In the Name of Love
By Tales of Spike
Spoilers: Story started just prior to As You Were and runs through to the end of Hells Bells. From there on the story goes AU, so Normal Again, Entropy etc haven't happened and won't. For purposes of Angel characters, assumed Cordelia and Groo still on holiday and Connor is still living with Angel at the Hyperion, just because it makes my life simpler.
Disclaimer:
(Spike appears. He seems to be reading something. When he notices Buffy, he quickly hides it.)
Spike: Hello, pet. You know I was just thinking about the two of us.
Buffy: And? (Taps foot impatiently, hands on hips)
Spike: Well, I was wondering, was there a specific point where the sexual thing became inevitable, You know where it sort of changed from "I'm going to kill 'er but it's a pity 'cos she's not exactly a pain to look at," to "I want to shag that woman." Can you think of anything on your part?
Buffy: I still want to kill you.
Spike: Yeah, but you want to do other things more. See for me I think it was probably a combination of two things. I think obviously, the chip cut down dramatically on my homicidal tendencies. More than that though I reckon it was that show you put on that night in the Bronze.
Buffy: Big deal. We kissed. Get over it. Lots of people kiss each other without… "shaggin'," as you put it.
Spike: No, not the night after Red's little magical mass amnesia. The other night at the Bronze. Way back, not that long after I got the chip. Round about the time you became all unpopular with the toy soldiers and they tried to bump you off, not that it stopped you seein' Mr Personality.
Buffy: Well, it may have been significant to you, but I don't even remember.
Spike: Always the innocent, eh pet? You'll be telling me next that Warren made the Buffy 'bot years ago and it was her not you. I mean, Slayer, (he gives her a knowing wink) how do you forget backing a man up against the wall and pinning him there. Hands all over him. All smellin' of yer mum's bubble bath. Talkin' dirty fit to give any man in earshot a hard-on for a week. 'Course it wasn't you…
Buffy: (indignant) I don't kno… (The penny drops, quieter) Oh, what did I say?
Spike: Still got amnesia, pet? Funny, you were a bit like that then as well. Walk off after you bump right into us as if you hadn't ever met me before, and then you were all, (puts on breathy, girlie voice) "You're a vampire?" as if you hadn't known for years, but I reckon it was all part of the act. The things you said. (Casts eyes heavenward as if to help remember and continues in an almost awed tone) "I could have anything. Anyone. Even you, Spike. I could ride you at a gallop until your legs buckled and your eyes rolled up…" Can we try that one sometime, Slayer? And that was just the start of your little speech."
Buffy: Look, this isn't funny. That wasn't me. It- it was someone. - (Stops, having managed to wind her up, Spike is having obvious difficulty not laughing) Really, it was Faith, in my body. She-
Spike: (Removes letter from pocket and tosses it to Buffy) I know, pet. I just wanted to see your reaction. I didn't think I'd met that Faith, turns out when she wrote back to me about that Joss bloke and him being the one who made us all up and owns us all and everything, that we had met after all.
Buffy: But you're saying, that you only got to where you wanted to sleep with me 'cos she got you all excited, so you'd still be trying to kill me if she hadn't…
Spike: Pfft! She might have emphasised some points I'd already managed to work out for myself, thank you very much, all about being the slayer mind, not about being Buffy. Thing was, maybe I didn't realise it at the time but the real point where I was totally and completely stuffed was round about when you were running round wiping your mouth and going, "Spike lips. Lips of Spike." Did you never notice for all my lightning reactions, I was way slower than you at making with the retching noises?
Buffy: Oh! (Sort of sexy) That's all right then I suppose, but you better tell me about the rest of this speech. Wouldn't like to think I'd been making promises and not keeping them.
Spike: (Spike raises a scarred eyebrow.) No, couldn't have that, could we love?
Dedication: To Nos because he requested that little bit at the end of the chapter.
A/N The little bit at the end of the chapter is totally gratuitous, has nothing to do with the plot and was just my way of cheering myself up after watching Entropy last night. If you don't like it (as I'm sure a few of you won't) then just ignore it, it doesn't affect the plot in the slightest. For the rest of you hope it cheers you up a bit as well. After entropy almost wanted to rewrite this since Buffy is such a bitch she just doesn't deserve our lovely Spike, but I decided that my Buffy is far nicer than TV Buffy so it's okay if she keeps him.
