Buffy found Spike smoking on the stairs outside.
"Are you taking her home then?" he asked after several minutes of silence.
"I don't know yet." Would it matter to him if she did? Buffy stared at the vampire and speculated. Was he helping Willow in a sick attempt to get close to her again, or did he really want some sort of redemption?
Spike nodded, and crushed his cigarette beneath the toe of his boot. When he stood up Buffy was glad she hadn't gone all the way down the stairs: she was still taller then he was. He pulled together his courage and met her eye.
"I know it doesn't mean much," Spike said, "but I am sorry."
He looked up at her, his expression soft, his eyes deep and earnest. Buffy wondered, as she had often wondered, where acting left off and reality began.
"You're right. It doesn't mean much. Neither does the soul, if you think that's going to impress me."
"No," Spike said lifting his eyebrows. "I don't think the soul is going to impress you."
Of course I did when I got it, he thought, but that isn't what you asked. Spike thought the soul would do a lot of things that it didn't. For one, he had not thought she would smell like food anymore, but she did. He could hear her heart beat from where she stood and it filled him with more than one kind of desire.
Spike looked so beautiful in the moonlight, all black and white and sincere. Buffy was relieved to find it didn't move her at all.
"Is there any thing else?" she demanded.
"Just one thing." Spike bent down and picked up a dark, rectangular box from the step he had been sitting on. "It's a present," he said wryly, extending it out to her.
Buffy was pretty sure she didn't want any of his presents. Even so she took it, avoiding touching his cold fingers. Inside the box was an intricately carved, red lacquered stake. As far as stakes went, she supposed, it was stunning.
"It looks Chinese," she said.
"It is. I picked it up during the Boxer Rebellion. Forgot I had it actually. Found it again in a bank vault."
A wave of sick understanding passed through Buffy. "It was hers. The first Slayer you killed. Why give it to me?"
And why keep it at all? Was it a prize, like the duster had been? There wasn't much else it could be.
"I'm offering you a chance to finish her job," Spike said. He wished she would because standing there in the light of her contempt, he regretted the soul for the first time. He had preferred not understanding how much he deserved Buffy's hatred.
"You want to fight?" Buffy lifted the stake out of the box. She wasn't sure she would refuse him one last dance.
"No I don't want a bloody fight. I lied to you. I told you to trust me. I betrayed you. I'm offering you retribution."
He was so serious. Did Spike realize how ridiculous this sounded to her?
"You'll just let me stake you?" Don't tempt me, Buffy thought. One quick thrust and she would be rid of this sly, murderous creature forever. She could do it. She had sent Angel to hell. Killing Spike should be a cakewalk, right?
Spike nodded, watching her. He looked curious, but not scared. Buffy hefted the stake in her hand.
"Are you afraid to die?"
"I'm already dead," he reminded her.
"Well, yeah," Buffy said walking down the remaining steps. "I mean afraid to die more. Die forever."
Spike didn't say anything, but she already knew the answer. No, of course he wasn't. Buffy slid the stake into her coat pocket.
"I'll keep the offer in mind." Not a cakewalk after all; not if he was helping Willow. Not if the soul was real. Spike with a soul? It sounded like a bad dream.
Buffy reached into her other pocket and brought something out, her fist tightly wrapped around it.
"I have something for you too," she told Spike, opening her hand. Resting on her palm was an irregular piece of purple crystal, perhaps the size of a thumb.
Spike gave her a questioning look, but there was nothing to read in Buffy's blank stare. Obviously, he thought, this was not some token of affection. He picked up the crystal deftly between his thumb and forefinger, careful not to touch her skin, and held it up to the dim light. It looked like a rock, kind of pretty, mostly worthless. Spike turned to ask her what it was meant to be when the crystal burst into flames.
"AH!" he exclaimed, dropping the burning rock onto the sidewalk.
Buffy laughed as he waved his singed hand wildly in the air. She wasn't sure that had been the reaction she was hoping for, but at least it was amusing.
"Ha bloody ha. You're too good to stake me but setting me on fire is a joke?"
Buffy sat down on the concrete stairs. "You're fine. Stop being such a baby. I asked Anya to cook up a test to prove if you had a soul or not."
"Take it I passed?"
"Yeah. No soul and it would have turned black."
Spike nodded and looked out across the street away from her, exhausted by her presence. Without the duster he looked oddly naked.
