An eternity had passed, and still he was just crouching there, trembling,
his bleached hair ruffled and partly dark with smudges of soot. Tears were
streaming down his face. For a moment, he sat motionless amidst the ashes
of his destroyed crypt, the sorry remains of his feeble excuse for an
unlife. Then he began to shake again. He shook hard. But this time, he
shook with laughter. It was not the happy kind he had experienced a couple
of times over the past few weeks. Neither was it the mirthless laughter he
had used so often to scare his enemies to the bones. It was the laughter of
a mad man.
'I'm going nuts', Spike thought. 'Here I am, lying devastated on the grounds of a burned-down stone tomb, and instead of working myself into a rage, rip the place apart beyond repair, or at least go out to bloody kill something, I giggle.' He wiped some tears away, not sure if they came from laughing so hard or if they were the last remains of his uncontrolled sobs that had just subsided a moment before the laugh track had started.
"She is… hrmphhihihi… drive… hahahahaha… driving me... hohohohoho… fucking nuts", he said out loud between fits of laughter, to check if the sound of his own voice would calm him down.
"I have spent over a century with Drusilla, queen of all lunatics in this dimension and maybe others, and came out of it unharmed, with my marbles still in check, but this bitch of a slayer gets the job done within a couple of weeks", he stated to no one in particular before starting to laugh again. Resonating from the crypt walls, the sound of his laughter resembled the heart-splitting wails of a hopeless child.
Then suddenly, for no particular reason, Spike stopped. The silence that followed was even more terrifying to his ears. But he didn't care. He was a vampire. A creature of the darkness. A master of the night. He wasn't terrified by anything. Quite to the contrary, he was the one who did the terrifying. Because he was evil. Bad. The Big Bad.
"Big. Bad. Vampire", he repeated out loud.
A bad vampire indeed. A vampire, hopelessly in love with the slayer. That was as bad as it gets. That wasn't how things were supposed to be. He was supposed to kill the slayer, not love her. What if any higher vampire beings were watching his every step? What if, the day his body would finally fulfil the bible words the priest had spoken at his funeral, "ashes to ashes", these – vampire gods? – were to judge him on how he had done as a vampire? They'd have to conclude that he hadn't lived up to the expectations. And he would surely be punished with eternal torment.
"Vampire gods, my ass", he snorted to himself. But he couldn't stop thinking.
What if it was God who had made him a vampire? If He were so great, He'd probably rule over every creature. What if He had created vampires to even the score?
Spike had watched enough TV, besides his daily fix of soaps, to know that humankind didn't do so well: There was overpopulation and undernourishment. There were men leading wars for water and arable land. And even in so- called developed countries, people killed themselves and even their distant neighbours without so much as thinking about it, every day, in small doses. They polluted water, soil and air senselessly, swapping some inane luxury for severe ecological damage of the planet. Pointless acts, eventually leading either to global warming or to the next ice age, and all because Man was more fertile, reproducing himself more ferociously than was advisable for his own good.
What if vampires, demons in general, were there to shift the balance? What if it was his task in the grand scheme of things to kill and decimate humankind, in order to save Man from himself? Then he would be a bad vampire indeed, working on the wrong side of the road, not fulfilling his eternal destiny.
"Great, now I'm having philosophical thoughts. This fucking chip's finally fried my brain, that's what it's done." He stood up tentatively. "Grand scheme of things, pff! Way to go, mate!" he told himself, staggering to the bed on unsure legs. Relieved to have made the few steps without breaking down, he sank into the burnt linen. It still smelled like her, even through the damage the flames had done. Spike started sobbing again.
"It's the fucking chip", he told himself. "It's not her, for hell's sake! It's this damned chip they shoved in my head. It bloody changed everything!!!"
But somewhere in his head a small voice told him that this way of looking at things wasn't entirely correct. He'd had a thing for the Slayer even before the government had managed to put the implant into his brain. Hell, he had had a thing for every single slayer he had met. He had loved these girls, not only their agility, intelligence and fighting skills, but also their style, wit and character. They were so young, and still, they willingly gave up what one could call a normal life, just to make the world a better place. Better for humankind. Their kind.
Spike had to acknowledge that part of him had admired this quiet, unrewarded sacrifice of true herodom. Part of him had wanted to be a hero, too. For Drusilla, he had become a hero by way of killing slayers. But Angelus still hadn't seemed to approve. Little had Spike known that even back then, his idol had already been pestered by a soul. The poofter.
Now he himself was a poofter. A sorry wanker, thanks to the chip.
Which wasn't entirely true either. Spike vividly remembered the day he had found out about the chip, or better, about Buffy. And he not only remembered because the day after they had shagged a house down. He also remembered what had happened the day before that. Spike had been able to hit her without soliciting a mind-blowing migraine, and he had deducted that his chip had finally stopped working. When Buffy had told him that he was an evil, disgusting thing, the vampire had decided to prove her right.
So he had gone into town. He had looked at all the happy meals on legs, and he had picked his victim immediately. But it hadn't been the kind of victim he would have chosen when he still had had his balls. Not a broad- shouldered man with which the fight would have been worth fighting.
"Don't you get tired of the fights you know you'll win?"
