Enemy IncognitoBy Wynn
Chapter Four: Dodging Fate and Changing Destiny"So," Angel drawled, "after this Initiative group shoved a chip in your brain, you decided to stay in Sunnydale and work with Buffy."
"Not like I had much of a choice," Spike muttered. "I couldn't feed, couldn't defend myself. Dru had left me, and I sure as hell couldn't ask you for help. So I went to Buffy."
"And you helped fight demons with her-"
"More or less."
"-for the past three years. You even stayed on the Hellmouth to take care of Dawn after Buffy died. Until, of course, the day you decided to up and leave to come to LA and talk to me. How sweet."
Spike rolled his eyes. He had spent the past hour and a half explaining to Angel the events of the last few years in Sunnyhell. Needless to say, the brunette vampire was skeptical at the story of a soulless demon who, on many occasions in the past, had attempted to kill the Slayer, but now worked alongside her. And Spike hadn't even gotten to the really unbelievable portion of his life's story: the part where the evil vampire fell in love with the Vampire Slayer and traveled to Africa to win his soul for her. "It's not that simple, Peaches. I didn't just decide to 'up and leave' one day. There were- are- reasons for this little family reunion."
"Such as?"
Spike pushed himself up off of the plush leather chair and paced the length of Angel's bedroom. He glanced at his grand-Sire, still resting on the king sized bed, head tilted to one side, watching him stalk back and forth across the room. "Bloody fuckin' hell, this shouldn't be so hard. I mean you can't even move, well, at least not very fast, so I shouldn't be nervous. Even if you wanted to stake me, you couldn't catch me, so I should just spit it out." He paused and ran both of his hands through his hair. Rubbing his hands over his eyes, he muttered, "Stupid, sodding soul making me-"
"What?!" Angel narrowed his eyes as he said, "What are you talking about, Spike? You don't have a soul. You're a vampire."
"Oh, is there a limit to how many ensouled vampires there can be on the planet? Did I break the quota of only one tortured, soulful, poofter of a vampire? Sorry to burst your bloody bubble, but I won my soul back. I wasn't cursed with it. I asked for it. I went to Africa, all the way to some hole in the wall village in Africa with the help of your demon pal Whistler, and I endured the trials and won my soul, my human soul. So shove the high and mighty routine Angelus. It doesn't apply to me anymore." Spike collapsed onto the leather chair and glared at a shocked Angel. "You know, I had this all planned out in my head how I was going to tell you about Africa and the soul, and you had to just blow it all to hell. Should've expected it though. You were always bollixing up my plans. You-"
"Spike?"
"What?"
"Shut up."
"Sod off."
The two vampires with souls sat in silence, scowling at each other. Abruptly, Spike jumped out of the chair and stalked towards the door. "Just forget everything, Peaches. It was a mistake to come here." He seized the knob and yanked back on the door so hard he nearly pulled it from its hinges.
"Spike… William-"
Spike whirled and faced Angel. "Don't you dare try to pull this 'William' crap on me."
"Well, if you would just sit down and shut up for a minute instead of running out of here in a snit, I wouldn't have to 'pull this 'William' crap', as you so eloquently put it." The pair glowered at each other again, stuck in a stalemate with Angel on one side of the bedroom and Spike on the other, like an old fashioned Western duel. All they needed was the requisite ball of tumbleweed blowing in the wind.
Angel closed his eyes, sucked in a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, calming. "Look, I've had to deal with the fact that not only have you been living in Sunnydale the past few years, but you've also been working with Buffy instead of trying to kill her. Not to mention that it was you who rescued me. And that you are now a vampire with a soul. I'm sorry if I'm not reacting the way you want me to. If you'll just calm down and sit down, we can talk about this more."
"Fine." With a clenched jaw and folded arms, Spike returned to the leather chair and ignored his grand-Sire. After a moment he said, "So what do you want to talk about?"
Angel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Is it too late to be put back in the ocean?"
Spike laughed. "Yes." The blonde smirked at Angel. "Looks like you're stuck with me."
