Title: A Passing Shadow: Book I: Deep Down Dark: Chapter 7
Author: VicNoir
Rating: R
Disclaimers, etc.: please see previous chapters.
It's not like I was looking forward to telling Giles about this. I mean, come on. Imagine his reaction.
I decided not to call after all. This was more of a face-to-face kind of conversation. So I went over there. He was all mellow, listening to music, drinking brandy. Perfect timing.
"I don't understand what makes this our concern, Buffy. Spike's... errrr...difficulties...are hardly a number-one priority at this time-or any time, for that matter." He gave me one of those piercing glances he's so good at and took a sip of his drink. "Furthermore...how did this topic of conversation even come up between you...errrrmm...so to speak?"
I ignored the second part of his question and hoped he wouldn't notice. "I feel like we owe him, Giles. What he did last spring and then all summer while I was...gone-working next to you guys, helping you out... I just think we oughta do what we can." OK, that sounded lame even to me, and I couldn't look him in the eye.
"I'm not a physician, Buffy."
"I know. I guess there's no such thing as a demon urologist, is there?"
"Well, as a matter of fact...but he practices in Finland, and I would leave that as a last resort, if I were you. His preferred method of payment is in-"
"Too much information, Giles. But I'll keep it in mind."
"At any rate, I doubt Spike's problem is physical in nature. His wounds were deep, but I observed nothing that would cause serious, lasting damage, even in a human."
"So what's the what?"
"I suspect his trouble is psychological. You must understand, Buffy, that male virility is very much bound up in the individual's sense of identity. Spike has been brought low on many levels. He cannot hunt or feed. He's lost his sight and his home, and is forced to rely upon the very person who SHOULD be his worst enemy. There's very little left of the Master Vampire we all knew and despised...er...we all knew."
"So what are you telling me? He needs a shrink?"
"I doubt whether William the Bloody would sit still long enough to be analyzed. He possesses neither the introspective nature nor the patience necessary for it."
"Then what's the fix?"
"Must there be one?" He looked very tired.
"Giles."
"Right. You'll pardon me if I have trouble with the imagery this entire scenario creates."
"Try not to think about it."
He walked over to his shelves and pulled out two heavy books. Psychology texts.
"Take these. Study the chapters on psychosexual dysfunction. I'm afraid that's all I can offer."
"Thanks." I took the books from him. "I'll get them back to you as soon as-"
"Buffy."
I looked at him and he looked at me, and I knew he knew.
"Please be careful. I know I don't have to remind you what happened the last time you became...involved...with a demon."
"Giles, I-"
He held up his hand to stop me. Then he turned away and poured himself some more brandy.
I left, feeling not great. Next stop, Willow's.
She wasn't quite as wigged, but I could tell she was worried.
"Are you sure, Buffy? I mean, you know I like Spike. He's been great lately, acting all hero-y, and helping save the world and everything. But you already did the vamp-lover thing once, and..."
"Yeah. I know. But that was the then and this is the now. And Spike's not Angel. And I'm not the person I was, either."
"Well, OK, if you're sure."
"Oh, I'm not sure. Not even inside the city limits of sure, but maybe in the same county."
She smiled at me, and I knew it was OK.
"I can do a few different things, spells and charms and stuff, but maybe you'd better try the psychological approach first. I mean, it's less dangerous all around, don't you think?"
I laughed at her. "Afraid you'll turn something important into a toad by mistake, Will?"
"I'm thinking more big old slimy salamander."
So I went home and read the books, which should prove my commitment to the restoration of Spike's manhood. Trouble was, they contradicted each other. One said you had to explain to the subject that he was just giving himself bad psycho-mojo, and then let him work it out for himself. The other one said you had to be sneaky and overcome the subject's feelings of inadequacy by convincing him that he da bomb.
I decided to go for sneaky.
I waited 'til Dawn was asleep. Spike was still sitting where I left him a few hours before, sipping on a mug of something-blood? hot chocolate?-and flipping back and forth between Leno and Letterman.
"I would have thought you'd go for Howard Stern."
