Title: A Measure of Happiness
Author: Valerie
Disclaimer: All characters owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox, etc. I own nothing.
Summary: More post-Giftage. This is essentially a B/S romance (with sex, of course), but also will eventually deal with grander themes of good and evil.
Rating: R for adult concepts, language and semi-descriptive sex.
Spoilers: Through the end of Season 5
Feedback: Yes please!
Distribution: Sure.
Author's Note: The title is taken from the song by the same name by Sarah McLachlan. This chapter includes quotes adapted from the scripts for School Hard (Season 2); What's My Line, Part 2 (Season 2); Lover's Walk (Season 3); The Harsh Light of Day (Season 4); Pangs (Season 4); Fool For Love (Season 5); Crush (Season 5); Intervention (Season 5); and The Gift (Season 5). Thanks to the Buffy Shooting Script Site (
This is it, the last chapter. Thanks so much to all the great encouragement and reviews I've received on this; I couldn't have finished it without them.
Chapter 18: Do What You Have To Do
Buffy stood in the shower, not moving, just letting the water wash over her. A few tears slowly ran down her face. She could feel her heart hammering away in her chest, and she wondered absently how it could still be beating. Surely it was finally broken for good this time. Her shoulders began to shake as the tears turned into sobs, and she wrapped her arms around herself protectively.
After a while, she noticed that the water was turning cold. She turned off the shower, then slowly pulled back the curtain and stepped out. She stood before the bathroom mirror, looking at herself and shivering. The image of Spike feeding flashed in front of her eyes. Her stomach churned. She dropped to her knees and bent over the toilet, emptying the remaining contents of her stomach into the bowl. She felt more tears running down her nose. Eventually, when she stood, the crying had stopped and the tears were replaced by a cold, hard look in her eyes. She rinsed out her mouth and washed her face, then dried off. Wrapping the oversized towel around her body, she walked into her room.
Buffy stood before her closet for several seconds, then with a vicious movement, pushed all the clothes to one side. There they were. She hadn't worn that black leather jacket and red leather pants in over two years. Probably because they symbolized an ugly part of her. A part that could be ruthless. A part that could kill someone she cared about. Methodically, she dressed: underwear, a black tank top, the pants, the coat. Boots. She pulled a brush through her damp hair, letting it hang freely around her face. That was the way he liked it. She observed her reflection in the mirror. All dressed up in big sister's clothes, she remembered Faith saying. If she had ever needed Faith's sense of self-preservation, it was tonight. Because a part of her just wanted to die.
She went downstairs and knelt before the weapons trunk. Opening it, she pulled out most of the contents: two crossbows, a short-handled battle axe, bottles of holy water, crosses, stakes. At the very bottom, she found what she was looking for. She pulled out the smooth wooden stake, running her other hand absently over its surface. Mr. Pointy, Kendra had called it, and Buffy had laughed. She had put it away after Kendra died. After she was killed by Drusilla. Buffy's hand tightened involuntarily on the piece of wood. With a small shake of her head, she shoved it into the inside pocket of her jacket. She stood quickly and before she could talk herself out of it, walked out of the house.
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He sat on the top of a tombstone outside his crypt, slowly smoking a cigarette. She would come. She would need to compose herself, she would need to prepare, maybe she would need to have a talk with the Scoobies. But she would come. She was the Slayer, and it was her duty. He would have to count on the fact that she would do her duty as she always had, that it wasn't already too late. Because this was the only way. Knowing what he knew now, knowing himself, this was the only way.
It wouldn't be simple or quick. He would have to fight her with everything he had. If she sensed for a moment that he had planned it, it wouldn't work. She had to believe in his evil, and in his determination to kill her. And she would have to believe it when he lost. In a way, it was fitting. They fought together better than they did anything else. He smiled, remembering the feeling of her body against his. Well, almost anything.
His sharp eyes detected movement through the trees. He watched as she walked toward him, not yet aware of his presence. He smiled again. She was beautiful, and she was dressed for battle. He licked his lips, a part of him excited to dance with her. Even if it would be the last time.
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She saw him leaning against a tombstone, watching her. As always, he wore the long leather coat that he had taken off the last slayer he'd killed. She remembered the way it smelled when she was in his arms. Her heart beat faster and her empty stomach churned. No, if I think about him that way, I'm dead, she thought. She began taking deep, calming breaths as she approached him.
"Slayer!" he called. "Been waitin' for you."
"I'm here," she said simply, stopping several feet away. Memories flashed through her mind.
She stands poised in the alley behind the Bronze, stake in hand, having just dusted a vampire. Spike comes out of the shadows slowly clapping his hands. She looks at him with a confused expression on her face. "Who are you?"
