Chapter 2
Dawn and Buffy are headed back home after a night of patrolling with Spike. They're mostly quiet. Suddenly, Dawn chuckles and, in a silly voice, repeats what Spike said earlier. "I've had worse." She giggles some more and Buffy looks at her.
"What's so funny about that?"
"It's from Monty Python. This knight gets like, all his limbs chopped off and he just goes 'I've had worse' and still wants to fight. It's really funny."
Buffy contemplates. "A stubborn idiot who doesn't know when to quit. Sounds like Spike's roll model. Since when are you a Monty Python fan?"
"Spike's got all their mo--vies..." Realizing the implications, Dawn trails off.
Buffy stops walking and turns to her sister. "Dawn, listen... I know he's got a soul now and I know he helps us out, but... there's a lot... it's... I'm not in that place yet where I'm cool with him being in our lives again."
"I know. I totally know. I'm with you, I swear. But I just watched a movie with him, it's not like I'm inviting him over to carve the roast beast. Sometimes he just seems so... lonely."
Buffy's face softens at this, they continue walking. "Yeah, I know. It's much easier to be tough on him when you don't have to look at him. Can't we make him wear a paper bag over his head or something?"
Dawn rolls her eyes and laughs. "Is it the sad, puppy eyes or the hottie factor?"
Buffy blanches. "Sad puppy eyes! Only! And you are never to refer to Spike as a hottie again! Dawn, please tell me that crush isn't making a comeback."
A heavy, teenage sigh emits from Dawn. "First of all, he's like... a million. Second, he acts like he's my dad or something. And third..." Dawn stops herself. "I think I'm gonna keep 'third' to myself."
Buffy wrinkles her brow, suspicious. "Why?"
"Because I don't think you're ready to hear it."
And since that statement is most likely true, Buffy and Dawn walk the rest of the way home in silence.
***
Xander is standing at his window, looking out onto the dark street below and thinking about how things have been going pretty well for him lately. He's a foreman now. Not only does that come with a hefty pay raise, it also comes with heaping helping of long overdue respect. He's gotten himself a sweet new car to go with the fancy new suits he wears to work. And hey, he's still got the nice apartment... that he shares with... nobody.
His best friend is still a jillion miles away in England, detoxing from EVIL. His ex-girlfriend went back to being a man-hating vengeance demon. His most hated enemy has insinuated himself back into their lives. And he's drinking alone again.
He shortens his gaze and speaks softly to the reflection of himself in the window pane. "Good to know success hasn't changed me much."
"Xander!" Angel's face suddenly pops up in the corner of the window. Xander yelps quite loudly and reels back, tripping over the ottoman. On the floor, with his eyes bulging, Xander props himself up on elbows and looks back at the window.
Angel is still there, standing in his bushes, peering in at him and tapping lightly on the glass. "Xander! Let me in, we need to talk."
Xander shakes his head, violently. "No. No way man, I've seen this movie."
Angel looks irritated. "I just want to talk to you. I'm not EVIL!"
"Tell your story walkin!" Xander tries to shout, but his voice cracks. "I'm tired of dealing with the both of you. Think you're so great just because you have souls. I've always had a soul. Anyone congratulate me? NO! Hey Xander, you've never killed anyone... great job! Keep up the good work. You're a real non-killing people kind of guy!"
Xander sees a look on Angel's face that he's never seen before. "So, it's true?" Angel asks this question so quietly that it's difficult for Xander to hear through the thin glass.
Xander thinks about closing the drapes on him for a split second before standing up and going to the door. Angel walks around to the front and waits for the magic words.
Xander appears in the door way. "Come in, vampire. I enjoy being ill at ease in my own home."
Angel looks Xander over and follows him into the apartment. Once inside, Angel turns to him with a smirk on his face. "You're drunk."
"Of course I am! Why wouldn't I be?" Xander plops into a chair and holds his beer out to Angel. "I know it's not your preferred beverage, but there's more in the fridge if you want."
"No thanks. I'm good." After a beat, Angel opens his mouth to speak, then breathes out, saying nothing. He starts to pace back and forth, trying to find the perfect question to start with.
Xander watches him closely. After a few minutes of nothing, Xander remarks, "Listen, I'm cool with you wanting to talk, but it'll be a lot easier for me if you do it out loud."
***
Spike returns to his place, which can only be described as a cell, behind the boiler room in the basement of Sunnydale High. He has a mattress on the floor in one corner which he scrounged from the junkyard. Covering the mattress, thankfully, is a set of squeaky clean sheets. Spike smiles as he remembers Dawn, standing at his door with the neat little folded pile in her hands and trying to look indifferent.