Buffy wondered if Spike still loved her. Angel loved her with a soul and hated her without it. Soul-free Spike had loved her beyond all reason. What if whatever he saw in her that made her special was only important when he was evil? Stop it, she ordered herself. No more riding down the highway of self-pity.
"Was it for me? The soul I mean."
"Yeah," Spike gave a short, bitter laugh. That was the laugh she remembered. "The soul was for you. Feel free to commence with the mocking."
"Not now. Maybe later. My head's still all fuzzy from the jet lag."
______________________________________________________________________
Anya didn't notice the swarm until it invaded the Magic Box. At first she didn't mind because the little blue bugs, with their long translucent wings, were kind of pretty. She lifted up a hand to touch one before she saw the cruel black stinger. Then it was too late and the horrid creature had buried its dagger in the soft palm of her hand.
"Ow! Shit!" she exclaimed, and flattened the bug against the counter with a handy deck of tarot cards. "How's that for vengeance?" she demanded of the gooey black smudge.
Deftly Anya removed the stinger from her hand and wiggled her fingers experimentally. It hurt like hell, but didn't seem to be poisonous. At least not to vengeance demons.
There were four or five other bugs floating around the shop like lint. They were not acting aggressive, but weirdness usually equaled badness on the Hellmouth. Anya ticked through her options in her head. Call Buffy, this was her deal, right? But no, Buffy was in England with the evil mind warping witch who would not be named, at least not by her because then she would have to think about Willow and get upset all over again. Right, so no Slayer. No Spike either, not that bugs were really his thing. Dawn had been permitted to patrol when they went out as a group, but she wasn't exactly an asset. Besides she was staying with Xander until Buffy returned. Xander.maybe she could convince Giles to move the Magic Box to a location in LA? The place was a disaster now anyway. Hesitantly she reached for the phone and dialed Xander's number. One ring. Two rings. Three rings.
"Anya! Bugs! Big blue bugs everywhere!" Xander exclaimed from the door.
So far the best way Xander had come up with to keep from fighting with Anya was to strictly talk shop. This strategy was making him sound constantly panicked in his own ears. He wondered if she noticed. The 'Open During Construction' sign fell to the floor when Xander slammed the door behind him. He bent down to pick it up.
"Xander," Anya frowned and placed the phone back on it's cradle. "You're never home when I call you. Why are you dressed like the Bride of the Beekeeper?
Do brides wear Carhart jackets? Xander wondered, before he realized she meant the silk scarf draped over his face like a veil. It was one of her scarves, actually.
"Our little blue friends have been stinging people out on the streets. People fall down go boom. I need to keep my skin covered. Have you ever seen anything like this? Are these demon gnats?"
"I don't know what they are," she said ducking behind the counter. Anya shuffled around among the boxes and bottles. It really was time to do a little re-organizing down here.
"Well, any great ideas? Is there a spell for a magic fly swatter? Oooooh! Or maybe a giant bug zapper! Could we conger one of those up? Is there pest control in the underworld?"
Beneath the counter Anya rolled her eyes. She hated it when he thought he was funny, which was always. Oh, there it was. She popped up triumphantly from behind the counter. Like a cat she stalked one of the humming creatures through the store, aimed, and fired her weapon. The wasp hung in the air, confused, before it wobbled and fell to the floor where Anya crushed it, possibly ruining her rather expensive shoes. Damn it.
"Well, Raid seems to work on them," she said.
"Great, finally a danger that the average Sunnydale resident can deal with."
"No," Anya shook her head. "I don't think so." She tossed him the bug spray. "You kill the ones in the magic box, and make sure Dawn's all right. I'm going to go get Buffy."
"Yeah," Xander said, catching the canister. He wanted to tell her to say hi to Willow, let him know how she was doing, but that wouldn't have been one of his better ideas. "Hurry back," he said instead.
______________________________________________________________________
Willow had made breakfast. That part had been okay, because Buffy and Giles got to sit at the table while she stood with her back to them facing the stove. That way she didn't have to look at the accusation she was sure their faces would contain. Then came the awful part where the cooking was all done and it was time to sit down at the table. The sitting was fine. It was the eye contact Willow did not feel up for.
Eating with Giles wasn't as awkward as she thought it was going to be. He didn't say anything about the torture. He had just smiled and said they were all very happy she was back to normal. Of course she wasn't, but it felt good to pretend. Willow sat silently by content to listen to Giles and Buffy talk about mundane things. Spike sat on the leather couch, thumbing through the Ratsgninrom Manuscripts, pointedly excluded.
