Title: Mythical Creatures

By: Passion4Spike

Chapter 6: So Screwed

Note:

Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate every one of you! Knowing the story is being enjoyed is like Christmas Cookies for my muse.

Thanks to PaganBaby and Holi117 for their beta assistance, though I've fiddled so much it's hardly the same chapter they originally looked at, so, of course, all errors are mine. LMK if you spot one and I'll fix it!

"I forget how much I love watching Christmas lights," Buffy admitted later as she and Spike sat on the sofa in the dark. She was curled up in one corner, her legs pulled up under her. Spike was sitting on the other end, sprawled casually, turned half to face her. Dawn had been between them, but she'd gone up to bed, leaving the two blondes alone. An empty pizza box was on the coffee table in front of them from their late-night, 'the-tree-is-up' celebratory dinner. Popcorn was still strewn across the floor, but Buffy had decided that could wait for tomorrow. The only lights in the house came from the Christmas tree in the corner.

"Well, thank the bloody devil for Dawn, then," Spike teased. "Only one of us who could get the sodding things sorted."

Buffy chuckled softly, her eyes glued to the dancing lights of the tree. "Did you… did you have Christmas… you know, before?"

"Yeah, had Christmas. Was my mum's favorite time o' year. Lights were a lot bloody easier than these, can tell you," he replied.

Buffy considered that. Spike had a mom. And she liked Christmas. How freaking weird was that? Spike had a mom! Well, she supposed, technically, William had a mom. Of course, Buffy knew he would've had a mom, but it's just hard to think of vampires as having mothers. It was dangerous, too. Slayers couldn't think about things like that – vampires were monsters; thinking otherwise could be deadly. 'Slayer-colored glasses.' Buffy's brows furrowed as the rest of what he'd said registered, and she looked over at him. "Easier lights? Really? Maybe we should get some of those," she suggested.

"Could do. Candles… used sodding candles."

"On the tree?" Buffy squeaked, her voice rising in disbelief. "You're just making shit up now."

Spike raised his right hand. "Swear on m' life."

"You're dead."

Spike shrugged. "Were a damn sight faster t' get up than these twinkly contraptions. Only thing ya had to worry about was setting the whole bleedin' house alight," he explained, giving her a sardonic smile.

"Oh, well, if that's all…" Buffy mocked, shaking her head and looking back at the glittering tree. She grew quiet for a minute or so, then said, "When I was a little girl, I used to sneak out of bed in the middle of the night and just sit next to the tree watching the lights twinkle. It was like… magical. It felt like… I don't know, a different world or something. A bubble where everything was just color and light and nothing bad ever happened."

"Wasn't your fault… what Finn did. Was him, not you," Spike assured her gently.

Buffy turned to look at him, her face hardening, her gaze cold chips of granite. "I didn't say anything about Riley."

"Was what you were thinking. Want to escape into the colors now, yeah? Just like when you were a bit."

Buffy scowled at him. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Read my fucking mind!"

"Not reading your mind, just… know you."

"You don't know me," she insisted with a huff.

"Sure I do… same as me, you are."

"Oh, please! We are nothing alike!"

"Hard shell on the outside protecting all the vulnerable, squishy bits inside."

"So, you're saying we're Tootsie Pops," she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Spike smirked. "Could be fun finding out how many licks it takes…"

"Finish that and die," Buffy grumbled, sorry she'd made the comparison, though her face flushed with warmth.

Spike snorted. "Just saying, been hurt, you and me. Got shields up, don't we? Try to keep all the soft bits from getting chewed up and spit out. Easier to keep people out. Anyone gets close enough to hurt us, we lash out – get angry, or start a row, start building that wall back up, pushing them away, blocking them out. Takes a special person to hang on when that happens, to let us thrash and fight before we finally let 'em set up house on the other side."

Buffy blinked back moisture that suddenly appeared in her eyes and turned back to the tree. The colors all blurred and swirled together, and she closed her eyes to keep the tears from falling. "I let Angel in…" she admitted. "I didn't even know I needed walls back then."