Why had he chosen this frightened girl? Why had he told her that he was evil instead of just biting and draining her? What'd been up with the speeches? In his heart, he'd known what had been what: He had chosen the girl because he had pitied her. He, the Big Bad, had felt pity for a scared young woman, obviously stood up by her date. And he had needed all the talk to convince himself that he was still the Big Bad. Also, somewhere deep inside his undead, non-beating heart, Spike knew that even if he had been able to bite her, he wouldn't have killed the girl. He would have acknowledged the fact that his demon was free again, and then he would probably have let her go. No, worse: He would have walked her home, if she'd only let him.
"I'm a white hat", he stated. And a useless white hat at that, he realised. He was a living oxymoron: a creature of the darkness, longing for the light. Totally lost, to his kind as well as to humanity. And now, he had lost his very own light of the night, the one thing that had brought him brightness, brilliancy, and ultimately peace. So he had to find peace by himself now. He couldn't wait forever. It was time now. To hell with forever.
The bleach-blond vampire stood up from his scarred bed and headed for the stairs. He knew that there was only one thing left for him to do.
**************************************************************************** **********
'Only one thing left to do', mused Buffy when she walked back home. One thing, one conversation, and then she would be able to start over. She stopped short when she realised that Tara had arrived at her home before her. Now she wouldn't have the chance to talk to Willow alone, in order to prepare her for the things to come. Silently, she watched Tara ring the bell at Revello Drive 1630.
"T… Tara?" Willow stammered when she saw the blond girl at the Summers' front door. Her eyes involuntarily dropped to the bag in Tara's hand. A bag from the Magic Box. The redhead couldn't get her eyes away. They seemed glued to the bulging paper.
Tara hurried to put the bag out of Willow's sight. She knew that her ex- girlfriend had had a hard time ever since Buffy's birthday party. For one thing, being found out had been hard enough on her. But what must have been worse for Willow was that people had needed her magical help, and she couldn't give it to them. Not during the party, nor a couple of days later, when Riley and his wife had asked for a simple location spell.
With shaking hands, Tara held the bag behind her back: "I… I am here because Buffy asked me to… to do a spell."
Willow frowned. But before she could comment, Buffy stepped up the driveway.
"Yes, I did. Thanks Tara, for coming by so early this morning, and sorry that I'm late. I… I had an errand to run…" she blushed a little bit, but the two other girls didn't seem to notice.
"What spell?" Willow finally managed to ask in a hoarse voice.
"An de-invite spell. For Spike."
"Again?" Willow couldn't help herself. She had done the same a little bit over a year ago. So much had happened since then. Among other things, Spike had become part of the team. Perhaps not a full-fledged Scooby, but still, a helping hand that would surely be missed. Willow Rosenberg's face was a single question mark.
"We told you he was the Doctor." Buffy sounded exasperated.
"But… Buffy, he would never do anything to harm you, or Dawn, or even me, for that matter", protested Willow. "He loves you, and Dawn, and I think he really likes the rest of the Gang, too." Willow looked from Buffy to Tara and back. Both their faces shone deep concern and sad determination. She decided to switch to some fact-based arguments: "Imagine if he hadn't been here for your birthday party. Who would have been able to help you fight this… this wall-vanishing sword demon?"
Buffy sighed. "There is something else." She took a deep breath: "Spike… He can hit me, Willow." Reassuringly, she added: "Only me. There is nothing wrong with his chip. I just came back a little…" She searched Tara's eyes for help, to find the right words.
"Her molecular basis must have been shifted slightly during the resurrection spell, so that Spike's chip doesn't recognise her as human", Tara explained in a calm voice.
"Oh…", was all Willow could say.
"So, you see… With this latest scheme of his, trying to sell Demon eggs on the black market, I just cannot be sure what he is up to. He is evil and…" She stopped abruptly.
Willow looked from her to Tara, begging for another word. She felt devastated. Because of her, because of her magic, Spike would be de-invited from the Summers' house again. Dawn would never forgive this.
Over Willow's shoulder, Buffy cast a pleading glance to Tara and mouthed: "I am not ready."
Tara shrugged. The wicca had looked relieved when Buffy had started her explanation, but when the Slayer had finished, her shoulders had slumped forward in resignation. She had hoped that Buffy would tell Willow what had happened between Spike and her. And that Willow, as her best friend, would find the right words to tell her that it was ok. But now the chance had passed.
"I better get started", she said. "I have class…"
The two girls nodded and looked at her expectantly. But Tara hesitated. She remembered all too well how Willow had looked at the bag with the spell ingredients.
"Will… I think you better go." She tried to sound as nice as possible, but still firm.
For an endless second, Willow stared at her. Then she nodded and said coldly: "Already out of here." With that, she grabbed a jacket and slammed the door shut.
Tara shrugged again and without another word started the preparations for the spell.
**************************************************************************** **********
Willow walked down the road determinedly. She knew exactly where she was going. Within minutes, she entered Sunnydale's main cemetery. It felt strange to be here in daylight. The last time she had seen the sun streaming through the leaves of the trees had been the day they had buried Buffy in a silent ceremony.