"I'm not actually sure you'll need a loan," Giles said. Buffy worked for a minute at hiding her disappointment and then gave up. Full pout mode was going to be required here.
"I've tried the whole jumping into the work force with a high school education thing, Giles. Doublemeat Palace money isn't going to cover tuition, the mortgage and food and I promise I'll pay you back. I'll write it out in blood if you want."
"No, that really won't be necessary. What I am attempting to say is that I have spoken to the Council. Despite it being highly irregular, they are prepared to furnish you with a salary." Giles paused while he chewed. "Oh, my Willow. This omelet is tremendously good."
Buffy scooted her own food around on her plate. Her appetite was rapidly dwindling. "Strings, right? There have to be strings."
"You would have to keep them moderately informed, yes. But they are willing to let you choose your own Watcher."
"The Council is getting pretty free with its money these days," Spike said from across the room.
Damn vampire hearing, Buffy thought.
"Yeah," Willow agreed. "They're paying Spike for the manuscript translation. Having a vampire on salary, that's weird for them? Right?"
Buffy shot Spike a contemptuous look. "You're working for the Council?"
"I'm trying to do good," Spike snapped back. And not to loose my temper, he added silently. Why didn't she just grab the witch and go home? He would rather take a jaunt into a hell dimension than have her staring at him like that.
Willow cleared her throat awkwardly and tried to think of something that would diffuse the tension. Before she could there was a soft ripple and Anya was standing in the kitchen with them.
"Willow! My don't you look haggard?" Anya looked for a moment like she wanted to say something more and then changed her mind. "I'm looking for Buffy. Oh! There you are. You really need to come home now."
"Is it Dawn?" Buffy asked, frightened and confused.
"No. Just your average demon invasion." Anya handed Buffy an envelope. "I procured you a plane ride home."
"I haven't even been gone twenty-four hours," Buffy complained to no one in particular.
"You're the Slayer, remember? This is what you do. Now come home and kill things. I have to return and help Xander hold down the fort. Oh! Hello Giles! Bye everyone!" Anya hastily rippled away again.
Buffy looked down at the plane ticket in her hand. "Crap," she said.
______________________________________________________________________
TBC
"Are you taking her home then?" he asked after several minutes of silence.
"I don't know yet." Would it matter to him if she did? Buffy stared at the vampire and speculated. Was he helping Willow in a sick attempt to get close to her again, or did he really want some sort of redemption?
Spike nodded, and crushed his cigarette beneath the toe of his boot. When he stood up Buffy was glad she hadn't gone all the way down the stairs: she was still taller then he was. He pulled together his courage and met her eye.
"I know it doesn't mean much," Spike said, "but I am sorry."
He looked up at her, his expression soft, his eyes deep and earnest. Buffy wondered, as she had often wondered, where acting left off and reality began.
"You're right. It doesn't mean much. Neither does the soul, if you think that's going to impress me."
"No," Spike said lifting his eyebrows. "I don't think the soul is going to impress you."
Of course I did when I got it, he thought, but that isn't what you asked. Spike thought the soul would do a lot of things that it didn't. For one, he had not thought she would smell like food anymore, but she did. He could hear her heart beat from where she stood and it filled him with more than one kind of desire.
Spike looked so beautiful in the moonlight, all black and white and sincere. Buffy was relieved to find it didn't move her at all.
"Is there any thing else?" she demanded.
"Just one thing." Spike bent down and picked up a dark, rectangular box from the step he had been sitting on. "It's a present," he said wryly, extending it out to her.
Buffy was pretty sure she didn't want any of his presents. Even so she took it, avoiding touching his cold fingers. Inside the box was an intricately carved, red lacquered stake. As far as stakes went, she supposed, it was stunning.
"It looks Chinese," she said.
"It is. I picked it up during the Boxer Rebellion. Forgot I had it actually. Found it again in a bank vault."
A wave of sick understanding passed through Buffy. "It was hers. The first Slayer you killed. Why give it to me?"
And why keep it at all? Was it a prize, like the duster had been? There wasn't much else it could be.
"I'm offering you a chance to finish her job," Spike said. He wished she would because standing there in the light of her contempt, he regretted the soul for the first time. He had preferred not understanding how much he deserved Buffy's hatred.
"You want to fight?" Buffy lifted the stake out of the box. She wasn't sure she would refuse him one last dance.
