Good Enough
By MsBigBad
Chapter 3: Visions of the Past
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy or any of the characters from the show. They belong to UPN, FOX, Mutant Enemy, and the wonderfully talented Joss Wheedon whom I love and adore! I'm just using them for some entertainment cause I'm an obsessed freak! Any original characters belong to me and may not be used w/o my permission. (I'd be happy to let you borrow but please no stealing!) Series title belongs to Sarah Mc Glaghlan, and is used w/o permission." Amazing" is by Aerosmith and is used w/o permission. Any quotes and/or poems will be disclaimed in the text. Flashbacks are in italics.
Ships: Spike/Buffy, Xander/Anya, Willow/Tara, Wesley/Cordelia, Gunn/Fred, Clem/Lorne, and Connor/Dawn.
Spoilers: Through "Seeing Red" on Buffy and " " on Angel.
Summary: After overhearing a prophecy concerning the chosen one, Spike decides to return to Sunnydale leaving Africa and the 15 years he's spent there behind.
Note: From the time of "Seeing Red" and " " this story is A/U. Which means there was no death of Tara, No nicely boxed Angel at the bottom of the ocean, no vainy Willow, and absolutely no flaying of Warren! If you want to know what has replaced that part I suggest you read my timeline.
Feedback: Please! I'd love to know what you think! You can reach me at .
Thanks: I want to thank my best friend Lauren for always believing in me and for giving me this little obsession! You are what keeps me alive! I've never had such a good friend that I could laugh and cry with till it hurt! And of course have long LOTR discussions and kinky fantasies of parts (he, he, he!) of the fellowship. You know what I mean I need to stop now cause then they'll be reading this for too long to even think about reading the story! I want to also thank my other friend Heather for wanting to read my stuff and for making me laugh enough to forget some of the angst in my stories! To everyone who archives/reviews my fics! I'm soo grateful for all you've done! Of course I need to thank Joss and his crew of talented writers, producers, directors, actors, and special behind the scenes guys! Thank you guys so much for the 2 best TV shows ever in existence! Really wanna thank James Marsters for being my snowman! (Don't worry if you don't get that! It's a seriously disturbing inside joke!) I love James! Good luck in everything that you do. And I really wanna thank you for reading my fic! Especially if you read through all this nonsense and bonus points if you actually pondered the snowman thing! (Seriously just let it go! It'll drive you insane and your head will explode! Yuck!) Lot's of luvs! Enjoy! Mwahhh!
I kept the right ones out
And let the wrong ones in
I had an angel of mercy
To see me through all my sins
He's not going anywhere tonight. No sir. He's just gonna sit back, relax, chainsmoke, and get shit faced drunk. Stupid whore. Who the hell did she think she was anyway?
She knew just where to make it hurt, didn't she? Probably learned it from the chosen one herself.
She always knew how to hurt him. Knew just how much it would take to piss him off.
He stares down at the half empty draft in his left hand. Yep, this is gonna be a long night.
It'll be just like old times. Getting' himself sloshed over her.
Trying so hard to just go numb. T o not feel it anymore. To not feel anything at all.
"Hey buddy! Whata ya wanna do tonight?" Clem asks, patting his old friend on the back in an embrace that's the closest to a hug as most guys will give to another man.
Spike takes another swig of his beer, lets it slosh down his throat, and looks at Clem without even a hint of optimism.
"Well, … The Bronze is definitely out." He replies.
Clem gives a smile of amusement. "Oh yeah. A lot of things have changed since you left"
Spike's eyebrow raises in sweet sarcasm. "Is that so? Hadn't noticed. With all the glaringly obvious flashing signs that say Welcome back Spike! Look how we've fucked up your unlife!" He reeled, throwing his empty bottle across the room.
"Whoa, whoa! Temper, temper big guy!" Clem held his hands in front of him, shielding the broken glass from his body.
"Sorry mate. It's just… I … Yeah.." He sighs, unable to find a rational excuse for his behavior.
"It's okay." Clem assures him.
A few minutes of awkward silence tick by before Spike decides to kick it into small talk mode. "So, um, tell me how it is that you're here doing the exact same thing you were doin' when I left."
"What!? I've been out! Before The Bronze became a total fruit fest . You know that bar tender? Charlie? Uh-huh!!! He was soo hottt! But, … he found out about the whole demon thing and you know… But uh…. Played a little kitten poker. The usual."
"You went to The Bronze to pick up guys before it was a gay bar?" Spike laughs.
"Well it's not something you can just flaunt around anymore Spike! Demons 'll bash you just as soon as look at you! If the see you coming out of there then you better be faster or stronger than them." Clem explains.
"Nothing excitin' happened while I was away?" Spike pries, opening another beer and gulping a bit down.
"Well there was the whole Faith thing, but…"
"Right, tell me how that went down." Spike asks, trying and failing miserably to sound disinterested.
"Man, I don't know the whole story! I'm not completely obsessed with the slayer like you were or should I say are. I don't follow her every move. One day Buffy was here, the next Faith was all over me! Did you see the way she was lookin' at me? God, she wanted me! You know that's the benefit of being transsexual! You can have the best of both worlds…. well all worlds actually!"
Spike smiles at his unusual friend. "I guess so." He says taking another swig of his precious alcohol.
"So what have you been doing?" Clem asks.
"Oh, uh been down in Africa for a bit. Given 'em hell an' all."