Now, Willow had a new, a better purpose to be here. She knew it was difficult, and even dangerous, to wake a vampire during daytime, but according to Buffy, the slayer was the only one exempt from the chip's function. So Willow was ready to dare the devil. Literally. But it had to be done. She needed some answers. Willow had practised magic long enough to develop a certain psychic awareness. And this new, sixth sense of hers told her unmistakably that there was more to the whole story then either Buffy or Tara had told.
With these thoughts, she found herself in front of Spike's crypt, just in time to see a certain bleach-blond vampire step calmly out into the daylight, face lifted towards the sun, arms spread to his sides. Willow gasped. That was it! He must have found another Gem of Amara.
'Or maybe not', she thought when smoke started to rise from the vampire, swirling around him, hiding him from her sight.
With a quick step, she was next to him and shoved him back inside the crypt forcefully. Then she slammed the door shut. 'My second today', she thought to herself. 'I should aim for a record.' A cry brought her back to reality:
"Bloody 'ell!"
"Yes, exactly! What were you thinking? Have you completely lost your mind?" Willow shouted, glad to have a deserving victim.
"Red?" Spike was thoroughly surprised. His skin had stopped smoking and started to heal already. "What are you doing here? Can't a man ever have some privacy in this hell of a town? Doesn't anyone have any respect for intimate moments anymore?"
"Intimate, like what? Your death?"
"I am already dead, Red, remember?"
"I thought 'undead' was the term of choice", Willow couldn't help but putting on a teasing voice.
"Well, yeah. First time around the job got obviously blotched. So I thought t'was about time to finish it."
"Spike, I will not allow you to commit suicide. I didn't when you first got your chip, and I certainly will not now…"
"And why not, pet? It's not that there is still a soul to rescue. Soulless demon here, remember. Evil menace to society."
Spike looked anything but menacing. Rather miserable, decided Willow. But she was not ready to step back from her original goal yet. So instead of an answer, she had another question for Spike:
"How could you do this to Buffy? Abusing her like this?"
'So here it comes', thought Spike. 'She, or maybe Captain America, told them, and now the whole self-righteous Scooby Gang will show up at my doorstep to vent on me. Why didn't I decide to take up sunbathing earlier this morning, instead of wallowing in self-pity?' Aloud he said: "She wanted it, too."
"She wanted to be hit?"
"I did a little bit more than hit on her, Red. We were way past the hitting- on-each-other-phase. I understand that she wanted to spare you the details, but still…" Spike closed his mouth abruptly when he saw the expression on Willow's face change from anger to confusion to dawning understanding.
"Oh…"
If he had been able to blush, he would have been a deep-crimson red by now. The redheaded girl in front of him hadn't known anything about their nightly encounters. Buffy had obviously only told her that despite the chip, the vampire could hit her, literally, not in any second meaning. It was his turn:
"Oh… bloody 'ell!"
"You… Buffy… you…" Willow stammered.
Spike nodded silently. Unbidden, the images came back to him. Especially the one from last night, before Captain Cardboard had waltzed in. She had asked him if he loved her. And his heart had felt so light. He started sobbing again, not caring that Willow still stared at him in disbelief.
"You two had…" Willow paused, still not certain what to call it. "… an affair?"
The blond-bleached vampire managed to shrug under tears.
"And then Riley comes back, married, and all Buffy can do is break up with you and ask Tara to do the de-invite spell…"
"Tara did a de-invite spell?" Spike couldn't believe it.
Willow merely nodded and sank down beside him, taking him into her arms. The simple gesture of friendship and comfort made him only cry harder.
"I shought sh'was on my shide…" he sobbed. "I shought… she just shaved me from being shtaked by Riley Righteous a few hours ago, and now she does a de-invite shpell?"
"Tara saved you?" Willow didn't trust the words she was hearing. "And Riley tried to stake you? Why? Oh right, because you wanted to sell the eggs!" Suddenly, she remembered the events of last night, and let Spike go out of her arms. "But Tara knows you are the Doctor… Why would she save you from Riley?"
"Stop thinking so hard, Red. You'll develop a nasty little wrinkle, right there 'bove your nose", he pointed to where Willow's frowns deepened, "and that'll scare all the hot little ladies away!" Somehow, the expression of complete and utter not-understanding on Willow's face made Spike smile. "Wanna here a story, pet? Can't guarantee a happy ending though…"
As Willow nodded, he added: "And need somethin' to lubricate the old vocal cords. Have gotten a bit rusty from all the cry… uhm, shouting out in frustration last night!" He stood up and opened one of the chests that had miraculously survived the hand grenade attack. "Knew there was another bottle of Glenlivet in there…" Spike muttered, already feeling better. The chance to tell his side of the story, right from the beginning, would offer him the possibility to reflect on everything again. And perhaps he would be able to see clearer, to find a solution other then getting a very deep tan.
"Okay then, pet. Once upon a time, there was a Slayer…" And he told her everything, from the moment Drusilla had seen that he had fallen in love with Buffy to his admitting his feelings, from Buffy's rejection to their first kiss, from their fights to their love-making, and how Tara, Riley and the eggs fit into the whole picture. He didn't spare Willow's feelings. He told her how wrong it had been to bring Buffy back, but he also admitted how happy he had been that day. Neither did he spare himself, admitting his faults and mistakes. The sun streaks wandered over the floor of the crypt and finally disappeared. Night had fallen when he finished his tale.