"No I don't want a bloody fight. I lied to you. I told you to trust me. I betrayed you. I'm offering you retribution."
He was so serious. Did Spike realize how ridiculous this sounded to her?
"You'll just let me stake you?" Don't tempt me, Buffy thought. One quick thrust and she would be rid of this sly, murderous creature forever. She could do it. She had sent Angel to hell. Killing Spike should be a cakewalk, right?
Spike nodded, watching her. He looked curious, but not scared. Buffy hefted the stake in her hand.
"Are you afraid to die?"
"I'm already dead," he reminded her.
"Well, yeah," Buffy said walking down the remaining steps. "I mean afraid to die more. Die forever."
Spike didn't say anything, but she already knew the answer. No, of course he wasn't. Buffy slid the stake into her coat pocket.
"I'll keep the offer in mind." Not a cakewalk after all; not if he was helping Willow. Not if the soul was real. Spike with a soul? It sounded like a bad dream.
Buffy reached into her other pocket and brought something out, her fist tightly wrapped around it.
"I have something for you too," she told Spike, opening her hand. Resting on her palm was an irregular piece of purple crystal, perhaps the size of a thumb.
Spike gave her a questioning look, but there was nothing to read in Buffy's blank stare. Obviously, he thought, this was not some token of affection. He picked up the crystal deftly between his thumb and forefinger, careful not to touch her skin, and held it up to the dim light. It looked like a rock, kind of pretty, mostly worthless. Spike turned to ask her what it was meant to be when the crystal burst into flames.
"AH!" he exclaimed, dropping the burning rock onto the sidewalk.
Buffy laughed as he waved his singed hand wildly in the air. She wasn't sure that had been the reaction she was hoping for, but at least it was amusing.
"Ha bloody ha. You're too good to stake me but setting me on fire is a joke?"
Buffy sat down on the concrete stairs. "You're fine. Stop being such a baby. I asked Anya to cook up a test to prove if you had a soul or not."
"Take it I passed?"
"Yeah. No soul and it would have turned black."
Spike nodded and looked out across the street away from her, exhausted by her presence. Without the duster he looked oddly naked.
Buffy wondered if Spike still loved her. Angel loved her with a soul and hated her without it. Soul-free Spike had loved her beyond all reason. What if whatever he saw in her that made her special was only important when he was evil? Stop it, she ordered herself. No more riding down the highway of self-pity.
"Was it for me? The soul I mean."
"Yeah," Spike gave a short, bitter laugh. That was the laugh she remembered. "The soul was for you. Feel free to commence with the mocking."
"Not now. Maybe later. My head's still all fuzzy from the jet lag."
______________________________________________________________________
Anya didn't notice the swarm until it invaded the Magic Box. At first she didn't mind because the little blue bugs, with their long translucent wings, were kind of pretty. She lifted up a hand to touch one before she saw the cruel black stinger. Then it was too late and the horrid creature had buried its dagger in the soft palm of her hand.
"Ow! Shit!" she exclaimed, and flattened the bug against the counter with a handy deck of tarot cards. "How's that for vengeance?" she demanded of the gooey black smudge.
Deftly Anya removed the stinger from her hand and wiggled her fingers experimentally. It hurt like hell, but didn't seem to be poisonous. At least not to vengeance demons.
There were four or five other bugs floating around the shop like lint. They were not acting aggressive, but weirdness usually equaled badness on the Hellmouth. Anya ticked through her options in her head. Call Buffy, this was her deal, right? But no, Buffy was in England with the evil mind warping witch who would not be named, at least not by her because then she would have to think about Willow and get upset all over again. Right, so no Slayer. No Spike either, not that bugs were really his thing. Dawn had been permitted to patrol when they went out as a group, but she wasn't exactly an asset. Besides she was staying with Xander until Buffy returned. Xander.maybe she could convince Giles to move the Magic Box to a location in LA? The place was a disaster now anyway. Hesitantly she reached for the phone and dialed Xander's number. One ring. Two rings. Three rings.
"Anya! Bugs! Big blue bugs everywhere!" Xander exclaimed from the door.
So far the best way Xander had come up with to keep from fighting with Anya was to strictly talk shop. This strategy was making him sound constantly panicked in his own ears. He wondered if she noticed. The 'Open During Construction' sign fell to the floor when Xander slammed the door behind him. He bent down to pick it up.
