Ripper Pays a Visit - April 2004
Chapter Twenty-Six
Spike threw his briefcase and suit jacket on the couch and went into the kitchen to grab a beer. In his mind there weren't enough words to describe how much he hated his job. It was tiresome, the hours were long, and most of his colleagues stared at him like he was a circus freak. Spike would occasionally have moments where he felt like he was the old William, and this was definitely one of those moments.
He plopped on the couch and turned the Dodger's game on. He stared at the black box numbly while he tried to figure out how his life had managed to get to the point of sucking as bad as it did.
His job at the museum had started out well. The director was thoroughly impressed with Spike's fake resume. His brilliance and knowledge for such a young age impressed the rest of the staff as well. Spike would often feel like he was cheating his way through life, because he had a good hundred plus years on the rest of the planet. He attempted to be sociable, but it was difficult for him. He hadn't had much experience with the outside world.
The museum and the high school in Sunnydale were in an entirely different league from LA. The staffs had been fairly small, and they pretty much kept to themselves. The Hellmouth often had that affect on people though. Post of the residents were naturally distrustful of others and hesitated to make new friends. Everyone in the town knew there was something creepy and wrong going on, but it was simply a nagging feeling at the back of their minds, rarely did people move out of town because of their tiny fears of what went bump in the night. No one had any clue about how long they were going to live, or the person next to them for that matter. Why make friends with strangers was the popular consensus.
Spike could be very charming and persuasive for short periods of time. It became increasingly difficult to make polite chit chat the better he got to know someone, or the better they got to know him. No one in his new life knew what he had been, nor would they have believed him if he would have told them. Spike would sit in the lunchroom and attempt to avoid eye contact with anyone, while he had his nose stuck studiously in a book. He didn't want to lie to these people, his gift for it had slipped a little with the damn soul hanging around. He also knew how easy it was to get caught up in a lie. He would maintain vague answers where ever possible. Some of his female co-workers just thought he was playing hard to get. They just assumed that William was playing the part of the shy intellect.
The women that Spike worked with were mostly vain, self-involved, and thoughtless toward others. They never once considered that Spike might actually not want them. Poor Will was bullied into taking a few of the women out. He had been polite and paid like he was expected, but he was always distant. These women were dull and boring, nothing like his Summer's girls. Spike warded off their advances, insisting that he needed to be alone for awhile, he had a bad break-up. His colleagues assumed that if he didn't want them, then he must be gay.
So then Spike was unwittingly tricked into going out on a date with Mike, from payroll. Spike was actually having a pretty good time, it was the most relaxed he had been in awhile. He did find it strange that Mike kept touching him though, he shrugged it off. He was in no way homophobic, just because he and Xander had avoided touching one another at all costs didn't mean that guy touching was wrong. The two had gone to a local boxing match and a new bar and grill that was in the downtown area. Spike began to feel weird when Mike insisted on walking him to the door. At the front door, Mike kissed Spike, full on the lips. Will backed off and stared at his 'date.' Spike knew that guy touching was allowed, but the kissing was just simply invading his personal space. Mike realized he had made a mistake and apologized.
They sorted the whole thing out and had a good laugh. But by the time Spike returned to work that Monday it was all over that no one was good enough for his highness, and he was cast off to the side. After his disastrous attempt at a social life, he usually just stayed in. He missed his friends in Sunnydale, as few and far between as they were. They all knew what he had been, and what he was going through now.
Xander would come up on occasion, but he was busy supervising three different construction sites. The Magic Box was opened six days a week, so he rarely saw Anya. Dawn was the only one that came up regularly. He would talk to Angel on occasion, but the conversations were usually short and awkward. They had both done so many things to one another that neither knew what was considered safe conversation. Neither one was ready to joke about tying each other up and torturing one another, or about killing innocent people, or that time that Angel snatched Dru from him.
Spike trudged through his mundane and uneventful existence. He often missed fighting. Fists and fangs, backed into a wall with no hope of escape. Those were the days he missed. Perhaps he only enjoyed the fight so much because he had felt invincible at the time. Now, he was weak and vulnerable, and he knew it.