Angel studied the younger vampire slumped in the chair. His clothes were worn and rumpled, and his hair was an uncombed mass of bleached blonde curls. He looked exhausted. There were shadows under his eyes, and the lines on his face were more pronounced. But underneath the physical changes lay something deeper. The brash cockiness characteristic of Spike had lessened to a subdued confidence. His blue eyes held sorrow and guilt, and, although Angel knew Spike would never admit it, a smidgen of concern for the healing vampire. Spike had changed. Somehow, he had dodged fate and changed his destiny. The thought of his grand-Childe having the chance to overcome his demon almost made the brunette smile.
"As fun as this has been so far, do you think we can get back to the point?"
"Which is?"
"Spike," Angel growled.
"Fine, fine. Take all the fun out of everything."
"Are you finished?"
"Hardly."
Ignoring the blonde's sarcasm, Angel continued, "Ok, you say that Whistler helped you get to Africa and win back your soul. What possible reason could you have for wanting the return of your human soul? You hated William. You did everything you could to make Spike as different from William as possible. What force on this earth made want your soul?"
Spike met Angel's gaze. "Love," he answered simply.
"Love?"
Spike nodded.
Angel narrowed his eyes in confusion. "What love? You're not with Dru anymore… not like she'd want you to have a soul anyway. Then who…" Realization swept across his face. He looked at Spike, but the younger vampire was avoiding his gaze. "Buffy?"
Spike nodded again.
"You-you love Buffy. Enough to want the return of your soul."
"Yes."
"And this isn't some sort of joke? You're not just trying to piss me off. You're actually telling me the truth."
"Why the hell would I go through all the trouble to rescue you, to swim four hours with your large, undead, poofter self slung over my shoulder, just to tell you a bloody joke that would get me staked within a heartbeat… metaphorically speaking, of course."
Angel was silent as he stared at Spike. Moments of silence stretched into minutes as he contemplated the situation of his impulsive grand-Childe falling in love with Buffy the Vampire Slayer. He glanced at the wall and asked, "Does she love you?"
The blonde closed his eyes. Memories flooded his brain. How long was I gone; Every night I save you; I think I was in heaven; And the only person I can stand to be around is a neutered vampire who cheats at kitten poker; This isn't real, but I just want to feel; It's not love. Not yet; It's killing me; I'm sorry… William; It hurts? Yeah; I think it's real… for you; Didn't take you long; Because you love me. No, I don't; I have feelings for you; I'll make you feel it; Ask me again why I could never love you; He stood and resumed pacing the dark bedroom. Shadows played across his face, highlighting the torrent of emotions that was displayed in his steel-blue eyes. Love, hate, despair, passion, rage, longing, confusion, hopelessness. He gave a small laugh, a short burst of self-loathing, pain, and sorrow. "I don't know," he answered truthfully. "I don't know how she can after what I did to her."
His voice a tightly controlled ball of fury, Angel asked, "What did you do?"
"The last thing I swore I would never do. I hurt her."
***The night was quiet and still, as if the Hellmouth was holding its breath waiting for the next Apocalypse to appear. Buffy had patrolled for an hour, but she hadn't come across one demon, vampire, or other evildoer. All of them seemed to vanish after a big good vs. evil showdown. And this time Spike was one of the vanished.
Her talk with Dawn about the roller coaster romance between her and the chipped vampire had gone as well as to be expected. Which meant that it hadn't gone well at all. The conversation went smoothly until it approached the time of Buffy's birthday; Dawn had asked questions about Spike's appearance at the birthday party from hell, and Buffy had answered them truthfully. She had beat Spike to a pulp in the alley behind the police station and left him lying, beaten and bloodied, as she went to go turn herself in for Katrina's murder. A twenty minute screaming match had ensued with Buffy trying to explain why she had acted the way she did and with Dawn trying her best not to listen. Eventually, the tense conversation continued until Buffy came to the break-up. After learning about the "Doctor" and the demon eggs, Dawn asked if Buffy really believed that Spike would adopt a pseudonym so similar to Doc, the demon who had cut Dawn and indirectly caused Buffy's death.
