Let The Games Begin
When you're human, when you walk this earth and go about the little details of life, those details become enormous. They swallow you up and living becomes a pattern of crisis and responsibility, a flurry of do-nows and what-ifs. The devil is in the details. Maybe the devil is the details.
Each day revolves around getting something to eat, going to work, walking the dog. Building routines that become so ingrained that you stop thinking about them. Patterns around which we structure our lives. If you asked a complete stranger what their day was about, they would tell you about work and walking the dog. It's easy to get lost in the endless lists of To Do and To Be, easy to forget the aching confusion underneath the surface. You forget to ask the big questions because they fade away against the power of a good routine.
Even demons forget.
There's blood to be found. Violence to follow like a blood hound after a game bird. There's work and one more attempt to blend into the world of humans, to become one of them as much as possible.
I know I'm still dead. That my heart doesn't beat and it never will. I keep trying to feel alive, to imitate the life around me, because there is nothing left for me to do. I work, I drink blood out of discretely covered flasks so as not to alarm the sheltered, misguided sheep around me. Took Charlie's advice and picked up a few classes at the university. It feels good to have a pen in my hand again. Even if I know I'm still just pretending to be one of them.
College is unique. Maybe I see it differently through my old eyes and tired soul. Surrounded by students who brim with life and enthusiasm while they try to maintain the balancing act of discovering who they are and stamping out their individuality at the same time. Torn between becoming the mindless automatons of the system or crashing and burning in a brilliant rebellion of Jack Kerouac proportions. They're all searching for the answers to the big questions without realizing that the jaws of routine and daily life are closing in around them. Soon, all they'll see is the routine, the details. A cubicle, a car, a dog. In some ways they are more like me than any other group of human beings on this planet. In others, we are so different that I find myself an alien being, an island of silence amidst the sea of questioning noise. I jump through the hoops because there's nothing better to do. I follow the yellow brick road to the Emerald City because there is no other path to tread.
It was a Friday. I felt like a nancy-boy reviewing an old assignment for Compositional English. Living among humans required a certain amount of pride swallowing and grimacing with embarrassment. Classmates thought I was shy. I felt like ripping their heads off more often than not. Insipid lot of wankers. I still wasn't sure which voice in my head was the demon and which was the soul.
I was stalling and I knew it. One more class; one more semester. I didn't frequent the demon haunts but I heard something big went down in Sunnydale. Good triumphed. I wondered how. I wondered if the Scoobies had made it. I wondered if Dawn would ever be joining the ranks of those pursuing higher education. Faith was still in jail. Eventually my thoughts always turned back to Faith and I would admit that I was stalling. I didn't want to kill her. I didn't want another Slayer to my name.
There was a good deal of suspicion in my mind as well. Who had the strange girl been? How had the monster known I wanted the chip removed? The few stones I had overturned afterward didn't know anything about Big Bads masquerading as little girls. It was a mystery. I had the distinct feeling that I was being played. My strings had been jerked and like the puppet that I was, I had danced for the devil.
So I stalled. I kept tabs on Faith in jail, waiting for her parole hearings to come and go. She'd be out one day; even murderers got out of their cages. It wasn't like I could get to her in prison anyway. Had to bide my time. I'm sure the big evil of New Orleans understood that.
Three years later, another piece of paper came in the mail with the name William Davis printed above the declaration that I had earned and paid for a Bachelor of the Arts degree at the University of New Orleans. I had thought about choosing a more English surname before I realized that I wasn't English anymore. I hadn't been back to London in decades and hadn't thought of England as my home in longer than that. A nondescript name for a vampire trying to blend in with humanity.
The regulars were used to me. They had figured out eventually what I was and more often than not I had to field odd questions and jokes about bats. Damn Anne Rice. One chit had even asked me to autograph her copy of Interview With a Vampire. Makes me want to bite something just thinking about it. Charlie had been worried by the attention at first but it had proven valuable on several occasions. Rowdy college boys tended to settle down more quickly when separated by a vampire. A growl and a not so gentle arm-twisting was also effective. They knew I was stronger and faster and that was usually enough to move the fight out of the club.
