Chapter Nine: The Last to Know

Buffy trudged up the front steps to her house, exhausted and somewhat shaken from the conversation she just had with Wood. On her short walk home Buffy had involuntarily dwelled upon what the young Principal had said. Sure, she knew Spike was a vampire and with that came a history of violence and bloodshed. She knew he had killed two slayers and she had known Robin’s mother had been a slayer. Why the hell had she never put two and two together?

Buffy groaned as she reached her front door, placing a hand tentatively on the big brass doorknob. Wood’s bewildered reactions to her announcement about having a relationship with Spike had also plagued her thoughts. Was she being careless with Spike? Was he still a danger? Buffy shook her head. She couldn’t start doubting him now. When it came down to it, Buffy was probably the only person who really believed in him. She could never abandon the faith she had in Spike. She just couldn’t do that to him.

Buffy pushed the door open and suddenly found herself in the midst of the house’s daily training routine. A large group of SITs were sitting in the living room, attentively listening to Anya ramble on about vampires and Turok Hans. Luckily for Buffy, no one heard her come in. She watched them for a minute, seeing Dawn at Anya’s side, drawing diagrams on a large dry erase board. The Slayer couldn’t help but note the look of concentration on her little sister’s face. With her super slayer stealth, Buffy headed across the foyer toward the stairs.

“Now, another thing you gotta consider is vampire stamina,” Buffy heard Anya state as she gradually made her way upstairs. “In hand-to-hand combat they can fight for hours and never get tired. As a matter of fact, it’s what makes them excellent lovers. I’m talking hours of sex here people.” The last remark made Buffy stumble a bit.

“Uhh, Anya? I don’t think they wanna know about sleeping with vampires,” Dawn shyly advised, not surprised but still uneasy about having to be the one to censor the forthright ex-demon.

“Why not? It’s vital information,” Anya adamantly countered.

“Yeah, if humping vampires turned them to dust,” one of the girls joked, eliciting a few snorts and giggles from her peers.

Clearly misreading the comment, Anya gave her straight-faced, overly perky response. “No. No it doesn’t. But it might disorient them long enough for you to land a stake in their chest.”

A burst of laughter suddenly resonated throughout the house from the living room. As Buffy reached the top of the stairs, all she could hear amongst the giggling was Anya repeatedly asking “What? What did I say?”

The Slayer let out a few chuckles of her own. She was going to have to definitely talk to Anya about what was and what wasn’t appropriate when it came to teaching the young impressionable minds of the Potentials. She so didn’t want them to start getting any wrong ideas about vamps. The thought of the girls ogling and drooling over Spike suddenly jumped into her head. Buffy was without a doubt going to have to talk to Anya.

Making her was through the surprisingly clean upstairs hallway, Buffy opened the door to her room. All she wanted to do was get out of her work clothes and find Spike. She smiled. She could hear him shouting out orders through the open windows of the house. ‘Guess he’s training the other half of the troops in the backyard,’ Buffy surmised as she made a b-line for her closet. Pulling out a pair of well worn jeans and a comfy maroon tee, Buffy quickly changed.

Turning around, she gasped when her eyes settled upon the room. It was spotless. The clothes that had once littered the floor were gone. The notebooks Spike had been using to keep track of the girls’ progress were no longer scattered across her room. Instead they were in a neat pile by the nightstand. Buffy disbelievingly approached the bed, which was actually made! She couldn’t believe how excited she was getting about a clean room. Boy, did she ever need to get a life.

On her pillow lay a single, yellow flower, one she recognized from the garden in the backyard. A smile spread across her face as she brought the soft petals to her nose, inhaling the sweet scent. Glancing back down, she caught sight of a note. Eagerly picking it up, Buffy read the words scrawled on the small piece of paper.


I figured since I’m spending my nights in here with you and all, I should probably lend a hand with the keep up. Now hurry up and come give me a kiss hello.


Love, Spike


How was it that whenever she started to doubt herself, in whatever she was doing, Spike would always come through with the little gestures? Staring down at the saffron flower in her hand, Buffy’s uncertainties began to vanish. No matter what happened Spike would be there for her. And that was all she needed to know.

********

As Buffy made her way back downstairs, she realized that the two groups were taking their daily thirty minute break before the switch happened. Girls filed in and out of the living room, crowding the downstairs level of the house. Idle chatter reached Buffy’s ears as she surfed through the throng of teenage girls, trying to make her way down the hall. Squeezing herself past a few more SITs, she finally entered the kitchen.

At the same moment, Kennedy and Andrew emerged from the backyard. Both were staring at the tiny screen on Andrew’s handheld camcorder.

“I think they’re starting to get it,” Kennedy stated as she gave the replay one last glimpse.

“I know. They’re all like mini-Buffy’s, except you know, without the super powers,” Andrew replied before an enthralled expression materialized on his face. “Spike’s a pretty good leader too. Kinda like Aragorn, reluctantly leading his wary and broken fellowship against the evil forces of Lord Sauron.”

Kennedy stared incredulously at the starry eyed geek. “Yeah, sure Andrew. Whatever you say.” And with that, the brunette hurriedly marched out of the kitchen, trying to find someone actually sane to talk to. She nodded a ‘hello’ to Buffy before passing her by.

The Slayer returned the greeting before heading to the back door. “Hey Andrew. Is Spike back there?” she asked the distracted ex-Trio member. A barely discernible affirmative mumble was his only response. With a shrug, Buffy made her way outside.

Spike was leaning against the house’s rear brick wall, completely protected from the sun’s deathly rays. Smoke danced in the air above his head from the lit cigarette dangling between his lips. Spotting Buffy, he prematurely finished off the smoke, stomping out the barely burned up cig. Grinning from ear to ear, he sauntered over to her, taking her small hands in his. “Got my note?”

Buffy hesitantly nodded. “Yeah and you’re sweet but there’s no way I’m kissing you.”

“What? Why the bloody hell not?”

Buffy giggled, watching him get flustered. “You know you’re real cute when you get all huffy. But I’m still not kissing you. Especially not after you’ve been suckin’ on those cancer sticks. You’re all stinky,” she pointed out with a pout.

“First of all, I am not cute,” Spike announced indignantly. “Secondly, what’s with the bleedin’ fascination with my breath? Kinda shallow, don’t ya think pet?” he seductively wondered, edging his way closer to Buffy.

