For several days Mera watched Spike thoughtfully as he turned and turned in her bed.
"Are you sure there's someone in there?" asked Rupert.
"What do you mean?"
"What if - what if you're wrong, and the demon is the personality after all? What if that - " He pointed at the bed. "Is just a thoughtless body now?"
Mera stared at him. "No," she said eventually. "No way. He spoke to me."
"Yes, but it was only one sentence. It could have been his last gasp. What I'm seeing there doesn't look hopeful."
"Shut up, Rupert." She looked grimly at the blond head turning back and forth on her pillow. "He's in there."
*
One night Spike became aware of a voice running in the back of his mind, seeming to sing to him in an almost inaudible whisper. It echoed out from the empty place deep inside where his fears surged and billowed and he lay still at last, struggling to hear what it was saying. He began to heal.
Ever fascinated with Path's healing powers, Mera listened closely and watched with relief as her charge calmed down. But he kept his eyes firmly shut.
She brought him food - the first food of any kind that he'd eaten since he had made his life-changing decision. He knocked her hand aside when she tried to feed him and fed himself by groping blindly for the food with his fingers. Looking at the resulting mess, Mera decided that cooked food was not a terribly good idea if he was going to do that.
"You've got gravy over everything," she said. "Come on, get up so I can change the bed."
"I ain't going anywhere."
"No?" She picked him up and put him in a chair.
He swore at her.
"I know you're better," she replied calmly as she stripped the bed. "If you insist on acting like an invalid you will be treated like one."
From then on he got sandwiches. His eyes remained closed.
"You're going to have to open them some time," said Mera.
"When I decide I want to."
Four days later she decided it was war so she asked Rupert to stay away for a while and moved a television and vcr into the room, setting it all up at the foot of the bed - facing away from him. She put on some headphones, sat cross-legged on her makeshift bed and watched her favourite Monty Pythons; films she knew so well that she could quote every word and inflection. Which she did, loudly and continuously.
" - and public 'elf - what 'ave the Romans ever done for us?" she demanded, prodding an emphatic finger into her thigh.
" - piece of shit, when you look at it," she sang with a grin on her face, waving a can of beer from side to side.
" - my son, the jaws that bite, the claws that catch," she intoned with one eye on the stubborn occupant of the bed.
" - intelligent life somewhere up in space, 'cos there's bugger-all down here on Earth!" she yelled, glaring at the unruly bleached hair sticking out from under the duvet.
Spike turned over with a jerk and put a pillow over his head, so she unplugged the headphones and turned the volume up high.
It became a skirmish war. She was the skirmish, liable to happen to him at any moment.
On the evening of the eleventh day after Spike had been turned, Mera entered the room to find him sitting up and looking through her Python videos.
"At last," she said. "Is this permanent or are you just trying it out?"
"Got the series on video?" he demanded.
"I have, but I'm not going to lug them up here if you're just going to put your head under the pillow again."
He locked eyes with her. "Got Fawlty Towers?"
"Yes."
"Red Dwarf?"
"First four seasons."
"What about League of Gentlemen?"
"Of course."
He glared at her, thinking furiously, and Mera glared back, hands on hips, legs akimbo.
"Got Married With Children?" he demanded at last.
"No."
"Forget it, then." He fell back and pulled the duvet over his head, scattering the videos.
She gripped the edge of the bed and tipped it up, spilling him onto the floor. "But I have satellite," she said sweetly. "So you can watch it downstairs."
"Fuck!" he yelled, rubbing his shoulder.
"Any time you're in the mood, gorgeous." She threw some clothes at him. "As you are now sitting up and looking about, from this moment you're out of my bed." She looked away and frowned. "Do I mean that?"
He looked at the clothes. "These aren't mine."
"No. But they're new, they're black, they don't stink of oranges and you'll wear them or go naked. Again." She went to the door. "I'll be back in five minutes. If you're not dressed by then, I'll dress you." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't think I couldn't."
*
There was a full-length mirror at the top of the stairs and Spike spent a long time in front of it. Slowly, a smug smile appeared on his face.
"Oh yeah," he said quietly.
*
"I was missing the demon," said Spike later that evening. "I never knew that'd happen."
"Took me by surprise, too." Mera put a bowl in front of him and piled chocolate ice cream into it. "Say when."