"They even give prisoners clean sheets," she reasoned. "And that mattress is nasty. I know you can't get a disease, but still. I can't be sitting in class thinking of you rolling around on all those... stains" Dawn shivered in disgust. It took a lot to gross her out, but this did the job nicely. "I'll probably come by once a week to wash them... I need the practice for home ec." She shoved the sheets at him and quickly walked away without even saying good-bye.
Spike still wonders if Dawn even has a home ec class.
In another corner of the room there is a very small TV/VCR which Spike stole from the A/V room upstairs. There are power cords running up the wall and into a small hole in the ceiling. Over the last century, Spike has become an expert at stealing electricity. It is a skill that really comes in handy.
On one of her very infrequent visits, Buffy saw the TV and scolded that he shouldn't be stealing from kids.
"Especially A/V geeks," she added. "You just never know what wronging them will lead to." Sadly, she wasn't exactly joking.
"After all the things I've done in my life, a little stealing out of necessity isn't going to keep me up nights, Slayer. It sort of pales in comparison to the century I spent murdering people." Buffy looked away, uncomfortable with his raw honesty. "The reason I took the bloody thing in the first place is so I wouldn't have to fall asleep listening to my own brain. I'm pretty sure I can be of more use if I'm not, you know, rat-buggering crazy, but if it means that much to you I'll--"
"Okay." Buffy stopped him. "I get the picture, Mr. Emotional. Just keep the damn TV. Now come on, we have work to do."
That was the last time she was in this room. A week ago.
Tonight, Spike can still smell her.
He drops into bed and immediately flicks on the TV. Nothing on but infomercials at this hour, but they'll have to do. He decides on a channel, turns up the volume, then closes his eyes and settles in for a night's sleep. He drifts off slowly as the salesman on TV drones on about how vacuu-suck storage bags not only triple your storage space, they keep your winter sweaters smelling fresh and clean.
***
Angel is drunk.
He is lying on Xander's floor, staring up at the ceiling. Suddenly, Xander's head appears over him, upside down.
"You okay, man?"
"Don't throw up on me."
"But then what will we do for entertainment?" Xander makes an exaggerated frowny face.
Angel sits up -- a bit too quickly -- and feels the room spin. "Ugh!" He holds his head for a minute then slowly crawls over to the sofa and hoists himself into it. He takes a few minutes to get his bearings, then levels his eyes at Xander who is grinning at him.
"You're enjoying this, huh?"
Xander makes with the big eyes. "Enjoying what?"
Angel shakes his head. He's not even going to dignify that. "I came here thinking I was gonna find out how Spike was tricking you all into believing he had a soul. Then, I was gonna find him, beat the crap out of him, foil this ridiculous scam of his... and go home."
Xander says nothing.
"Then, I get here. And you start reading from this melodramatic romance novel about a slayer and the vampire who loves her... and it doesn't take me long to notice that the leading man of this particular story is not me. It is, in fact, the absolute worst person it could ever possibly be."
"Amen to that, brother." Xander affirms.
The men sigh in unison, then are quiet for a moment until Angel asks, "You really trust that Anya girl? The one who saw the soul in Spike? I mean, I only met her once, but she is a demon."
Xander is suddenly very serious. "I trust her. But she was really just the one to confirm it. Everyone noticed something different about Spike right away. Even me, and I friggin' hate the guy. Believe me, I'm the last person looking for the good in Spike."
Angel lets his head fall back into the couch cushions, unsure of how much more of this he could take.
Xander notices the pain on the vampire's face, but continues anyway. Maybe Angel is right. He might be enjoying this... just a little.
"When Buffy found Spike at the school he was all crazy... tortured or whatever. I don't know. I thought it was an act at first, but if you saw his eyes... you could just tell. Then, he started helping us and I was like, 'Oh, here we go. This is the part where he's gonna stake a few vamps and expect us to fall all over ourselves with gratitude and forgiveness.' But every night after the festivities were over, he would just leave. All quiet... like he was Clint Eastwood, showing up to nobly save the townsfolk from the evil miners and then riding off into the sunset before they discovered his mysterious past."
Angel lifts his head and looks at Xander, annoyed.
"I may have put too much thought into this."
"You think?" Angel snarks. He grabs a pillow from he couch and throws it at Xander.
Xander catches it and holds on to it for a long while, practicing a question in his head. Finally, he asks it. "So... you gonna see Buffy while you're here?"
Angel does not respond... because he has passed out.