"Yeah, well, it's not the same when ya can't see the digitally censored boobies. 'Though I do fancy listenin' to a good spankin' now an' again."
"Spike?"
"Slayer?"
"Have I ever told you how good-looking you are?"
"Mmmm...not that I can rightly recall."
"Well, you are. You're, like, the best-looking guy I know. Hotter than Angel, even."
He snorted. "An' I don't need to work half so bleedin' hard at it, either." He looked pleased, but puzzled.
I wandered over to the sofa, trying to look casual. I guess it really didn't matter how I looked at that point, but gimme a break, I was nervous.
"Plus, you're smart. I bet you know about all kinds of stuff that I've never even heard of."
His eyebrow went up. "Merely a function of longevity. Is there a point, luv?"
"And you're so strong and...and brave. I feel so much safer just knowing that you're in the house." As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew I'd gone too far.
"Right. You. The Chosen One. Feel safer. Because of me. The blind, chipped, impotent vampire that needs a nursemaid to lead him to the loo."
Uh-oh. "Spike, you don't even use the-" OK, not the point, Buffy.
"What're you playin' at, Slayer?"
"Nothing. Can't I just tell you how...how attractive and...and desirable I find you?" All of a sudden I realized that I sounded just like Skirt Girl.
Great minds think alike. He reached out and grabbed my hand-it was eerie how he didn't even fumble, knew just where it was-and ran his fingers over the skin. Then he squinted up at me.
"You wanna let me in on the joke, Buffy?"
"No joke, Spike. I'm not expressing it very well, but you know I like you. More than like you. You knew it before I did."
He didn't answer. He dropped my hand and folded his arms across his chest and did that big scowly-face he's so good at.
"What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinkin' the Powers must truly despise me, handin' me the only bleedin' thing I want when I can do bugger-all about it. A special kind of torture reserved just for me...an' Peaches."
Wow. I hadn't thought about it like that. But this conversation wasn't turning out like it was supposed to. He was supposed to be overcoming his feelings of inadequacy.
"Spike, this whole situation is just temporary-"
"So says Ripper. He got any proof? He know for a fact that my eyes are gonna switch back on sometime soon? Bet he thought it was just the bloody bollocks when you told him what ELSE is wrong with good ol' Spike, eh? Just jumpin' at the chance to help me with my little problem, was he?"
I didn't know what to say.
"An' you. Isn't it just like you to decide you want me after all, just when there's nothin' left to want? Your gift is death? Seems to me your gift is poor bloody timin'."
I knew he was just trying to piss me off. So I counted to ten and didn't break his nose.
Instead, I pushed him back until he was stretched full-length on the sofa and lay down on top of him.
"Look, Blondie." OK, bad choice of words. "I mean, listen. I'll admit, my timing could use some work. But this whole self-pity thing you've got going? Not liking it. And not having it."
I grabbed him by the hair and laid a wet one on him. He growled. Very cool.
"I want you like you were. Fully operational and a huge pain in the ass. And in case you haven't noticed, I almost always get what I want."
He was running his hands up and down my sides, under my shirt. I was liking it.
"It's the 'almost' that worries me, pet." Kissing my neck and trying to get under my bra.
"Don't worry. I'm very...I'm very..." Sliding his thigh between my legs and pressing into me. "...determined..."
"Oh, gross. Get a room, already." Dawn was standing a few feet away, looking disgusted. I jumped off him and pulled my shirt down. Then I glanced down to see if, maybe...nope, nothing. Damn. I was starting to wonder if the problem was with me.
"It's very late, Dawn. What are you doing out of bed?" It's hard to be authoritative in a situation like that. I don't think I pulled it off.
"I was hungry. What's your excuse?" She smirked at me. "G'night, Spike."
"G'night, Platelet."
She went back upstairs. By that time, I had pulled myself together.
OK, so the psychological approach wasn't going to cut it. Time for Plan B. I decided to call Willow first thing in the morning.
"I'm going to bed now. Do you want...would you...wanna...?"
He grinned at me. "No, but thanks, pet. Think that might be a bit more than I could stand."