“Hey! You better stay back, Mister! I’m warning you,” Buffy half-heartedly resisted as she playfully backed away.

“C’mon luv. Just a quick peck. S’all I ask,” Spike pleaded, giving her his most devilish smirk. “Don’t make me tickle you again.”

Buffy snatched her hands from out of his grasp. “Try it and I’ll toss you into the sun,” Buffy gave out one of her own threats.

Spike remained unfazed. “You wouldn’t want to do that now,” he cautioned as he swiftly grabbed her by the waist, yanking her to him.

Buffy remained outwardly stubborn, though inwardly, she had already caved. “Oh yeah? Why not?”

“‘Cos big ole piles of dust can’t do this,” Spike huskily whispered before pressing his lips against hers.

Buffy instantly surrendered to the kiss, finding that she needed some kind of physical confirmation that she wasn’t being reckless, that she wasn’t abandoning her duties as the Slayer by having feelings for Spike. The gentle caress of their lips soon turned firm and demanding. Buffy opened her mouth, pushing her tongue against his. Spike groaned, loving it when she took control. They fervidly continued to kiss until Buffy pulled up for air, nearly hyperventilating from lack of oxygen as she rested her forehead against his.

Spike was seeing a few stars himself. It had been a while since their embraces had ever been that fervent. It wasn’t to say that the fire was gone. On the contrary, it was still there, beneath the surface, as hot as it had ever been; just it was no longer an all consuming wildfire, decimating everything in its path. What had Spike slightly irked was that the kind of kiss they had just shared wasn’t very different from those Buffy used to bestow upon him as a means to escape. The kind that had initiated the torrid love affair that, much like a blazing inferno, had nearly destroyed them until there had barely been anything left. Spike pulled away to gaze down into her eyes, releasing the breath he didn’t know he had been holding when he saw her staring back up at him with nothing but warm adoration. There wasn’t a single trace of the cold, emotionless void that had once haunted the hazel depths of her eyes. To say Spike was relieved would have been an understatement. Buffy wasn’t trying to forget. He grinned as he ran the back of his hand over her flushed cheek. ‘Slayer’s just a bit randy, is all.’

“So, pet, how was your day?” Spike asked as he took in a deep, unnecessary pull of air, figuring casual conversation might get his excited mind off thoughts of ‘Randy Buffy’. The Slayer immediately started talking about her day, purposefully omitting her little encounter with Principal Wood only an hour ago. The topic of discussion eventually steered to that of training SITs and the other subdued chitchat they usually exchanged everyday after Buffy arrived home from work. Walking hand in hand, they went back inside, finding Dawn and Andrew hanging about the kitchen. Andrew was still immersed in his little clip show while Buffy’s little sister scurried around, preparing herself a snack.

“Hey Buffy. We’re out of milk,” Dawn greeted her sister, shaking the empty milk carton in her hand.

“Hi Dawn. It’s nice to see you too. Why, yes, I had a great day. Thanks for asking,” Buffy replied, her deceitfully cheerful voice laced with sarcasm.

“Yeah, whatever. Still low on milk here,” Dawn declared unapologetically.

Buffy scanned the kitchen. “Isn’t it Willow’s turn to do groceries?” She couldn’t remember seeing the redheaded witch since she had walked into the house. “Where is Will?”

Andrew chose at that moment to pipe up, taking his attention off of the small digital screen of the video camera. “Some Fred guy called from L.A. Willow said she had to go but shouldn’t be gone for too long,” he informed the group, appearing a little concerned. “You don’t think she’s cheating on Kennedy with this guy? He did sound kinda effeminate. Maybe…”

Spike quickly cut him off. “Maybe you should shut your gob.”

Andrew gulped at the vampire’s unimpressed glare and nodded as he retreated back to his video watching.

Buffy remained silent. What was so dire that Willow had to leave the Hellmouth to go to L.A.? She knew it had something to do with Angel. Was he in trouble? And if he was, why hadn’t he asked her for help instead of Willow’s? Buffy didn’t like all these dealings going on behind her back. It made her feel like she didn’t have any control, which terrified her.

Sensing her uneasiness, Spike gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Bet it’s nothin’ to worry ‘bout, pet,” he reassured but not without adding, “Reckon Peaches just needed to borrow Red for a little soul cleansing meditation. ‘Probly cross-legged and chanting as we speak.”

The vampire’s lighthearted insults didn’t get past Buffy, who was trying to give him a reprimanding scowl. It didn’t work though and soon a reluctant smile tugged at her lips.

It wasn’t a secret that Spike had never really liked his Grandsire or that he hated the fact that the older vamp had been the first to claim Buffy’s heart. Yet what bothered him the most was that the instant Andrew had mentioned L.A., Buffy instinctively thought of the poofter. Angel already had what Spike so desperately craved— Buffy’s love. Was she ever going to let him in?

The sound of a few soft chuckles escaping her lips eased some of Spike’s worries. If Buffy could at least laugh at Captain Forehead and not get all defensive then maybe there was a real chance, maybe he wasn’t just grasping at straws. Maybe.

Spike’s inner musings were interrupted by Anya’s unexpected appearance as she noisily stormed into the kitchen, taking a seat at the breakfast nook. “Really, how difficult is it to understand how to kill Gnarok demons?! I swear, if I have repeat decapitation with castration one more time I think I just might disembowel one of the little slayerettes myself!” she vented, clearly frustrated.

“Uh…Why are you even giving instructions on Gnarok demons anyway?” Buffy inquired suspiciously. “Wasn’t the point of these little lessons for you to teach them about the First and vamps?”

Anya shook her head dismissively. “You never know what these girls might have to face one of these days. Plus, teaching them only vampire demonology would be like having a world history class and only discussing the last two hundred years. I think it’s a very limited view of the demon existence. Good thing I’m human again because I would’ve been very offended.”

Buffy’s unconvinced expression didn’t falter one bit throughout Anya’s spcheel. “Just make sure they know everything we do about the First, okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Again my effort goes unappreciated,” the ex-demon complained.

“Okay Anya,” Buffy snapped back. “Since I’m so inconsiderate, why don’t you take the night off?”

Anya let out an unfeminine snort. “And who’s gonna take over demon lessons for the next batch of Potentials?”