"Xander," Anya frowned and placed the phone back on it's cradle. "You're never home when I call you. Why are you dressed like the Bride of the Beekeeper?
Do brides wear Carhart jackets? Xander wondered, before he realized she meant the silk scarf draped over his face like a veil. It was one of her scarves, actually.
"Our little blue friends have been stinging people out on the streets. People fall down go boom. I need to keep my skin covered. Have you ever seen anything like this? Are these demon gnats?"
"I don't know what they are," she said ducking behind the counter. Anya shuffled around among the boxes and bottles. It really was time to do a little re-organizing down here.
"Well, any great ideas? Is there a spell for a magic fly swatter? Oooooh! Or maybe a giant bug zapper! Could we conger one of those up? Is there pest control in the underworld?"
Beneath the counter Anya rolled her eyes. She hated it when he thought he was funny, which was always. Oh, there it was. She popped up triumphantly from behind the counter. Like a cat she stalked one of the humming creatures through the store, aimed, and fired her weapon. The wasp hung in the air, confused, before it wobbled and fell to the floor where Anya crushed it, possibly ruining her rather expensive shoes. Damn it.
"Well, Raid seems to work on them," she said.
"Great, finally a danger that the average Sunnydale resident can deal with."
"No," Anya shook her head. "I don't think so." She tossed him the bug spray. "You kill the ones in the magic box, and make sure Dawn's all right. I'm going to go get Buffy."
"Yeah," Xander said, catching the canister. He wanted to tell her to say hi to Willow, let him know how she was doing, but that wouldn't have been one of his better ideas. "Hurry back," he said instead.
______________________________________________________________________
Willow had made breakfast. That part had been okay, because Buffy and Giles got to sit at the table while she stood with her back to them facing the stove. That way she didn't have to look at the accusation she was sure their faces would contain. Then came the awful part where the cooking was all done and it was time to sit down at the table. The sitting was fine. It was the eye contact Willow did not feel up for.
Eating with Giles wasn't as awkward as she thought it was going to be. He didn't say anything about the torture. He had just smiled and said they were all very happy she was back to normal. Of course she wasn't, but it felt good to pretend. Willow sat silently by content to listen to Giles and Buffy talk about mundane things. Spike sat on the leather couch, thumbing through the Ratsgninrom Manuscripts, pointedly excluded.
"I'm not actually sure you'll need a loan," Giles said. Buffy worked for a minute at hiding her disappointment and then gave up. Full pout mode was going to be required here.
"I've tried the whole jumping into the work force with a high school education thing, Giles. Doublemeat Palace money isn't going to cover tuition, the mortgage and food and I promise I'll pay you back. I'll write it out in blood if you want."
"No, that really won't be necessary. What I am attempting to say is that I have spoken to the Council. Despite it being highly irregular, they are prepared to furnish you with a salary." Giles paused while he chewed. "Oh, my Willow. This omelet is tremendously good."
Buffy scooted her own food around on her plate. Her appetite was rapidly dwindling. "Strings, right? There have to be strings."
"You would have to keep them moderately informed, yes. But they are willing to let you choose your own Watcher."
"The Council is getting pretty free with its money these days," Spike said from across the room.
Damn vampire hearing, Buffy thought.
"Yeah," Willow agreed. "They're paying Spike for the manuscript translation. Having a vampire on salary, that's weird for them? Right?"
Buffy shot Spike a contemptuous look. "You're working for the Council?"
"I'm trying to do good," Spike snapped back. And not to loose my temper, he added silently. Why didn't she just grab the witch and go home? He would rather take a jaunt into a hell dimension than have her staring at him like that.
Willow cleared her throat awkwardly and tried to think of something that would diffuse the tension. Before she could there was a soft ripple and Anya was standing in the kitchen with them.
"Willow! My don't you look haggard?" Anya looked for a moment like she wanted to say something more and then changed her mind. "I'm looking for Buffy. Oh! There you are. You really need to come home now."
"Is it Dawn?" Buffy asked, frightened and confused.
"No. Just your average demon invasion." Anya handed Buffy an envelope. "I procured you a plane ride home."
"I haven't even been gone twenty-four hours," Buffy complained to no one in particular.
"You're the Slayer, remember? This is what you do. Now come home and kill things. I have to return and help Xander hold down the fort. Oh! Hello Giles! Bye everyone!" Anya hastily rippled away again.
Buffy looked down at the plane ticket in her hand. "Crap," she said.
______________________________________________________________________
TBC
