Finished, Buffy examined the list. Where was a gypsy with a curse when she needed one? If she could get the clause pinned on Spike, she could then neatly get rid of his soul by making him happy. It would work out perfectly. All she had to do was find someone who could cast the curse on Spike.
After much thought, Buffy turned to the Internet for help. She pointed and clicked her way across several search engines and websites until she hit pay dirt: a gypsy organization that sounded like a promising lead. It ought to have suitable curse-wielding members to spare. Encouraged, Buffy logged off the Internet and dialed the phone number she had copied down from the website.
"Hello, Gypsy Association of America," a woman answered. "How may I direct your call?"
Buffy adopted her most convincing tone. "I need a gypsy who can perform a curse. Preferably a gypsy from the Kalderash clan, but this is a pinch so pretty much anyone will do. I'd cast the thing myself but I don't have any experience."
"Excuse me?"
"Gypsy, curse, help? I know it sounds weird, but it's an emergency." Buffy anxiously waited for an answer, but there was no response. "Hello? Hello?" A distinct *click* followed her words. The woman had hung up on her.
Determinedly, Buffy punched the redial button.
*****
"So then she told me if I called back, she'd refer me to the ACLU," Buffy complained to her two companions during a get-together that afternoon at the Bronze. "Can you believe her nerve?"
Dawn nodded. "Yep, nerve was definitely involved."
"What I want to know is, why can't I ever have a normal boyfriend? We all know about Angel, Riley unfortunately had some hidden drawbacks, and if it isn't one thing with Spike, it's another."
Xander tentatively raised his hand. "I'm currently unattached."
Buffy stared him down. "I rest my case."
"Now that you've tried and failed, you're going to leave Spike's soul alone, right?" Dawn asked, cleverly changing the subject.
Buffy firmly shook her head. "Not a chance. That was only my first attempt. I have no intention of giving up so easily. In fact, I went right back online and did a people search for anyone in the whole country with the last name of Kalderash. There aren't that many, but I'm going to call them all and see if any of them can help me."
Xander dipped a French fry in mustard and plopped it into his mouth. "You're going to a lot of trouble for old Spike. Since he's so much of a mess, why don't you just stake him and put him out of his misery?"
"If I couldn't kill him back when he was chipped but without a soul, I definitely can't do it now that he's chipped and has a soul." Buffy shrugged. "It's just one of those weird things you have to get used to about me. I don't usually go around killing souled creatures."
"But you're willing to take their souls away," Dawn pointed out. "And you don't even know *how* Spike got his soul."
"You think that makes a difference?" Buffy considered. She didn't see why it would. Past baddies hadn't seemed to care one way or the other when they'd set about their little soul-stealing missions. Still, Dawn had raised an issue, so she ought to look into the situation. If she could even get Spike to discuss it.
*****
After giving Dawn permission to stay over at a friend's house that night, Buffy returned home alone. It was probably best if she approached Spike one on one; he tended to become even more nervous in Dawn's presence. This way, she had the whole evening to work on him. Maybe, if all else failed, she could at least cut his recovery time down by a decade or two. With that tantalizing thought in mind, Buffy set out to lure Spike out of that damn basement. She was beginning to hate the sight of the place.
She ventured down the steps to see that Spike was crouched next to a cardboard box, whispering to an entity only he could see. "Spike," Buffy called softly, attracting his attention, "I need your help tonight when I go out slaying. You could be very useful. You'd like that, right?"
Spike lowered his head and rocked himself.
"Or not. Okay." Buffy tried another tack, extending the ultimate bait. "Please come upstairs, Spike. You can watch television. Whatever you want. I'll even let you hold the remote control."
"Don't wanna. All dead. Not mine."
Buffy sighed. Her patience had ebbed to a record low. "Fine. Don't say I didn't try to do this the easy way." She strode across the room, grabbed Spike by the arm, and literally dragged him back to the living room. Shoving him onto the sofa, she ordered, "Sit. Stay. I have something I know you'll like." Buffy had made a big sacrifice and had videotaped that day's episode of "Passions." She was even prepared to watch it with Spike so he wouldn't feel lonely. Confident that her surprise would succeed in cheering him up at least a fraction, she started the tape.
Half an hour later, Buffy shook herself out of the stupor the show had induced in her and glanced at the miserable lump of vampire next to her. Judging by his glazed eyes, Spike was about as interested in the program as she was. "Now what's wrong? I thought you liked this show."