Buffy glanced over to her sister. “Dawn will.”

The girl in question was beyond shocked, her crystal blue eyes wide with astonishment. “Mmmuuhhh?!” Dawn asked with a mouthful of peanut butter and jelly, pointing to herself disbelievingly.

The Slayer nodded. “Sure, why not? You’ve been helping Anya out and you’re like mini-Giles with all the research, so it only makes sense.” Not wanting to pressure her sister, Buffy also added, “Only if it’s okay with you, that is.”

Taking a sip from her half-filled glass of milk, Dawn swallowed what she had been chewing. “That’s so okay!” she cheered enthusiastically. Resisting the urge squeal, Dawn calmed herself down. “You’re really gonna let me help out?”

“Yup,” Buffy determinedly replied. “You are now licensed to order SITs around.”

Dawn ran to her sister and hugged her. “You’re the best,” she whispered before scurrying off to the living room to prep for her debut as official demonology instructor, yelling back at Andrew to help her set up. Looking up from his camcorder, the boy jumped to the occasion, almost skipping out of the kitchen.

“I think you’ve created a monster,” Anya quipped as she watched Dawn excitedly putter around the living room.

“I still have time to change my mind,” Buffy shot back.

“Did I say monster?! What I meant to say was—Oh whatever! I’ll be in the tub,” Anya announced as she got off the kitchen stool, going upstairs to enjoy an evening soak.

Spike chuckled as he pulled Buffy into his arms. “Was a good thing you just did for her, luv.”

Buffy stared up at him confused. “What, Anya? She’s been getting on my nerves all week.”

The vampire shook his head. “No. For Dawn. Keep gettin’ the feeling that the Nibblet feels a lil’ left out amongst all this hustle and bustle.”

“I know,” Buffy lamented. “I’ve sensed it too but she still has school and homework and I never wanted her wrapped up in any of this in the first place. God, when I was her age I would’ve given anything just to be normal. Instead Dawn’s begging to join the wacky apocalyptic fun.” Buffy sighed as she placed her head on Spike’s chest. “So I figure if she’s doing the safe book stuff, she can help me out. We could even be a team. The Summers Sisters’ Slayer Brigade. What do you think?”

Tipping her chin up with his finger, Spike locked his gaze with hers. There was a playful mirth dancing in his cerulean eyes. “I think you’re a wonderful sister.”

The concern marring her brow disappeared as a smile reappeared on her lips. “Sucking up will get you everywhere,” Buffy quipped before planting a sweet kiss on Spike’s lips. ‘Mmmmm. Spike lips. Lips of Spike.’

Dawn’s unexpected announcement ended their short blissful break from reality. “Buffy! Giles is back!”

Buffy grudgingly pulled out of Spike’s embrace, giving him a remorseful look before heading out of the kitchen. Potentials were moving toward their designated spots, indication that recess was clearly over. Spike greeted his new group as they made their way past him to the backyard, ordering them to do a few laps around the house to warm up. He didn’t want to go outside just yet.

Giles glanced around him, not believing this was the same house he had left weeks ago. To begin with, the place itself looked immaculately clean. There weren’t any girls lofting about and the strangest of all was that the hum of incessant chatter was gone. Walking further into the house, the Watcher spotted a group of Potentials sitting in the living room, alertly paying attention to Dawn as she seemed to be giving some sort of lecture on vampires. ‘Since when had she become an authority on vampires?’ and ‘Where were the rest of the girls?’ he wondered, automatically searching for Buffy. Dawn did his work for him by calling on her sister after she had spotted him standing dumbfounded in the hallway.

“Giles! You’re back,” his Slayer happily called out as she made her way to him from the kitchen. “Wasn’t expecting you back so soon.” She peeked behind his back and saw two, very intimidated girls. “And with more Potentials.”

“Ah, yes. These girls were discovered by the coven while I was in England. This is Emma and Jem,” Giles introduced, still distracted by the drastic change in the Summers’ home. The two girls timidly waved at the Slayer.

The back of Buffy’s neck tingled, making her turn around. Spike was standing a few feet behind her. She was relieved he hadn’t gone out to train the SITs just yet, but was unsettled by the inexplicably somber disposition he suddenly appeared to be in. Unable to ask the vampire what was wrong, Buffy pushed the issue aside and asked “Spike, can you show the girls where they can put their stuff?”

Spike’s somberness turned into an offended grimace, his jaw clenching as his lips straightened into a thin line. “Sure thing, luv,” he grounded out as he gestured to the newbies to follow him up the stairs.

Oblivious to the vampire’s mood swing, Buffy gave her old Watcher a hug. Taking a step back, she looked at him sympathetically. “You look beat. You want some tea or something?”

Giles gave her a warm smile. “That would be lovely.” He followed her into the kitchen where she poured him a cup of Earl Grey. A really cold and bitter cup of Earl Grey.

Catching the face he made, Buffy shrugged meekly. “Sorry. I thought it was a fresh pot.”

“It’s alright,” Giles casually waved off.

Spike returned, still stone faced with the morbidly silent teenage girls trailing behind him. Buffy mouthed a ‘thank you’ to the grumpy vampire before taking the girls into the living room. Finishing off the introductions, Buffy tried to get the new Potentials comfortable. “Why don’t you guys join Dawn’s powwow. You can start training with Spike tomorrow,” Buffy suggested. Emma and Jem joined the group, their shyness slowly abating as they mingled with other girls their own age.

Getting back to Giles, Buffy found him standing beneath the archway leading to the front hall, curiously watching her little sister, pride twinkling in his eyes. “You wanna go for a walk?” she whispered to him over his shoulder as to not interrupt Dawn’s lecture.

The Watcher nodded as he proceeded to the front door, knowing there were more than a few things that needed to be discussed with his Slayer. He paused when he noticed she wasn’t behind him anymore.

“Just give me a sec, Giles,” she quietly requested as she scampered off to the kitchen.

Spike was where she had left him, his miserable glower gone, replaced instead with stoic indifference. Grabbing her coat from the back of one of the barstools, Buffy put it on as she started to relay her plans to Spike. “I’m gonna do some catching up with Giles. I’ll be back soon.”

He only nodded. Moving in to give her a kiss, Spike was startled when Buffy placed a quick peck on his cheek. Glancing around to make sure certain uninformed individuals hadn’t seen, she bolted down the hall and out the door with Giles, leaving Spike alone to only fear the worst.