I didn't sleep well that night. Gotta say, frustration kicks the ass of patience and virtue. But I bet you already knew that.
tbc
Author: VicNoir
Rating: R
Disclaimers, etc.: please see previous chapters.
It's not like I was looking forward to telling Giles about this. I mean, come on. Imagine his reaction.
I decided not to call after all. This was more of a face-to-face kind of conversation. So I went over there. He was all mellow, listening to music, drinking brandy. Perfect timing.
"I don't understand what makes this our concern, Buffy. Spike's... errrr...difficulties...are hardly a number-one priority at this time-or any time, for that matter." He gave me one of those piercing glances he's so good at and took a sip of his drink. "Furthermore...how did this topic of conversation even come up between you...errrrmm...so to speak?"
I ignored the second part of his question and hoped he wouldn't notice. "I feel like we owe him, Giles. What he did last spring and then all summer while I was...gone-working next to you guys, helping you out... I just think we oughta do what we can." OK, that sounded lame even to me, and I couldn't look him in the eye.
"I'm not a physician, Buffy."
"I know. I guess there's no such thing as a demon urologist, is there?"
"Well, as a matter of fact...but he practices in Finland, and I would leave that as a last resort, if I were you. His preferred method of payment is in-"
"Too much information, Giles. But I'll keep it in mind."
"At any rate, I doubt Spike's problem is physical in nature. His wounds were deep, but I observed nothing that would cause serious, lasting damage, even in a human."
"So what's the what?"
"I suspect his trouble is psychological. You must understand, Buffy, that male virility is very much bound up in the individual's sense of identity. Spike has been brought low on many levels. He cannot hunt or feed. He's lost his sight and his home, and is forced to rely upon the very person who SHOULD be his worst enemy. There's very little left of the Master Vampire we all knew and despised...er...we all knew."
"So what are you telling me? He needs a shrink?"
"I doubt whether William the Bloody would sit still long enough to be analyzed. He possesses neither the introspective nature nor the patience necessary for it."
"Then what's the fix?"
"Must there be one?" He looked very tired.
"Giles."
"Right. You'll pardon me if I have trouble with the imagery this entire scenario creates."
"Try not to think about it."
He walked over to his shelves and pulled out two heavy books. Psychology texts.
"Take these. Study the chapters on psychosexual dysfunction. I'm afraid that's all I can offer."
"Thanks." I took the books from him. "I'll get them back to you as soon as-"
"Buffy."
I looked at him and he looked at me, and I knew he knew.
"Please be careful. I know I don't have to remind you what happened the last time you became...involved...with a demon."
"Giles, I-"
He held up his hand to stop me. Then he turned away and poured himself some more brandy.
I left, feeling not great. Next stop, Willow's.
She wasn't quite as wigged, but I could tell she was worried.
"Are you sure, Buffy? I mean, you know I like Spike. He's been great lately, acting all hero-y, and helping save the world and everything. But you already did the vamp-lover thing once, and..."
"Yeah. I know. But that was the then and this is the now. And Spike's not Angel. And I'm not the person I was, either."
"Well, OK, if you're sure."
"Oh, I'm not sure. Not even inside the city limits of sure, but maybe in the same county."
She smiled at me, and I knew it was OK.
"I can do a few different things, spells and charms and stuff, but maybe you'd better try the psychological approach first. I mean, it's less dangerous all around, don't you think?"
I laughed at her. "Afraid you'll turn something important into a toad by mistake, Will?"
"I'm thinking more big old slimy salamander."
So I went home and read the books, which should prove my commitment to the restoration of Spike's manhood. Trouble was, they contradicted each other. One said you had to explain to the subject that he was just giving himself bad psycho-mojo, and then let him work it out for himself. The other one said you had to be sneaky and overcome the subject's feelings of inadequacy by convincing him that he da bomb.
I decided to go for sneaky.
I waited 'til Dawn was asleep. Spike was still sitting where I left him a few hours before, sipping on a mug of something-blood? hot chocolate?-and flipping back and forth between Leno and Letterman.
"I would have thought you'd go for Howard Stern."
"Yeah, well, it's not the same when ya can't see the digitally censored boobies. 'Though I do fancy listenin' to a good spankin' now an' again."
