Part II

"Because," Travers replied, "a vampire's strength stems chiefly from hatred and ruthlessness. That is why the most powerful vampires of all -- Kakistos, The Master, Angelus -- were those most deeply steeped in hatred and ruthlessness, most remote from humane sentiment. And that is why so many vampires go through chanting rituals pleading to be delivered from the weaknesses of mercy, pity, and compassion."

"Sodding waste of time, that chanting, I always thought," Spike grunted.

"Indeed," answered Travers. "You were always willing to indulge your weaknesses more than most vampires -- though in the past you confined your indulgence to a single object of affection, your paramour Drusilla, and did not permit yourself to soften towards the human race. But even your feeling for Drusilla alone held you back from the maximum fighting prowess you were potentially capable of. That is why you were never quite Angelus's match in combat."

"Hey! Who said I wasn't--"

"Now now, Mister Spike. Hubris, hubris. A smart fighter is one who recognizes his own limitations and works within them. You had quite a reputation at one time, but only on a certain level. And you will never reach even that level again so long as you remain fond of Miss Summers. If you will be honest with yourself, you will admit that of late you have not been accomplishing what you once could have accomplished."

"Well, yeah," Spike muttered, downcast. "I always thought I should've been able to do better against Glory at the hospital, and at the petrol station. And I should've been able to heft that troll hammer in two hands if Buffy could in one. I should've been able to beat that bastard Doc, too. If I had, then Buffy would be alive now, and these last four hellish months would never have had to be that way."

"Ah, but the only way you could have been able to beat this Doc is if you cared nothing for Miss Summers or her sister," said Travers. "And in that case, you wouldn't have been fighting Doc, would you?"

"It's kind of a Catch 22, isn't it?" Xander remarked. "The more you want to help Buffy, the less power you have to do it. The more power you have, the less you want to help Buffy."

"Well, that's a fine look-out for the future," grumbled Spike.

"Oh, you needn't feel too bad," said Travers. "I don't mean that you've become an utter weakling. Even now, your power and fighting ability exceed those of any human, and are at about the average for vampires. That in itself is something to be reckoned with. You simply cannot expect to be at the peak you once were. But you have a century of combat experience to make up for it. And now that you realize the truth, you should be able to fight more effectively, because you will not be overconfident."

"So you can still help out if you want to, Spike," said Buffy. "You'll just have to be prudent, that's all. And not so blasted macho from now on!"

"While we are on the subject of Mister Spike's fighting abilities," said Travers, "there is one more thing I may as well mention. The Council has been gathering information on the scientific experiments conducted last year by the American military organization known as the Initiative. We know how the microchip implanted in Mister Spike's brain can easily and safely be deactivated by means of an electronic impulse tuned to a particular frequency. It's the same way Professor Walsh activated the microchip in the first place."

A stunned silence fell. Then Spike asked: "Why are you telling me this? Do you want to deactivate the sodding chip?"

"Not necessarily," answered Travers. "But we haven't ruled out the possibility either. It's just something you and Miss Summers ought to think about. Since you seem to have, ah, transcended your demonic nature so remarkably, it might possibly be a good idea to do away with the microchip. In its absence, you could help Miss Summers fight the human adversaries she sometimes encounters -- such as the Knights of Byzantium who attacked you in the desert, for example."

Dawn said: "Yes, Spike! If you could have fought against them that day, we'd all be much better off."

"Dawn, you're not thinking about how much worse off we could be if Spike could fight against whoever he wanted to," Xander interjected nervously.

"Afraid I'll whup your arse again, Harris?" Spike said with a genial smile. "But don't be scared. I'm in no hurry. That deactivation, that's for Buffy to decide. And Buffy," he added, "I don't think you should decide in a hurry. Take your time, think about it, see if I strike you as trustworthy."

"You really don't care, Spike?" asked Giles in surprise. "Getting that chip deactivated has always been your first priority."

"It was, once," Spike answered. "But right now I'm so happy to have Buffy back alive, I can't get interested in anything else. I don't want anything to upset the apple cart. I just want to be happy for a change."

"And so do I," said Buffy, smiling warmly at him. "Travers, if our business is concluded here, I'd like to go home."

The group dispersed in different directions. Xander and Anya, after one last parting embrace with Buffy, headed for Xander's apartment.

"What's with the long face, Xander?" asked Anya brightly. "You don't seem quite as happy about Buffy's return as everyone else is."

"Oh, I'm happy all right," he answered. "I'm overjoyed that Buffy's been restored to life. I just don't like the way it was done. I wish it had happened in any other way."

"What do you mean, Xander?"

"I mean I wish the miraculous resurrection didn't involve Spike. I wish it didn't all hinge on his pair eem-po-see-bee-lay love for Buffy. I mean, I always knew he was as randy as a tomcat, and I could see him having a yen for Buffy, but evidently that's not all that's going on. It seems to be true love -- sheer devotion -- not just hot, sweaty, ride-me-all-night-like-a-pony love."

"Is there a difference?" asked Anya. "I'm sheerly devoted to you, and I'll always want you to ride me all night like a pony, too."

