved."
"Gag. That sounds so corny…you do realise how corny that sounds."
"It's only corny when it isn't true, thankyou very much. And this is true. It's truer
than anything."
He could see that for all her protests, Dawn was hanging from each word.
"Right. So, on the cornball night of October, 1956…"
"I found her."
She noticed Spike's eyes glaze over with memory, and he stubbed out the
cigarette.
"I found her in a bar, on the west side of London. It was a rough place, then. Real
dive. Just the right sort of place for vampires. I hadn't even been looking, really.
When I walked in there, I felt a human. And there weren't many humans in there."
"You felt a human? What…you felt one up?"
"Don't be stupid. I can feel you now. Hear your heart beating, all that blood
sloshing around your veins…everyone has a different heartbeat, a different flow.
Hers was violent and vital. Like her. Well…next thing I knew, we were talking.
Drusilla wasn't around, at some party or other. And I liked this girl."
"She was only young, then."
"Yeah…about eighteen. Does it matter?"
"No. I just wondered."
"We were talking, and we just…clicked, I suppose. It's not really the right word. I
liked her. She was funny, and clever."
"Pretty?"
"Of course. Don't just go around turning any old body. I took her outside, and
that's when I knew for sure she and me were gonna do fine."
"What happened?"
"She tried to steal my money. Pickpocket, thief…she nearly got away with it, too."
He seemed to smile at the thought, and Dawn raised an eyebrow. Her gaze fell
once more on the grave. Spike noticed and started to talk again.
"I turned her. I made her. Can't really describe the feeling. It was just…just
brilliant. Dru liked her too. In her own way. We did argue a little, but she was
headstrong. Wanted everything her own way. Couldn't let her, of course. So in
the end we all got along. I'd play cards with Tea, go drinking, whatever…then me
and Dru would dance and be together…"
"Woah. I so do not want to hear the details of your vampy sex life. Tea…I
assume that's her name?"
"Teasel actually. Tea for short. I ever had a baby, I'd call her Teasel. Even if it
were a boy."
"I think it's a dumb name."
"Me too. I told her to change it…like I did. She wouldn't, though. She liked it."
"Buffy always liked the name Olivia, for a baby. Livvy."
"Doesn't matter what Buffy likes, does it? Even if I could have a baby, which I
can't, and wanted one, which I don't, it sure as hell wouldn't be with her."
"So Tea and you were close."
"Closer than close. Drusilla was always the boss, but Tea only answered to me.
We all rubbed along together for, oh, twenty years or so. It felt a lot shorter. Well,
this is the part you'll be interested in. How to stop crying."
"Go on."
"I liked killing Slayers. Was obsessed with them. A Slayer is the only thing worth
killing, that's what I told her. That's what she learnt from fledgling. That's what
killed her."
"A Slayer."
"Correct, nibblet. Nikki, she was called. We'd gone to New York, looking for
Slayers. Dru wanted us to meet her in Los Angeles, she was staying with Darla
for a while. Dancing with the Order of Aurelius, stuck up bastards. When I was
sleeping, Tea took a walk. Bumped into Nikki. Bitch of a Slayer, she was. Bit like
your sister. Fast, too."
His eyes cast down to the ground.
"I'll never know what happened to my Teasel. Only that she died, somewhere in
New York, at the hands of a Slayer. News like that travels fast on the demon
grapevine. So I went and found this Nikki. Made my second slay of a Slayer."
"So the moral of the story is…get revenge? That's how you take the pain away?
Because that just sucks."
"No. That isn't the moral at all. So shut your trap, and let me finish."
"Sorry, sergeant major."
"I…I went back. To where they told me she'd died."
Eyes were completely glazed now. He was living this, living it all again. Dawn
thought that even if she spoke now, he wouldn't hear her.
"And I sat down. And I remembered all the things about her. There was this one
time, we went to the cinema. She insisted that we bought popcorn, because it
was the thing to do, and sat at the back. God, we lifted up the popcorn box and
made all these noises. Kissing and ooh-ing and aah-ing. Finally these old
geezers got the steward to come up and tell us off. He was taking our names?
