Fanfiction: Here I Am
It wasn’t right. It was just bloody creepy! Of course , Spike could understand loving a girl so much that anything, any piece of her that he could have was good—like a robot made to look like her, or her using him for sex. However, Spike was sure that Wesley had gone mad. Wesley first said he was bringing that thing that killed Fred around because it was better to have a twenty-four hour watch on her. Spike asked how IIlyria had come to agree to joining in on the take-your-evil-goddess-that-murdered-your-girl-to-work-day. He was told to shut-up, of course. Then, Spike realized that this IIlyria, this leather blue bitch evil thing had developed a dependency on Wesley. This thing that had drained the life out of Fred and destroyed her soul would follow Wesley into the bloody lu if she could, and he was getting off on it! Well, Spike wasn’t going to put up with that. He told Wes how disgusting he was, and if he had any real love for Fred he would find a way to destroy that thing that killed her.
This is when Spike expected Angel to jump in and defend his right hand man’s honor. He didn’t. He just pushed his way through the gaping employees and told Spike this is a place of business.
“Yeah, a place of morally ambiguous business that is picking off your friends one by one! They found a way to manipulate your boys, Angel. But, they had to kill your girls out-right because they were too good to be corrupted, ” Spike yelled.
When Angel had nothing to say back, Spike turned to Wesley.
“I wish to God that Fred could see you now, Percy. She’d find you so repulsive she would high tale it out of this place and be somewhere safe, but I’d bet you’d rather have it this way. Something that looks just like her, but needs you to make her way in this world. Fred was doing a fine job on her own until she went with you,” he said.
With that Wes had taken out a stake from somewhere on his person, and charged Spike. Good. This was just what Spike needed a good fight to get his juices flowing again so he would stop feeling so miserable about Fred. It may help Wes feel better about the whole thing too. The boy had better moves than Spike had thought. This wouldn’t be a boring fight.
Then, Spike had felt himself get thrown through glass. Angel, Spike thought. His Grand-Sire had somehow snuck up on him. He wasn’t usually so stealthy but it was just like the old poof to not fight fair.
“Bloody hell!” Spike coughed as he laid on the ground, “How much of the annual budget has gone into replacing these bloody windows almost every week. If I were you, I’d just forget the windows and make this place one of those cubical places.”
Spike expected his Sire to be standing over him with that angered yet smug frown and protruding furrowed brow. Instead Spike saw his insey little friend, Fred. Yes, it was Fred with a punk dominatrix make-over. Spike wouldn’t have minded that at all; accept that it wasn’t Fred. It was just some horrible bitch that squashed her soul and remembered her life. She could pack a mean punch, or a hurling, or whatever she had just done to Spike. Spike was realizing that wasn’t just his average window throw through. He felt like a speeding truck hit him.
“You were hurting the Qwa’ha Xahan. That will not stand. He is much more impressive than the other Qwa’ha Xahan that he killed,” IIlyria told Spike as she looked at him with those icicle eyes.
“You hear that, Percy? That was all for you. She fancies you. You have a loyal bitch in your girlfriend’s murderer,” Spike laughed painfully.
“Why do you call the Qwa’ha Xahan a different name than what the rest of these humans and half-breeds call him?” IIlyria asked Spike.
“Great. Now it’s talking to me,” Spike muttered, “I dunno, little girl blue. Why do you call him something different than what everyone else does?”
“The title is a sign of respect for my most loyal follower,” It answered.
“Well, I’m gonna give him a lot more titles in a minute, and they aren’t going to be signs of bloody respect,” Spike laughed as he still lay on the floor with bits of glass around him.
“You are a Warrior, but you don ‘t lead these people. I think it’s because you are much more volatile than the leader. You seem to only agitate them. Why are you here?” IIlyria asked as Spike tried to get up.
“You’ve gotta hand it to her; she does ask good questions,” Angel said as he pulled Spike of the ground.
“It’s not a girl. It’s not Fred. It’s no good. Have you lost your mind?” Spike sneered at his Sire as Angel let go of him.
“Go home, Spike. Patrol the streets. Play the hero and go home,” Angel said in a surprisingly soft way.
“What the hell are you all playing at I’d like to know?” Spike demanded as he left.
He didn’t get an answer. He did go home though. Straight home. He did not pass go; he did not collect two hundred dollars. He found himself feeling odd. He didn’t want to find evil things to beat on in order to save people he didn’t know. He was having a hard enough time doing that with people he did know. He knew the next big fight was here. He could feel it, as he always could feel when big things were about to come. But, maybe his place wasn’t here if everyone around him was going to turn a blind eye to the big fight. He needed something to work with here, for God sake!