My only problem was that I had gotten comfortable. I had gotten lost in the details. Let the routine of my life consume me. To sate my demon, every few days I patrolled the darker side of town and beat up a few baddies or staked a few vampires. I wasn't fighting the good fight. I wasn't keeping the population safe or doing the right thing. Just looking for a spot of violence to keep my evil half relatively happy. That was all. I'm not Angel and I'm not Buffy's lap dog anymore. I am my own man. Sort of.
My wake-up call came in the form of a little girl wearing a red hat and matching galoshes. She showed up one night while I was strolling through one of the many cemeteries looking for various nasties. She was pissed. I could see it in the black holes she had for eyes.
"You have not killed the Slayer."
"Still in jail, snack-size." I raised one eyebrow and stuck my hands in my jeans pockets. "Vampire remember. Visiting hours are during the day." That seemed to throw the evil little bitch for a second.
"We grow impatient."
"Soon as she's out. Promise." What else am I supposed to say?
"Soon."
"Right. Soon. I got it." Is evil always hard of hearing or is it just the evil that pretends to be little girls? "Be there soon as she gets out from behind bars. No more Slayer. Satisfied?" She doesn't answer, just Cheshire Cat smiles into the night and is gone without further ado. I really need to find out what's behind that pretty smile. I need to get off my ass and finish the job. The thought turns my stomach and I head home.
It's the point of no return for me. I have my new life now. I have people who smile when they see me because they can forget I'm a demon. People who think they know me and think they care about me. But underneath the trappings and the lies, I'm still a demon. In the grand scheme of the world, I'm insignificant. One trapped insect about to be pinned to someone's collection of specimens. I'm a vampire. Can't ever forget that. Can't ever forget.
There's a certain level of frustration because it's been four years since Africa and I still don't know who I am. I still don't know what it is that I've been searching for in this world. I'm no closer now than I was when I left Sunnydale like a bat out of Hell.
Killing Faith makes a strange sort of sense. I haven't fed from a human since before Glory used me as her punching bag. Haven't killed a human in years. What if this missing part of me is the thrill of the hunt? Of the kill? What if I am a killer, despite the soul? Humans with fully functioning souls kill each other every day. Is that what I am? That question leads to the core of vampirism. Is it all the demon? Or is a vampire merely the human without a conscience. Was William a murderer at heart? Bound only by society and guilt. I don't even know what I am.
I'm no hero. That much is plain as the day I'll never see. I'm not a white hat or a knight in shining armor. It's as good a place to start as any. If I can know what I'm not, maybe I'll know what I am.
California is calling. I need to be ready and waiting; make it quick and painless. Or not. Frowning as I climb the fire escape, never did run up and down the halls to wake people up, I wonder if a Slayer deserves the honor of being killed in battle. They are warriors. They should die fighting. I suppose. I'm not a warrior any longer so I refuse to empathize with the girl. She's prey now. The hunt has begun.
Why do I feel more alone now than I did before? What is the purpose of time if it can't heal these wounds? I'm shaking because everything I thought I knew is crumbling around me. It's laughable. Big bad vampire. Big pathetic vampire. Pathetic shmuck. Would I ever be anything else?
My mind is light-years away when I check on Faith's progress. She's up for review in a week. Somehow I know that this time she'll get out. I've had four years of relative peace and now it's time to pay the piper. The laptop I bought two years ago at Leila's insistence hums beneath my fingers as I navigate through websites. I'm looking for a number. This is my game and I'm going to make the rules. The evil bitch will have Faith's head but I'm going to call the shots. Faith deserves that. I deserve that.
There it is. A name. A number. It's one in the morning here and seven across the ocean in the mother country. My fingers are steady as I dial the numbers into the phone. It rings. I'm tapping my foot against the table leg, mumbling an apology to my imaginary companion drawing masterpieces.
"Hello?" Rupert Giles' voice comes through on the fourth ring, sounding lost and far away at the other end of the line.
"You Watchers still around?" I sound like I did years ago, taunting Buffy in the high school. Even my accent changes, becoming rougher and thicker than it has been here in New Orleans. There's silence on the other end and I wonder if he's going to hang up.