Buffy couldn't think of anything to say.
Dawn had sat in silence as the rest of the fractured relationship was explained to her. Once the details of the bathroom incident had been told, Dawn stood, quietly said "Thank you," left the room, and asked Giles to take her home. Buffy remained in the training room an indiscriminate amount of time lost in thought. She eventually changed into jeans and a navy tank top and headed into the night to patrol.
Buffy sighed as she realized her location. She had arrived at Spike's crypt. Her subconscious seemed to be firmly in control of her feet, taking her to places where she consciously did not want to go. She shoved her stake into the waistband of her jeans, and she examined the crypt door, remembering all of the times she had kicked it in and barged into his home. She had been so callous, so righteous, ignoring his thoughts and feelings because he was a soulless demon. It was stupid and dangerous, and she had done it over and over. Moving to the entrance, Buffy lightly knocked on the door. Pushing it open, she entered the darkened crypt.
"Spike?" she called softly.
The interior of the crypt was clean. Candles resided on every available surface; a faded armchair sat in front of the ancient television. In one corner there was a refrigerator, and a small stack of clothes lay in another. Moving to the clothes, Buffy picked up a red button up shirt. It was quintessential Spike. Bold, vibrant, and brash. Except that wasn't Spike anymore. He was broken and hollow, and it was her fault. She had told him their relationship was killing her, but she had failed to realize that it was killing him too. Until now.
A tear slid down her cheek as she whispered, "I'm so sorry, Spike."
The crypt door banged open, causing Buffy to drop the silk shirt. Grabbing it off of the floor with left hand, she whirled to face the intruder with her stake gripped firmly in her right.
"Whoa, there, Buffy!" Clem exclaimed. He carried a paper bag filled with groceries. "No need for pointy wooden objects. It's just me."
"I- I'm sorry." She replaced the stake and laid the shirt on top of the clothes pile. "You startled me."
"I can see that." He moved into the crypt, easing the door shut behind him. Placing the grocery bag on the refrigerator, he glanced at the fidgeting Slayer. "So," he said brightly, "what brings you to my neck of the woods? Or I should say, my neck of the cemetery."
Buffy looked at the scarlet shirt illuminated by the moonlight peeking into the darkened interior. "I… uh… I-"
"You were looking for Spike?"
Smiling gratefully, the Slayer replied, "Yeah. Is… Did he, ah, come back?"
Clem shook his head. "No. He hasn't come back. I don't know when he will. It might be a while. He was in real bad shape before he left."
"What was he… Do you think he'll be Ok?"
The loose skinned demon approached Buffy and sat on one of the stone coffins next to her. She joined him as he said, "When I saw him last, he was very emotional. Confused and angry with himself. I've never seen him like this, not even after you broke up with him."
"He told you about that?"
"Yeah. He was Ok then. Sad, yeah, but still relatively stable. This last time… he was just in so much pain. He told me that the chip wouldn't let him be a monster and that he couldn't be a man, so, to him, that meant he was nothing."
"What?" Hazel eyes filling with tears, she gripped the stone sarcophagus and asked, "He said he was nothing?"
Clem nodded. "Then he said things were going to change and took off on his motorcycle."
The stone cracked under her hands. She blinked the tears away and jumped off the makeshift seat. "It got out of control so fast," she admitted. "I didn't know what to do, how to act, and I screwed up. Everything got screwed up." She shook her head ruefully. "He must hate me so much."
"No, Buffy. He loved you. He tried his best to love you."
She turned to her demon companion, eyes full of confusion. "How can you love someone who tells you they hate you?"
"I don't know," he replied. "I don't have much experience in love. But I know it isn't rational, and people… and demons don't have control over it. You love who you love. Whether they love you or not. Whether you're supposed to or not."
Buffy caressed the cool crimson silk as Clem's words sunk into her consciousness. "This must be a new experience for you. Listening to the life and love woes of a Vampire Slayer."
He grinned. "Guess I'm a one of a kind demon."
'Life is stupid.' 'I have a dim memory of that, yeah.'