For now being a lone wolf would have to do until he decided if he was going to go somewhere else or find a different set of idiots to work with. Spike had his ear to the ground as usual.
He heard there was a Slayer in town. She was a rogue, chasing something big and bad. Of course, Spike kept this news to himself. It was easy enough to do, everyone was in such a state over Fred, and fucking Percy bringing IIlyria into Wolfram as if she were to be a bloody employee.
Spike thought it had to be some green Slayer that had gotten all cocky and disobeyed Buffy and went out on her own. As Spike checked his voice mail he heard that one of his connections, Frick, had called him. He said he had the Slayer. Frick said they had found her “beaten in a way to stay alive and feel the sting of pain.” Well, that would teach the girl that not every Slayer was Buffy and that she best go back under Buffy’s tutelage.
Spike called Frick and asked for more details. He said she had dark hair. All she did was mumble letters and colors. Spike thought maybe the crazy Slayer, Dana had escaped, and she was coming back home to do more damage, but that didn’t make much sense. There would be reports of her doing damage in the news. There was just the usual on the telle. A shooting here and there in downtown, a middle aged man on his Viagra kick tortured and killed along with his lovely young wife (that had to be the Ex-wife), and the usual trash talk of all the Yank politicians. Oh yeah, Frick said something else the Slayer did mention one name that made sense—Dracula. Now Spike was more than a little interested.
“Eh,” Frick sighed, “I don’t know if it means much, Man. I have a theory that this beating she took brought her back to her ‘Sesame Street’ days, and she’s just watching all the numbers and letters and that Count Dracula puppet in her head.”
“No, Mate. Drac wasn’t on the public access channel with that stuff for `bits,” Spike said.
“Yeah he was. Well, it wasn’t him, but they have that cute little puppet that counts. You know: `one bat Oowoo-woo, Ha, ha, ha. Two bats Oowoo-woo—”
“I know!” Spike grumbled, “Spare me the impression, okay? The bloody puppet’s name wasn’t Dracula. He was just called `The Count.’ Now did she mention Drac, or did she say The Count?”
“Man, I don’t remember. I’m kinda high right now. Look do you want her or not? I don’t want her when the thing that did this comes back for her, or when she starts to come to a little more. She may like Sesame Street but she also seems to have a temper. In her one full conscious moment she came a little too close to clawing my eyes out,” Frick grumbled.
“Eh, If you were able to stop her from clawing her eyes out what makes you think she’s a Slayer? Maybe the poor thing is just a regular beat upon girl. Take her to a hospital,” Spike sighed.
“Trust me. I have my sources. She’s one of ‘em. Look, if you don’t want her I know plenty of people that would love a Slayer in an almost coma,” Frick said.
“You asshole! You’re gonna sell a beat-up girl to some demons, and say she’s a Slayer unless I come and get her!” Spike grumbled.
“She is a Slayer. Hey, you know me. I’m a good guy, Spike. But, times are getting tough and I have to go where opportunity takes me,” Frick said.
“God!” Spike scowled into the phone, “What is it with this town? You know a place is in trouble when all the heroes are chasing the dollar, and I have to be Mr. Do-Right.”
“So, does that mean you’re coming, Dudley? If you are, hurry up, because I don’t know how many more Sesame Street episodes she has in her head, and when she does come to she tries to bolt,” Frick said.
“So, you really think her mentioning Drac was the bloody puppet? Maybe your right. It’s not bloody likely that Drac would come back to the States after last time. Hey! Is she talkin’ about any of the puppets on that show that turned out to be evil?” Spike asked.
“Spike, just get here and see for yourself. I can’t have her here much longer. I hate the sight of blood and she’s been cut up all over. It’s really sick, man,” Frick said.
“Right,” Spike said, “Oh and if I found out you had anything to do with makin’ her the way she is, I’ll kill you slow.”
“Spike, C’mon,” Frick gasped, “I’m a lover not a fighter.”
“If I smell that you were a lover on her while she was unconscious, I’ll take all your off your naughty parts and dissect them in front of you,” Spike said.
“Jesus! Spike, I just ate. Just get here,” Frick said before he hung up the phone.