When he asked Tea what she was called, she just leaned forward, real slow, and
goes…'I know what I'm gonna call you.' Steward guy smiles, she's a pretty girl.
Goes, 'What?'. And sweet as sugar she licks her lips, and says, 'Dinner.'. Then
we flash our faces and he runs off, scared as hell."
His face crinkled in laughter. Dawn had never seen him smile before, always
smirks or pouts or frowns. It was…nice. Made him look young. So she smiled
along with him.
"So I just sat there all night, making myself laugh, thinking about everything we
did together. Then when Drusilla came back, I was alright. Didn't need to cry.
Never had to again, because whenever I thought of her…I thought about the
good things."
"Right. So the moral is…if I go and think about all the great times I had with
Mom…I won't have to cry?"
He was serious again.
"That's right, nibblet. Agony hour's over for the week. Run back on home, you'll
be late for dinner. Wouldn't want to get in any more trouble with the Slayer."
Dawn stood up, ready to go, and hovered for a moment. He waved his hands,
standing as he did so.
"Go on. Get lost."
Suddenly she reached over a planted a kiss on his forehead.
"Thanks. For telling me the truth."
As she ran home, he watched her go, smiling. Then the smile faded away.
"The truth. Right."
He reached into the pocket of the duster. Pulled out the silver ring that was
always in there. It was his ring. Well, it had been to start with. Then he'd given it
to her.
"At least it helped the little one. A little."
And he moved further along the row of bodies, to another gravestone. He read
the inscription on it aloud.
"Teasel Jackson. Born 21st October, 1956. Died 31st January, 1980. Thanks for
the story, sweetheart, Whoever you were."
Spike rubbed the ring, the one he'd given all those years ago, to his best
beloved, his only childe.
"Not gonna share you with anyone, pet. No-one."
And he sat and he remembered the real story. The one he kept in his heart. The
one of his best beloved.
In a world where the light has long since crept away, they stand and look at the
soil. It is only earth, yet a further glance would reveal a headstone, marble and
cold. The earth becomes a grave, and the couple stood by it mourners. Look
closer still, and they are revealed as two separate people. Not a lovers pair.
There is a noticeable distance between them. Tears on the cheeks of the young
girl. She turns to the older man, angry with grief. Her voice is quiet. Restrained.
"Go away. You don't belong here."
"I just came to say my goodbyes, pet."
"Why bother? You're probably glad she's dead."
He paused, and their eyes met. Dawn bit her lower lip, and turned back to the
grave. It was undeniable. And surreal, at the same time, that her mother should
be buried there. She couldn't see the sun, or feel the breeze, or do anything at
all.
"I liked your mum. She was nice to me."
"Good for you. When I die, will you stand around my grave and say you liked me,
I helped you get all stalker guy with my sister?"
"No. I probably won't be around when you snuff it, nibblet."
"I thought vampires lived forever. As long as Buffy doesn't get in the way."
He smiled at that.
"Nah. I'm not staying in Sunnyhell forever."
"Oh yeah. That's what you said the last three times. Pet."
At that the vampire shrugged.
"Well…place used to have an attraction for me. If you know what I mean. Now…I
don't like it so much. Never really bloody did."
They continued to stand in silence for a while. Could have been minutes, could
have been hours. It didn't make any difference, here. Dawn felt like crying again.
She didn't think that she'd ever not feel like crying. Everything reminded her of
Mom. It was funny how people became parts of things, left their mark.
"Why are you crying?"
She sniffed hard. It was getting worse, she hadn't even felt the tears start. Her
words were choked.
"You wouldn't understand."
"Oh, sorry, forgot that you people were the world authority on my feelings."
"What?"
"Well, how do you know that I wouldn't understand? I've lost a lot of people, you
know. People who I loved."