********

After a few blocks in comfortable silence, Buffy finally spoke up. “You know we don’t actually have to walk around if you’re tired.”

“I’m fine. Nothing like some fresh air to ease my jetlag,” Giles assured. “So, I see that some changes have been made since I’ve been away.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Buffy sardonically replied.

“Care to elaborate?” Giles asked, genuinely intrigued.

“Short version goes along the lines of I went through some portal that we found in a slayer emergency kit and got possessed by demon slayer-making mist. We then found some cryptic prophecy about it that we think says Spike will kill some Tainted Guy and it will make my spirit awaken, whatever that’s supposed to mean. Since then we’ve been training the Potentials nonstop. Well actually Spike’s done most of the training, but it’s been completely under my supervision,” Buffy finished her anxious rant.

Absolutely worried, Giles came to a halt, inspecting Buffy, trying to find evidence of what she had been through. “God Lord Buffy. Are you alright? The possession, it didn’t—?”

“I’m fine, Giles. You can breathe now,” Buffy good-humoredly reassured her pseudo father.

Yanking the specs from right off his face, Giles vigorously wiped his glasses. Now that he knew Buffy was safe or at least seemingly so, another part of her story troubled him. Spike. His involvement in the latest prophecy the Scoobies had discovered was eerily coincidental to what Althenea had told him. A vampire with a soul, one who Buffy truly loved, would have a hand in defeating the First. It not only meant that Spike’s involvement was a crucial factor in this war but that Buffy loved the vampire. Or would come to love him in the near future. Giles wasn’t completely surprised by the notion, he just wasn’t sure if he was that comfortable with it.

“The coven said that the First was gathering its forces,” Giles started, getting to real reason behind his trip overseas.

“That explains why it hasn’t shown its ugly face in a while,” Buffy cut in.

“It was not the only thing I learned from Althenea. She mentioned that we must be wary of a man in black,” he continued, waiting for Buffy’s response.

“Well the only guy who wears black around here is Spike, but you can’t really label him as a ‘man’ since he’s technically a vampire,” she rationalized.

“We simply cannot dismiss the possibility she was referring to Spike,” Giles deceivingly insisted. He wanted to see for himself what his slayer felt for the vampire, even if it meant editing out what he already knew, or at least suspected.

“Please, don’t start ragging on me about Spike,” Buffy pleaded as she clutched her brow. “He’s done more in this fight than anyone else. If it wasn’t for him none of the girls would know a jab from a right hook and I would probably still be a pulling at my hair, trying to figure out how to deal with a house full of scared teenage girls. You once said that I depend on him and I recognize that I do, but it’s only because I trust him. I trust him with my life, Giles,” her voice reached a desperate tone as she concluded her intense tirade.

“Are you in love with him, Buffy?”

The question came out of nowhere and nearly knocked her off her feet. “What?!?! No!” she automatically answered, but knew it was far from the truth. “I mean…I dunno. Is it like written on my forehead or something?” she asked, almost sounding like Dawn during her whiny pre-teen phase.

Finding themselves in the park, Giles directed them to an empty bench. “Buffy, in clear spoken English, what is your relationship with William the Bloody?”

Fidgeting nervously with her hands, the Slayer stared down at her lap. “We’re kinda going steady.”

Hearing only silence, Buffy peeked up at Giles who wasn’t even looking at her but staring out into space with an extremely contemplative expression on his face. “Uh, Giles, it’s your cue to freak out and tell me how I’m screwing everything up.”

“I’ve already told you my misgivings concerning Spike,” the Watcher calmly began, still staring at nothing. Turning to face Buffy, he took her hands in his. “Obviously you haven’t headed them. However, you are an adult now Buffy and it is your right to choose how you want to lead your life. So long as you know what you’re doing, I really have no choice but to accept it.”

“I don’t,” Buffy whispered.

“You don’t what?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she pointed out. “I’m so confused and I’m way in over my head. I don’t even know if everything I’ve done, that we’ve done, to prepare for what’s coming will even make a difference. My house is a hormonal ticking time bomb, I still have to play mom for Dawn, and the school’s new principal and my boss is actually a demon hunter with some personal vendetta against my boyfriend. I still have got no clue what this demon stuff that got sucked into my body is going to do to me and if it’ll even help us in this fight,” Buffy declared, releasing a shaky sigh. “And then there’s Spike…”

“Whatever happens, Buffy, I am here for you. You might not have faced this kind of adversity before, but that has never stopped you,” Giles comforted, trying to instill some much needed confidence in his slayer.

“So you’re really okay with this whole Spike thing?” she asked, nibbling on her bottom lip.

Giles heavily exhaled. “Just tell me you’re going about this relationship in a more…how should put it?…reserved manner than the first time around?”

“I’m not sleeping with him Giles,” Buffy told him, unashamed.

“Thank God!” he exclaimed under his breath.

Getting up from the park bench, the duo quietly made their way back to 1630 Revello Drive. Spotting her house, it was Buffy again who broke the silence. “Well that was easier than I thought it’d be,” she contentedly remarked.

Walking up the front steps, Giles stopped just short of reaching the door. “And I think I’ve found a way of making things even easier.”

Buffy watched as the Watcher pulled out a small box from his coat pocket. “What’s that?”

“The trick to de-triggering Spike.”


A/N: Thnx Darkezza. You rock!

Chapter Ten: Fix You


“What is it?” Dawn curiously asked as she leaned over, staring intensely at the small piece of unknown material in the miniature box cradled in Giles’s hand.

The Watcher scanned the basement, noticing how all of the gazes suddenly shifted in his direction.

Xander had just finished fastening the shackles around Spike’s wrists after checking that the chains would hold the vampire once he turned feral. The said vampire was sitting impatiently on the cot, clearly feeling like some carnival freak show attraction. The SITs were all upstairs, being kept busy by Anya and Kennedy, oblivious to the exorcism that was about to take place beneath their feet. And much to Spike’s chagrin, Wood was also there, watching him. To say that tensions were high in the cramped basement was an understatement.

“It’s called a Prokaryote Stone,” Giles began to explain, his voice audible enough for everyone to hear. “It will move within Spike’s mind to reveal the root of the trigger’s power. It can bring forth images, memories…hopefully an answer to whatever it is that’s setting Spike off.”