Spike knew Frick was not capable of the things he had just accused him of, but he was still something of a slime. Spike was sure he was playing the angle of their being a Slayer in town, and he had found some poor semi-conscious girl in the street. Now Frick was gonna try to get a favor out of Spike by saying this was a Slayer. Pity. If it had been a Slayer Spike would have given the little girl a sizable lecture about how lucky she was to be alive. He would have said that Buffy may seem like a blow-hard at times, but Buffy was their leader for a reason. He’d say that the world was a hard cruel place, and she better go back with her troops if she wanted to be apart of fighting in it. Oh well, maybe it was for the best. If he had found a Slayer and sent them back to Buffy, she would only confirm that Spike was alive. He couldn’t play the masked man hero. He wasn’t Angel. He actually had a personality, and Buffy would have known it was him that saved one of her girls. Than Buffy would either do nothing about him being alive in LA, or something and both were things Spike did not want to face yet.
Spike got to Frick’s and he saw her. It was her, lying there. His face fell. He dropped to his knees by her bed-side.
“What? What? I told you it was bad. I just figured you’d seen and done worse,” Frick said.
“Bugger,” Spike whispered and surprised himself by almost crying.
Spike didn’t know her very well. He wasn’t even sure if he liked her all that much. He had liked her very much in the beginning, but then something happened. She brassed him off. Spike couldn’t remember how now, but she had brassed him off. He didn’t know the Slayer well enough to remember her smell.
“Man, what is it? Do you know her or something? Oh man! She isn’t the one that you banged, is she? Damn…of course she is. That totally makes sense. Dude, I’m real sorry. But, she’ll be all right, right?” Frick rambled on nervously now as Spike looked over the girl.
He wasn’t even sure if it was her at first because her face was so badly beaten, but an instant later he knew it was. He checked her arm for the tattoo, and his face didn’t even sink a second time when he saw it there on her arm, the black tribal etchings against the soft white skin. He knew it was her before the tattoo because he would have recognized that body anywhere. Short, compact but lean, perfect round breasts in a tight black shirt.
“Bugger,” he repeated and slowly got up.
“I mean, she’ll be okay. She’s a Slayer, right?” Frick asked.
He looked like a sad body-building Woodland creature—literally. He had an average sized extremely over muscled human body and his brown eyes with their long lashes showed no white in them. Frick’s clan of demons were all over LA. They often passed for human when they covered up their ridged earlobes, and Hollywood thought they were so pretty. They often played action heroes. But, all that natural muscle didn’t do much good against Spike when he was this angry.
“You have thirty seconds to tell me what it is you’re not telling me so I hope, for your sake, it isn’t a lot,” Spike said in vampire face as he pushed Frick into his wall.
“Spike, you’re my friend, man. You knew I was kidding when I said I was gonna sell her to someone else, right?” Frick said nervously.
“20…19…18…, Look who the real Count is, only I am much more violent when I get to zero than the puppet or Drac combined,” Spike said.
“I don’t think either of them have violence as their thing. Dracula just messes with your head before he feeds on you and the puppet—-” Frick babbled.
“10…9…8…” Spike said as he grabbed Frick’s throat.
“Dracula, gotta get… He got her,” the Slayer moaned painfully as if Frick’s mention of Drac made her stir some.
“See, Dracula…She says `Dracula’ I told you that, and then she starts in with the numbers, the-the letters, and the colors, man. I told you that too,” Frick said.
“5..4..3..2—” Spike continued.
“Two. Two ways to save her. Two ways to bring her back. Two, two, and then three, ” The Slayer said this like she was arguing with someone.
“See,” Frick said.
“Oh, look at that,” Spike smiled in vamp face, “All this talking brought us past zero. Too bad it’ s not the talk I’m after.”
He punched the demon in the face.
“Okay!” Frick pleaded.
“She came to town and she hired a couple of my boys to help her bring down a vampire,” Frick said.
“She hired some demons to help her bring down Drac? That makes no bloody sense! You better stop lyin’ to me,” Spike threatened.
“It wasn’t Dracula. She said it was a vampire, but I don’t know. I think it was something else. Something way worse, and she didn’t want to be straight with the boys about what it was. I feel sorry for you if you have a thing for this girl. She’s no Sweetheart. She threatened and beat-up a lot of demons and people to keep it quiet that she was here. She said if anyone leaked it out to that company that you work for, she’d kill them. She really did not want you to know she was here, Dude,” Frick sighed in relief as Spike relaxed his hold on the demon.
“Bloody hell,” Spike grumbled and went over to the Slayer’s bed-side where she now lay unconscious again.
“What have you gone and done, you little Bitch? Still tryin’ to prove your as good as Buffy. Well, you’re not. You thought you could handle some big bad on your own. Looks like I’m gonna get to give my little unity speech after all. Wake-up, Coma girl! This bullocks may work with Buffy, but it won’t with me, Faith,” Spike grumbled as he grabbed her arms and shook her.