They sat in silence for a long time. Then, finally, Willow cleared her throat:
"And Tara believes you?"
He nodded.
"I could do a spell", proposed Willow. "You know, something like a truth- seeing spell…"
"No!" Spike glared at her. "Are you nuts? You know yourself, probably better than I do, that the minute you use magic again, you will be gone!"
"But… but I screwed up so badly with Buffy, with her resurrection spell and all, and… and I just want her to be happy!" She paused and looked at the vampire earnestly. "Even if it means being with you…"
Spike looked at her in awe. She would really risk her well-being for Buffy. But then, so would he. He slowly shook his head. "I know I came to you for a love spell once, but didn't go through with it, remember? Because I realised it wouldn't work." When Willow glared at him, he corrected himself hastily: "Don't get me wrong, Red, I'm sure the spell would have worked just fine. But it would not have accomplished what I wanted then: Dru's true love, together with her respect and appreciation." He searched his duster pockets frantically for his cigarettes. Suddenly he felt that only smoke filling his dead lungs would prevent him from collapsing right then and there. But when he had managed to tap a cigarette out of the packet, his hands shook so badly that he wasn't able to light up. "Oh, bugger this!" He tossed the unlit cigarette on the floor and stamped on it.
Willow looked at him pitifully, searching for words of comfort she didn't have. Perhaps it was better that way, let him finish, say out loud what he was feeling.
And indeed, Spike continued: "See, you can't make a person love you. You just have to wait for it to happen. I thought I was getting closer. Buffy and I… we even started to have conversations. You know, after the…" He stopped when Willow held up her hand to signal that she didn't want to hear any further details of what had happened before the talking. Seeing the red- haired girl act so shyly, he grinned, trying hard for the evilness to come back to his features. But all that came out was an affectionate smile.
"Well, but I was mistaken, wasn't I? I tried everything. I told her that I loved her and I told her I didn't. I told her that she was so special because she has you guys, and I told her that she didn't belong with you, but with me, in the shadows. I chained her so that she would listen, and I let her go. I got beaten up for her and I let her beat me. Hell, I beat her myself, and then I kissed her. So that's it. I'm at the end of my bleeding tether."
When he remained silent, Willow asked: "Do you want me to talk to her?"
Spike shook his head. "Tara told me she tried. But right now, Buffy hates herself because she has feelings for me. Hell could freeze over and she still wouldn't see anything other than her pre-fabricated picture of me. She thinks that I am incapable of change." He sighed. "I don't blame her. I thought so myself – before love came to town." He hummed the melody of the U2 song.
Willow smiled, glad that he seemed to be coming back to the realm of the living, or at least the undead. She decided it was worth to try again: "You know, Tara might have tried, but she doesn't know Buffy as well as I do. I could surely find some more convincing arguments…"
The blond-bleached vampire shook his head again, this time more forcefully. "Don't you see, Red? Buffy has to figure this one out all by herself. She has to accept that things are not always painted in black or white. She has to come to the conclusion that there are many shades of grey." His voice trailed off. He kept silent for some time, staring to the ground. When he looked up again, he caught Willow's eyes and held her gaze. His eyes were deep, blue and honest:
"I know I am no saint. I don't regret what I've done in the past, and I don't intend to pretend I do, just for her sake. I've done what I've done because I was what I was then. But I am different now. And I know that I will never go back to what I was, chip or no chip. I can't."
"Do you… do you want a soul?" Willow asked timidly. "I am sure I could give you a soul. Even without the happiness clause."
"Do I look as if I wanted to get into a bloody brooding contest with Peaches in L.A.?" Spike's horror seemed genuine.
"I only thought… I mean, just to be sure… if the chip malfunctions one day…"
Spike snorted derisively. Then he said: "Willow, I don't need a fucking soul. Don't you understand? I may not have the same moral compass you humans have – even though some of you do much more awful things than I could ever concoct, but that is beside the point. So agreed, perhaps I might slip. I have, 'cause I didn't understand why Buffy wanted to turn herself in to the Police. But overall, I'm doin' ok. Out of my own free will. It is my decision to behave like a fu… uh, like that." He looked at her intently. "Or do you really believe I didn't do any harm just because of the chip? Pullease!"
Willow remembered all too well how effectively Spike had harmed the Scooby Gang even with his chip, just by talking them up against each other. He could have plotted scheme after scheme, but instead he had changed his mind and helped. Perhaps at first his motivation had been his love for Buffy. But then, during the summer the slayer had been dead, Spike had continued to help. Not only to protect Dawn, as he had promised Buffy. No, he had gone a step further and had actively slain demons, alone as well as together with the gang. He really had changed.
"Why doesn't she see? Why doesn't Buffy see?" she muttered.
"That's what I ask meself several times a minute, pet." Spike finally managed to get a cigarette lit and took a deep drag.
"We have to make her see…" And suddenly, Willow's face lit up. "I have an idea!"
Spike cocked his head to one side, curious.
"You have to make her jealous!"
"What?"
