Thanks at the end of the chapter.
Chapter Seven – Spike Finds A Purpose
Spike rubbed his head for the millionth time, realizing that his hair had been shorn off, but wanting to feel if it was still there. Kind of like his colleagues, who had died one by one. He had wanted to feel if any of them were still around. Foolish of him to think that the watcher could have survived.
Some were still around, but everything had been irrevocably changed about them. Fred was Illyria, Gunn was badly hurt, Lorne had disappeared, and Angel was brooding to the point of killing himself. Everyone else was dead. The cheerleader, the watcher, the scientist, all gone. He never thought he'd miss these people, but he did. Rematerializing surrounded by the group had just pissed him off not more than nine months prior. But the first thing they did, Fred did, was try to figure out how to make him solid again.
Yeah, Angel groused and complained about having Spike around, but he never said to Fred or anyone else not to save him. Oh, he knew that his sire might want that to happen, but he never actually voiced it as far as he knew. Maybe he did to his people, but never to Spike.
They had a bond he felt that ran deeper than Angel just being his sire. The soul thing had made them rivals and kindred spirits all in one second. While Spike had fought for his soul, Angel had been cursed with his. Probably made Peaches feel a little inadequate. Spike paid him no mind about it.
If he had been the one to be made a real boy, then so be it. If not, then being a vampire had its privileges. When Percy had first told him about the prophecy, he had dismissed it as garbage. Maybe because he didn't want to believe that he could really become human. Then he saw how Angel reacted to the news that Spike knew. That was when he realized how important the prophecy might be. And that it might happen to him.
After the cup incident though, Spike really put it aside, save to tweak Angel some. He'd beaten Angel the first time in their long lives. Now he figured it wasn't his superior fighting skills. The bloke just didn't have it in him at that moment to crush Spike. Angel had been fighting the depression for months. If the fight had taken place after the cheerleader had returned, Spike would have been history.
He missed Cordelia, although he had never gotten close to her, being a soulless vampire in Sunnydale. She was just another body to him back then. Her and her Scooby friends had screwed up every plan he had tried to put into place. So when she had reappeared for that one day, he didn't know what to think of her. He hadn't been around at all when she was alive. But he did understand her role in the group. She was the glue that held them all together, not unlike Xander had been in Sunnydale.
She could fight, she was beautiful, and she could piss off Angel with just one look. Too bad she had to go bye-bye that soon. He would have loved having her around just to see how Angel dealt with her.
Fred was Fred, a light in the mist of all the male testosterone. He had just wanted to have her around because she was Fred. The first person to look at him and want to save him. The rest didn't give a damn whether he faded off into the ether. She had wanted to save him. It never happened though, fate having intervened. He didn't care one way or another. She was always sweet to him, much like Willow was.
The ex-watcher Percy was another story all together. Wesley kept him at a distance, much like he was a specimen to study. So much like Giles. Wesley was becoming the older watcher from what he could see. Giles was always a bit too impulsive and reckless, much like the dead man was. He wasn't a bit surprised when good old Wes raised his gun and shot that asshole Knox. Spike didn't even have time to react. Too bad he hadn't gotten there first. What he realized now was that they both had feelings for the scientist. Oh, Spike's was more affection than love, but all in the same general direction. Spike just had many more years to perfect the all-encompassing worship phase than the wanker had. God, how he had worshipped the ground Drusilla had walked. Then to bow at Buffy's feet all too often.
Spike always respected a man who could fight. Gunn seemed to fit that bill, although only in those last couple of weeks. He had sold his soul for knowledge. That in and of itself confused Spike endlessly. Why on earth would someone want to be that smart? And it had backfired on Charlie. But the man sacrificed himself for the greater good, for the team to bring back Lindsey. He would have just left the bastard to fry.
Sitting on the top of the hotel, Spike pulled out a cigarette, his fourth, to light. He could sit up there all night, just breathing in the cool air, not exactly fresh mind you, but not oppressive nonetheless. Angel had made the air seem stale, depressing, and downright pathetic in a way. He would have rather had Peaches loose his marbles then this. Then he'd have an excuse to stake the ponce.
Faith had been around some in the last couple of weeks, but was becoming scarcer by the day. She had holed herself up in the watcher's apartment, living in her own depressed state. Why was he the only one to pull it together? Even Illyria walked around in a daze, not knowing what to do next. Sometimes he'd wave his hand in front of her face and get no reaction. He wondered where she'd go in her mind.
"You are here," a voice stated behind him.
Ah, Blue had found him. She did seek him out sometimes, just to have him in her presence. Sometimes saying nothing, sometimes just to hear him talk. He was not in the mood for either tonight.
"What do you need?" he asked, not turning around to see her.
"I am not sure." Spike snorted, then took another drag off of his cigarette. "I am perplexed at the moment."
Great, now she wanted him to become the teacher. "Not in the mood, Blue."
"I do not understand this grieving that you do."