“B!” she yelped but her eyes were still shut.
“There she goes with the letters, I told ya. She says the numbers, but she seems to be really upset at the letters and the colors,” Frick said.
“What the bloody hell are you talking about?” Spike demanded.
“B,” Faith cried now and opened her eyes.
“Oh Man,” Frick sighed, “I really hope she isn’t going to keep saying `b’ over and over now like when they first brought her in here.”
“What did you do to, Buffy? You Bitch!” Spike yelled now.
“I let her go. Killing is wrong,” she said. Then she opened her swollen eyes. “Spike!”
“That’s right. Now tell me what you did to Buffy.”
“We can’t do it your way,” Faith shook her beat up head at him and now was rising up out of the bed.
“There’s where you’re wrong. There’s only my way. What did you do to Buffy?”
“Red said we can’t do it your way, the fighting way. She doesn’t want to fight for it, so we’ll do it the other way. It’ll all be five by five. I have to go get her is all,” Faith said in a cheerful almost child-like way. She was clearly not herself. She was in some state of disorientation, and she wasn’t shining it on. This girl couldn’t fake cheerful and child-like. She’d have to be beaten into it.
“Well, I can see this is a private conversation between you two love-birds, so I’ll leave you alone. See, I’m a good guy. I’ll let you use my place,” Frick said nervously before running out. He was a man that knew when he was out of his depth.
Faith was now trying to stagger out of the place too.
“I don’t think so,” Spike said as he grabbed the girl around her waist. She fell back on him. She was lean and soft and smelled of her own blood, and someone else’s that he knew well.
“No! Let me go! I have to get her before they find her first,” She screamed. He had no idea that Faith had a shrill girl scream like that in her. It almost made Spike feel sorry for her when she started to cry.
“All right,” Spike said slowly, “You’re still alive for two reasons. Number one it seems like Buffy beat on you way worse than you beat on her, and number two you can tell me where she is.”
“Red said I can’t tell. You could be with them,” Faith whispered now.
“Who? Wolfram and Hart?”
“No, The New Council. The Old Council. Same difference. They kill us bad girls. Red said they could get to you. So, we have to take care of B alone. Bad girls unite,” Faith was whispering like a drunken school girl with a secret. She was still trying to weakly run from his grip on her waist.
“Right, this whole little girl delirious number was much cuter on Drusilla. Red would never hurt Buffy,” Spike said.
“Red will make it right, but, I—I am the one to bring her back,” Faith said.
Spike’s insides felt like someone had poured holy water on them, and they were melting away and sliding down the shell of his outsides. Spike sat down on the bed with his arms still around Faith’s waist. It made it so she was sitting in his lap.
“Can’t play with you, Stud,” Faith laughed as she was forced to sit on Spike, “Gotta go save B.”
“Faith, is Buffy dead?” Spike asked in dread.
“No, you can’t kill her. It’s wrong!” Faith began to cry again.
“Faith, did Dracula kill Buffy?” Spike asked with a swallow.
“No!” Faith wailed now, “She’s not dead. There are two ways. Two ways to get a vamp their soul. Red said we can only do it the one way. Then there will be three of you. Three of you. It’ll be five by five.”
Frick was right. She went on about letters, colors, numbers, and Drac. What he didn’t realize was that it was no trip back to kiddie land on the telle. Much like Drusilla, Faith was talking in a code in her state, and in that code was the whole sodding wretched tale. B and Drac; Red and two and then three. Spike wondered what five by five was. Then he realized it was the old radio code. Sometimes cops still used it, and Spike knew Faith had spent some time around them. Five by five- everything was all right. Everything was not bloody all right.
You’re never gonna find him! Not before he gets to her. That’s what Spike had said to Captain Cardboard about Dracula. That seemed like ages ago. He was powerless with that chip and was down a soul back then, but he was right. He knew he was bloody right. What he didn’t know, what he should have realized, was that Drac wasn’t about to give up. Not with a creature as fine as Buffy. He had been humiliated and dusted twice, and Drac wasn’t going to let that stand. Spike told Buffy that Drac couldn’t have been dead, that as tacky as he was with his smoke and mirrors truly killing him had to be harder than that. I Euro-trashed him twice. I saw smoke like he was thinking of rising again, but then he decided against it. Decided against it! Like Drac would just choose to stay smoke forever because of her. This is where Buffy was so naive. You didn’t decide to stay nothing because of her, you rose up and became something better and greater because of her. Accept Drac’s idea of becoming something better wasn’t to get a soul. He had a bit of Angel’s style; it was all about me, me, me.