Feedback: I'd really like feedback, I get all insecure without it and start to think no one's reading this crap I produce, so bring it on at Sandy.Osborne@blueyonder.co.uk.
Chapter 12
Spike waited impatiently. It seemed as if his whole existence hinged on the next hour or so. He was chain-smoking, giving a fair impersonation of a dry ice machine and the waiting room where he alternately sat and paced was starting to have a distinct atmosphere. It had been fifteen minutes since he'd left the consulting room where the visiting neurologist had taken x-rays of his head from different angles. He'd been primed to wait another three-quarters of an hour or so before there would be any news. If he'd been human there would have been cat-scans and all sorts of tests making the most of modern technology. Since he was a vampire, he was in an animal hospital, and he had his head x-rayed against lead plates that smelled strongly of disinfectant and to his acute senses slightly of animal urine.
Waiting seemed to be all he had done for the last week. Days spent cooped up in hotels and motels. Nights on the road. Vegas to Salt Lake, Salt Lake to San Francisco, San Francisco to Portland, Portland to Seattle, Seattle to Eugene, Eugene to Reno and finally Reno to LA. Cheap motels to mid range hotels, but all were basically boxes where he was penned for the daylight hours. The one exception had been that inclement weather had allowed him some time to go "sight-seeing" in Seattle. Strange because he found himself along with not a few tourists, back in another graveyard. Like the rest of them he paid his respects at a pair of graves, father and son. Both had died young, on the verge of promising film careers. Bruce Lee and his son Brandon. As far as the Space Needle went he could take it or leave it.
For Spike the week had been torture. It seemed as if his physical remoteness from Buffy made him think of her even more, and the task he faced seemed to stretch away indefinitely into the future, while the spectres of his past tried to catch up with him. All to be resolved before he could see her again. Spike had debated whether to ask Angel if he could hire enough people to defend the facility if it were attacked. He felt at his most vulnerable, that if he were to be traced, this doctor seemed to be the perfect way, at least if his pursuers had the least idea of his plans. Eventually he settled for making sure the doctor and himself were boarded separately and well away from the Hyperion. He also arranged for Lorne to do a reading on the doctor. Once Lorne had assured him that the doctor was on the level, he'd dispensed with the idea of body guards at least for the initial consultation.
The minute hand on the waiting room clock finally crawled through another two hundred and seventy degrees and the doctor emerged from the treatment area, to beckon Spike back into the consulting room. He placed the x-ray plates in front of the wall mounted light-box in the treatment room. Spike got a feeling that this wasn't going to be as simple as he'd hoped.
"I've had a look at the x-rays here. As you can see the chip appears to be closest to the surface of the skull where the original skull section was made. If you decide to proceed, I will try to follow the original cutting lines, although really they should be healed up by now. The problem lies in the way that your brain has adjusted to the chip's presence. You have developed neural pathways which connect between the chip and the rest of your brain. To gain access to the area where the chip is, and to remove the chip those pathways will have to be cut. This could result in some unpredictable side effects; your impulse control might be affected, you may suffer memory lapses or be unable to distinguish between memories and dreams. This damage may heal correctly on its own over a matter of days once the chip is removed, or the pathways may not regrow or may regrow incorrectly. In addition there may be complications due to swelling of the tissue around the area we're operating on.
It's my professional opinion that given the quality of life you seem to be capable of at present, I wouldn't recommend surgery unless it were to become necessary due to deterioration of the chip."
"So, Doc, what sort of odds are we talking about here?"
"Better than even, say thirty: seventy, but that's still nearly a one in three chance that you'll suffer some sort of permanent ill effect. I really have to advise you against going ahead."
"I hear what you're saying, but doing nothing isn't an option. What's the worst we can expect?"
"I have to say that this is all speculation. I don't know the extent to which vampires can repair brain tissue and if we assume that vampirism is a form of demonification, then does the "human" brain control the demon? I don't have a clue what is happening inside our skulls when we decide to vamp out, or when the demon tries to respond to outside stimuli and we rein it in. There's a good chance you won't suffer any effects at all, or you might vamp out and not be able to come back. There's even a chance it may make it easier to control the demon. As I've already said you may have memory lapses. If these are sufficient to affect your self-image this again could affect your control of the demon not to mention the potential for disorientation. You may not be capable of looking after yourself. You might think you've fed when you haven't. You could do things which would endanger yourself without realising. You could as I said become confused between dreams and reality, so that you would expect those around you to react the same way they do in your dreams or your nightmares.