TBC
Dawn and Buffy are headed back home after a night of patrolling with Spike. They're mostly quiet. Suddenly, Dawn chuckles and, in a silly voice, repeats what Spike said earlier. "I've had worse." She giggles some more and Buffy looks at her.
"What's so funny about that?"
"It's from Monty Python. This knight gets like, all his limbs chopped off and he just goes 'I've had worse' and still wants to fight. It's really funny."
Buffy contemplates. "A stubborn idiot who doesn't know when to quit. Sounds like Spike's roll model. Since when are you a Monty Python fan?"
"Spike's got all their mo--vies..." Realizing the implications, Dawn trails off.
Buffy stops walking and turns to her sister. "Dawn, listen... I know he's got a soul now and I know he helps us out, but... there's a lot... it's... I'm not in that place yet where I'm cool with him being in our lives again."
"I know. I totally know. I'm with you, I swear. But I just watched a movie with him, it's not like I'm inviting him over to carve the roast beast. Sometimes he just seems so... lonely."
Buffy's face softens at this, they continue walking. "Yeah, I know. It's much easier to be tough on him when you don't have to look at him. Can't we make him wear a paper bag over his head or something?"
Dawn rolls her eyes and laughs. "Is it the sad, puppy eyes or the hottie factor?"
Buffy blanches. "Sad puppy eyes! Only! And you are never to refer to Spike as a hottie again! Dawn, please tell me that crush isn't making a comeback."
A heavy, teenage sigh emits from Dawn. "First of all, he's like... a million. Second, he acts like he's my dad or something. And third..." Dawn stops herself. "I think I'm gonna keep 'third' to myself."
Buffy wrinkles her brow, suspicious. "Why?"
"Because I don't think you're ready to hear it."
And since that statement is most likely true, Buffy and Dawn walk the rest of the way home in silence.
***
Xander is standing at his window, looking out onto the dark street below and thinking about how things have been going pretty well for him lately. He's a foreman now. Not only does that come with a hefty pay raise, it also comes with heaping helping of long overdue respect. He's gotten himself a sweet new car to go with the fancy new suits he wears to work. And hey, he's still got the nice apartment... that he shares with... nobody.
His best friend is still a jillion miles away in England, detoxing from EVIL. His ex-girlfriend went back to being a man-hating vengeance demon. His most hated enemy has insinuated himself back into their lives. And he's drinking alone again.
He shortens his gaze and speaks softly to the reflection of himself in the window pane. "Good to know success hasn't changed me much."
"Xander!" Angel's face suddenly pops up in the corner of the window. Xander yelps quite loudly and reels back, tripping over the ottoman. On the floor, with his eyes bulging, Xander props himself up on elbows and looks back at the window.
Angel is still there, standing in his bushes, peering in at him and tapping lightly on the glass. "Xander! Let me in, we need to talk."
Xander shakes his head, violently. "No. No way man, I've seen this movie."
Angel looks irritated. "I just want to talk to you. I'm not EVIL!"
"Tell your story walkin!" Xander tries to shout, but his voice cracks. "I'm tired of dealing with the both of you. Think you're so great just because you have souls. I've always had a soul. Anyone congratulate me? NO! Hey Xander, you've never killed anyone... great job! Keep up the good work. You're a real non-killing people kind of guy!"
Xander sees a look on Angel's face that he's never seen before. "So, it's true?" Angel asks this question so quietly that it's difficult for Xander to hear through the thin glass.
Xander thinks about closing the drapes on him for a split second before standing up and going to the door. Angel walks around to the front and waits for the magic words.
Xander appears in the door way. "Come in, vampire. I enjoy being ill at ease in my own home."
Angel looks Xander over and follows him into the apartment. Once inside, Angel turns to him with a smirk on his face. "You're drunk."
"Of course I am! Why wouldn't I be?" Xander plops into a chair and holds his beer out to Angel. "I know it's not your preferred beverage, but there's more in the fridge if you want."
"No thanks. I'm good." After a beat, Angel opens his mouth to speak, then breathes out, saying nothing. He starts to pace back and forth, trying to find the perfect question to start with.
Xander watches him closely. After a few minutes of nothing, Xander remarks, "Listen, I'm cool with you wanting to talk, but it'll be a lot easier for me if you do it out loud."
***
Spike returns to his place, which can only be described as a cell, behind the boiler room in the basement of Sunnydale High. He has a mattress on the floor in one corner which he scrounged from the junkyard. Covering the mattress, thankfully, is a set of squeaky clean sheets. Spike smiles as he remembers Dawn, standing at his door with the neat little folded pile in her hands and trying to look indifferent.
