Chapter six
Buffy decided to take a short cut home through the cemetery. Her mood was level, neither desperate nor particularly high. For the first time in weeks she felt she had a chance to lengthen her life span noticeably. Perhaps she would see 25 after all. The other matter brought her reverie down to earth, however. "Unrequited love is such a crappy shitty…stupid fucking thing to endure," she said out loud and broke into laughter at her own outburst. "But the agony of it is kinda cool," she countered.
"I always took you for a masochist," a voice emerged with its originator from behind a tomb ahead of her.
"Spike, long time. What have you been doing? I haven't seen you since that night on the veranda, which I….I have wanted to thank you for, by the way. Your presence was comforting, in a scary sort of way."
"Don't mention it," the bleached vampire responded nonchalantly. "Truth to tell, I was there to kill you."
"I kinda guessed as much…..the double barrel shotgun was a lead."
"I suppose it was. How's Joyce?"
"She's fine, thank you." They both stood a few feet apart, Spike's taller stature requiring Buffy to look up. With his long dark cloak wrapped around him he had a kind of brooding presence; danger mixed with a sexual intensity. "Why did you let me live?" She asked, shaking herself out of her scary thoughts.
"It didn't seem the right time; and too quick. When I get this chip out of my head, I'll make a good job of it."
"Gee, there's a thought to hang on to."
"Of course, that's if you don't burn out first…hey!" he held his hands up in self-defence. "Just because you haven't seen me doesn't mean I haven't been around."
"Eavesdropping you mean."
"What can I say, I'm evil. But, don't worry, as that old wise woman, Debbie Harry once said 'die young, stay pretty'. I mean, look at me." He held his arms out wide welcoming Buffy to survey the figure of a man that stood before her. She returned him a disgusted look. "What you need is a bite to the neck. A dose of immortality and you'll feel much better."
"Followed by the death of all my friends by my own hand. Oh yes, that'll cheer me up loads."
"Yes it would. Well it would make me smile. Think of it, slayer; living forever!"
"But, don't you see, Spike? By living forever you ultimately become ….insignificant. A man, knowing he is destined to die after three score and ten, will try his hardest to make his mark. You, on the other hand, just plod. You were, are and always will be. Where's the challenge in that?"
"And what about you?" Spike retaliated. "Knowing you're going to die before your next haircut isn't much of a challenge either. It's fucking depressing if you ask me."
"I plan to survive as long as possible. Either that or grow my hair long." She smiled. The action was infectious and Spike flashed his teeth.
Buffy regarded the vampire. That night on the veranda, when he had comforted her, bothered her whenever she thought of it. It was easier to hate Spike than grow to like him. One day he would get the pacifying chip in his head removed and she would be forced to kill him. Despite everything they had done to each other, she was not immune to the small kindnesses he revealed on occasion.
"You should try something new, find a hobby or get a job even," she suggested.
"What, like Angel you mean? Or that guy on Forever Knight? You gotta be kidding."
"What have you accomplished in your life…or death for that matter?"
"Accomplish? Why do I have to accomplish anything? I've had fun! I had fun for over a century; no duty, no self reproach, no need to worry about what other people thought. I used to be king of my world, lord over everything I hated. Now, with this sodding chip all I have is the hate bit, and a faint itch for a blonde cheerleader that I can't seem to get out of my mind."
Buffy was taken aback. "An itch?" She repeated dangerously.
"Yea, like a scab you can't help picking at despite knowing that it'll only make it worse."
Buffy laughed out loud. "A scab?" She asked between the laughter, tears starting to fall down her cheeks. "Oh, Spike thank you. To think you used to be a poet. Tell me, what rhymes with scab?"
"Now you're taking the piss," Spike sulked.
"Of course I am. You'd hate me more if I gave you tea and sympathy.…..hey that rhymed!" She burst out laughing again and walked past the demon to continue her walk home. She was stopped short when Spike started speaking again.
"The beauty of the southern skies
Is eclipsed by the sight before my eyes:
Of fragile beauty, hear my soul cry
Such beauty must never die"
"Spike….."
"The easy stream of laughter through the air
Emits true human nature so fair.
I lift my eyes and stare
At the golden sun eclipse on her golden hair"
"Spike, please stop." She looked horrified.
"Don't worry, slayer." It was his turn to laugh. "I wrote that over a century ago, hence the golden sun reference."
"I can't love you, Spike. We have too much history, you and I, and none of it good; full of violence and….insults," she smiled weakly, "of which 'scab' is the least insulting."
"I don't love you either, Buffy. You drive me crazy sometimes to the extent I want to suck the life out of you, but at the same time I want to pull you to me and…."
"I get the image, thank you."
"What do you want from life, Buffy?"
"Me? A husband and children, a picket fence….and a picnic in the park with my grandchildren. I aim high," she added. "Take care, Spike." She finished and walked away.
"One thing I can't get over though," Spike called out. "Giles actually slept with your mother. Now that really creases me up…hey I'm evil, so sue me."