You could experience all or none of this, and it could all be temporary and repair itself or you could be like that for the rest of your existence. My guess would be that in all likelihood you will experience at least some mild temporary effects of some sort. The chip's embedded deep into your cerebral cortex. If you go ahead with the procedure I'd have to advise that you be physically restrained for a period afterward until we can confirm that you're totally lucid, and it's probably a good idea if you have constant care, someone who can ground you if you are delusional or if you do have memory lapses."
Of course Spike immediately thought of Buffy, but he ruled her out equally quickly because she had to look after Dawn. He considered Tara. She was strong and gentle, a natural carer and he was genuinely fond of her. This was part of the problem, though. Out of Buffy's circle of friends Tara was possibly nicest to him, but he didn't know how much of this was because he'd already been chipped and well on his way to being Buffy's pet when she first met him. He knew that she must have heard about his past exploits from the others, but she'd never come face to face with the demon within. He knew he didn't want her to. Under the circumstances she would probably understand, but he didn't want to risk any change in their relationship. Giles was quickly discarded, partly because of logistics but mostly because of his council ties. Angel was too obvious a connection and had Connor to consider. Lorne… Lorne.
"How long a period are we talking about?"
"I'd say around a week, give or take, if you stay symptom free for seventy two hours then I think that's probably a fair sign of recovery."
"Fair, but not conclusive." Spike gave a half smile at the Doctor's nod. "So, say I come out of this a raving basket case and I don't improve within the first week, how long before we know it's a lost cause?"
"That would vary depending on your age and bloodline…"
In view of his present situation Spike decided it was best to remain as anonymous as possible, barring the chip of course but then he couldn't be the only one they had done. "Take a guess."
"Three weeks. If there was no sign of improvement after three weeks I think it would be unlikely, but it's possible it could take as long as a few months to fully recover."
"How soon could we go ahead?"
* * * * *
It had been arranged after some calls backwards and forwards that the procedure would go ahead the following night. The equipment had all been found already, and Lorne had agreed to "baby-sit" someone slightly larger than normal. In return Spike would cover the bulk of the costs for having Caritas refitted. If all went well Spike would become a silent minority partner in the business. He thought it was one use of some of the money Buffy couldn't complain about. After all didn't Lorne's gift come from the Powers? So getting the bar up and running helped them. Even if Lorne made no distinction between the motives of his clients before he set them on their path. Spike had managed to rent an isolated property about fifteen miles outside of LA so that no neighbours would hear any noise and making it difficult for any assassins to trace him. This was where he planned to recuperate. The operation was to be carried out in the basement of the property, and the doctor had agreed to travel blindfold so that he wouldn't know the location of the house.
All the necessary preparations were in place and once again he waited.
* * * * *
Day 1
Lorne watched the figure chained spread-eagle and face downward on the bed. It had been an hour since the doctor had left and already Spike was showing the first signs of returning to consciousness. He stirred in his sleep, pulling against the chains Angel had assured him would be strong enough to hold an enraged vampire. He was in game face, but the doctor had warned Lorne to expect this the first few times he awoke; that the pain caused by the operation would provoke an automatic feeding response.
Lorne went upstairs to the kitchen, taking one of the half dozen bags of human blood they had managed to procure, he emptied its contents into a mug and put it in the microwave. When it was warmed he added a straw, stirred in some powdered painkillers the doctor had supplied and carried it back to the basement. The smell seemed to have wakened Spike. He pulled at his chains and twisted his body trying to see where the smell was coming from. Lorne walked round to stand at the top of the bed and held the mug so that the straw poked through the bars of the iron bedstead next to the patient's pillow.
Spike's mouth found the straw and sucked hungrily at it. He was a quarter of the way down the mug when he noticed that the blood had been tampered with, but his body and his demon demanded that he finish every drop of the rich sustaining liquid. Minutes after the mug was empty his body returned to a healing sleep and as the painkillers took effect his face relaxed into human form. This cycle was repeated several times over the first day, except that after the second bag Lorne mixed in an increasing amount of pig's blood into each mug.
Spike never gave any indication of having recognised Lorne. In fact he never gave any indication that he was aware of anything except the blood.