"And he dug the dagger in good and proper, didn't he?" If Spike reached out, he'd be able to touch her, but she'd stop talking, and he didn't want her to ever stop talking. When she stopped, he'd have to leave, and he never wanted to leave. She'd softened as the night had gone on, letting him in just that little bit, and he'd do anything to hold on to the crumb she'd thrown him, the glimpses of the woman she tried to keep hidden from everyone, especially him.

Buffy nodded, her eyes still closed, her throat too tight to speak.

"He's a wanker. Couldn't love you properly – ran off like a bloody coward," Spike contended.

"He said he did it for me… so I could be… happy... normal," Buffy rasped.

"Yeah, well, always was a daft bugger, wasn't he? What did he reckon you'd do, marry a shoe salesman, have 2.5 sprogs, a dog, and a minivan? Think you'd grow old and die in your sleep surrounded by all your spoiled, fat grandchildren? You aren't normal. You're the Slayer. Hate to tell you this, ducks, but that's not the life of a Slayer. 'Normal' doesn't work for you. Think you found that out with Soldier Boy."

Buffy worried her lip with her teeth, hating how brutally Spike had summed it all up, hating that he was right. "I used to wish for a normal life so many times after I was Called," she admitted in a small voice. "But I know that'll never happen."

"Normal is sodding overrated," Spike contended. "And it's not why Peaches scarpered. He's not that bloody noble."

"And you know him so well," she scoffed defensively.

Spike grunted. "A sight better than you, I'd wager. Traveled about with him for twenty years, didn't I? Longer than you've even been alive."

"That was Angelus, not Angel," Buffy pointed out.

"To-may-to, to-mah-to," Spike asserted. "Putting a leash on the demon doesn't change the man underneath. Liam never was what you'd call gallant."

Buffy wanted to argue with him, tell him he didn't know anything about Liam, but Angel's words from two Christmases ago came back to her and kept her silent, 'Look, I'm weak. I've never been anything else. It's not the demon in me that needs killing, Buffy. It's the man.' Angel never explained what that had meant. He never talked about his human life at all. Sharing about his past wasn't part of his repertoire... actually, she had to admit, sharing anything about himself wasn't high on his list of talents.

Unable to come to Angel's defense, she went on the offense. "I suppose William was some kind of saint before you started shoving spikes through people's brains?" she hissed, scowling.

"Noooo," he drawled. "But I wasn't a bloody drunkard lay-about who thought the only good virgin was a deflowered one," he defended testily.

"I thought you'd 'always been bad'," Buffy reminded him haughtily, turning her glinting green eyes on him.

'Bugger.' Spike ducked his head and rubbed a hand along the back of his neck reticently. "Yeah, well... might've exaggerated that a bit," he admitted.

When Buffy rolled her eyes and looked away, Spike could see he was losing her, she was closing down. He changed tacks, getting back to the point. "Not about me, is it? About you and Angel. And Angel... Liam was afraid of your light, your goodness. He could understand the Slayer bits – the parts that live in the dark. Demon and the man, both right cozy in the shadows. But the girl… the woman who is sunshine and sandcastles, that terrified him. Knew he could never hope to understand that part of you, to touch it. Made him afraid to fight for you."

Buffy stayed silent for several long moments after he finished, her eyes falling closed. Spike let her tumble all that around in her pretty little head. A head he knew had more brains and reason and logic than she typically showed the world. She may not like what he was saying, but if she'd just think about it a bloody minute instead'a doing a knee-jerk jump to the Great Forehead's defense, she'd know he was right.

"Maybe I'm not worth fighting for," Buffy suggested finally, blinking her shimmering eyes open and glancing over at the vampire.

"Bollocks," Spike declared, leaning forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs.