"When your arm falls off." Spike watched avidly as she filled the bowl. "I keep thinking I should be drinking blood. Thought of it makes me want to chuck-up now."
"I expect it does. So what was going on in that head of yours? Until Path stepped in I thought you weren't coming out of it."
"So that was Path, then? I wondered who it was."
"She's a great healer." Mera sat down. "All I could get from you was fear. What were you thinking?"
"Everything." Spike filled a spoon and then filled his mouth. "Muh - " he shook his head and swallowed. "It was like I was on my own for the first time. Like I couldn't function without something else in there." He frowned. "Nah. That's not it. It was like - who's in charge now? Like I was thinking I needed a bloody manager who'll tell me what to do."
"Yes." Mera smiled. "William takes the blame."
"What?"
"Something I said to Rupert." She leaned toward him. "Welcome to responsibility, Spike."
*
The second of April was sunny and relatively warm for the time of the year so Mera, with Rupert looking on, tried to take Spike into the garden. Spike, however, wasn't going to be pressured.
"Bloody wait, will you? I'll do it on my own, all right?" He looked his boots, the toes of which he'd placed on the exact edge of a shadow. On the other side of that shadow was the enemy, the very thing that had tried so hard in the past to set fire to him.
"It won't hurt!" Mera said in exasperation. "You've been in the sun before when it couldn't hurt you, you know what it's like!"
Spike spoke with forced patience. "I had a magic ring. It was different. So piss off."
Mera threw up her hands. "Oh, brother!" She turned to Rupert. "What are you laughing at? Come on." She stepped into the sun and went to the table and chairs she'd set out on the grass. "There's beer!" she yelled back at Spike.
"I don't care!"
"Now, that I definitely don't believe," said Rupert as he joined Mera.
While Spike was still hesitating in the doorway, Rupert took the opportunity to speak to Mera privately. "I've made a decision about your offer," he said.
Mera looked at him with quick interest. "Yes?"
"Can't you tell?"
Mera closed her eyes. When she opened them again she smiled and put a hand on his arm. "That's grand news, Rupert. You know it won't be bad?"
"Yes, I remember what you said." Rupert took a sip of beer. "You were right, you know. It was stupid, not wanting to think about it because Olivia was going to die. If she dies, my life will still go on. I had to think about that. And when I realised I was actually considering it, I knew I had to decide now, not ten years from now."
"Did you tell Olivia it was extended to her too?"
"Yes. She hasn't answered yet." He looked back at Spike, who hadn't moved. "I don't want to do it until I've heard from her. And if her answer is no, I won't do it until she's - gone."
"Whatever you want," said Mera. "I'm going to tell Path right now." She closed her eyes again.
Rupert sat back, feeling very satisfied and at ease. He looked around at Mera's garden, still mostly in it's winter nakedness but with a little green fuzziness around the edges. The daffodils were putting up their shoots. Or were they tulips? He was about to take another beer when a pale hand reached over and took it away.
Spike sat down and looked around, cracking the tab on the can. "Nice day, innit?"
*
Wonder if Buffy's going to think I've changed.
Oh shit. They're all gonna be looking at me like I'm some kind of
sodding freak. "Oooh, look! It's Spike! And he's in the sun! And he's not
on fire!"
Bloody hell.
Angel's still a demon.
What if I'm so ordinary now that she starts thinking I'm a wi -
that I'm nothing to write home about?
Nah. That's Riley-think, that is. Ain't going that route.
Yeah, but what if she does think that?
Oh, crap.
Shit.
Wha? Path? Yeah, thanks for the help before, love, but I'll work
this one out on my own if you don't mind. What? Speak clearly? I am!
Spike burst into Mera's lounge. "This Path," he demanded. "She always there?"
"What do you mean?"
"She just spoke to me. Knew what I was thinking. She always eavesdrop like that?"
"No, no! Intrusion isn't her forte. She's just concerned, that's all. I'll tell her not to worry about you."
Spike was mollified. "Yeah, well. Not as if I mind, not really. It's just if a guy's got no privacy in his head what's he going to do?"
Mera grinned at him. "What were you thinking about?"
"Buf - none of your business!" He sat down. "And what's all this 'speak clearly' crap she gave me?"