Grief. Spike could spout volumes on grief. In just his lifetime, he'd caused so much grief he could be a scholar on the subject. It was the last few years that had scared him. Buffy's dying had been the worst. But she had given him a job to do, which made it a little easier. He had protected Dawn and the rest of them as best he could. She had relied on him to do this. It gave him a reason to go on.
"Blue, I'm not Wes. I'm not going to lead you down whatever path."
"I am asking you. You did not know these humans for long. Why did they mean so much to you?"
Even he didn't know the answer to that. Maybe because they had given him a home, had trusted him, had fought side-by-side with him. Maybe because they had sacrificed everything including their lives, just like he did back in Sunnydale. Only he was back from wherever he had gone. They weren't coming back.
"Not sure. And if I did, I don't think that I'd tell you."
"Did you love her?"
"What?" Spike turned to look at Illyria. She had taken to wearing Fred's clothes that had been left at the hotel. Since Spike had no idea what she had looked like in them, it really didn't bother him. But it would have bothered the others.
"This shell is pleasing to you."
Spike's eyes widened at the thought. Of course Fred had been pleasing to him, and it just wasn't her body. She'd been a good person. "Illyria, you don't want to go there."
"The shell was pleasing to Wesley too. And to Gunn. I do not understand any of it."
"It just wasn't the shell, Blue. Fred had this light around her. Everyone was drawn to her. You have to understand."
"I do understand. Bringing me forth killed the human. I know how much it hurt the others."
Spike approached Illyria, a look of murder in his eyes. Did she realize what she was saying, he thought? How devastated they all were?
"You have no idea," he growled at her.
"I do," Illyria stated with more conviction than necessary. "I watched him die."
Right, Spike thought, she had watched Wesley die. But was that enough for her to realize all the pain she had caused?
"You loved him?" The thought had come out of nowhere. Illyria had taken to experimenting with Wes right before he had died. Appearing as Fred to her parents, following him around almost to the point of stalking.
"I do not understand that emotion. He was my guide." Illyria looked down at the ground, ice-blue eyes moving back and forth, seeking answers to questions that he felt that he couldn't answer.
"What did it feel like?" Spike asked as he moved closer. Spike always prided himself on reading human emotions, whether it was fear, love, hatred, whatever he could use against them when he was soulless. Made the kill that much more exciting.
Illyria looked around everywhere but him, not focusing on anything in particular. Spike grabbed her face to stop its motion, making her look him directly in the eyes.
"Tell me," he said quietly.
"It hurts. Everything aches. I cannot concentrate. I feel the need to hit something, but I cannot. It confuses me. I do not want to feel like this. Make it stop."
He wished he could make it stop. At least for him, maybe for Angel.
"It will lessen with time. But it won't go away."
"I need to fix it. Go back in time and stop it. But I cannot. My powers will not help me this time."
Spike released his strong hold on Illyria's face, but still keeping his hand at the side of her cheek. He had wished this more times in the past couple of years. For him to go back and save Buffy before she jumped off of that tower. For him to save Anya before she had been cut down by the Bringers in the last battle. He felt powerless sometimes. Right now was one of them.
"You can't fix it."
"You do not understand, half-breed. I had armies that could take out entire worlds. I had more at my disposal than these humans could ever imagine. But I cannot understand any of these human emotions."
"Spike. I have a name you know. Use it. And I can imagine just what you had. But that was had, not have. They're gone. Now get used to it."
Spike released her cheek. What he didn't expect was for Illyria to rear back and sock him in the jaw.
"You need to help me fix this, Spike. I cannot go on like this."
"And I'm not here for you to command," Spike told her, holding his jaw. "And you can't fix it."
"No. I do not take that as the answer," Illyria commanded, tears welling up in her eyes.
Hell, she was going to blubber. A blubbering ex-god. He didn't need anyone else taking her pound of flesh and leaving him high and dry. The slayer had done her job too well before. But he couldn't help but feel for what she was going through. When he first had gotten his soul, his mind was crazed. He didn't know what to do, what to feel, who to grieve, how to make up for any of it. Buffy had shown him the way, not exactly willingly, but being there for him when he needed it.
Spike wrapped his arms around the crying ex-god, taking in her shudders and sobs. He had a feeling that this was going to take more than just a little handholding and patting on the back. She had the strength to make his life hell, and not just with the strength of her body.
TBC
Many thanks to all who have reviewed. Wow. I cannot believe that I've had this much interest. This is unbelievable. Thanks to new reviewer Ann aka Illyria639, Imzadi, and shahid for keeping up with this. I know the others are out there still reading. I am trying to incorporate some Spike and Illyria time. This is the first time I've ever written either of them for any extent. It was not easy. And if I messed with the canon, so very sorry. Please tell me if I have. My memory is only so strong. So, please review or drop me a line. Thanks, thanks, thanks. I love reviews!!
Next: Faith and many more findings in Wes's apartment and Wes's first attempt at contacting his charge. I'm getting a sense of the direction finally!!