“It’s kinda shiny,” Dawn casually remarked as she took a step back.

Giles rolled his eyes. “Yes, quite.”

“Hold on a tic?!” Spike shouted. “When you say move within my mind, you don’t actually mean…” he trailed off, hoping Giles wasn’t seriously alluding to what he didn’t dare say.

“Yes, Spike. We have to put this in your brain,” the Watcher clarified, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

As much as Giles wanted to accept the vampire’s relationship with his Slayer, there was still a part of him that hated the idea. He trusted Buffy and if she was falling in love with Spike there was little he could do to stop it. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t take some enjoyment out of making Spike squirm though. In Giles’s eyes, as her pseudo father, no one would ever be good enough for Buffy, even if Spike was the most deserving of his approval thus far.

Spike’s azure eyes bugged out in distress. “Bugger that!”

Buffy swayed on her feet uncomfortably, sending concerned grimaces in Spike’s direction. “How do we know when it’s worked?” she asked in her patented, no-nonsense Slayer style.

“It might not work,” Giles reluctantly informed her.

Everyone slowly turned to look at the Watcher, shock and confusion visible on their faces.

“Huh?” Dawn asked, speaking for the group.

“The stone’s just a catalyst for the process. The rest is up to Spike,” Giles elaborated, glancing over at the disgruntled vampire.

Spike sighed as his gaze caught sight of everyone staring at him. “Alright. How do you expect to get that hunk of rubble into my cranium?” Spike asked with bitter surrender.

Giles turned to Dawn, who was waiting for him to take the open spell book she had in her hands. “I was given the accompanying spell for the stone but since Willow isn’t here, I’ll have to perform it myself,” he enlightened them as he accepted the text from Dawn with one hand while holding the box with the stone in the other. Clearing his throat, he began. “Kun'ati belek sup'sion. Bok'vata im kele'beshus. Ek'vota mor'osh boota'ke.”

As the last word of the incantation echoed throughout the silence the stone began to wriggle within its small confinement, no longer appearing to be solid, but that of metallic liquid. Holding the enchanted rock away from his body, Giles tentatively moved toward Spike. Everyone else watched tensely as the Prokaryote Stone lived up to its name.

The vampire jumped back upon seeing the slithering pebble. “Oh, you have got to be joking?” Spike angrily barked, panic evident in his eyes. “What now?”

“The stone must access the cerebral cortex via the optical nerve,” Giles gruffly replied with his medical jargon.

The vampire eyed the stone warily, his terror-stricken gaze flipping from the box to the Watcher’s unsympathetic face. “Oh, bollocks. With all the rubbish people keep stickin’ in my head it’s a wonder that there’s any room for my brain,” he quipped apprehensively.

Giles rolled his eyes for the second time that night. “I don’t think it takes up that much space, do you?” he derisively murmured.

Spike shot Giles a scowl as the fellow Englishman lifted the box to his face, lining the mystical mineral up to just below his right eye. As if on cue, the Prokaryote Stone slinked its way up Spike’s cheek, slithering beneath his eyelid, causing him to clench his jaw and to pant needlessly from the discomfort. He clutched his head in pain, feeling as though the stone was searing a path through the grey matter in his skull.

“Ow.”

The immense pain soon intensified into pure torture. “Oh, OW!” he cried out, writhing in agony.

“Spike!”

Buffy was at his side in a second, pulling his hands away from his face as the pain appeared to have quickly subsided. “Spike?” she worriedly tried to gain his attention.

“Maybe we should’ve waited for Red to get back” he hoarsely responded, his bleary gaze focused on the floor in front of him.

Buffy wasn’t completely sure what he meant. “Are you alright?”

He shrugged. “How am I supposed to know if this bug-ugly’s doin’ its job...”

Spike trailed off as the basement and its occupants faded to black, the room melting into another place, another time. Two figures appeared before him. Two people who he had known in another lifetime, ages ago. A naïve and sensitive man was in the midst of reading his latest work to his biggest fan, an older, sickly woman, with eyes that glittered with undying adoration. Two people who Spike hadn’t given much thought to in the past few years, and one person in particular who made him wish he could just forget.

Mum…

Buffy noticed that Spike’s eyes had suddenly glazed over. “Uh, Spike?”

The dazed vampire said nothing, continuing to stare out at the expanse of the overcrowded basement. Buffy frantically waved her hand in front of his face, calling out his name a few more times in the hopes that he’d snap out of it. Jumping to her feet, she rushed over to Giles who was also eying the vampire strangely. Tugging hysterically on his arm, Buffy pointed to her incapacitated boyfriend. “Giles, you broke him! Fix it!”

Giles didn’t even have a chance to respond.

Spike awoke from his stupor, vamping out ferociously. Buffy and Giles scrambled away from him as the vampire pulled and tugged on his chains. Snarling viciously, Spike picked up the cot, tossing it across the room. Poor Xander didn’t even know what hit him. As Dawn and Wood rushed out to help the unfortunate victim of Spike’s inadvertent attack, Buffy watched helplessly as he continued on with his feral episode. And suddenly, almost as quick as it had began, the vampire abruptly stopped, his body rigid and his face emotionless as the stone slipped from whence it had entered. Breathing erratically, though quite unnecessarily, Spike stared in bewilderment from the group of people before him to the cold cement floor, unclear of what exactly it was that had just been revealed to him.

Dawn assisted a clobbered Xander upstairs, using a comforting but steady hand to lead him away from any more physical harm. With Xander taken cared of, Wood could lay all his unadulterated concentration on the vampire. His dark brown eyes glared fiercely at the creature before him. Buffy’s good-willed intentions for including him in this little demonstration, to prove to him that Spike was a changed vamp, had been in vain. If anything, it only reaffirmed his vengeful resolve. William the Bloody had not changed. He was still the same monster that killed his mother.

Buffy took a cautious step toward the frazzled vamp. “Spike?” Her voice was small and uncertain, with the smallest trace of fear lying beneath the surface.

Spike slowly lifted his head up, eyes sparkling as he tried to put on a strong face. With a sad grin, he nodded. “Right here, luv.”

Running back to him, Buffy threw her arms around his neck, seizing him in a tight embrace. Burying her face in his chest she let out a muffled whimper. “You had me worried there for a second.”