"Ah. Let me explain."
*
What if she thinks I'm nothing now?
*
Back in his bedroom in Rupert's house, Spike stared at the mirror in disbelief. "Sunburn? I've got a vamp's body! What's this friggin' sunburn?"
Enjoying himself, Rupert leant against the doorframe. "Who was the last vampire you knew who managed to get a suntan after he was turned?"
"None, you silly git, they all combust - oh, what? Are you telling me if we - if they didn't catch fire they'd tan? Bollocks!"
"Look at yourself in the mirror again - if you can bear to - and tell me what else it could be."
"Bloody hell! It's April, not sodding July!"
"Spike, considering the century you grew up in, I doubt if anything except the skin on your face and hands have ever been exposed to the sun. Which means you're probably liable to burn at the slightest opportunity. I'd be very careful if I were you. Be wary of the wind, too."
Spike put his face close to the mirror and peered at the bridge of his nose. It was bright red. "Am I going to peel?"
"I sincerely hope so."
"Oh yeah, cheers mate."
*
On the morning of the twenty-third of April, Rupert stood at the french windows in his lounge and shook his head as he watched the ex-vampire walk around the garden in the sun. It was half past seven and Spike would be out there all day. The man seemed to regard a sunny day as a call to battle and never failed to show up at muster. Today he was bare-chested despite a chilly wind and Rupert wondered how bad the sunburn had to become before he started showing some caution. Spike, to his own extreme surprise, had already been made physically ill and his host didn't look forward to another night of listening to groaning and heaving coming from the guest bathroom. He dreaded what was going to happen when the weather really started to heat up.
When the doorbell rang he answered it and stood speechless as he gazed at Olivia for the first time in what seemed like an eternity.
*
"Would you like a drink? Alchohol?" Rupert felt like a boy on his first date.
"No, I can't." Olivia sat on the sofa. "It makes me sick now."
Rupert nodded and, suddenly needing somewhere else to look, glanced out of the window. Spike was sitting on the steps that led down to the grass from the patio, watching something tiny crawl over his hand.
Olivia stirred. "Have you decided?" she asked.
"Mera's offer?" Rupert turned to face her. "Yes, I've decided."
She studied him. "You're going to do it."
"I have to. I want to. There's too much to do and not enough time. I love life a-and I know it's possible to make it throught the years - Mera's the proof of that. She isn't evil and - I don't want to die."
Olivia sat very still and Rupert felt a stab of worry. "How are you?" he asked softly.
"Not so good today."
"I'm sorry."
Outside, Spike stood up and walked down the steps onto the lawn. He looked around and turned right, moving out of view.
Olivia looked up at Rupert. "I love you."
"I love you too." Rupert smiled sadly.
"I saw a beautiful sunset the other night." She joined him at the window. "There are many beautiful things to look at in the world."
"Yes there are."
"Flowers." Olivia nodded at the garden.
"Mountains," added Rupert.
"You."
He laughed. "I wouldn't call me beautiful, but - "
"I don't want to die either, Rupert."
He froze, his heart suddenly thudding.
"I don't want to die," she said again.
Rupert found himself breathing fast. He concentrated and spoke slowly, carefully. "Heaven can wait?"
"Yes. Heaven can wait."
"For a very long time?"
"Yes."
"You want to see many beautiful things with me?"
"Yes."
"You're prepared to do what's necessary?"
"Yes."
"Are you afraid?"
"No."
"Good." His pulse was racing now. "Will you marry me first?"
"Yes."
"Tonight?"
"Yes."
"We need a registry office."
"I need a dress."
*
"Spike? God help me, but I need a best man."
"Oh, you're joking."
"Unfortunately, no. Put that cigarette out and come with me."
"Well, I ain't wearing a suit, mate."
"Yes you are."
*
"Why, I'd love to give Olivia away old boy! Who's going to be a witness?"
"A witn - er - "
"Quentin's here."
"Er - "
"He could do it, if you haven't other plans."
"Er - "
"Ah, the brain-dead bridegroom! Haven't seen one of those in years! Registry or church?"
"-"
"Speak up."
"Could you or Quentin get on the blower and arrange a registry office? We want it done tonight and we've clothes to buy and no time and - "
"Done, my friend. You go off and get the jitters."