There's silence, enough to make me think the connection has been lost, before he speaks again. "Spike?"
"One and only. Miss me?"
"Why are you calling me? And no. I didn't miss you at all." He sounds stuffy and British as ever.
"Just a friendly hello, Watcher. No need to get your knickers in a twist." I'm relaxing, surprised at how good it feels to hear one of the voices from Sunnydale. "Wondering if you bloody wankers made it through the big evil few years back. Shape shifting fella, called himself the First." More silence.
"Yes." There's more in that one word than I can begin to decipher. It must have gotten worse than I had thought. Something tenses inside of me and I have to resist asking about the Scoobies. After a moment, he continues, "Most of the Watchers and the Council were killed. A new council formed a year ago. Why do you care, Spike?"
"Got a message for 'em." I close my eyes and wish the deep breath I'm taking actually soothed me.
"Yes?"
"Tell 'em William the Bloody is back in the game, Watcher." I don't expect an answer to that. "Tell 'em I'm going back to what I do best."
"And what is that, exactly?" His voice is level with just a hint of concern.
"Killin' Slayers, Watcher. I'm aiming for number three in a few weeks time."
"You can't beat Buffy."
"Don't need to. She's not the one I'm after." I end the conversation and the phone clicks back into the receiver. Giles would tell the new Council, he'd tell Buffy, he'd probably even tell Faith. They would all know I was coming and they'd send Faith to Buffy for protection. Back to California. Back to Sunnydale.
Let the games begin.
"Buffy, is that you?"
"Giles? It's eleven o'clock. On a Friday night. Why would I be home instead of out on a hot date? On second thought, don't answer that." Buffy's voice is cheerfully chastising.
"Spike is back and he's going after Slayers."
"What? How?"
"He called. Some sort of perverse heads up, I suppose. He's after Faith. We have no reason to believe he'll stop there."
"No problem then. Faith's still in jail."
"She's up for parole review again next week."
"Do you think she'll get out?"
"There's a good chance." Giles must have taken his glasses off to clean them, his voice was muffled. "You'll need to protect her if she does. And for God's sake, will you kill him this time?"
"One stake through the heart coming up. He'd better not show his face in my town."
"I need to call the Council. I wanted you to know first."
"Thanks, Giles. I'll put the crew on full alert."
"Be careful, Buffy. I think he's changed. He sounded different."
"Insane? Because that's what he is if he's thinking of coming back here."
"He sounded," Giles paused. "Well, he sounded different. I don't know how."
"Don't worry. He's never beaten me. We can handle this."
"Yes." Another pause. "I'll talk to you soon. We'll see if we can track him down. Figure out where he's been the last few years."
"On with the research. Good bye, Giles."
"Good luck, Buffy." Click. He was gone. Buffy stared at the phone, listening to the dial tone without interest. Slowly, she turned back toward the small group of people waiting for her to return to the monopoly game. Xander, Giles, Willow, Dawn; the four constants in her life. There had been five until one ugly night in her bathroom.
"Buff? New evil coming?" Xander rolled the dice absently, not watching as the cubes danced across the board.
Buffy tried to smile and finally put the phone back in the cradle. "Old evil, actually."
"What is it? Apocalypse?" The faint scar that crossed Willow's face wrinkled as she smiled.
"Spike." Buffy was still standing, looking down at her friends with a confused expression. It wasn't supposed to hurt. Spike was evil. He was a vampire. Soulless thing. It wasn't supposed to hurt to know he was back on the killing and maiming circuit. How had he gotten the chip out?
"He's alive?" Dawn was trying not to look happy about it.
"And he's decided to kill a few more Slayers. Starting with Faith." Only silence responded to her announcement and she knew they were feeling the same shock she had.
"You're going to kill him."
"If he comes after Faith, I'll have to. No more live and let live." Buffy finally sat down, not actually seeing the game in front of her. One more pile of dust. Why didn't it feel right? She tried to smile and shake herself out of her confusion. "I guess that answers the question of whether or not he still loves me. Big no."
