Chapter Five: Consolation
Spike wanted to run. To steal off into the night and leave the little army. Turn deserter. Go AWOL. Wouldn't Buffy just love that? Then again, with Angel around, Spike wondered if she would even notice.
Flinging his fourth cigarette in the past twenty minutes to the ground, Spike got up and went back into the house. He couldn't desert her. He knew it. No matter what she might be planning to do with Angel.
Spike entered the kitchen and was instantly assaulted by the never-ending chaos that was now a permanent fixture at 1630 Revello Drive.
"No, you don't seem to understand," Giles said as he removed his glasses and started cleaning them in irritation. "That's not at all the kind of spell we need."
"Well," that little girl Fred said, leaning up against the counter, a huge volume of text cradled in her arms, "maybe Wesley would have some idea where to find the right one. After all, he knows a lot more about this stuff than I do. I was just trying to help."
"Oh, yes." Giles rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Let's ask Mr. Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, why don't we? After all, he always was a much better Watcher than I."
Just then, Andrew pushed into the room, and rushed over to the oven. "Why didn't anyone tell me my cookies were burning? Hello, couldn't you guys smell them? Spike, you have a supersensitive sense of smell, why didn't you do something?"
Spike gritted his teeth and sent a black look at Andrew, but the nerd didn't even notice.
Turning toward the basement, Spike tried his best to ignore everyone and everything. He had just wanted to slip by unnoticed. But of course, that was impossible, in this house.
Succeeding in reaching the door without further incident, he placed his hand on the knob and got ready to open it, then he heard her voice.
Buffy.
The din of the overcrowded house had swirled into a mass of unrecognizable sound, but Buffy's voice he could hear, as clear as day. "Angel's right. We can't concentrate too much of our energies in one area. Wesley, why don't you see how Fred and Giles are doing? Angel and I can handle this."
She was in the dining room. And even from across the house, he could hear every last word that she was saying. Damn supersensitive vampire hearing! Spike wanted to puncture his own eardrums so he wouldn't have to listen. Oh yes, Wesley, why don't you go find Fred, so you can leave Angel and me all alone?
Spike let out a low growl as he pushed open the basement door and slipped inside. He needed to get away, as far away as possible. Unfortunately, right now, the closest thing to far away was the basement.
Spike bounded down the stairs in an angry stride. He was getting restless. Anxious. Damn that bloody Cordelia! Why did she have to let him in on the little secret? Why couldn't she have kept the soddin' "good" news to herself? She wanted to offer him sympathy? Ha! She just wanted to see that someone else was suffering right along with her.
So there was no curse? Funny how having a curse removed could damn them all.
"You shouldn't run down the stairs like that. You never know, you might trip, and fall on a stray piece of wood or something."
Spike swung around to see Faith sitting on top of the washing machine, her head resting back against the wall, the neck of a liquor bottle gripped in her right hand.
"Bloody hell. Just what I need," he grumbled to himself.
"Don't tell me. Couldn't take the long, soul stirring speeches anymore? B's holier-than-thou attitude finally getting to you?" Faith asked, as she finally tilted her head forward to look at him.
"Somethin' like that."
"Never could stand it myself. The attitude or the speeches." She jumped down from the washer and moved, catlike, across the floor. "So, you up for a little fun?" she asked, stopping a few feet away.
"Excuse me?"
"Fun?" She held up the bottle. "You do remember fun, right? Don't tell me she's sucked all the life out of you already? Thought you still had a little more time until she totally broke you, the way she did Angel."
Spike snickered at the reminder and turned away, taking a few cagey steps about the room. He was feeling more and more trapped by the second.
"See that's touched a nerve," Faith said, as she leaned, nonchalantly, up against the punching bag in the middle of the floor. "You think they're gonna do it?"
Spike instantly swung around to glare at her, his nerves already at the breaking point. "What . . . she . . . does, is of no concern to me," he said coldly. "I'm just a mercenary in this little army. Doesn't matter to me who General Buffy's shaggin'."
"Right." Faith shook her head. "You sure you don't want this?" she asked, raising the bottle again.
Spike narrowed his eyes at her in warning.
"Fine." She pulled the bottle back and took a swig herself. "I take it you've heard about the whole curse-lifting thing? So, who broke the news? Angel? I could just see that." She smiled to herself. "Does he even know about you and Buffy?"
"There is no me and Buffy," he growled. "Never was."
"Is that what you tell yourself? Does that make you feel better?"
"Don't you have someplace you should be?"
"Nope." She pushed herself away from the bag. "Can't really hang with the snotty-nosed Potentials, and B'd rather not have me around. So," she said softly, moving in a little closer, "I'm all yours."
"Yeah." Spike laughed. "Just what I need."
"Well, excuse me. You could do a lot worse."
"And believe me, I have. Sorry luv," he said solemnly, "not interested."