*
"I ain't wearing a bloody suit!"
"Put. It. On."
*
When you employ the Watcher's Council to arrange things for you it all gets done very quickly and efficiently, and offices that are normally shut after 5 p.m. become magically open again.
At nine o'clock that evening at the Registry Office, while they were waiting for Olivia to arrive, Quentin took Rupert aside leaving Spike standing very self-consciously on his own.
"Michael told me about Mera's offer to you and Olivia," said Quentin. "I think it's very interesting. Have you answered her?"
"Yes."
"Which way did you go?"
"Which way?" Rupert looked amused. "You need to ask? You're not so sure I'll refuse?"
"Michael also told me that you were actually considering it - so yes, I need to ask." Quentin waved a hand at the room. "And you're about to marry a woman who is going to die soon, as far as the normal world is concerned." He paused. "Is she about to die?"
Rupert studied him. "Does it worry you?"
"Forewarned is forearmed."
"You think you'll need to be armed if I accept the offer?"
Quentin sighed. "Armed with knowledge, Rupert. If you do this I'll not come gunning for you, but people will need to know so I ask again - is Olivia going to die?"
"No, Quentin. She isn't."
"I thought as much. And when will this turn-around happen?"
"Right after the wedding."
Quentin studied him closely. "You do know it's quite possible that you and she will not stay together for ever?"
"I know that. She knows that. We're taking what we can, that's all. And while it lasts, it'll be everything we want." Rupert decided this was all the private information that Quentin was entitled to. "These people who need to know," he said. "Who are they?"
"Many and various. My successor, for instance." Quentin frowned. "Who, incidentally, is now number two on my list of candidates."
"Two? Why not number one?"
"I've just lost number one," said Quentin flatly.
Rupert opened his eyes wide. Everything suddenly fell into place. "Oh." He fought back a grin. "Really?"
"Really."
"And you spent all that money on me, too." Rupert laughed. "Will you be wanting the house back?"
"No. As I see it, I'll have even more reason to keep you sweet than I did before."
"Afraid of Mera, Quentin? I don't blame you. This means I get to keep the car too, then."
"Yes, Rupert," said Quentin wearily. "You keep the car." He glanced at Spike. "How is the ex-vampire?"
"He's fine," said Rupert. "Or rather, he appears to be fine. Never really know what's going on with that one."
"I'd like a report about the whole process," said Quentin. "Only if you have the time, mind you."
"Oh god, another one?"
"It's merely a request. After you've - changed - you will no longer be in my employ." Quentin studied his fingers. "The turning of a vampire into a non-vampire," he mused. "A fascinating and unique occurrence." He sighed. "Oh well. As I said: if you find the time, I'll be grateful."
"Oh, I see. A polite request with pressure." Rupert laughed. "I've nearly finished Buffy's story, so I'll see what I can do. After I've had a long, long honeymoon. I'll tell you now, though - you won't be getting the whole story. There's a secret something that you'll never be told." He looked firmly at him. "And it's no use arguing."
Quentin nodded and they fell silent. Rupert watched Quentin straighten his tie and knew there was something more the Head Watcher wanted to say to him. "Spit it out, Quentin," he said.
"Very well. I had contact from Mera yesterday."
Rupert felt a little thrill. "Oh yes?"
"Yes." Quentin's face was bland. "She told me of some hidden manuscripts that she thought I might like to look at."
"How interesting."
"Indeed." Quentin was not taken in by Rupert's apparent innocence. "Do you know what they are?"
"Yes, Quentin. I do."
Quentin waited. Rupert, wearing his best poker face, also waited.
At last Quentin sighed. "What are they?"
"Find out for yourself," said Rupert with a smile.
The head of the Council of Watchers knew when to let go. "Very well. You really are the most vexing man, sometimes."
Olivia and Michael arrived.
*
Two hours later:
"Well, as I live and breathe! And I do, too. If it ain't Mr. and Mrs. Giles!" Mera ushered them into her house and flapped around them, taking their coats. She glanced at Olivia. "Or is it Mr. and Ms? Never mind." She stood before them. "Ready?"
Rupert nodded. "We are."
"No doubts?"
"No," said Olivia.
"Come this way then, my dears. Everything's ready."