"Yes. Show her that other girls might find you attractive. Bring a date to the wedding!"
"I'm not sure this would work, pet. Besides, where do I find a girl who is willing to participate in such a scheme?"
"I have just the right person in mind", declared Willow with a content smile.
**************************************************************************** **********
'I'm going nuts', Spike thought. 'Here I am, lying devastated on the grounds of a burned-down stone tomb, and instead of working myself into a rage, rip the place apart beyond repair, or at least go out to bloody kill something, I giggle.' He wiped some tears away, not sure if they came from laughing so hard or if they were the last remains of his uncontrolled sobs that had just subsided a moment before the laugh track had started.
"She is… hrmphhihihi… drive… hahahahaha… driving me... hohohohoho… fucking nuts", he said out loud between fits of laughter, to check if the sound of his own voice would calm him down.
"I have spent over a century with Drusilla, queen of all lunatics in this dimension and maybe others, and came out of it unharmed, with my marbles still in check, but this bitch of a slayer gets the job done within a couple of weeks", he stated to no one in particular before starting to laugh again. Resonating from the crypt walls, the sound of his laughter resembled the heart-splitting wails of a hopeless child.
Then suddenly, for no particular reason, Spike stopped. The silence that followed was even more terrifying to his ears. But he didn't care. He was a vampire. A creature of the darkness. A master of the night. He wasn't terrified by anything. Quite to the contrary, he was the one who did the terrifying. Because he was evil. Bad. The Big Bad.
"Big. Bad. Vampire", he repeated out loud.
A bad vampire indeed. A vampire, hopelessly in love with the slayer. That was as bad as it gets. That wasn't how things were supposed to be. He was supposed to kill the slayer, not love her. What if any higher vampire beings were watching his every step? What if, the day his body would finally fulfil the bible words the priest had spoken at his funeral, "ashes to ashes", these – vampire gods? – were to judge him on how he had done as a vampire? They'd have to conclude that he hadn't lived up to the expectations. And he would surely be punished with eternal torment.
"Vampire gods, my ass", he snorted to himself. But he couldn't stop thinking.
What if it was God who had made him a vampire? If He were so great, He'd probably rule over every creature. What if He had created vampires to even the score?
Spike had watched enough TV, besides his daily fix of soaps, to know that humankind didn't do so well: There was overpopulation and undernourishment. There were men leading wars for water and arable land. And even in so- called developed countries, people killed themselves and even their distant neighbours without so much as thinking about it, every day, in small doses. They polluted water, soil and air senselessly, swapping some inane luxury for severe ecological damage of the planet. Pointless acts, eventually leading either to global warming or to the next ice age, and all because Man was more fertile, reproducing himself more ferociously than was advisable for his own good.
What if vampires, demons in general, were there to shift the balance? What if it was his task in the grand scheme of things to kill and decimate humankind, in order to save Man from himself? Then he would be a bad vampire indeed, working on the wrong side of the road, not fulfilling his eternal destiny.
"Great, now I'm having philosophical thoughts. This fucking chip's finally fried my brain, that's what it's done." He stood up tentatively. "Grand scheme of things, pff! Way to go, mate!" he told himself, staggering to the bed on unsure legs. Relieved to have made the few steps without breaking down, he sank into the burnt linen. It still smelled like her, even through the damage the flames had done. Spike started sobbing again.
"It's the fucking chip", he told himself. "It's not her, for hell's sake! It's this damned chip they shoved in my head. It bloody changed everything!!!"
But somewhere in his head a small voice told him that this way of looking at things wasn't entirely correct. He'd had a thing for the Slayer even before the government had managed to put the implant into his brain. Hell, he had had a thing for every single slayer he had met. He had loved these girls, not only their agility, intelligence and fighting skills, but also their style, wit and character. They were so young, and still, they willingly gave up what one could call a normal life, just to make the world a better place. Better for humankind. Their kind.
Spike had to acknowledge that part of him had admired this quiet, unrewarded sacrifice of true herodom. Part of him had wanted to be a hero, too. For Drusilla, he had become a hero by way of killing slayers. But Angelus still hadn't seemed to approve. Little had Spike known that even back then, his idol had already been pestered by a soul. The poofter.
Now he himself was a poofter. A sorry wanker, thanks to the chip.
Which wasn't entirely true either. Spike vividly remembered the day he had found out about the chip, or better, about Buffy. And he not only remembered because the day after they had shagged a house down. He also remembered what had happened the day before that. Spike had been able to hit her without soliciting a mind-blowing migraine, and he had deducted that his chip had finally stopped working. When Buffy had told him that he was an evil, disgusting thing, the vampire had decided to prove her right.
So he had gone into town. He had looked at all the happy meals on legs, and he had picked his victim immediately. But it hadn't been the kind of victim he would have chosen when he still had had his balls. Not a broad- shouldered man with which the fight would have been worth fighting.
"Don't you get tired of the fights you know you'll win?"