"No more chip either, I guess. Before." Willow looked thoughtful. "Maybe that's why he left. To get it out."
"Probably."
"Peace and quiet is over-rated anyway." Xander attempted to lighten the mood by turning back to the game, picking up his miniature car to move it down six spaces. "And I've missed the constant second hand smoke with all its cancer badness."
"We could have a reunion," Dawn suggested playfully. "Get Angel and the gang. Maybe even Drusilla. It'd be fun. Bring your own blood and sit back to watch the violence. Much better than celebrity death match or wrestling."
"That's the spirit. Just another vampire coming to town." Willow's smile widened, scooping up the dice to take her turn. "We could even crash the high school for old time's sake. Dawn and I will hide in the utility closet."
"I think I'll try not to get myself offered to Spike as a snack this time," Xander joked as Willow landed on one of his properties, but the levity wasn't real and no one was fooling anyone.
An old enemy was coming home. They had to kill him. Somehow, it kinda sucked.
I headed out of New Orleans, leaving behind Charlie's sad eyes and the old familiar club that had become such a part of my life. Of me. I had a job waiting in Sunnydale. Feature writer for the Sunnydale Press. It didn't pay much but it would do. I could find something else to get by if the need arose.
The second I knew Faith was on her way out of jail and headed to Sunnydale, I packed up and left the city that had been my home. It felt strange to be driving down the highway again. Another motorcycle. Another duster. This one was all mine. All me. Fresh off the rack and gleaming across my shoulders. New boots too. The image was complete. Hell, I even painted my nails. It almost made me laugh. When I wasn't wishing for one of the soft pairs of blue jeans bundled into the duffle strapped behind me instead of the tight leather I was wearing.
Everything I owned fit into one duffle bag. Clothes, shoes, laptop. A box with all those precious pieces of paper I had sweat blood to get. One duffle was my whole world. It was pathetic and lonely. It was also liberating. Wind in my hair, the roar of an engine beneath me, and not a care in the world except a dark haired Slayer waiting in Sunnydale. It felt good to have a purpose again. To be hunting again. It felt good to be me.
My soul was pouting in a corner, whispering warnings of future heartbreak and pain. I ignored him. This was what I was born to do. It was in my blood and I could feel the strength of my demon coursing through me. It was more than two thousand miles to Sunnydale and would take me the better part of a week to cross the country at night. Two thousand miles to think and wonder what it would feel like to be back in Sunnydale again. To see Buffy and the Scoobies again. They'd be armed. They'd be ready. I could almost see Buffy's face, chiseled in stone with only her eyes giving away what she was really feeling. Those luminous, expressive eyes that I had fallen into. They'd pulled me in and drowned in her pain, her confusion, after being ripped out of Heaven.
I hadn't thought of that year for a while. The memories were a little faded and had lost the intensity of reality. Pain dulled, shame faded, and guilt became a whisper. I had hurt her. I couldn't deny it. But I couldn't seem to care about it either. It was just one more in the list of my sins. Comparatively it paled against the blood and tears that marked the rest of my life. One attempted rape on a rap sheet of murder and mayhem didn't seem as important as it had at the time. That led to another one of those proverbial light bulb moments.
The soul wasn't for Buffy. It had never been for Buffy. It was for me. Because I had lost everything that defined me, lost my identity, my raison d'etre. What was left of the chipped vampire who had made mooneyes at the Slayer? Nothing. That vamp was long gone. I was crawling out of my cocoon, finding myself in this crazy world of light and dark.
A wicked smile spread across my face in anticipation of seeing Buffy again. This time I wouldn't turn into a simpering puppy when she frowned at me. I wouldn't buckle beneath her glare, submitting to her whims. I was beyond her power now. It was freedom. It was wonderful. I should have gone back years ago and broken her pretty little neck for making me weak. Faith was a job, Faith was a detour. This was payback for leaving me with nothing. If I had to eat every last Slayer and tear the new Wanker's Council down with my own two hands, they would all get what was coming to them. They had forgotten what I was. They had forgotten who I was.
They were bloody well going to remember.