"Timmy's dead. It's no fun anymore."
Well, she had tried. Anyway, if Spike didn't want to watch, that meant she was off the hook, too. Buffy stopped the tape and turned to the vampire, seizing the opportunity to worm some information out of him. "Spike, this is very important. You know you can trust me, right? I mean, I'm providing your food, and your shelter, and your entertainment, such as it is, so it's only fair that you give me something in return. Right?" Encouraged by Spike's silence and seeming attention, Buffy continued, "I need you to tell me how you got the soul. After all, it isn't like it's something you can buy off of any street corner. So what happened?"
Very calmly, Spike stated, "I stowed away on a ship to Africa. They give them out there if you fight for them."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Okay, that was a good one. Now tell me the truth."
Spike set his jaw and refused to speak. He almost looked like his old self in that moment. Could he already be snapping out of it?
Testing him, Buffy suggested, "Remember what I said before? We can go slaying together. I want your help. Really. I'm asking for it."
Which instantly set Spike off again. "No slaying ever again unless it's me. Bad, evil, useless, soul doesn't help."
"All right! Fine!" Buffy yelled. "You don't have to come with me!" She stopped and took a deep breath. Spike had stopped babbling and merely looked confused, which wasn't much of an improvement. She really had to get herself refocused. What could she possibly say that might get through to him? "Can I get you anything? Do you have any hobbies? Something you like to do?"
"Pen. Paper," Spike related.
He wanted to write something. All right. His thoughts might even come out more smoothly on paper. Buffy grabbed a notebook and pen from Dawn's nearby pile of school supplies and handed them to Spike. "Here. Have fun."
She retreated as far as the kitchen, where she could listen for sounds of movement and stop Spike if he tried to leave the house. For long minutes, she heard only the low scratch of pen on paper. Finally, Buffy couldn't take the suspense any longer. She needed to know what Spike was writing.
The second she stepped back into the living room, he stopped. "Let me see?" Buffy asked. She removed the notebook from Spike's unresisting fingers and looked at it. The front was covered with heavy, dark-blue words. What could Spike possibly have written? A treatise on the nature of the soul? A heartfelt apology? A journal entry?
As it turned out, none of the above. It was something about... "'High aeries and radiant eyes that rest among azure flowers.' What the hell is this?" Buffy stared at the notebook. Spike had jotted down line after line of what she guessed was meant to be poetry. But it wasn't just any poetry. It was really, really bad poetry.
"Um, this is something, Spike." Buffy was truly at a loss for words. "I've never read anything quite like it, that's for sure." She hid the notebook behind her back, hoping he wouldn't ask for it back. "Well, enough of that. What do you want to do now? Whatever you want."
Wordlessly, Spike rose and darted back into the basement. Dragging him out had definitely been a mistake.
Buffy knew one other thing, too. Dawn was going to be pissed when she saw what Spike had scrawled on her algebra notebook.
*****
With another day dawned new hope. All wasn't lost yet. Finding a gypsy who was willing to curse Spike had turned into a longshot proposition (for some reason, the Kalderashes she had found via her Yahoo! search hadn't returned her phone calls), so Buffy simply moved on to the issue of locating a Mok'tagar demon. How hard could that be? She'd unwittingly had one as her college roommate, so they were probably littering the streets of Sunnydale, posing as humans.
Research was an issue, but Willow had left plenty of pertinent books in the house when Giles had taken her away to England. All Buffy had to do was plow through them. She devoted several hours to that task, and eventually reached one very important conclusion: Doing research was so much easier when Giles was around.
Frustrated, Buffy shoved aside yet another musty, useless book. It seemed Mok'tagar demons were not as prevalent as she had hoped. Plus, even if she *could* manage to locate one, the chances of persuading it to take Spike's soul would be about nil. Kathy notwithstanding, by all accounts the average Mok'tagar wouldn't perform such an action without suitable justification, and Buffy was pretty sure they wouldn't buy her reasons, valid though they seemed to her.
Well, the situation couldn't be helped. Buffy crossed the Mok'tagar item off her soul-removal list and moved down to the third, and last, possibility: the mage. Which meant she'd have to get in touch with Giles, if only to find out how to locate his friend. She dialed the phone number Giles had left with her, only to be informed by a stranger that he wasn't around and she should try back in another few hours.