"Did it hurt, each time? Does it get easier?"
Spike raised an eyebrow, and tilted his head to one side.
"You want the truth, petal? Or a reassuring lie?"
"Truth."
"It gets harder all the time."
"So the last person who died meant more…more than the others?"
He sighed, and sat down on the damp grass, lit a cigarette. Dawn frowned at
him.
"You said it gets harder each time. So who was the hardest?"
"Questions, little sister? Why do you want me to answer, after all, I'm just some
vampire. I don't understand."
With an annoyed thud she sat down next to him, by her mother's grave.
"Say…say you do understand. Maybe you can tell me how I can stop crying."
He took a long drag on the cigarette, then flicked the ash to the floor.
"It was around 1950."
"What does this have to do with anything?"
"Hey. You asked me how I stopped crying. Well, this is it. It was around 1950.
21st October, 1956 if I remember right. Which I do, of course. Now you see, I was
in love with Drusilla. But…well. She was crazy, out of her mind. Didn't make
much sense even to me, and I'd listened to her for seventy years. Not that I
minded, because I loved her. But sometimes, you want someone to talk to, share
a laugh with. Someone you can do stuff with…"
"And a normal person would have summed that up with 'friend'."
"Fair enough. I wanted a friend. God, that sounds pathetic. Anyway, only way I
was ever going to get a friend, a real friend, would be to turn someone. Have my
own childe. It was a bloody big decision, I'll tell you that."
"Childe? What's so special about that? I mean, there's tons of vampires just
running around."
"Difference is they're minions, luv. Stupid. They just follow orders, only feel hate
and death. Now a childe…it becomes a part of you. Bound together forever."
"I thought you didn't love Drusilla anymore?"
"I don't…it's hard to explain. Just take it from me. Some things are stronger than
love. Anyway. Back to the story. I wanted a childe of my own. More than a
friend…someone that belonged to me in the way I belonged to them. My best
beloved."
"Gag. That sounds so corny…you do realise how corny that sounds."
"It's only corny when it isn't true, thankyou very much. And this is true. It's truer
than anything."
He could see that for all her protests, Dawn was hanging from each word.
"Right. So, on the cornball night of October, 1956…"
"I found her."
She noticed Spike's eyes glaze over with memory, and he stubbed out the
cigarette.
"I found her in a bar, on the west side of London. It was a rough place, then. Real
dive. Just the right sort of place for vampires. I hadn't even been looking, really.
When I walked in there, I felt a human. And there weren't many humans in there."
"You felt a human? What…you felt one up?"
"Don't be stupid. I can feel you now. Hear your heart beating, all that blood
sloshing around your veins…everyone has a different heartbeat, a different flow.
Hers was violent and vital. Like her. Well…next thing I knew, we were talking.
Drusilla wasn't around, at some party or other. And I liked this girl."
"She was only young, then."
"Yeah…about eighteen. Does it matter?"
"No. I just wondered."
"We were talking, and we just…clicked, I suppose. It's not really the right word. I
liked her. She was funny, and clever."
"Pretty?"
"Of course. Don't just go around turning any old body. I took her outside, and
that's when I knew for sure she and me were gonna do fine."
"What happened?"
"She tried to steal my money. Pickpocket, thief…she nearly got away with it, too."
He seemed to smile at the thought, and Dawn raised an eyebrow. Her gaze fell
once more on the grave. Spike noticed and started to talk again.
"I turned her. I made her. Can't really describe the feeling. It was just…just
brilliant. Dru liked her too. In her own way. We did argue a little, but she was
headstrong. Wanted everything her own way. Couldn't let her, of course. So in
the end we all got along. I'd play cards with Tea, go drinking, whatever…then me
and Dru would dance and be together…"
"Woah. I so do not want to hear the details of your vampy sex life. Tea…I
assume that's her name?"
"Teasel actually. Tea for short. I ever had a baby, I'd call her Teasel. Even if it
were a boy."
"I think it's a dumb name."