Wrapping his arms around her waist, Spike gently placed a kiss on her cheek. “Can’t get rid of me that easy, Slayer,” he weakly joked, his voice no more than a faint whisper. “I would’ve found my way back. Like I always do.”

“What did you see, Spike?” Giles inquired, bringing the couple back to the task at hand.

Buffy slipped out of Spike’s arms, taking a spot at his side. Sliding her small hand in his, she gave it one good squeeze. Buffy could tell this was gonna be the hard part.

Buffy watched as Spike glanced from her Watcher over to Wood, who was at the moment standing by the stairs, a seething glower plastered on his face. Blue eyes remained locked with brown, seized in a silent round of distrust and intimidation. Spotting the discontented expressions on both their faces, Buffy knew there was no way Spike was going to open up if she didn’t step in.

“Uh, Giles. Could Spike and I have some time alone?” she asked, politely.

Giles understood. He knew Spike wouldn’t want to divulge his deepest, darkest secrets to the man who, for all intents and purposes, was Buffy’s father. If the vampire wouldn’t share his revelation with him, then he sure as hell wasn’t about to say boo with Robin Wood in the room. Nodding, Giles motioned for Robin to follow him.

Eyes still engaged in non-verbal death threats, Wood gradually made his way upstairs, refusing to take his malicious gaze off of Spike. The vampire himself observed the two men part with restrained ire. It wasn’t until he heard the basement door close shut did Spike break from his angered vigil.

Dropping his head to dejectedly look at the chains binding his wrists, Spike sighed noisily. “Mind takin’ these soddin’ things off me, luv?” he asked, his voice low and calm but not void of the desperation that was threatening to consume him.

Without any reservations, Buffy promptly released him from his restraints. Rubbing the feeling back into his sore and bruised wrists, Spike gave her a shy smile. Uncertainty about what was yet to come, amongst other things plaguing his conscience, brought forth his uncharacteristically insecure demeanor.

“Spike? Did it work? Did it have anything to do with that song you’re always singing before you go bizerk?” Buffy fretfully wondered.

Sighing for what felt like the hundredth time that night, Spike moved to flip over the overturned cot. Plopping himself down on the lumpy mattress, he stared at the chains on the wall. “It’s called ‘Early One Morning’. Old folk ditty my mum used to sing to me,” he dismally informed her, his usually clear blue eyes fogged with unprecedented melancholy. Eventually, staring back at Buffy, pushing aside for the moment the guilt of his past, he added, “Does it even matter if it worked?”

***********


Andrew pressed the zoom-in button on his camcorder, trying to capture Xander’s pain as Anya and Dawn sat on either side of him on the living room couch, trying to tend to his more or less superficial wound. The would-be director was careful in his selection of camera angles, ensuring that he caught the entire group gathered at the epicenter of the Summers house. Since he had been banned from being part of the afternoon basement activities, this little meeting was the only way he could get the scoop on what the heck was the latest predicament facing the Slayer and her vampyre.

Turning the camera lens away from the group and aiming it a little too close to his own face, Andrew set the scene up, making sure future viewers would understand the context of what was being said.

“Hello gentle viewers. It seems that something unusual has transpired today. Our leader, Buffy, along with a few of her devoted companions, ventured into the basement hours ago. All have just now emerged, except for the Slayer and Spike. Let’s watch now as Xander tries to recuperate from what appears to be an arduous ordeal.” Pivoting the camera back, Andrew zoomed back in on Xander.

“Ow!” The unmanly squeal resonated throughout the room. “Jesus, Ahn! What’s in that bottle? Sulfuric acid?” Xander inquired indignantly.

“Stop being such a baby,” Anya scolded as she dabbed a cotton swab of alcohol over the gash on Xander’s forehead. “Honestly, Xander. For a man who has extensive knowledge in giving women many orgasms, you’re a wuss.”

Dawn, along with all the other Potentials in the room, shifted uncomfortably. “Someone please change the subject,” Dawn pleaded, unable to look at Xander beside her.

“Uh…yeah…so what’s up with Spike?” Kennedy threw out, willingly discussing the vampire if it meant not thinking about Anya and Xander having sex.

“Yeah, why didn’t anyone tell us that he’s dangerous?” Rona crossly asked.

“Spike’s not dangerous,” Amanda countered defensively. “He hasn’t done anything to us.”

“Yet,” Rona mumbled.

“If it wasn’t for Spike, we woulda never gotten the training we did. We can’t just turn against him now,” Vi also defended, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Spike’s trigger is still working,” Kennedy solemnly informed the girls. “He could snap at any second and go off on all of us.”

“But Buffy’s tryin’ to fix that,” Molly retorted, trying to look on the bright side of what was a very scary situation.

“And what if she can’t? How’re we even gonna know the difference?” Rona said irately. “She knew about Spike all along and didn’t tell us. I just don’t get how Buffy can take this for granted. It’s not her life on the line here.”

Seething, Dawn was past the point of annoyed but before she could ardently defend her sister, Anya surprisingly stepped in.

“People go through things,” she generally stated. “Things that no one else can even come close to understanding. And sometimes you overlook the bad because you love them so much that you can’t live without them,” she philosophized, her warm, remorseful eyes connecting with Xander’s hopeful and surprised gaze. She tenderly wiped his forehead one final time before turning to the group around her. “So sure, Spike’s got a Get Out of Jail Free Card when it comes to Buffy, but it’s only because she’s in love with him. We all know that’s why she can’t let go. We just either forget or all out deny what’s staring us in the face,” she poignantly finished.

She became a bit stunned when she suddenly felt a familiar hand close around hers. Staring back over at Xander, she lightly squeezed his hand when she spotted the promise in his eyes. Maybe he was willing to give it another go. Maybe they should try it like Buffy and Spike, without the sex. Ha! Who was she kidding? But one thing was for sure, she wouldn’t be having sex on Spike’s cot again. It hurt her back and smelled like smoke.

Their heartfelt moment was cut short by Andrew’s unexpected and unwanted bit of directorial instruction. “Anya, do you mind repeating that last part for me again. My finger slipped and I didn’t get it on film.”

The ex-couple broke from their intense gazes and glared at the annoying geek as the rest of the girls began to disperse to separate parts of the house. There wasn’t much left of their half hour break and no one was in the mood to waste it on yelling at Andrew. Xander and Anya could have him; they looked as though they were about to throttle him anyway.