"You'll find out on Saturday."
"What happens on Saturday?"
"I kill you."
"Guess you saw that this serial killer is no longer in prison," he said, referring to her own description of him with the chip.
"I saw."
"So I asked myself," he said, steeling himself for the words he had to say, "which is better? Keep following the Slayer around like a puppy? Pretending to be in love with her? Fucking her when she lets you?" She flinched at that, but he pressed on. "Or do I go back to being the man I should be? Do I kill the Slayer? Or better yet," he said, moving closer to her, swaggering and taking a long drag off the cigarette, "do I sire you? 'Cause then, you see, I could have the best of both worlds. I can be free," he said, throwing down his cigarette, "and I can still fuck you."
"You've never beaten me, Spike, what makes you think you can today?" she said, stilling her trembling hands.
"Cause now, you're in love with me." he said, smiling a cocky smile.
She smiled back. "Why don't you ask Angel how much that kept me from sending him to Hell."
"As I think I've told you many times before, pet, I'm not Angel." And with that, he punched her in the face.
They fight inside an abandoned church, Kendra with Spike and Buffy with an assassin from the Order of Taraka. Buffy backs into Kendra, grabs her by the arms and the two do a tandem flip.
"Rather be fighting you anyway." says Spike.
"Mutual."
She immediately retaliated, delivering first a hook to his jaw and then a punch to his stomach causing him to stagger back a step. She pressed her advantage, delivering a roundhouse kick to his head. Through it all he watched and admired her, a part of him enjoying the battle and even the pain, and a part of him heartsick at what he had to do and what it must be doing to her. He had counted on the fact that she was strong enough to do this, and so far, he appeared to be right. Just as she was strong enough to make the hard choices in the past.
They are inside the magic shop, long before it belonged to Giles. Spike faces off Buffy and Angel. "You're not friends. You'll never be friends. You'll be in love till it kills you both. You'll fight, you'll shag, you'll hate each other till it makes you quiver, but you'll never be friends. Real love isn't brains, children, it's blood, it's blood screaming inside you to work its will. I may be love's bitch, but at least I'm man enough to admit it."
With the next kick, he grabbed her foot, jerking it toward him and causing her to hit the ground. Before she could recover, he dropped on top of her, straddling her and squeezing his legs together to hold her down. He reared back and hit her in the face, splitting her lip. He sneered at her. "Been doing a lot of thinking over the last twenty-four hours," he said, "tryin' to decide what part of the last two months I hated the most." He hit her again, causing her head to rock back against the ground. "Wasn't screwing you; that was damn fun. Maybe it was pretending that Xander had two brain cells to rub together? Nah. Listening to the wiccan dykes talk about their relationship problems? Nah." His fist connected with her face a third time. "Then I decided it was playing nursemaid to your kid sister. You should've let that waste of space jump to her death when you had the chance."
They fight in the afternoon sunlight, the Gem of Amarra on his finger. "Whatever, guess you're not worth a second go. Come to think of it, seems like someone told me as much." He punches her. "Who was that? Oh, yeah. Angel."
He saw the rage fill her eyes. With a primal scream, she wrenched out from under him, bringing a foot up and smashing it into his face. His hand came up to his face as blood spurted from his nose. Buffy jumped to both feet, and before he could rise from his kneeling position, she kicked him in the stomach, making him double over on the ground. She stood panting in front of him. "When I think of all the chances I had to kill you that I passed up, it sickens me," she said.
Buffy slams a palm to his chest, sends him flying back from Giles' doorway. He scrambles out of the direct sunlight, his blanket beginning to smoke. "What part of 'help me' did you not understand?" he shouts desperately.
"The part where I help you."
Spike rose in front of her, a small seed of worry in his stomach. She could have staked him then, when he was on the ground, and she didn't. He wasn't sure how much longer he could go on hurting her. Please, Slayer, he thought, be strong enough for this. "Come on, Slayer, you should've done me by now. I'm just one vamp, baby. Is this all you got?"
They are in the Bronze. "But all we need..." He comes closer, seductively. Buffy eyes him with caution but lets him come. "...Is for one of us, just one, sooner or later, to have the thing we all are hoping for."
"And that would be what?"
He gestures for her to come closer. She does. He leans in, lips beside her ear. Whispering just for her to hear: "One. Good. Day."
In answer, she threw several quick punches which he blocked just as quickly. Gradually, both of them lost themselves in the battle. A human observer would've had difficulty following the separate movements of their bodies. It was almost beautiful.
"You think we're dancing?" she asked.
"It's all we've ever done."