Why hadn’t Spike seen this coming? He knew best how Buffy went weak for the bad boy monsters that called for her. He should have bloody done something, damn it! He wasn’t even doing anything now. He was just sitting in his place crying like he had done when Buffy had died. He cried quietly as to not wake the beat up Slayer that laid unconscious in his bed now. But, he knew there was still hope, still something that could be done. Maybe that’s why Spike had stayed up staring at this dark haired bitch of a Slayer. He knew that with all of Angel’s Wolfram and Hart connections, and all of Rupert’s white hat connections the only one that was really going to be able to make it possible to save Buffy was Faith.
Faith knew how Buffy would think, now that she was a vampire. This Slayer had always fancied herself as Buffy ‘s darker half, but now the light half had turned black. Spike really hoped this girl was up to the challenge. Things didn’t seem like they were off to a pleasing start, did they?
He wasn’t sure how oriented Faith was. She seemed to go in and out. Sometimes she seemed to know Spike and tell him how it was going to be all right, or how they couldn’t do it his way (whatever that meant.) But, when he asked her real questions like where Red was or why hadn’t Red just done the bloody ensouling spell already she could never answer. But, Faith’s one track mind did remain on one thing—Buffy. Had to get B; Had to save B; B wasn’t dead. If Spike was anyone else he would have gotten sick of hearing the letter “B” too. As he wasn’t anyone else, he was liking Faith more and more. She was a very determined girl. She bolted up out of the bed several times the minute she got some strength in her fevered head. She wanted to go save B, damn it! Spike would have to toss her back in the bed and explain that it wasn’t time for that now, but soon it would come. He was reminded again of Dru, who would often be weak after a vision and get it in her head that it was a fabulous idea to wander off in that state. However, with Dru it had all been a fun game. Faith was angry and miserable, and Spike was surprised at how miserable this made him. Well, she was the Slayer that would save Buffy.
Faith had been tossing and turning and crying a little all night herself. Spike had given her Aspirin and she had looked at him with suspicious delirium, like she wasn’t quite sure of who he was. But, then when he offered to take her to Wolfram and Hart so she could get some real medical care she had bolted up.
“No! No Angel!” she objected furiously, and then started to cry.
If only more girls he knew had that reaction to his Grand-Sire he’d be happier. But, he hadn’t really liked to see her crying. He’d of thought that Faith’s tear ducts had hardened long ago. It brought him back to the reality and horror of the situation. This wasn’t just another fine mess. This wasn’t just the end of the world. This was something much worse. It made Spike cry again himself.
“Vamps cry?” Faith half asked him, or herself in her beat upon state that was definitely getting better than before. However, it didn’t look like she liked finding out the fact that Vamps cried. As she looked at him with her one good eye that wasn’t swollen up, her scratched up forehead creased with more lines of confusion. Her bloody lips pouted.
“Don’t. Between me an’ her. It’s five by five,” the Slayer said groggily, and she reached out and touched Spike’s arm.
Spike was pretty sure Faith was trying to be soothing. He was surprised she would even attempt such a thing. Of course, if she wanted to be any good at it she had to start making sense. Faith had made enough sense for him to put two and two together though, and he knew it was four no matter what. Maybe the girl was crying at the thought of seeing Angel because Faith knew he would refuse to accept her painful semi-conscious whispers as the truth and he would demand she wake up and recite the whole tale.
Spike didn’t want to hear the details of how Dracula had turned Buffy and how certain Slayers wanted to kill their leader because she had turned into the enemy. Buffy had turned into the enemy that she had trusted and believed in when she saw there was still good inside. She believed in the enemy when there was just a scrap of good left. Of course, it had been Faith that knew this and somehow had not allowed them to kill Buffy.
“Sorry, sorry,” Spike muttered as he took off Faith’s jeans and her little black top. She was whining in her sleep. It was probably painful for her to be tugged at, but he couldn’t stand it anymore. The clothes were blood filled and dirty with other things. They had the slight smell of Buffy on them. It was feint, but he couldn’t take it.
“You said you wouldn’t anymore if I was good,” Faith whispered, or at least that’s what he thought he heard.
“Hey,” he said, “I’m not tryin’ to be fresh. I just thought I’d take these things off and wash the blood off you, but—but, I guess not, if it’s gonna…trigger… bad things.”
“Very bad things,” she echoed as her eyes were shut.