*********


In the adjacent hallway between the living room and the basement entrance stood a grim faced Wood and a contemplative Giles. The Watcher glanced at the other man, who seemed to be keeping his persistent glare on the now firmly shut basement door.

Due to his long and unplanned absence, Giles was a bit out of the loop. All Buffy had told him was that this unassuming high school principal was actually a rogue demon hunter, who appeared to have some sort of personal vendetta against Spike. What exactly had happened between Wood and William the Bloody was still left to be determined, but from the fury blazing in the man’s eyes, Giles could tell it wasn’t about to blow over.

“What if Spike can’t be cured?” Robin asked, eyes still glued to the well-worn wooden door. “What if the trigger can’t be de-activated?”

“We cannot consider that option,” Giles firmly replied. “We must keep faith with Buffy.”

“Shouldn’t there be some kind of contingency plan?” Wood wondered, finally turning his gaze to Giles.

Giles pulled his glasses off his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Pardon my frankness, but who are you?” the Watcher asked.

He had never been formally introduced to the Buffy’s boss, so this was a good a time as any. Even having already been informed by Buffy of Robin’s M.O., pretending he knew bugger all about the man actually gave Giles the upper hand. People were more prone to talk if they thought no one knew what was really going on in their head. Giles just hoped that Robin would make the same mistake.

“Robin Wood.” The stranger extended a confident hand in formal greeting.

Taking the offered hand, Giles shook it firmly but briefly. “Ah, yes. Buffy had mentioned you. Said you fancied yourself a bit of demon hunter,” he good-humoredly remarked.

Robin gave a modest smile at the Watcher’s suddenly warmer and more welcoming attitude. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you know so much about me. You are Buffy’s Watcher after all,” he casually commented.

Giles chuckled a bit at the notion. “I may be her Watcher, but only in namesake. Buffy no longer reports to me. The definition of our Watcher-Slayer relationship was never exactly textbook. It still isn’t,” he explained, unintentionally glancing over to the basement door.

“But she would listen to you, right? If the occasion called for it, she would listen to her Watcher?” Wood wondered with a hint of urgency.

“What are you getting at?” Giles somberly asked, his demeanor turning on a dime.

“If Spike becomes uncontrollable, wouldn’t you advise her to do what’s best for the greater good?” Wood guardedly said without actually out rightly saying ‘kill Spike’.

“Careful what you say, Robin. If you know what’s good for you, I wouldn’t repeat any of this to Buffy,” Giles ominously warned though not surprised by the man’s one tracked mind.

“Someone has to tell her. She won’t hear it from me, but Buffy would trust her Watcher,” Wood argued, determined to get the Watcher on his side.

“How’s it you know so much about Slayers?” Giles suspiciously inquired. He was beginning to wonder if maybe he had underestimated Robin’s hatred for Spike. It must be some kind of grudge if the Principal was willing to go up against Buffy. Brave man. Stupid, but brave.

“My mother was one,” Wood threw out, his voice steady though his dark brown eyes screamed of devastation and misery.

Giles’s eyes widened, his mind whirling as everything suddenly came together. “You’re Nikki Wood’s boy. Crowley adopted you after—”

“Spike killed my mother,” Robin venomously finished off the other man’s sentence.

“And this dire necessity to have Buffy prepared for the possibility that she might have to kill Spike has nothing to do with your own personal motives? How do I know this isn’t some ploy to get back at him?”

Giles wanted to be sympathetic but he simply couldn’t muster up any phony compassion when Wood’s actions could potentially have world altering consequences. The look in his eyes told Giles all he needed to know. If Buffy didn’t do something about Spike then the dear ole principal would.

Almost reading his mind, Robin immediately replied, “If he’s a threat, if he compromises the mission, then what does it matter?”

Giles took an unwavering step forward, purposefully getting in Wood’s face. “It matters to Buffy and in the end, it’s her call,” he furiously stated before pointing a hostile finger at the obstinate man. “You listen to me. Do not make Buffy’s decisions for her. It’s her call because it is her right. If there is so much as the slightest chance that Spike is needed for this fight against the First and you bollocks it all up with your damned need for vengeance, I won’t be there to stop Buffy.”

The temperature in the room felt as though it had dropped several degrees. The casual good natured introduction had turned into a silent war of wills.

With clenched anger, Robin slowly began to speak. “I’m only saying that we have to consider the possibility.”

“So long as that’s all you’re saying,” Giles retorted, making his way to the kitchen. “I’ll be in the backyard training the Potentials for the rest of the night. If I were you, I’d find some way to entertain yourself. Who knows how long it’ll be before they’re through,” he advised, throwing a glimpse at the basement door.

Silently, the Watcher walked out of the hallway, leaving Wood to carefully ponder his next move.

*********


“What did you just say?” Buffy asked, uncertain if she had heard the vampire right.

“Does it even matter if it worked?” Spike repeated, elbows on knees as he miserably stared at the cement floor.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Buffy didn’t know if she should be offended, shocked or devastated by Spike’s apathy. “Of course it matters if it worked.”

“I get that,” he sadly stated. “Gotta stop the First from pullin’ my puppet strings. I get it. It’s just…just…”

“What Spike?” she pushed, becoming frustrated.

“If Rupes didn’t want you with me before, you sure as hell aren’t gonna get his blessing now,” Spike finally clarified. He hated himself for being so insecure, but he couldn’t help it.

They hadn’t said much to each other since she and Giles had come back from their little walk and talk. The second Buffy had stepped through the front door she had instantly gone into slayer mode. Nothing but demands and orders with not a single explanation for any of them. Next thing Spike knew, he was putting on a show for the rest of the Scobbies by having some prophylactic stone shoved into his brain

He still had no idea what had actually been said between Buffy and her Watcher. Spike was positively, absolutely certain that Rupert was against the relationship. If that pathetic peck on the cheek Spike had gotten a few hours ago told him anything, it was that Buffy cared what Giles thought.

“And you think I care what Giles thinks?” Buffy’s exasperated voice rang in his ears.

Spike’s head instantly shot up, staring at her disbelievingly. “Well duh, pet,” he replied with blatant sarcasm.

“Look Spike. I don’t know what’s with all the mopiness, but snap out of it,” she chided.