He simply gave up on feeling sorry for himself, and went to bed alone once again.
************************************** The next afternoon Spike was walking home from the movies, whistling an old Ramone's tune, when he passed a pet store. Inside the display window were five pug puppies, two cream colored with black muzzles and three pure black ones. Spike knew that both Dawn and Julia would fall in love with one of the little tikes. He picked the one with just a hint of black in it's tail, looked like he was a bit of a rebel, just like Will had once been. He cradled the small dog in his arm as he made his way home, not even having the slightest clue that one day the small dog would save him from killing his own daughter.
Spike made his way up to his apartment, only to find Giles sitting there in his living room, waiting for him.
"Hello Ripper." Spike exclaimed as he walked through the door.
Spike wasn't the least bit surprised that Giles had picked the lock with such ease. Spike knew exactly what good ol' Rupes used to be. Spike put Spike Jr. on the floor to wander around his new home, he then turned to Giles.
"Nice to see you didn't scratch my lock up too much when you picked it." Spike said lightly.
"I didn't leave any scratches." Giles responded.
Giles looked Spike over, trying to get a feel for the stranger before him. Spike grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and came back to the living room, sitting across from Giles.
"Well Rupes, figure you're here for one of two things. Either your grubby little Watcher hands fancied the idea of playing doctor with the former vampire turned human, or Buffy gave you some sob story about how I knocked her up and skipped town and you're here to put me out of my misery."
"Spike, I had the privilege of speaking with Dawn, Xander, and Anya before I came out here. I realize that Buffy has a tendency to play the victim when it comes to you. She has taken the majority of blame though Spike. I doubt that makes you feel any better, but I thought you should know that she does indeed miss you for some strange reason."
"Thanks mate. I'm to the point now that I'm beginning to believe that the Slayer and I are like oil and vinegar - 'un-mixy things' as she would say. Maybe it's for the best this way."
"Now Spike, I'm not going to hide the fact that I loathe the idea of you and Buffy being together, but I also want more than anything for her to be happy. I may choose not to notice things from time to time, but there is no denying the sadness in her eyes when she speaks of you."
"Rupert, I know that you mean well by coming up here, but I am just too tired for the games. It's taken six months, six months of dying in this body to realize that things will never be right between me and the Slayer. There's too much history there, and most of it's not good. Truthfully, we don't trust each other. I've accepted it. I lost, and I'm finally starting to deal with it. Don't come back here and get my hopes up once more. I don't think this frail human body can handle much more."
"I agree that both of you need your space. It is too soon. I think that may have been the problem from the start, the two of you never did think anything out. You, my dear boy always did let your heart do the thinking for you, even if it wasn't beating, and Buffy always needed to be strong, so she was forever denying what her heart told her. You both went too quickly, there was too much, too soon, and you both literally drove one another away from each other. This is between you and Buffy though, I think after the hate has died down a little, you two might be able to communicate with each other without the aid of weapons, cruel words, or Dawn. Best to leave it for now though."
"I know. That's why I came up here. I knew she needed me away, and as much as I hate to admit it, I was slightly relieved to be away from her. It is for the best right now. I know you didn't come all this way to give me a pep talk about my unlove life. So when do the tests begin? You have a soul detector on you?"
"So you do have a soul then?"
"Must be Giles. I know I always made fun of Angel for being a poofter and for brooding all the time. I completely understand why now. I have to take to valium every night just to get a few hours of sleep. I felt the guilt a little when I was a vampire, but it was magnified by about five- hundred times when I got my bright happy soul. It's getting easier, but it's not like I can go to therapy for it. What am I supposed to say? 'Hey, doc, I killed half of Europe about a hundred years ago and now I feel really bad about it?" How lame it that?"
"It's understandable that it has taken you awhile to come to terms with your humanity. I'm not going to begin to understand what it's like for you. In so many ways, it's worse than what happened to Angel?"
"How's that Ripper?"
