| Sympathy for the Devil by ComedyofErrors |
| Chapter #15 - Chapter 14 |
| Chapter 14 *****Flash***** Spike was standing outside her window on Revello Drive, beside the tree she had used to climb out of her bedroom in her early days in Sunnydale. His feet were spread, his shoulders back, and his face tilted upward. His left hand rested in his duster pocket while his right hand dangled at his side, holding a forgotten cigarette. Buffy could remember catching Spike behind that tree and pulling him out of hiding a couple weeks ago. Cigarette butts had littered the ground, proof that he’d lingered for a long while, watching her house. Judging from this memory, he made a practice of watching her. She knew that occasionally Spike snuck into her house. She’d caught him at that, too. He’d claimed that he was stealing junk from the basement to pawn. Between the Queller demon, her mom’s surgery, Riley, and the daily Dawn crisis, she’d never taken the time to confront Spike about his new hobby. She should have been outraged by his behavior, but it didn’t actually bother her all that much. He never took anything important, he probably needed the money, and he never made any move to harm her family. She found it infinitely more disturbing that he still spied on her than that he foraged in her cellar. When he stole, it was just about money, about survival. That she could respect, even if it was annoying to have him pop up at random in the dark. But stalking her was personal. Why would he feel a need to track her movements as he did when they were enemies? Buffy shook her head. She needed to stop jumping to conclusions about Spike’s motives. When she’d first entered his head she’d known that she could rely on him. She knew him well enough now to know how difficult betrayal was for him. Whatever this memory was, it wasn’t about Spike trying to find her weaknesses. He already knew them all, anyway. Maybe she could get a clue if she figured out what he was watching. The problem was that he really couldn’t see anything from this angle. No curtains were open on his level and all the lights were off in the house. It wasn’t that late at night, judging by the moon. Her mom and Dawn would have been up if they were home. Spike would surely have been inside now, though, if the house were empty. Spike’s eyes drifted closed, and his head cocked to one side as though he were listening. Listening to something she was doing in her house with the lights off. If Buffy concentrated hard enough, she could hear a low moaning sound coming from the second floor of the house, in the vicinity of her bedroom. It was the sound that Riley made when they were…God. Spike was listening to her boink Riley. Ewww. That was just creepy. Why the hell was he doing that? Did he think they were his own personal porn channel? But he didn’t really look like he was enjoying this. Good thing, because otherwise she was going to slap him when they got back to real life, friendship and mild crush not withstanding. He certainly didn’t look turned on. Actually, Spike looked almost pained. Sad and resigned, much as he had when Dru had gone off to play with Angelus, while remaining within earshot of her adoring, but heartbroken, childe. Judging by the sudden grunt upstairs, Riley had just finished up. The sounds faded to heavy breathing and then to nothing at all. Spike’s head bowed forward, his eyes opening to stare blankly at the ground. Buffy was reminded forcibly of his memories as William. Uncertainty and distress radiated from beneath the cool, graceful vampiric exterior, the inner humanity in Spike showing clearly. Buffy was going to make a wild guess and say that Spike wasn’t upset about Riley’s love-life. Open-minded as she knew vampires tended to be about sex in general, Spike held only hate for the former Initiative soldier. That meant that what bothered him about this situation was the fact that Buffy was up there with Riley. Spike seemed, well, jealous that Riley was with Buffy. Was it possible that Spike was interested in her, the way she was starting to be interested in him? No, that was crazy. Surely she would have noticed a thing like that. But there he stood, that discomfited look on his face that only showed up when the people he adored kicked him in the teeth. Perhaps she’d seen the signs but explained them away as something else. Maybe that was the real reason he’d been watching her, following her around on patrol and home to her house. He always had an insult ready, though. Could he have been trying to cover up feelings for her? And that last time he was in the house, right before the Queller attacked, had he been stealing photos? Of her? And then when he’d shown up in the Bronze the other night. Trying to be friendly and ingratiating, dressed in normal clothes. Did he want her to see him as, not just a person, but as a potential date? Boyfriend? Or something more serious still? She would have to confront him about this when they got back to the real world. She had to find out if she was imagining things or if he really did want to be more than friends. And if he did want it to be something long-term, did she want it? Attraction was not issue. She’d already admitted to it. But was she willing to take the risk of being with another vampire? Buffy looked over at Spike, who was still standing lost in thought beside the tree. Suddenly he jumped, shaking his hand as though in pain. His cigarette had burned enough to his fingers, and he hadn’t even realized it. He stomped on the grass where it had landed as he blew on the slight burn. If someone she trusted, someone she could be herself around, could love her to that kind of distraction, then she would be foolish to let it go. When she lived her life between apocalypses, she didn’t have time to play it safe. Buffy set her shoulders as memory Spike walked slowly away from her house. If he was interested, so was she. If. She wasn’t entirely convinced yet. It was just one memory. *****Flash***** Riley through open the door to Spike’s crypt. Spike was drinking from a wine bottle, but corked it and set it aside. With great sarcasm he asked, “What took you? Guess it takes a while to get back to full strength after those bites.” So this was post-vamp whorehouse biting. Buffy sighed. So many things had gone wrong with Riley, she had no idea who to blame for what at this point. But it was past now, and quite possibly Spike was future. It would explain why he’d gotten such a thrill out of showing her Riley in that awful place. He’d wanted to disgrace Riley before