Buffy finally got in a kick to his head that was so hard and well-timed that it knocked him to the ground. She looked down at him, disgust on her face.
"Come on. I can feel it, Slayer. You know you want to dance." he said, still holding her.
Buffy locks eyes with him, feeling his intensity, his desire. After a beat, she responds. "Say it's true. Say I do want to..." She shoves him brutally backward, breaking the embrace. He falls hard to the ground. "It wouldn't be you, Spike. It would never be you." She tosses the wad of money at him. It scatters over him and the ground. Her expression is filled with contempt. "You're beneath me."
"Just tell me one thing," she said, her heart pounding in her chest.
"What?"
"Was it all a lie? From the beginning? Did you ever love me?"
She is chained up inside his crypt. He grabs her chin and forces her to face him. "Look at me! I... LOVE... you. You're all I bloody think about... Dream about... You're in my gut, my throat... I'm drowning in you, Summers."
He flinched internally. Come on, Spike, don't stop now. Break her heart. It's the only way to save her. He grinned, getting to his feet again. He looked her in the eye. "Had to stay alive somehow, pet. You should admire my foresight." He shrugged. "Guess I just saw which way the wind was blowin'."
"And you... You wouldn't be able to touch me. Because this– this thing with you – it's wrong! I know it! Not a complete idiot!" He gestures to his heart. "You think I like having you here? Destroying everything that was me until all that's left is you in a dead shell."
With movements almost too fast for even him to follow, Buffy landed two quick punches to his head. Spike recovered quickly, grabbing her in an attempt to flip her to the ground. As they struggled, Buffy saw his balance shift slightly back on his heels. He was off-balance. Closing her eyes, she used it. His feet came out from under him. He fell and she dropped on top of him. She ripped the stake from her coat, raising it above his chest. And she stopped.
They are in his crypt. "It wasn't supposed to be —"
"Don't. That thing… it's not even real." Buffy says, referring to the robot. She starts to go, but then stops at the door. She isn't sure how to say it, not even looking back. "What you did for me, and Dawn, that was real." She turns to him. "And I'll never forget it."
For a second, nothing moved. The night was silent. Spike opened his eyes. "Do it," he hissed.
She stared at him, eyes wide. "You did that on purpose."
"What?"
"I know your fighting style too, Spike, probably better than my own. You did that on purpose."
"No– "
"Yes." She lowered the stake, exhaustion and emotion making her hands tremble. "Why do you want me to kill you?" she said, her voice small.
He flipped her, and now he was on top of her. "That what you think?" he sneered.
"Yes."
"You're wrong."
"Prove it." She tilted her chin, baring her neck to him. "Kill me. Drink me. Do it."
"I know you'll never love me." He stands at the foot of her stairs, looking up at her. It is the night of the final battle with Glory. She turns, saying nothing.
"I know that I'm a monster. But you treat me like a man, and that's..." He stops himself. "Get your stuff. I'll be here." She pauses for the briefest of moments before she goes up the stairs.
He stared at her neck, at the pulse beating beneath the skin. He wanted it. A big part of him wanted to taste her that way. Then he shuddered, backing away from her on his hands and knees, a look of abject horror on his face. She sat up and looked at him.
"Why?"
"I couldn't –" He stopped, choking back a sob.
She crawled over to him, grabbing either side of his face with her hands. "WHY?? What could possibly be worth this?" she shouted.
He looked into her eyes. "Your life," he said simply.
Buffy backed away. "What do you mean?" she said fearfully.
He sighed heavily, defeated. "Men from the Council came to see me last night. Travers and two others. Travers told me about the prophesy. He said that it has two forks: one, you and I fight together on the side of good; two, you and I fight together on the side of evil. They had come to kill me, to ensure that the second fork would never come true, even if that meant the first fork wouldn't either, sort of by definition. When I defended myself, I realized that the chip wasn't working anymore."
"You killed them?'
"No."
She pondered that. "And that girl? Outside the Bronze?"
"No."
"Then why? I still don't understand," Buffy said desperately.
"Travers said that you weren't putting being the Slayer first anymore. That with the chip out, I would corrupt you. That the second fork of the prophesy was already chosen. I didn't believe him at first, but the more I thought about it, the more it fit. You aren't the same as you used to be. You let a monster into your heart, when everything should've told you it was the wrong thing to do. I realized we were already on the dark path, you and me. That I would ruin you.
"I decided that I'd rather die than let that happen. So I staged that display outside the Bronze to convince you that I had to die. I had to force you to put being the Slayer first."
She regarded him coldly, but her voice trembled. "The things you said… You made me feel like your whore."