"Angel, assuming he doesn't get the sharp end of a stick, has a millennia to attempt to right the wrongs he committed. He has the ability to do good on a grander scale because of his advanced powers. I imagine you feel helpless about your position, and I reckon a tad bit scared. It's been a long time since you have felt so vulnerable, hasn't it?"
"I know that's part of it. I have what, another fifty, sixty years absolute tops to make up for hundred years worth of killing. And I also know that there is no way to make up for what I did. I wanted to try, and I was attempting to atone for my actions before the soul fiasco, but now it just seems so pointless. I'm a fucking boy scout now, and I still feel like shit all of the time. Sometimes I think I hear voices, voices of those I killed, but I try to block it out. Why is it so hard?"
"I'm afraid I can't tell you that Spike because I honestly don't know. Perhaps there is a higher purpose for you. From what I have heard you have quite a knack with languages and old texts. You know that Angel could always use your help. Perhaps you aren't the power house that you once were, but that doesn't mean you can't help with the quest for good. Xander has no super powers, but he's always the first one at Buffy's side. You still have plenty of power to do good."
"I've translated a few things for Wesley, but I never told Angel about it. Angel and I - well it's more awkward than Buffy and I. We literally tortured one another, in so many ways. It's hard to have a conversation with him. I know we hold resentments towards each other, mostly because of Buffy. It's strange, Xander and I became friends within weeks of my returning. But I suspected the only reason he really hated me was because of the vampire thing, Angel is a completely different story."
"Spike, perhaps this is just another boundary you have to overcome. You two share such a strong bond, now more than ever. You joke about not being able to seek therapy, when the one being with the most experience in the field is right under your nose."
"Good point. I know that you want to feel my heart beat and test my eye sight and hearing and all that rot, but I'm famished right now. You wanna grab something to eat, and we can do the tests and all that at another time?"
"Dinner sounds like an excellent idea. I admit I practically ran up here when Buffy told me about you, but a few hours isn't going to make that much of a difference."
With that the two grabbed their coats and made their way towards the restaurant. Spike was already feeling better, having someone to talk to about his poor tortured soul.
Spike threw his briefcase and suit jacket on the couch and went into the kitchen to grab a beer. In his mind there weren't enough words to describe how much he hated his job. It was tiresome, the hours were long, and most of his colleagues stared at him like he was a circus freak. Spike would occasionally have moments where he felt like he was the old William, and this was definitely one of those moments.
He plopped on the couch and turned the Dodger's game on. He stared at the black box numbly while he tried to figure out how his life had managed to get to the point of sucking as bad as it did.
His job at the museum had started out well. The director was thoroughly impressed with Spike's fake resume. His brilliance and knowledge for such a young age impressed the rest of the staff as well. Spike would often feel like he was cheating his way through life, because he had a good hundred plus years on the rest of the planet. He attempted to be sociable, but it was difficult for him. He hadn't had much experience with the outside world.
The museum and the high school in Sunnydale were in an entirely different league from LA. The staffs had been fairly small, and they pretty much kept to themselves. The Hellmouth often had that affect on people though. Post of the residents were naturally distrustful of others and hesitated to make new friends. Everyone in the town knew there was something creepy and wrong going on, but it was simply a nagging feeling at the back of their minds, rarely did people move out of town because of their tiny fears of what went bump in the night. No one had any clue about how long they were going to live, or the person next to them for that matter. Why make friends with strangers was the popular consensus.
Spike could be very charming and persuasive for short periods of time. It became increasingly difficult to make polite chit chat the better he got to know someone, or the better they got to know him. No one in his new life knew what he had been, nor would they have believed him if he would have told them. Spike would sit in the lunchroom and attempt to avoid eye contact with anyone, while he had his nose stuck studiously in a book. He didn't want to lie to these people, his gift for it had slipped a little with the damn soul hanging around. He also knew how easy it was to get caught up in a lie. He would maintain vague answers where ever possible. Some of his female co-workers just thought he was playing hard to get. They just assumed that William was playing the part of the shy intellect.