Why had he chosen this frightened girl? Why had he told her that he was evil instead of just biting and draining her? What'd been up with the speeches? In his heart, he'd known what had been what: He had chosen the girl because he had pitied her. He, the Big Bad, had felt pity for a scared young woman, obviously stood up by her date. And he had needed all the talk to convince himself that he was still the Big Bad. Also, somewhere deep inside his undead, non-beating heart, Spike knew that even if he had been able to bite her, he wouldn't have killed the girl. He would have acknowledged the fact that his demon was free again, and then he would probably have let her go. No, worse: He would have walked her home, if she'd only let him.
"I'm a white hat", he stated. And a useless white hat at that, he realised. He was a living oxymoron: a creature of the darkness, longing for the light. Totally lost, to his kind as well as to humanity. And now, he had lost his very own light of the night, the one thing that had brought him brightness, brilliancy, and ultimately peace. So he had to find peace by himself now. He couldn't wait forever. It was time now. To hell with forever.
The bleach-blond vampire stood up from his scarred bed and headed for the stairs. He knew that there was only one thing left for him to do.
**************************************************************************** **********
'Only one thing left to do', mused Buffy when she walked back home. One thing, one conversation, and then she would be able to start over. She stopped short when she realised that Tara had arrived at her home before her. Now she wouldn't have the chance to talk to Willow alone, in order to prepare her for the things to come. Silently, she watched Tara ring the bell at Revello Drive 1630.
"T… Tara?" Willow stammered when she saw the blond girl at the Summers' front door. Her eyes involuntarily dropped to the bag in Tara's hand. A bag from the Magic Box. The redhead couldn't get her eyes away. They seemed glued to the bulging paper.
Tara hurried to put the bag out of Willow's sight. She knew that her ex- girlfriend had had a hard time ever since Buffy's birthday party. For one thing, being found out had been hard enough on her. But what must have been worse for Willow was that people had needed her magical help, and she couldn't give it to them. Not during the party, nor a couple of days later, when Riley and his wife had asked for a simple location spell.
With shaking hands, Tara held the bag behind her back: "I… I am here because Buffy asked me to… to do a spell."
Willow frowned. But before she could comment, Buffy stepped up the driveway.
"Yes, I did. Thanks Tara, for coming by so early this morning, and sorry that I'm late. I… I had an errand to run…" she blushed a little bit, but the two other girls didn't seem to notice.
"What spell?" Willow finally managed to ask in a hoarse voice.
"An de-invite spell. For Spike."
"Again?" Willow couldn't help herself. She had done the same a little bit over a year ago. So much had happened since then. Among other things, Spike had become part of the team. Perhaps not a full-fledged Scooby, but still, a helping hand that would surely be missed. Willow Rosenberg's face was a single question mark.
"We told you he was the Doctor." Buffy sounded exasperated.
"But… Buffy, he would never do anything to harm you, or Dawn, or even me, for that matter", protested Willow. "He loves you, and Dawn, and I think he really likes the rest of the Gang, too." Willow looked from Buffy to Tara and back. Both their faces shone deep concern and sad determination. She decided to switch to some fact-based arguments: "Imagine if he hadn't been here for your birthday party. Who would have been able to help you fight this… this wall-vanishing sword demon?"
Buffy sighed. "There is something else." She took a deep breath: "Spike… He can hit me, Willow." Reassuringly, she added: "Only me. There is nothing wrong with his chip. I just came back a little…" She searched Tara's eyes for help, to find the right words.
"Her molecular basis must have been shifted slightly during the resurrection spell, so that Spike's chip doesn't recognise her as human", Tara explained in a calm voice.
"Oh…", was all Willow could say.
"So, you see… With this latest scheme of his, trying to sell Demon eggs on the black market, I just cannot be sure what he is up to. He is evil and…" She stopped abruptly.
Willow looked from her to Tara, begging for another word. She felt devastated. Because of her, because of her magic, Spike would be de-invited from the Summers' house again. Dawn would never forgive this.
Over Willow's shoulder, Buffy cast a pleading glance to Tara and mouthed: "I am not ready."
Tara shrugged. The wicca had looked relieved when Buffy had started her explanation, but when the Slayer had finished, her shoulders had slumped forward in resignation. She had hoped that Buffy would tell Willow what had happened between Spike and her. And that Willow, as her best friend, would find the right words to tell her that it was ok. But now the chance had passed.
"I better get started", she said. "I have class…"
The two girls nodded and looked at her expectantly. But Tara hesitated. She remembered all too well how Willow had looked at the bag with the spell ingredients.
"Will… I think you better go." She tried to sound as nice as possible, but still firm.
For an endless second, Willow stared at her. Then she nodded and said coldly: "Already out of here." With that, she grabbed a jacket and slammed the door shut.
Tara shrugged again and without another word started the preparations for the spell.
**************************************************************************** **********
Willow walked down the road determinedly. She knew exactly where she was going. Within minutes, she entered Sunnydale's main cemetery. It felt strange to be here in daylight. The last time she had seen the sun streaming through the leaves of the trees had been the day they had buried Buffy in a silent ceremony.
Now, Willow had a new, a better purpose to be here. She knew it was difficult, and even dangerous, to wake a vampire during daytime, but according to Buffy, the slayer was the only one exempt from the chip's function. So Willow was ready to dare the devil. Literally. But it had to be done. She needed some answers. Willow had practised magic long enough to develop a certain psychic awareness. And this new, sixth sense of hers told her unmistakably that there was more to the whole story then either Buffy or Tara had told.