Day 2
The first half of the second day followed much the same pattern as the first, but gradually Lorne noticed that he was spending less time in demon form indicating that the pain had abated slightly. Unfortunately, he still didn't seem to recognise Lorne, and he stopped drinking. He offered no violence. In fact Lorne still doubted that he was aware that he was there, but whenever the cup was placed next to him, he would turn his head away. When first he refused to feed, he seemed quite calm, although he had yet to regain consciousness in human form. Successive attempts to feed him resulted in him becoming more agitated then finally when his behaviour had become almost feral he fed again.
'… Don't drink it. It's drugged… I'm a lab rat… They starve you… You drink… you're gone… they do experiments…Spike could tell from the pain in his head that the experiments had already begun, but he could smell the drugs in the blood and he wouldn't give them the satisfaction. Not as long as he was in control of his body…
… Hungry… need blood… blood will ease the pain… drugged…you drink… you're gone… hungry… pain…you drink… experiments…
… Need blood… hungry… blood… blood to ease the pain…'
Lorne decided to ring Angel, even though it had been agreed that contact between the house and the office be kept to a minimum.
"Angel-cakes, we got a problem, our boy won't drink his medicine, at least not till he's starving."
"You've got him on a mix, haven't you?"
"Yeah, about two to one."
"Try giving him the straight good stuff again. If that works try the mix again but without the meds. If he'll drink it without the meds in it he'll still keep healing, he'll just be in pain while he does it."
Day 3
Lorne followed Angel's advice and found that his patient responded by drinking again. As long as the blood wasn't drugged he drank it, even when Lorne ran out of human blood to mix in with the pig's blood. For the first time since the operation Spike spoke. Lorne had been grabbing an hour or two's sleep when he was woken by Spike's voice, which was gradually increasing in decibels.
"Dru? Kitten? Where are you, pet? Dru! It's time to let your boy loose now!"
"Spike. It's Lorne." The green demon walked round to the top end of the bed so that Spike would be able to see him.
Spike watched him as he came into view. "Dru, come on. If you let me out of these, then I'll use them on you if you want, we can make them nice and tight. You know you like it better when you're the one tied up." Spike's pleading tone changed to an almost inaudible mutter. "Don't know who's more nuts, her or me for letting someone with the attention span of a fruit fly chain me up." Finally, in desperation Spike tried forcefulness. "Dru! If you don't get your boney ass over here now and undo these chains you are never going to get to play with them again, and when I get out of them I'm going to take Miss Edith away."
"Spike, Listen. Dru isn't here. You haven't seen Dru since she visited you in Sunnydale. It's Lorne. Remember, Lorne."
For the first time, Spike's eyes seemed to focus on Lorne's face. "Jesus, Lorne…" Spike seemed to pause and look around his surroundings. "I thought you were Dru there for a minute. I don't suppose you're going to let me out of these things either?"
Lorne shook his head. "Not just yet, at any rate. I can get you some more blood if you want it."
"Ta, mate. I don't suppose we've got some bourbon as well. I feel like I've got a killer hangover that's in need of the hair of the dog."
"No bourbon, but I do happen to have all the makings of a killer sea-breeze… though I'm not sure you should be drinking alcohol yet."
"Line of Aurelius… some of the fastest healing sons of bitches in the vampire world. And, yeah, I'll try one, but if you ever mention it in front of anybody I'll deny ever havin' touched such a poofy soundin' concoction." Spike treated Lorne to a trademark smirk. "How long was I out of it anyway?"
* * * * *
The figure strode towards the crypt, holding a stake, eager to finish the job in hand. The sooner it was done, the sooner he could be out of town and he wanted to be out of town before he ran into the slayer. He would have preferred the cover of darkness, but he'd been able to find out that Buffy was working an early shift today, and there was a better chance of catching his prey at home during the day. Buffy may have said she didn't want him dead, but she'd be better off if he was. Besides he'd promised him a year ago that if he ever laid a finger on Buffy, he would come back and stake him for real, and his dad had always told him that if a man makes a promise, he should keep it. It meant he could close off the file on "The Doctor" once and for all.
Just as he had two weeks previously, he marched up to the door of the crypt and slammed the door back on its hinges. When the door reached the point where it was at right angles to the wall it hit the trip on the bomb planted by one of the Tarakans. The shaped charge had been designed to take out whoever opened the door. It performed its job efficiently with just a little overkill. Riley Finn was identified by the dog-tag attached to one of his two smoking boots.
End of Chapter 12