"They even give prisoners clean sheets," she reasoned. "And that mattress is nasty. I know you can't get a disease, but still. I can't be sitting in class thinking of you rolling around on all those... stains" Dawn shivered in disgust. It took a lot to gross her out, but this did the job nicely. "I'll probably come by once a week to wash them... I need the practice for home ec." She shoved the sheets at him and quickly walked away without even saying good-bye.
Spike still wonders if Dawn even has a home ec class.
In another corner of the room there is a very small TV/VCR which Spike stole from the A/V room upstairs. There are power cords running up the wall and into a small hole in the ceiling. Over the last century, Spike has become an expert at stealing electricity. It is a skill that really comes in handy.
On one of her very infrequent visits, Buffy saw the TV and scolded that he shouldn't be stealing from kids.
"Especially A/V geeks," she added. "You just never know what wronging them will lead to." Sadly, she wasn't exactly joking.
"After all the things I've done in my life, a little stealing out of necessity isn't going to keep me up nights, Slayer. It sort of pales in comparison to the century I spent murdering people." Buffy looked away, uncomfortable with his raw honesty. "The reason I took the bloody thing in the first place is so I wouldn't have to fall asleep listening to my own brain. I'm pretty sure I can be of more use if I'm not, you know, rat-buggering crazy, but if it means that much to you I'll--"
"Okay." Buffy stopped him. "I get the picture, Mr. Emotional. Just keep the damn TV. Now come on, we have work to do."
That was the last time she was in this room. A week ago.
Tonight, Spike can still smell her.
He drops into bed and immediately flicks on the TV. Nothing on but infomercials at this hour, but they'll have to do. He decides on a channel, turns up the volume, then closes his eyes and settles in for a night's sleep. He drifts off slowly as the salesman on TV drones on about how vacuu-suck storage bags not only triple your storage space, they keep your winter sweaters smelling fresh and clean.
***
Angel is drunk.
He is lying on Xander's floor, staring up at the ceiling. Suddenly, Xander's head appears over him, upside down.
"You okay, man?"
"Don't throw up on me."
"But then what will we do for entertainment?" Xander makes an exaggerated frowny face.
Angel sits up -- a bit too quickly -- and feels the room spin. "Ugh!" He holds his head for a minute then slowly crawls over to the sofa and hoists himself into it. He takes a few minutes to get his bearings, then levels his eyes at Xander who is grinning at him.
"You're enjoying this, huh?"
Xander makes with the big eyes. "Enjoying what?"
Angel shakes his head. He's not even going to dignify that. "I came here thinking I was gonna find out how Spike was tricking you all into believing he had a soul. Then, I was gonna find him, beat the crap out of him, foil this ridiculous scam of his... and go home."
Xander says nothing.
"Then, I get here. And you start reading from this melodramatic romance novel about a slayer and the vampire who loves her... and it doesn't take me long to notice that the leading man of this particular story is not me. It is, in fact, the absolute worst person it could ever possibly be."
"Amen to that, brother." Xander affirms.
The men sigh in unison, then are quiet for a moment until Angel asks, "You really trust that Anya girl? The one who saw the soul in Spike? I mean, I only met her once, but she is a demon."
Xander is suddenly very serious. "I trust her. But she was really just the one to confirm it. Everyone noticed something different about Spike right away. Even me, and I friggin' hate the guy. Believe me, I'm the last person looking for the good in Spike."
Angel lets his head fall back into the couch cushions, unsure of how much more of this he could take.
Xander notices the pain on the vampire's face, but continues anyway. Maybe Angel is right. He might be enjoying this... just a little.
"When Buffy found Spike at the school he was all crazy... tortured or whatever. I don't know. I thought it was an act at first, but if you saw his eyes... you could just tell. Then, he started helping us and I was like, 'Oh, here we go. This is the part where he's gonna stake a few vamps and expect us to fall all over ourselves with gratitude and forgiveness.' But every night after the festivities were over, he would just leave. All quiet... like he was Clint Eastwood, showing up to nobly save the townsfolk from the evil miners and then riding off into the sunset before they discovered his mysterious past."
Angel lifts his head and looks at Xander, annoyed.
"I may have put too much thought into this."
"You think?" Angel snarks. He grabs a pillow from he couch and throws it at Xander.
Xander catches it and holds on to it for a long while, practicing a question in his head. Finally, he asks it. "So... you gonna see Buffy while you're here?"
Angel does not respond... because he has passed out.
TBC