"Spike?"
"Slayer?"
"Have I ever told you how good-looking you are?"
"Mmmm...not that I can rightly recall."
"Well, you are. You're, like, the best-looking guy I know. Hotter than Angel, even."
He snorted. "An' I don't need to work half so bleedin' hard at it, either." He looked pleased, but puzzled.
I wandered over to the sofa, trying to look casual. I guess it really didn't matter how I looked at that point, but gimme a break, I was nervous.
"Plus, you're smart. I bet you know about all kinds of stuff that I've never even heard of."
His eyebrow went up. "Merely a function of longevity. Is there a point, luv?"
"And you're so strong and...and brave. I feel so much safer just knowing that you're in the house." As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew I'd gone too far.
"Right. You. The Chosen One. Feel safer. Because of me. The blind, chipped, impotent vampire that needs a nursemaid to lead him to the loo."
Uh-oh. "Spike, you don't even use the-" OK, not the point, Buffy.
"What're you playin' at, Slayer?"
"Nothing. Can't I just tell you how...how attractive and...and desirable I find you?" All of a sudden I realized that I sounded just like Skirt Girl.
Great minds think alike. He reached out and grabbed my hand-it was eerie how he didn't even fumble, knew just where it was-and ran his fingers over the skin. Then he squinted up at me.
"You wanna let me in on the joke, Buffy?"
"No joke, Spike. I'm not expressing it very well, but you know I like you. More than like you. You knew it before I did."
He didn't answer. He dropped my hand and folded his arms across his chest and did that big scowly-face he's so good at.
"What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinkin' the Powers must truly despise me, handin' me the only bleedin' thing I want when I can do bugger-all about it. A special kind of torture reserved just for me...an' Peaches."
Wow. I hadn't thought about it like that. But this conversation wasn't turning out like it was supposed to. He was supposed to be overcoming his feelings of inadequacy.
"Spike, this whole situation is just temporary-"
"So says Ripper. He got any proof? He know for a fact that my eyes are gonna switch back on sometime soon? Bet he thought it was just the bloody bollocks when you told him what ELSE is wrong with good ol' Spike, eh? Just jumpin' at the chance to help me with my little problem, was he?"
I didn't know what to say.
"An' you. Isn't it just like you to decide you want me after all, just when there's nothin' left to want? Your gift is death? Seems to me your gift is poor bloody timin'."
I knew he was just trying to piss me off. So I counted to ten and didn't break his nose.
Instead, I pushed him back until he was stretched full-length on the sofa and lay down on top of him.
"Look, Blondie." OK, bad choice of words. "I mean, listen. I'll admit, my timing could use some work. But this whole self-pity thing you've got going? Not liking it. And not having it."
I grabbed him by the hair and laid a wet one on him. He growled. Very cool.
"I want you like you were. Fully operational and a huge pain in the ass. And in case you haven't noticed, I almost always get what I want."
He was running his hands up and down my sides, under my shirt. I was liking it.
"It's the 'almost' that worries me, pet." Kissing my neck and trying to get under my bra.
"Don't worry. I'm very...I'm very..." Sliding his thigh between my legs and pressing into me. "...determined..."
"Oh, gross. Get a room, already." Dawn was standing a few feet away, looking disgusted. I jumped off him and pulled my shirt down. Then I glanced down to see if, maybe...nope, nothing. Damn. I was starting to wonder if the problem was with me.
"It's very late, Dawn. What are you doing out of bed?" It's hard to be authoritative in a situation like that. I don't think I pulled it off.
"I was hungry. What's your excuse?" She smirked at me. "G'night, Spike."
"G'night, Platelet."
She went back upstairs. By that time, I had pulled myself together.
OK, so the psychological approach wasn't going to cut it. Time for Plan B. I decided to call Willow first thing in the morning.
"I'm going to bed now. Do you want...would you...wanna...?"
He grinned at me. "No, but thanks, pet. Think that might be a bit more than I could stand."
I didn't sleep well that night. Gotta say, frustration kicks the ass of patience and virtue. But I bet you already knew that.
tbc