"Oh, well that's nice." Clem says, cocking his head to the side to examine his destroyed television.
"Yeah." Spike whispers, looking down at his knuckles.
There were times in my life
When I was goin' insane
Tryin' to get through the pain
The sound of Clem's thunderous snores echo through the crypt.
He can't sleep. He never does. He can't sleep here… too many memories. Too much history. Too much pain.
The night is still young. Only 1 o'clock.
He decides to take a walk.
The air is thick and hot. The smell of funeral flowers fills the cemetery with a musky scent.
All the new arrivals have either fled or are dust by now.
So, he just settles for walking. For resting.
He's so sick of fighting.
Who ever thought that day would come. William the Bloody sick of fighting.
But he's done it for many years.
It all seems useless now.
No matter how many demons he kills or vampire's he dusts, it won't matter.
He can never change what he's done in the past.
Choosing to save someone's life now won't save someone else from long ago who didn't get shown his mercy.
Atonement is a bitch.
He sighs and sits down beside a gravesite.
"Hey Joyce. It's me, Spike. I, uh, I just wanted to talk to you. Like we used to, minus the hot chocolate and marshmallows of course , but…" He lets out another long sigh and runs his fingers through his curly, bleached blond hair.
" I wanted to… I wanted to tell you… to tell you that… I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't save them.., I shoulda done something…. I shoulda been there…. I'm sorry I failed you…I promised I'd protect them for you. I could see it in your eyes… You trusted me with them… But I couldn't do it… I failed you…And and I'm just sorry." He finishes, to emotional to think of anything better to say.
Tears make their way down his leather duster and sink into the ground below.
His hand goes to his breast pocket pulling out the temporarily forgotten picture.
There they are smiling back at him.
Worlds away, in peaceful bliss.
Before the empire fell.
They were so happy.
They were together.
They were one.
He'd failed Joyce once.
It wasn't gonna happen this time.
He closes the crypt door behind him shutting out the early rays of dawn.
He wants to sleep.
Needs it.
The dreams will come back if he shuts his eyes.
He's terrified of what desecration might await.
He doesn't want to feel the pain anymore, but his soul welcomes the torment.
After all, it's what he deserves.
He can hear the click of a trigger before the loud boom of a gun. He can see a blonde woman holding a younger brunette. See blood trickle down the young ones forehead as her lungs draw her last breath. "Spike?"
He can feel his fingers wrapped tightly around the cold steel of the revolver.
As he realizes what he's done he lowers the gun and turns on his heels to run away, instead he runs into the front desk. Paper scatter and float in the air like large butterflies.
"Spike? Where are you going?" Joe asks from behind the desk, his usual greasy look about him.
"I've got to find them." He replies urgently.
Joe shakes his head.
"They're not here remember. They're dead. Sit down. Rest. There's plenty of time"
"Noooo! I 've gotta find them!" Spike tells, scaring the hell out of Clem who was somewhere in-between a foursome with Brian Michael and Justin and a threesome with Ted and Emmett.
When I lost my grip
And I hit the floor
Yeah, I thought I could leave
But couldn't get out the door
Clem gently prods Spike with a wrinkly cheeto orange tinged finger.
"Hey buddy. It's okay."
"Wha. What?" Spike arises, back stiff as a board and sweat beading his forehead.
"You were dreaming. Musta been a doozy!" Clem sympathizes.
"Uh, yeah," "Yeah" He whispers.
His t-shirt is soaked with perspiration and he's shaking from the intensity of his dream. If only he could have finished it.
His hands grab the hemline of his trademark black tee and quickly he pulls the fabric over his head. He dries his face with it and in true guy style tosses it in the floor.
He lies back down again and tries to fall back into a dream that a few hours ago he was dreading and now must know the end of.
"But why can't I go?" Clem whined.
"I told you already. I'm on a mission, not a road trip." Spike explains, zipping his duffel bag.
"And I totally get that! I can help!"
"It's dangerous Clem! End of the world an all." Spike reasoned hoping it would keep his friend safe, safe of all places in Sunnydale.
"Woohoo! Like that's never happened before! Demon remember? There's an end of the world scheduled every week, mostly on Tuesdays!" He said grabbing a pile of letters.
"I get junk mail wanting me to join their end of the world cults!"
Spike took the mail from him and read through a few various offers.
"Hot, naked, and uncensored!" He giggles. "Let's join them!"
"Ha..how did that get there?" Clem says shyly, taking the letter from him pretending to throw it away, but instead secreting it away in a fleshy region of his skin that shall not be named.
"Listen, Spike. I'm going! Just let me grab a shower and we'll be off!"
Spike starts to protest, but instead questions him.
"Shower?.. Not only do you have a mailbox but you've installed a shower? And I thought a refrigerator was a technological advancement!"
"Well I had to make adjustments. I don't see how you even lived her!" Clem retorts.
"I didn't live," He makes air quotes "here. I'm dead remember?"
"Oh yeah!"
I was so sick and tired
Of livin' a lie
I was wishin' That I would die
Continued in Chapter 4 of Good Enough: The City Of Angel
A/N: Hey guys! Do you like it so far? Hope so! I want to thank all of you who have reviewed and supported this fic! And I promise I'll try to update it soon! I already have through chapter 8 written, but typing it is my problem!
I don't get mush computer time! But thanks and I hope you enjoyed and remain to enjoy this fic!