The women that Spike worked with were mostly vain, self-involved, and thoughtless toward others. They never once considered that Spike might actually not want them. Poor Will was bullied into taking a few of the women out. He had been polite and paid like he was expected, but he was always distant. These women were dull and boring, nothing like his Summer's girls. Spike warded off their advances, insisting that he needed to be alone for awhile, he had a bad break-up. His colleagues assumed that if he didn't want them, then he must be gay.
So then Spike was unwittingly tricked into going out on a date with Mike, from payroll. Spike was actually having a pretty good time, it was the most relaxed he had been in awhile. He did find it strange that Mike kept touching him though, he shrugged it off. He was in no way homophobic, just because he and Xander had avoided touching one another at all costs didn't mean that guy touching was wrong. The two had gone to a local boxing match and a new bar and grill that was in the downtown area. Spike began to feel weird when Mike insisted on walking him to the door. At the front door, Mike kissed Spike, full on the lips. Will backed off and stared at his 'date.' Spike knew that guy touching was allowed, but the kissing was just simply invading his personal space. Mike realized he had made a mistake and apologized.
They sorted the whole thing out and had a good laugh. But by the time Spike returned to work that Monday it was all over that no one was good enough for his highness, and he was cast off to the side. After his disastrous attempt at a social life, he usually just stayed in. He missed his friends in Sunnydale, as few and far between as they were. They all knew what he had been, and what he was going through now.
Xander would come up on occasion, but he was busy supervising three different construction sites. The Magic Box was opened six days a week, so he rarely saw Anya. Dawn was the only one that came up regularly. He would talk to Angel on occasion, but the conversations were usually short and awkward. They had both done so many things to one another that neither knew what was considered safe conversation. Neither one was ready to joke about tying each other up and torturing one another, or about killing innocent people, or that time that Angel snatched Dru from him.
Spike trudged through his mundane and uneventful existence. He often missed fighting. Fists and fangs, backed into a wall with no hope of escape. Those were the days he missed. Perhaps he only enjoyed the fight so much because he had felt invincible at the time. Now, he was weak and vulnerable, and he knew it.
He simply gave up on feeling sorry for himself, and went to bed alone once again.
************************************** The next afternoon Spike was walking home from the movies, whistling an old Ramone's tune, when he passed a pet store. Inside the display window were five pug puppies, two cream colored with black muzzles and three pure black ones. Spike knew that both Dawn and Julia would fall in love with one of the little tikes. He picked the one with just a hint of black in it's tail, looked like he was a bit of a rebel, just like Will had once been. He cradled the small dog in his arm as he made his way home, not even having the slightest clue that one day the small dog would save him from killing his own daughter.
Spike made his way up to his apartment, only to find Giles sitting there in his living room, waiting for him.
"Hello Ripper." Spike exclaimed as he walked through the door.
Spike wasn't the least bit surprised that Giles had picked the lock with such ease. Spike knew exactly what good ol' Rupes used to be. Spike put Spike Jr. on the floor to wander around his new home, he then turned to Giles.
"Nice to see you didn't scratch my lock up too much when you picked it." Spike said lightly.
"I didn't leave any scratches." Giles responded.
Giles looked Spike over, trying to get a feel for the stranger before him. Spike grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and came back to the living room, sitting across from Giles.
"Well Rupes, figure you're here for one of two things. Either your grubby little Watcher hands fancied the idea of playing doctor with the former vampire turned human, or Buffy gave you some sob story about how I knocked her up and skipped town and you're here to put me out of my misery."
"Spike, I had the privilege of speaking with Dawn, Xander, and Anya before I came out here. I realize that Buffy has a tendency to play the victim when it comes to you. She has taken the majority of blame though Spike. I doubt that makes you feel any better, but I thought you should know that she does indeed miss you for some strange reason."
"Thanks mate. I'm to the point now that I'm beginning to believe that the Slayer and I are like oil and vinegar - 'un-mixy things' as she would say. Maybe it's for the best this way."