With these thoughts, she found herself in front of Spike's crypt, just in time to see a certain bleach-blond vampire step calmly out into the daylight, face lifted towards the sun, arms spread to his sides. Willow gasped. That was it! He must have found another Gem of Amara.
'Or maybe not', she thought when smoke started to rise from the vampire, swirling around him, hiding him from her sight.
With a quick step, she was next to him and shoved him back inside the crypt forcefully. Then she slammed the door shut. 'My second today', she thought to herself. 'I should aim for a record.' A cry brought her back to reality:
"Bloody 'ell!"
"Yes, exactly! What were you thinking? Have you completely lost your mind?" Willow shouted, glad to have a deserving victim.
"Red?" Spike was thoroughly surprised. His skin had stopped smoking and started to heal already. "What are you doing here? Can't a man ever have some privacy in this hell of a town? Doesn't anyone have any respect for intimate moments anymore?"
"Intimate, like what? Your death?"
"I am already dead, Red, remember?"
"I thought 'undead' was the term of choice", Willow couldn't help but putting on a teasing voice.
"Well, yeah. First time around the job got obviously blotched. So I thought t'was about time to finish it."
"Spike, I will not allow you to commit suicide. I didn't when you first got your chip, and I certainly will not now…"
"And why not, pet? It's not that there is still a soul to rescue. Soulless demon here, remember. Evil menace to society."
Spike looked anything but menacing. Rather miserable, decided Willow. But she was not ready to step back from her original goal yet. So instead of an answer, she had another question for Spike:
"How could you do this to Buffy? Abusing her like this?"
'So here it comes', thought Spike. 'She, or maybe Captain America, told them, and now the whole self-righteous Scooby Gang will show up at my doorstep to vent on me. Why didn't I decide to take up sunbathing earlier this morning, instead of wallowing in self-pity?' Aloud he said: "She wanted it, too."
"She wanted to be hit?"
"I did a little bit more than hit on her, Red. We were way past the hitting- on-each-other-phase. I understand that she wanted to spare you the details, but still…" Spike closed his mouth abruptly when he saw the expression on Willow's face change from anger to confusion to dawning understanding.
"Oh…"
If he had been able to blush, he would have been a deep-crimson red by now. The redheaded girl in front of him hadn't known anything about their nightly encounters. Buffy had obviously only told her that despite the chip, the vampire could hit her, literally, not in any second meaning. It was his turn:
"Oh… bloody 'ell!"
"You… Buffy… you…" Willow stammered.
Spike nodded silently. Unbidden, the images came back to him. Especially the one from last night, before Captain Cardboard had waltzed in. She had asked him if he loved her. And his heart had felt so light. He started sobbing again, not caring that Willow still stared at him in disbelief.
"You two had…" Willow paused, still not certain what to call it. "… an affair?"
The blond-bleached vampire managed to shrug under tears.
"And then Riley comes back, married, and all Buffy can do is break up with you and ask Tara to do the de-invite spell…"
"Tara did a de-invite spell?" Spike couldn't believe it.
Willow merely nodded and sank down beside him, taking him into her arms. The simple gesture of friendship and comfort made him only cry harder.
"I shought sh'was on my shide…" he sobbed. "I shought… she just shaved me from being shtaked by Riley Righteous a few hours ago, and now she does a de-invite shpell?"
"Tara saved you?" Willow didn't trust the words she was hearing. "And Riley tried to stake you? Why? Oh right, because you wanted to sell the eggs!" Suddenly, she remembered the events of last night, and let Spike go out of her arms. "But Tara knows you are the Doctor… Why would she save you from Riley?"
"Stop thinking so hard, Red. You'll develop a nasty little wrinkle, right there 'bove your nose", he pointed to where Willow's frowns deepened, "and that'll scare all the hot little ladies away!" Somehow, the expression of complete and utter not-understanding on Willow's face made Spike smile. "Wanna here a story, pet? Can't guarantee a happy ending though…"
As Willow nodded, he added: "And need somethin' to lubricate the old vocal cords. Have gotten a bit rusty from all the cry… uhm, shouting out in frustration last night!" He stood up and opened one of the chests that had miraculously survived the hand grenade attack. "Knew there was another bottle of Glenlivet in there…" Spike muttered, already feeling better. The chance to tell his side of the story, right from the beginning, would offer him the possibility to reflect on everything again. And perhaps he would be able to see clearer, to find a solution other then getting a very deep tan.
"Okay then, pet. Once upon a time, there was a Slayer…" And he told her everything, from the moment Drusilla had seen that he had fallen in love with Buffy to his admitting his feelings, from Buffy's rejection to their first kiss, from their fights to their love-making, and how Tara, Riley and the eggs fit into the whole picture. He didn't spare Willow's feelings. He told her how wrong it had been to bring Buffy back, but he also admitted how happy he had been that day. Neither did he spare himself, admitting his faults and mistakes. The sun streaks wandered over the floor of the crypt and finally disappeared. Night had fallen when he finished his tale.
They sat in silence for a long time. Then, finally, Willow cleared her throat:
"And Tara believes you?"