her. What was it they said about love and war? Riley yanked Spike out of his arm chair while Spike protested, “Hey! Hey, let's be reasonable about this.” Riley smashed him against one of the crypt’s pillars. “You may have noticed, Spike,” he said with a punch to Spike’s face, “I left reasonable about three exits back.” Spike snorted. “Look, I’m not the one who got you into this. Don’t kill the messenger.” Riley’s angry sneer didn’t phase Spike the way the stake he was suddenly holding did. Buffy gasped as the point was plunged into Spike’s heart. “Why the hell not?” Riley asked. Spike yelled in panic and pain. “Ow! Bloody hell! Oh god!” When he realized he wasn’t dusting he looked down at the hand holding the stake. “Hey.” Riley yanked the stake back out, eliciting another pained moan from Spike. “Plastic wood-grain. Looks real, doesn’t it?” His hand went to Spike’s shirt collar again. “Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on with you, Spike. Stay away from her. Or we’ll do this for real next time.” Riley took a few steps back, like he was getting ready to leave, when Spike began laughing quietly. “Oh, man. You are really under it, aren’t you?” “What?” Spike nodded to Riley. “Look at you. All afraid I'm hot for your honey.” Riley sneered. “Because you are.” Spike stared at him for a moment. “Well ... yeah. But that’s not your problem. Even if I wasn’t in the picture…” Buffy tuned out the conversation, something about Riley’s worthiness. It didn’t matter. Spike had admitted it. He wanted to be with her. Riley had known before she did, and that was a surprise, since he wasn’t all that much more observant. But then in matters of the heart it didn’t really take much to be more with it than Buffy. Now, for once, maybe she had a chance to do things right in a relationship. Not that she expected things with Spike to be rosy, if they even got that far. Man, she was going to have to go a long way to convince Giles and Xander not to stake Spike. Rocky as it was likely to be, she knew she could count on Spike to help her keep things balanced. This was what she wanted anyway, a counterpart. He’d tell her when she was out of line, and if she hurt him, she’d know. She could read him so easily now. For the first time in a long while, Buffy felt genuine hope about tomorrow. “You actually think you've got a shot with her?” Spike sighed, reaching for the wine bottle he’d set aside earlier. “No, I don’t. Fella’s gotta try, though. Gotta do what he can.” He took a drink. “If you touched her... you know I'd kill you for real.” Buffy crossed her arms. Riley was gone, but if he ever came back he wasn’t getting near Spike. Spike snorted, unfazed. “I had this chip outta my head, I’da killed you long ago. Ain’t love grand?” He tossed the bottle to Riley, who began drinking. Spike went on quietly. “Sometimes I envy you so much it chokes me. And sometimes I think I got the better deal. To be that close to her and not have her. To be all alone even when you’re holding her. Feeling her. Feeling her beneath you. Surrounding you.” There was the poet she’d come to hold dear. “The scent ... No, you got the better deal.” Riley gave a low, unhappy chuckled. “I’m the lucky guy.” He shook his head and took another drink. “Yeah.” Buffy stared at the crypt floor, chagrinned. She managed to make guys miserable more often than she made them happy. She was going to have to watch that with someone as sensitive as Spike, however tough he pretended to be. *****Flash***** Another alley. That couldn’t be good. Buffy and Spike from a couple of weeks ago were standing in the alley behind the Bronze. It must have been right after Spike gave her that uncomfortable lecture on how he’d killed his second slayer by playing off the slayer death wish. Buffy’d been offended at the time by the suggestion that she actually wanted to die. But sometimes, in the deep dark of the cemeteries, when no one was around, she could almost believe that what he’d said was true. He was just finishing that part of his speech. “You know I’ll be there. I’ll slip in... have myself a real good day.” He was standing very close to her, closer than comfort allowed. With a step back he continued, “Here endeth the lesson. I just wonder if you’ll like it as much as she did.” An ominous feeling washed over Buffy. Impending doom hung in the air over this back street. There was something she should be remembering here. Something she’d done. Why else would Spike be reliving this memory? Had she already screwed up her chances with him? She made a sincere wish to whatever power might be listening that it wasn’t so. It wasn’t what the Buffy that had come to Spike for advice wanted to hear. Outraged, she replied with subtle menace, “Get out of my sight. Now.” “Oh... did I scare ya? You’re the Slayer. Do something about it. Hit me. Come on. One good swing. You know you want to,” he taunted. Her counterpart was getting angrier. “I mean it.” Spike refused to back down. “So do I. Give it me good, Buffy. Do it!” The atmosphere crackled around them. Sensing the shift in the scenario, Buffy’s past self said uncertainly, “Spike...” He tried to kiss her. Oh, no. The memory Buffy leaped back in disgust and shock. “What the hell are you doing?” Spike grabbed her arms and spoke with earnest urgency. Exposing himself to whatever censure was coming. “Come on. I can feel it, Slayer. You know you want to dance.” No, no, no, no, no! She didn’t want to remember this. She didn’t want it to be true. God, she’d done it. She really had. Already. Right here. Without even knowing what she was throwing away. “Say it’s true. Say I do want to.” Past Buffy pushed him roughly to the ground. “It wouldn’t be you, Spike. It would never be you.” She threw out the bills she’d promised him. The scattered on the ground around him, much like his hopes. And then. She. Said. It. “You’re beneath me.” Said those horrid, hated words and walked away, not waiting to see the rejection and absolute terror on the face of the man she’d thrown to the ground. The person who loved – yes, loved, she could see it on his face – her without reserve. Buffy watched as, with as much dignity as he could manage between his tears, he gathered the crumpled offering she’d thrown at him as if he were some prostitute to be paid for his services and dropped in the gutter. He looked after her, and hate blossomed in sorrow’s wake. No wonder he’d come after her with a shotgun after she’d said those fateful words. God. She was Cecily. ***** Please let me know what you thought! Thanks for your advice, Linda. |