"Wasn't just Angel. Riley didn't think so either," Buffy reminded him. Why was she doing this? What was she even talking to him about any of this? She realized with a start that she couldn't talk to anyone else about it. Not Willow, not her mom, certainly not Giles or Xander. None of them could understand what it was like for her, what it was like to be the Slayer... to be a Slayer with an ooey-gooey center that had been stomped on too many times. But for whatever reason, Spike did. He'd always had this uncanny way of looking right through her defenses and seeing her. Big, peroxided jerk. She wished he'd just stop doing that; it was disconcerting. It gave him too much power. Power to hurt her, to sneak beneath her shields and slash at her insecurities.

"Finn wasn't any better than Peaches – never could understand you, Buffy," Spike asserted earnestly. "Captain Cardboard wanted the girl – truth be told, he wanted a bloody damsel in need of saving. Couldn't handle the Slayer, not your strength or your independence, giant insecure git that he was. Thought he could suss out your Slayer bits by going to those vamps in the brothel, find what it is that drives your darker side. But it's not in him – he could never touch your darkness, couldn't handle your strength, just like Angel couldn't touch your light."

Buffy looked at him blankly, shaking her head in consternation. What the hell was he doing? Why wasn't he driving the sword into her heart? Why wasn't he taking her ill-advised confessions and strangling her with them? Instead he was... what? Blaming Angel and Riley? Defending her?

Spike sighed and shifted closer to her, misunderstanding her look. His eyes locked with hers in the low light as he continued speaking earnestly, "You live a good bit of your life in the dark, pet, fighting evil, keeping the monsters back. Part of that is inside you, driving your Calling. But there's more to you than that. There's a light inside you. It's blinding… bloody glorious… you glow with it. Met a few Slayers in my day, and none of 'em had your radiance, they let the darkness consume them. But not you. Got your friends, your sis and mum, they help keep part of you basking in sunbeams. You're bloody effulgent, Buffy. You need someone who's not afraid of your darkness or your light, pet. Someone who can touch them both without fear of getting burned. Wasn't Finn. Wasn't Angel."

"Did you just insult me? What's 'effulgent' mean? It sounds... dirty."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Means bright, shining."

"I don't feel very bright and shiny," she admitted sulkily, lowering her eyes from his too-intense gaze, giving up on trying to figure out his game. It must be a game, right? But to what end?

"Yeah, well, just gonna have to take my word for it, then," Spike replied, giving her smirk.

"Why should I?" she wondered, looking back up at him. "Already admitted you're a liar, Mr. Always Been Bad."

"Not lying about this and you know it. You and me, neither of us are exactly normal, luv. Both need someone who's not afraid of our different sides, who'll stick with us when we build up the walls cos they know what's on the other side is worth fighting for."

Buffy wanted to point out that she was nothing like him. That Spike only had one side – evil, soulless vampire – but her stupid brain wouldn't let the words come out. It just kept showing her pictures of him doing things that were all with anti-soullessness. Things that had nothing to do with the chip. Like visiting her mom in the hospital, keeping her entertained with his stupid stories, and bringing her flowers and chocolates – even if they were stolen. Spending time with Dawn, teasing her and joking with her, making her feel special and seen – things a favorite uncle might do. Proving to Tara that she wasn't a demon in front of her screwed-up family – even if it did involve hitting the shy witch. Picking out the biggest tree in the lot because he thought it was the best, not for himself, but for them. Helping to untangle the lights and decorate the tree. Even taking her to that vamp brothel, showing her what Riley was doing. She believed Spike when he'd said he didn't do it to hurt her. In his own quirky way Buffy supposed he'd been protecting her. And now, sitting here, assuring her, telling her she was bright and shiny like a new penny... even if she did live in the dark.

Buffy shook her head again and sighed. It was all too confusing. Spike was too confusing.

"So, you're looking for that mythical creature, too?" she wondered after a few moments. "Who'll love you even when they hate you, who doesn't scare easily, who'll fight to the end of the world for you?"

Spike gave her a reticent smile. "Yeah, I reckon I am," he admitted, his gaze intent, sparkling with the shifting lights.

Buffy snorted and looked back at the tree. "We are so screwed."

End Note:

Is Spike getting through to Buffy? We'll have to wait and see!

More soon!