"Well, for us the two go together, and that's okay," said Xander. "But I don't want them to go together for Buffy and that vampire. I mean, if he wants to have an unrequited devotion for her, fine. If he wants to help her fight, fine. I just can't stand the thought of them actually, you know, together. But you can see that's where it's heading. I mean, he brought her back to life, for cryin' out loud! It's a miraculous transcendent love and all that! Buffy's gonna soften up, I'm afraid. But, knowing what he is, I just don't get it."

"Well, would it really be so bad? I know, I know, I helped you do the intervention back when we thought he and Buffy were really, you know, doing it. I thought it was unhealthy, then, because Buffy's mother had just died and Buffy had so many reasons to resent Spike at that time. And no reasons -- yet -- to think well of him. But things have changed now. And clearly he doesn't mean her any harm. I think he just wants to make her happy. The way you make me happy," Anya concluded, taking her fiancé’s arm.

"But he's a vampire. It's icky. I thought it was icky with Angel, too, and Angel has a soul," replied Xander.

"Oh, I don't know," said Anya. "Some soulless vampires can be very romantic, you know. Remember I mentioned I hung out with Dracula a few times, back in the old days? Well, there are things vampires can do with their strength and endurance, let me tell you! And if you're in a bedroom lined with mirrors, and you're naked, and he's--"

"Anya! For god's sake no! That's a little more information than I really need," interjected Xander, hurriedly clamping a hand over Anya's mouth.

Meanwhile, Giles was getting a ride home from Travers in his limousine. "There are a few things I'm still trying to piece together," said the Watcher musingly. "Spike has been avoiding Buffy's grave all this time. Yet tonight he happened upon it in the midst of a running fight with two Fyarl demons. Now, Fyarl demons have very little intelligence and initiative. They almost never do anything on their own account. They're always hirelings, soldiers who'll take orders from just about anyone who can give them an inducement. They'll even work for vampires, and most demons look down on vampires too much for that. So I wonder who hired those two Fyarl demons to attack Spike tonight? And why did they lead him in just that direction, eh?"

Travers just smiled and said nothing.

Buffy, Spike, and Dawn walked over to the Summers house, entering from the rear and pausing on the back porch. "Dawn, I know you're terribly excited to have me back, and I want to spend all my time with you," said Buffy. "But your sleep was interrupted already, and I think you should go upstairs and get back into your pyjamas. I'll pop in to your room in a few minutes, okay?"

"All right," said Dawn. "It's so nice to be mothered and bossed by you again, I won't even give you any static about it. Just this once." With one last hug for her older sister, the beaming girl ran into the house.

Of one accord, Buffy and Spike sat down together on the back porch. There fell a silence that Spike eventually felt compelled to break.

"Well, this is a bit awkward, isn't it?" he asked.

"What is? I'm so happy right now, Spike. Looks like clear sailing to me," said Buffy, smiling at him.

"I just mean -- well, you know, it seems as if Fate or something is conspiring to throw us together, doesn't it? I just want you to know, Buffy, what I said before still stands. I mean, I know I'm a monster and I don't expect you to ever love me back. Really. I just like being around you, and seeing you, and helping you fight and all that. That's all I need to make me happy. It's so much more than I have had, these last few months." Spike broke off, his voice choked.

"Spike." The Slayer took his hand in hers. "There are things I wanted to say to you, before. But I was so worried about Dawn, and Glory . . . well, now we've got nothing but time, right? No crises, no emergencies. So in the first place let me just tell you -- my dear, dear friend -- I do not think you are a monster. Even the Watchers' Council doesn't think you're a monster. They would never have mentioned anything about the chip if they thought so. I'm very fond of you, Spike, and I can only imagine becoming fonder and fonder of you every day. But we need to take our time, you know? I feel as if I've never really known you. And I want to get to know you. Slowly, bit by bit, not rushing anything."

"Sounds good to me, Buffy," said Spike with a tremulous smile.

"Maybe," Buffy continued, "once I've picked up the pieces of my life and established some kind of normal routine again, we can start going out."

"Going out on patrol, you mean? I'd like to," said Spike.

"That's not what I meant, Spike. Although I do want you to patrol with me. But I meant, you know, going out. To places like, like the Bronze and stuff like that."

"The Bronze," said Spike slowly. "You mean, sit together at the Bronze and--and talk? You and me? Like we're some kind of talking buddies or something?"

"Sit, talk, drink, dance -- have fun together. I'll bet you're a good dancer, aren't you, Spike?"

"I was once. I'm awfully rusty, though, Buffy."

"So am I, Spike. I'm rusty at living, period!" Buffy laughed.

Around the two figures on the porch, the wind was picking up, sending the fallen leaves swirling around them. Spike plucked one out of the air, a fragile crumpled scrap of brown. "Look at that, Buffy. Here it is autumn. I always thought autumn was the time for death and decay -- like this leaf here. And spring is supposed to be the season for new life and all that, isn't it? But you died in the spring, and you came back to life in the autumn. It's all the opposite of how it's supposed to be. Odd, isn't it?"

"Ah, Spike, but we're the opposite of how we're supposed to be. You should hate me but you don't. And that's what brought me back to life. It's a miracle that works by contraries, right? Per -- what was the word?"

"Per impossibile, sweetheart. Your lack of a classical education is really a crime, you know? Gonna have to do something about that, Slayer."

"Me, learn Latin?" Buffy scoffed. "I mean, coming back to life is one thing, but that, that's really impossible!"

THE END

Back to Authors A-F