That news gave her plenty of time to try to make inroads with Spike. Buffy proceeded to the basement once more. This time, though, she had an idea that might just result in success. All she needed was for Spike to confirm her suspicions.
The second he saw her, Spike turned away and wrapped his arms around a thick pipe, clutching it with all of his strength. "Not going upstairs, upstairs is evil and bad like me, never going there again."
Buffy circled around to face him, but stayed a comfortable distance away. "Don't worry, Spike, I won't force you to go upstairs. If you do go up there, it will be because you want to. I just needed to ask you one little question. Remember when you acted like the old Spike? When you helped me fight the worm creature? You said you were wearing a costume. Can you explain what you meant?"
"Like a Halloween costume, like that Halloween you and your friends turned into your costumes. Thought it might work for me. Wrong again, deluding myself."
Spike then launched into a string of unrelated babble, but Buffy had heard enough. She'd come up with a sure way to get him to willingly leave the basement.
*****
Three hours later, Buffy again dialed Giles' number in England.
"Hello," the familiar voice answered.
"Giles, this is Buffy. How are you and Willow doing?"
"Quite well. As a matter of fact, Willow will be re-"
"Good," Buffy interrupted, done with the small talk. "Actually, the reason I'm calling is because something big is going on here. So big, you probably won't believe me at first." She paused for dramatic effect. "Spike has a soul."
"Excuse me? I don't think I heard you correctly."
"Spike was gone all summer, but he's back now and he has a soul. Don't ask me how he got it, though. He's pretty incoherent."
"Are you certain he is ensouled?"
"Oh, no doubt about it," Buffy confirmed. "Anya could tell by looking at him."
"How fascinating. How is he reacting?"
"Like Angel at his absolute worst, times ten or so."
"That badly?"
"That badly. It's really hard on him. Not to mention me." Buffy launched into the speech that would make or break her attempt at obtaining Giles' help. "I feel responsible for Spike's safety, so much so that I moved him into my basement. And this may surprise you, but I honestly believe he would be better off without his soul. He's still chipped, so there's no danger to humans. What's the harm in sending that soul right back into the ether? It would probably be happier there anyway, and I know I would be. I've tried to think of ways to get rid of it but things aren't going so well and then I decided to call you. You know your friend the mage? I need his phone number. But if he doesn't do the job, you'll have to help me out a little. There have got to be tons more ways to get rid of souls. Let's get into share mode here."
Giles cleared his throat. "Given the circumstances, Buffy, I don't feel comfortable relating that information to you. The very fact that Spike has a soul is amazing in and of itself. I would be highly reluctant to assist you in taking it away from him."
"But he doesn't even like it. It's making him miserable--not to mention me." Buffy whispered into the receiver, "He's been writing poetry. Can you imagine the old Spike ever writing poetry? It's downright creepy."
"I'm sure the matter is of great concern to you. However, I am not at all convinced that you have decided upon a wise course of action. Have you-"
Buffy interrupted again. "You don't know how bad it is. Today, he wouldn't even come out of the basement until I made him put his Giles costume on."
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Finally, Giles murmured, "I probably don't want any details about that, do I."
Buffy glanced at the tweed-clad vampire sitting across the room from her. "Um, no, probably not." She'd even had to make a special trip to Wal-Mart for a pair of those little glasses to complete Spike's new look.
Another long silence ensued, followed by a drawn-out sigh. "I'll have to think about the subject and get back to you, Buffy. I will say this much: You've certainly succeeded in worrying me. We'd best say goodbye now."
"Wait, don't... hang up." Too late. Slowly, Buffy placed her own receiver back in its cradle and shot the vampire a dirty look. "I hope you appreciate all these calls I'm making on your behalf. None of them are panning out, but my phone bill next month is going to be a bitch anyway. It's a good thing for you I still think you're worth it. At least, until I get the bill. I might change my mind then."
Unperturbable in Giles mode, Spike merely gazed serenely back at her.
It seemed like she'd reached the end of the line. Buffy realized she had to face the fact that she might permanently be stuck with this odd version of Spike. She'd tried, she'd honestly had, but her plans had been doomed to failure. What else could she do now except simply accept Spike as he was and invest in a cabinetful of aspirin?
Upon this dismal thought, the doorbell rang and Buffy got up to answer it. She swung open the door to see one of the last people she expected, but perhaps the one she was most grateful to encounter.
"Willow."
Willow, who had performed the ritual to restore Angel's curse. Willow, who could, theoretically, curse Spike, as well.