"Me too. I told her to change it…like I did. She wouldn't, though. She liked it."
"Buffy always liked the name Olivia, for a baby. Livvy."
"Doesn't matter what Buffy likes, does it? Even if I could have a baby, which I
can't, and wanted one, which I don't, it sure as hell wouldn't be with her."
"So Tea and you were close."
"Closer than close. Drusilla was always the boss, but Tea only answered to me.
We all rubbed along together for, oh, twenty years or so. It felt a lot shorter. Well,
this is the part you'll be interested in. How to stop crying."
"Go on."
"I liked killing Slayers. Was obsessed with them. A Slayer is the only thing worth
killing, that's what I told her. That's what she learnt from fledgling. That's what
killed her."
"A Slayer."
"Correct, nibblet. Nikki, she was called. We'd gone to New York, looking for
Slayers. Dru wanted us to meet her in Los Angeles, she was staying with Darla
for a while. Dancing with the Order of Aurelius, stuck up bastards. When I was
sleeping, Tea took a walk. Bumped into Nikki. Bitch of a Slayer, she was. Bit like
your sister. Fast, too."
His eyes cast down to the ground.
"I'll never know what happened to my Teasel. Only that she died, somewhere in
New York, at the hands of a Slayer. News like that travels fast on the demon
grapevine. So I went and found this Nikki. Made my second slay of a Slayer."
"So the moral of the story is…get revenge? That's how you take the pain away?
Because that just sucks."
"No. That isn't the moral at all. So shut your trap, and let me finish."
"Sorry, sergeant major."
"I…I went back. To where they told me she'd died."
Eyes were completely glazed now. He was living this, living it all again. Dawn
thought that even if she spoke now, he wouldn't hear her.
"And I sat down. And I remembered all the things about her. There was this one
time, we went to the cinema. She insisted that we bought popcorn, because it
was the thing to do, and sat at the back. God, we lifted up the popcorn box and
made all these noises. Kissing and ooh-ing and aah-ing. Finally these old
geezers got the steward to come up and tell us off. He was taking our names?
When he asked Tea what she was called, she just leaned forward, real slow, and
goes…'I know what I'm gonna call you.' Steward guy smiles, she's a pretty girl.
Goes, 'What?'. And sweet as sugar she licks her lips, and says, 'Dinner.'. Then
we flash our faces and he runs off, scared as hell."
His face crinkled in laughter. Dawn had never seen him smile before, always
smirks or pouts or frowns. It was…nice. Made him look young. So she smiled
along with him.
"So I just sat there all night, making myself laugh, thinking about everything we
did together. Then when Drusilla came back, I was alright. Didn't need to cry.
Never had to again, because whenever I thought of her…I thought about the
good things."
"Right. So the moral is…if I go and think about all the great times I had with
Mom…I won't have to cry?"
He was serious again.
"That's right, nibblet. Agony hour's over for the week. Run back on home, you'll
be late for dinner. Wouldn't want to get in any more trouble with the Slayer."
Dawn stood up, ready to go, and hovered for a moment. He waved his hands,
standing as he did so.
"Go on. Get lost."
Suddenly she reached over a planted a kiss on his forehead.
"Thanks. For telling me the truth."
As she ran home, he watched her go, smiling. Then the smile faded away.
"The truth. Right."
He reached into the pocket of the duster. Pulled out the silver ring that was
always in there. It was his ring. Well, it had been to start with. Then he'd given it
to her.
"At least it helped the little one. A little."
And he moved further along the row of bodies, to another gravestone. He read
the inscription on it aloud.
"Teasel Jackson. Born 21st October, 1956. Died 31st January, 1980. Thanks for
the story, sweetheart, Whoever you were."
Spike rubbed the ring, the one he'd given all those years ago, to his best
beloved, his only childe.
"Not gonna share you with anyone, pet. No-one."
And he sat and he remembered the real story. The one he kept in his heart. The
one of his best beloved.