"Now Spike, I'm not going to hide the fact that I loathe the idea of you and Buffy being together, but I also want more than anything for her to be happy. I may choose not to notice things from time to time, but there is no denying the sadness in her eyes when she speaks of you."
"Rupert, I know that you mean well by coming up here, but I am just too tired for the games. It's taken six months, six months of dying in this body to realize that things will never be right between me and the Slayer. There's too much history there, and most of it's not good. Truthfully, we don't trust each other. I've accepted it. I lost, and I'm finally starting to deal with it. Don't come back here and get my hopes up once more. I don't think this frail human body can handle much more."
"I agree that both of you need your space. It is too soon. I think that may have been the problem from the start, the two of you never did think anything out. You, my dear boy always did let your heart do the thinking for you, even if it wasn't beating, and Buffy always needed to be strong, so she was forever denying what her heart told her. You both went too quickly, there was too much, too soon, and you both literally drove one another away from each other. This is between you and Buffy though, I think after the hate has died down a little, you two might be able to communicate with each other without the aid of weapons, cruel words, or Dawn. Best to leave it for now though."
"I know. That's why I came up here. I knew she needed me away, and as much as I hate to admit it, I was slightly relieved to be away from her. It is for the best right now. I know you didn't come all this way to give me a pep talk about my unlove life. So when do the tests begin? You have a soul detector on you?"
"So you do have a soul then?"
"Must be Giles. I know I always made fun of Angel for being a poofter and for brooding all the time. I completely understand why now. I have to take to valium every night just to get a few hours of sleep. I felt the guilt a little when I was a vampire, but it was magnified by about five- hundred times when I got my bright happy soul. It's getting easier, but it's not like I can go to therapy for it. What am I supposed to say? 'Hey, doc, I killed half of Europe about a hundred years ago and now I feel really bad about it?" How lame it that?"
"It's understandable that it has taken you awhile to come to terms with your humanity. I'm not going to begin to understand what it's like for you. In so many ways, it's worse than what happened to Angel?"
"How's that Ripper?"
"Angel, assuming he doesn't get the sharp end of a stick, has a millennia to attempt to right the wrongs he committed. He has the ability to do good on a grander scale because of his advanced powers. I imagine you feel helpless about your position, and I reckon a tad bit scared. It's been a long time since you have felt so vulnerable, hasn't it?"
"I know that's part of it. I have what, another fifty, sixty years absolute tops to make up for hundred years worth of killing. And I also know that there is no way to make up for what I did. I wanted to try, and I was attempting to atone for my actions before the soul fiasco, but now it just seems so pointless. I'm a fucking boy scout now, and I still feel like shit all of the time. Sometimes I think I hear voices, voices of those I killed, but I try to block it out. Why is it so hard?"
"I'm afraid I can't tell you that Spike because I honestly don't know. Perhaps there is a higher purpose for you. From what I have heard you have quite a knack with languages and old texts. You know that Angel could always use your help. Perhaps you aren't the power house that you once were, but that doesn't mean you can't help with the quest for good. Xander has no super powers, but he's always the first one at Buffy's side. You still have plenty of power to do good."
"I've translated a few things for Wesley, but I never told Angel about it. Angel and I - well it's more awkward than Buffy and I. We literally tortured one another, in so many ways. It's hard to have a conversation with him. I know we hold resentments towards each other, mostly because of Buffy. It's strange, Xander and I became friends within weeks of my returning. But I suspected the only reason he really hated me was because of the vampire thing, Angel is a completely different story."
"Spike, perhaps this is just another boundary you have to overcome. You two share such a strong bond, now more than ever. You joke about not being able to seek therapy, when the one being with the most experience in the field is right under your nose."
"Good point. I know that you want to feel my heart beat and test my eye sight and hearing and all that rot, but I'm famished right now. You wanna grab something to eat, and we can do the tests and all that at another time?"
"Dinner sounds like an excellent idea. I admit I practically ran up here when Buffy told me about you, but a few hours isn't going to make that much of a difference."
With that the two grabbed their coats and made their way towards the restaurant. Spike was already feeling better, having someone to talk to about his poor tortured soul.