"I had to make you hate me. It had to be real." Tears came to his eyes. "It nearly killed me, saying those things. I love you."
She gasped, a sob escaping her throat. Finally, she allowed herself to feel the wounds his words had caused her. She felt like her heart was being ripped out of her chest. Buffy collapsed at his knees, sobs wracking her body.
"I tried," Spike said, crying too. "I tried to save you the only way I knew how. I failed. Again."
Gradually she calmed, then raised her head, looking at him. "You did all this to try to save me."
"Yes."
Her expression turned perplexed. "You really don't see it."
"What?"
"You were willing to sacrifice everything tonight. You were willing to die. All to save me. How can you be on a dark path if that's true?"
"You don't understand," he said plaintively. "It was easy to be good with the chip. Without it… I'm not that strong. No vampire ever could be. I've said it before, I can't deny my nature. I'll be evil again and I'll take you with me."
She raised an eyebrow. "OK, first of all, let's get something straight. I'm not gonna turn evil. That's complete crap."
"But the prophesy –"
"Oh, screw the prophesy! The Council is wrong about me. Travers thinks I'm not putting being the Slayer first. He thinks I can only be one or the other: a fighting machine or a simpering female. He's wrong. For the first time in my life, I've found the balance. For the first time in my life, I've figured out how to be the woman and the Slayer. Does it surprise you that the fools on the Council didn't recognize that for what it was?" She took his hands in hers and looked into his eyes. "Give me some credit, Spike. I'm the Slayer. I accept that, and the duty that goes along with it. As much as I love you, that won't change."
She had hoped this would calm him, but he became more agitated, standing up and pacing in front of her. "Right. Fine. Bollocks to the forked prophesy. But you said it yourself: if the chip stopped working, you'd have to kill me. It's your duty. Well, guess what?" he said, holding his arms out helplessly.
She looked down sadly. "I know." After a moment, she met his eyes again. "But I won't."
He fell to his knees in front of her. "You see? Aren't you already going back on your duty?"
"Spike, why didn't you kill that girl?"
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You said that you didn't kill that girl outside the Bronze. Why not? You were going to die anyway, or so you thought. You were going to make me kill you. What did it matter if you drained her dry?"
He hesitated, a confused expression on his face. "I don't know. I just… didn't want to."
Buffy continued to press him. "But why?"
"I see where you're going with this, Buffy, but –"
"Just answer the damn question, vampire."
He sighed. "I didn't want to hurt her."
She stood, pulling him to his feet along with her. She put her hands on either side of his face, forcing him to hear her. "Maybe you're right. Maybe you can't deny your nature, Spike. But despite your best intentions to the contrary, all you've done tonight is prove to me that you can be good. It's something I've known deep down for a long time."
He started to protest, but she quieted him. "I'm not finished." She sighed. "Before I died, I realized I had lost something. I didn't care what happened to the world anymore. I had lost the strength to be the Slayer. Now, I've found that strength again. I've found the balance… and it's because of you. You are the one that helped me find this peace. The Council may think I'd be better off without you, that I can do this whole Armageddon thing on my own, but I can't. I need you."
"You'd have the others –"
"I know. I still will. But right now, you are the thing that ties me most strongly to this world. You are the reason that I don't wake up wondering if today's the day I'm going to die. I need you. I need you to be strong." Tears filled her eyes again. "Please."
He pulled her into his arms, clinging to her like a life preserver. They stood there for several minutes, just holding each other. Finally, he spoke. "The Council isn't through with this."
She pulled away, a small smile on her face for the first time all night. "I know. Let me take care of the Council."
He laughed at that. "Wouldn't wanna trade places with them." Then his face turned serious. "What if you're wrong about this? About me?"
"As I believe my epitaph reads, I have a lot of experience at this saving the world thing." Buffy leaned in, pressing her forehead against his. "You're just going to have to trust me," she whispered.
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They clung to each other on the dance floor, swaying slowly to the music, oblivious to their surroundings.
...What could I say to you except I love you
and I'd give my life for yours...
The people at the Bronze that night who noticed the leather-clad couple were struck more by the fact that they seemed to clutch each other as if all the demons of Hell were trying to tear them apart than by the fact that they were bruised and bloodied.
...I know we are, we are the lucky ones
I know we are, we are the lucky ones
I know we are, we are the lucky ones, dear...
Tomorrow, they would worry and plan. Tomorrow, they would fight. Tonight, they closed their eyes, willing the future that was rushing at them so fast to stop, just for a moment. Tonight, they shut out the destiny and doubt and darkness that threatened to swallow them. Tonight, they stole a brief morsel of time to just be with each other. It would have to be enough.
THE END.