"Okay, I get it," she said, stepping back. "Hey, you're not the only guy in this house, right? Of course, I've got my pick. Angel's panting after B and Cordy. Gunn and Wes are all hot over Fred. Wes has been dreaming about doing that little sex kitten for a while. Now she's playing both of them. Doesn't leave much for the rest of us, does it?"
"So, what?" Spike lifted a cynical brow. "I'm the consolation prize?"
"Not quite." She took several purposeful steps closer. "I've always been curios . . . Remember that time at The Bronze?"
"Come again?"
"You, me . . . oh wait, that wasn't me. Well, not exactly."
Spike stared at her quizzically, completely lost.
"Something Buffy said about warm champagne," she said in a low voice.
Spike narrowed his eyes and searched her face curiously. "How'd you know about that?"
"I was there." She closed the space between them, her breasts just barely brushing his chest. "Would you like to walk down memory lane?"
He shook his head in pure denial. "No. That was Buffy."
"No," she smiled wickedly, "it wasn't. Didn't B ever tell you about the time we switched bodies? I know she wasn't really happy with how the whole Riley thing worked out. But hey, it wasn't his fault. What did he know?"
Spike was seriously disgusted. What was wrong with her? He normally enjoyed going out with Faith; working over the demons, getting out his aggressions. But tonight she was really pushing it. He had once called Buffy a "poor little lost girl." Faith was worse. He knew she was probably terrified. Probably just felt alone and was trying to find comfort from someone. But he couldn't comfort her. He couldn't be the one
Spike pulled away. "Are you always like this?"
"Sometimes I'm worse. So, tell me," she said conspiratorially, "did B ever make good on my promises?"
Spike growled.
"I guess I'll take that as a yes. God, you know, I didn't think she had it in her. But you never can tell. They do say it's always the quiet ones. So," she looked him up and down appreciatively, "what do you say? You? Me? For real this time? Think about it Spike. It doesn't quite seem fair, does it? I want you. You want Buffy. Buffy wants Angel. Viscous cycle really. Can't see that ending well."
"Tomorrow it'll all be over."
"Yeah. You're probably right. So?"
"No."
"Fine," she said, exasperated. "But, seeing as I'm not going to be having any real fun, on what is probably my last night on earth, then at least appease another curiosity. Who told you about the whole curse deal?"
"The soddin' Prom Queen. That's who."
"Cordy?" Faith seemed genuinely surprised. "No way! What the hell was she hoping to prove by doing that? What did she want, someone to sympathize with her?"
"Apparently."
"Figures. Stuck-up bitch."
Spike turned and looked at Faith. Why the bleedin' hell was everyone so keen on conversing with him tonight? He really just wanted to be left alone, to wallow in his own torment.
He really wanted to get rid of Faith.
"Yeah, well, doesn't matter," he said. "Makes no difference."
"Like hell." Faith put the bottle down on a nearby table and slowly started circling around Spike. "It makes a big difference. I'll bet that - even all things considered - there was still a part of you that was hoping you'd be spending tonight with her. That she'd need the comfort of someone's big, strong arms, and she'd choose you, because there was no competition. But now he's here, and he's free. And that changes everything." She stopped in front of him and stared him down. "You want her. But guess what? News flash, Big Bad. You can't have her."
"Don't you think I know that?"
"Then take what consolation you can." She moved closer, coming to a stop mere inches from his body.
Spike stared down at her and looked curiously into her deep, rich eyes. She was right. He couldn't have Buffy. But did he really want to spend the last night of his life having meaningless sex with a scared little girl who was too insecure to admit her own feelings? Would a night with Faith make him forget about Buffy even for an instant? He knew the answer. It was always the same.
Spike pulled back and took a few, purposeful steps away, never breaking eye contact with Faith. "Don't you get it? There is no consolation. No comfort. No solace. Just the hard, cold reality of this." He threw his hands outward, indicating the basement. "Just me, living beneath her. Always beneath her."
"Damn she's trained you well. Do you actually believe that crap?"
"I know what I am."
"Right, you're a vampire. And I'd say, for a vampire? You're doing pretty damn good. Saving the world and fighting with the good guys. You don't need her. Or any of the lines she's been feeding you. She's strung you along long enough. Just let it go."
Spike pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth and stared at her in frustration. "Look, I realize, that someone, somewhere, must have declared this "Give Advice to Spike Night," but I really don't want to hear it. Had enough, pet. Thanks." He turned from her. "And please, lock the door on your way out."
"Fine. If that's the way you want it. But," she stopped at the bottom of the stairs, "if you change your mind, you know where to find me. Maybe you're not up for a little sport, but, hey, who knows? Maybe Xander is. Or maybe that freaky gay kid. What do you think? Think I could bring him over to the other side?"
"I'm sure if anyone could, it would be you. Goodnight, Faith."
"Night Spike." She ran up the stairs two at a time. She forgot to lock the door.