He nodded.
"I could do a spell", proposed Willow. "You know, something like a truth- seeing spell…"
"No!" Spike glared at her. "Are you nuts? You know yourself, probably better than I do, that the minute you use magic again, you will be gone!"
"But… but I screwed up so badly with Buffy, with her resurrection spell and all, and… and I just want her to be happy!" She paused and looked at the vampire earnestly. "Even if it means being with you…"
Spike looked at her in awe. She would really risk her well-being for Buffy. But then, so would he. He slowly shook his head. "I know I came to you for a love spell once, but didn't go through with it, remember? Because I realised it wouldn't work." When Willow glared at him, he corrected himself hastily: "Don't get me wrong, Red, I'm sure the spell would have worked just fine. But it would not have accomplished what I wanted then: Dru's true love, together with her respect and appreciation." He searched his duster pockets frantically for his cigarettes. Suddenly he felt that only smoke filling his dead lungs would prevent him from collapsing right then and there. But when he had managed to tap a cigarette out of the packet, his hands shook so badly that he wasn't able to light up. "Oh, bugger this!" He tossed the unlit cigarette on the floor and stamped on it.
Willow looked at him pitifully, searching for words of comfort she didn't have. Perhaps it was better that way, let him finish, say out loud what he was feeling.
And indeed, Spike continued: "See, you can't make a person love you. You just have to wait for it to happen. I thought I was getting closer. Buffy and I… we even started to have conversations. You know, after the…" He stopped when Willow held up her hand to signal that she didn't want to hear any further details of what had happened before the talking. Seeing the red- haired girl act so shyly, he grinned, trying hard for the evilness to come back to his features. But all that came out was an affectionate smile.
"Well, but I was mistaken, wasn't I? I tried everything. I told her that I loved her and I told her I didn't. I told her that she was so special because she has you guys, and I told her that she didn't belong with you, but with me, in the shadows. I chained her so that she would listen, and I let her go. I got beaten up for her and I let her beat me. Hell, I beat her myself, and then I kissed her. So that's it. I'm at the end of my bleeding tether."
When he remained silent, Willow asked: "Do you want me to talk to her?"
Spike shook his head. "Tara told me she tried. But right now, Buffy hates herself because she has feelings for me. Hell could freeze over and she still wouldn't see anything other than her pre-fabricated picture of me. She thinks that I am incapable of change." He sighed. "I don't blame her. I thought so myself – before love came to town." He hummed the melody of the U2 song.
Willow smiled, glad that he seemed to be coming back to the realm of the living, or at least the undead. She decided it was worth to try again: "You know, Tara might have tried, but she doesn't know Buffy as well as I do. I could surely find some more convincing arguments…"
The blond-bleached vampire shook his head again, this time more forcefully. "Don't you see, Red? Buffy has to figure this one out all by herself. She has to accept that things are not always painted in black or white. She has to come to the conclusion that there are many shades of grey." His voice trailed off. He kept silent for some time, staring to the ground. When he looked up again, he caught Willow's eyes and held her gaze. His eyes were deep, blue and honest:
"I know I am no saint. I don't regret what I've done in the past, and I don't intend to pretend I do, just for her sake. I've done what I've done because I was what I was then. But I am different now. And I know that I will never go back to what I was, chip or no chip. I can't."
"Do you… do you want a soul?" Willow asked timidly. "I am sure I could give you a soul. Even without the happiness clause."
"Do I look as if I wanted to get into a bloody brooding contest with Peaches in L.A.?" Spike's horror seemed genuine.
"I only thought… I mean, just to be sure… if the chip malfunctions one day…"
Spike snorted derisively. Then he said: "Willow, I don't need a fucking soul. Don't you understand? I may not have the same moral compass you humans have – even though some of you do much more awful things than I could ever concoct, but that is beside the point. So agreed, perhaps I might slip. I have, 'cause I didn't understand why Buffy wanted to turn herself in to the Police. But overall, I'm doin' ok. Out of my own free will. It is my decision to behave like a fu… uh, like that." He looked at her intently. "Or do you really believe I didn't do any harm just because of the chip? Pullease!"
Willow remembered all too well how effectively Spike had harmed the Scooby Gang even with his chip, just by talking them up against each other. He could have plotted scheme after scheme, but instead he had changed his mind and helped. Perhaps at first his motivation had been his love for Buffy. But then, during the summer the slayer had been dead, Spike had continued to help. Not only to protect Dawn, as he had promised Buffy. No, he had gone a step further and had actively slain demons, alone as well as together with the gang. He really had changed.
"Why doesn't she see? Why doesn't Buffy see?" she muttered.
"That's what I ask meself several times a minute, pet." Spike finally managed to get a cigarette lit and took a deep drag.
"We have to make her see…" And suddenly, Willow's face lit up. "I have an idea!"
Spike cocked his head to one side, curious.
"You have to make her jealous!"
"What?"
"Yes. Show her that other girls might find you attractive. Bring a date to the wedding!"
"I'm not sure this would work, pet. Besides, where do I find a girl who is willing to participate in such a scheme?"
"I have just the right person in mind", declared Willow with a content smile.
**************************************************************************** **********