"No… You're not."
Clem moved next to Buffy and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Not all demons are bad, Buffy. I mean, yeah, we generally have a predilection to create mayhem and destruction, but some of us choose not to ride the evil trip." He handed the silk shirt to the Slayer. "You should take it. He'll probably want it when he gets back, and there's less of a chance of it being ruined if you keep it."
She smiled sadly. "Thanks. I better go. Dawn's waiting for me." She slipped the shirt on over her blue tank and headed for the crypt door.
"Tell her hi for me."
"I will." Buffy stopped at the door. Her hand rested lightly on the rough wood surface; after a moment, she turned the knob and exited the crypt.
***Angel sprang from the bed, grabbed Spike by the throat, and pinned him against the wall. Digging his fingers into the blonde's neck, he said roughly, "You have exactly two seconds to tell me what you did to her before I rip your head from your body."
Spike punched the brunette, succeeding in loosening the grip of death the elder vampire had on his throat. A hard kick to the midsection sent Angel flying across the room and crashing against the far wall. Massaging his throat, Spike returned to the leather chair. "I didn't come here for a round of kick-the-Spike. I'm bloody well through with being everyone's punching bag, so don't try for a repeat performance, ok, Peaches. You're not physically up to it, no matter what your massive, hair gel poisoned ego is telling you, and I don't really want to have to kick your ass right now. So if you'll just sit down and calm down, we can resume this pleasant conversation."
He waited until Angel had crawled back into his bed before he spoke. "The night I left Sunnyhell I went to her house to apologize for something stupid I had done. I planned on the apology being short and to the point, but my plans never go right. Ever." He closed his eyes and remembered. "She told me she had feelings for me, but that they weren't love. She couldn't trust a soulless demon enough to love him. I guess she was right." Tears slid from the corners of his closed eyes; his fists gripped the arms of the chair. His entire body was tense. "I just wanted her to stop being in control of everything and let herself love… let her be happy. But I snapped. Lost control." I'll make you feel it. "I tried… I almost…" He pressed his fisted hands against his closed eyes. "I…"
"You forced yourself on her."
"Almost. I was mad, absolutely out of it. I was just tired of seeing her unhappy, so disconnected from everyone and everything." He opened his eyes, shining with tears and bloodshot. "She kicked me off her. And as soon as she did that I knew that I had royally fucked up. Crossed a line I had set. I swore I would never hurt her but I did." He met Angel's gaze. "That's why I want my soul. I never want to lose control like that again. Never want to hurt her like that again. I'd rather die first."
"A soul isn't a magical absolute control over the demon, Spike. Having one doesn't mean you'll never do anything bad ever again."
"I know. But it's a start."
Silence permeated the darkened bedroom. Angel regarded his grand-Childe; Spike returned his stare. Quietly, Angel said, "Why are you here Spike?"
"I thought I could stay here for a while, learn the finer points of being a vampire with a soul, help you and the bird and her extremely overprotective friend. I can't return to the Hellmouth. Not until I… not until I know I'll never hurt her like I did. I need time to adjust to the new soul and demon combo. I just need time. And I don't have anywhere else to go."
Angel thought about everything Spike had said. He felt the need to stake him for hurting Buffy, but Angel knew what it was like to do something in the throes of passion, of despair, of hopelessness that you would never do in a sane frame of mind. Spike had the chance to make amends for his past wrongs, and Angel wasn't going to stand in his way. "You can stay."
***The steel doors creaked open, letting sunlight into the narrow entryway. She stepped from the cool darkness of the building into the warm summer day. With one last glance behind her, she stepped onto the sidewalk and looked out into the world, taking in the sights, smells, and sounds of civilization. A small smile appeared on her face. Pushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear, she glanced at the pieces of paper clutched in her hand. One was a bus ticket. To Sunnydale, California. The other was an address to a shop called The Magic Box.
Taking a deep breath, Faith stared at the ticket, her only possession besides the clothes on her back. Placing the ticket in her back pocket, she turned and walked away from the prison that had been her home for the past two years into the free world.
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