“So good to know I’m nothin’ more than an inconvenience to you luv,” Spike muttered. He might be acting like a ponce but she wasn’t giving him any reason not to.

Buffy groaned, rubbing her forehead as she sat next to Spike. “I’m not gonna end this between us, Spike.”

A flash of hope lit up his eyes as he looked at her. “So, we’re still together?”

Buffy gave him a sweet smile. “Yes, Spike, we’re still together,” she reassured him as she lifted her hand to soothingly brush his cheek. “But if you get all girly on me again, I might change my mind.”

“Girly?!” Spike shouted indignantly, pulling away from Buffy. “A bloke gets a bit insecure and suddenly he’s girly?”

“What got you all with the second guessing anyway?” she asked curiously.

Spike shrugged. “Well, Rupert’s back and we all know how he feels ‘bout yours truly,” he began to explain, scratching the back of his neck. “‘Probly didn’t help my cause with the whole untamed sideshow, huh?”

Buffy shook her head. “No. I don’t think that’s it Spike. At least not all of it anyway,” she openly doubted.

“There was…well…there was…God ‘m such a poofter!” he self-deprecated.

“Spike, just tell me,” Buffy implored. She didn’t want any tensions between them. Things were starting to get intense and were inevitably going to get even bleaker. Buffy needed Spike to be in her corner, to be there for her no matter what was about to happen. There wasn’t any room for misgivings or distrust. She needed things to be okay between them.

“Why didn’t you kiss me?” he asked out of the blue, sounding like a lost little boy.

“What? When?” Buffy asked incredulously.

“When you got home from work, pet. First you couldn’t get your hands off of me, then your Watcher shows up and I’m suddenly chopped liver,” he sulked, feeling as pathetic as he sounded.

“Are we really discussing this? I couldn’t just make out with you right in front of him, Spike,” she berated. “It’s bad enough he’s the last to know. I didn’t want him finding out by walking in on one of our grope fests.”

“I wasn’t expectin’ you to inform Rupert by makin’ him watch on as you snog me into a second death, pet,” he countered mockingly, “but a guy could use a lil’ reassurance once and a while.”

Buffy exhaled loudly, at last understanding Spike’s puzzlingly fickle mood. “It’s gonna take a lot to end this thing between us Spike. And I mean more than homicidal personality triggers, or foreboding internet prophecies, or even my occasionally overzealous Watcher,” she clarified, hoping it would be enough to settle his uncertainties.

“I’m a right git, aren’t I?” Spike mumbled, mentally kicking himself. Like Buffy didn’t have enough on her plate, she had to deal with his brooding too. Yes, he had to admit, this qualified as brooding.

“Yeah,” Buffy halfheartedly agreed. “But you’re my git,” she added cheekily before planting a gentle kiss on his lips.

Pulling her into his arms, Spike released a sigh of relief. “Thanks, luv.” Burying his face into the crook of her neck, he brandished her tender flesh with a few more kisses.

He had never felt as confident about their relationship as he did at this very moment. And even though Buffy had still yet to say those three little, but very monumental words to him, Spike felt loved. Not the altruistic adoration he had had for Druscilla, or the petty infatuation he had experienced with Cecily, or the all consuming obsession he had had with Buffy. It was different now. It was unconditional and at last, reciprocated. Spike could bet money on the chance that had he and Buffy not fallen into a romantic relationship, she would have still loved him, as a friend, for just being himself. He hadn’t been that sure of someone else’s feelings in ages. Not since his mother.

Oh God. Mum…

Buffy sighed contently, oblivious to Spike’s ruminations. “See, I can be reassurance girl,” she quipped, hugging him harder.

Spike however didn’t hug back.

In fact, he suddenly felt inexplicably limp. “Spike?” Buffy worriedly whispered as she pulled away from his embrace.

Spike didn’t hear her. He couldn’t hear her. The stone was taking him back.


“William?” his sickly mother apprehensively called out, walking into the parlor in her nightdress.

Spike, or William to be precise, uneasily greeted her. “Uh, mother.”

“Where have you been?” she inquired, her voice quivering with emotion. “I’ve been beside myself for days.”

William’s manner brightened, excited about revealing his new state of existence. “You needn’t have worried mother,” he consoled. “You’ll never have to worry about anything again. Something has happened. I’ve changed.”


“Are you okay?” Buffy asked, confused by his silence.


William’s mother stared at her son, unable to comprehend his behavior or the words that were spilling from his mouth. “What are you talking about a-and why are you acting so strangely?”

William approached the woman who had brought him into this world, who had given him life. It seemed somewhat surreal that he was now standing before her, dead on his feet. Well, undead anyway.

“It’s alright, mother. It’s only me,” he comforted, wrapping his arms around her fragile form.


Upon saying his name for the second time, Buffy felt the arms around her tighten. She mistook his hallucinated reaction as nonverbal assurance that he was still there with her. Unknowingly, Buffy allowed herself to fall back into the embrace.


“We’ll be together forever,” William promised his mother.


“Forever…”

Buffy barely heard him, his voice so low that not even her close proximity could make up for its inaudibility. “Spike…?”


“William…?” His mother remained motionless, the uncertainty and fear evident in her meek voice.

“It’ll only hurt for a moment,” Spike whispered reassuringly before slipping into game face. It would be the last words he would say to the woman he knew as mother.


Before Buffy knew what was happening, Spike’s fangs descended upon her neck.


TBC

Chapter Eleven: Inner Demons


She gasped, paralyzing shock taking control of her body as the blinding pain filled her. For a few crucial moments she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. Spike was taking long and deep pulls from her. She could feel him draining her. If she didn’t stop him soon, he was going to kill her.

With all the Slayer strength she could muster, Buffy forcefully pushed Spike away. The impact of her palms against his chest brought him back to another time, in the not so distant past.




“I know you feel like I do,” Spike could feel himself say, longingly gazing at Buffy as he paced before her. “You don’t have to hide it anymore.”

A battle worn Buffy glared at him, her arms wrapped around her minimally clothed body. There was nothing more than a flimsy grey robe concealing her from the unwanted stares of the vampire she could never love.

“Spike, please stop this,” she exasperatedly requested, becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the whole situation.

Bridging the gap between them Spike took an unyielding step toward her. “Let yourself feel it,” he huskily demanded, placing his hands firmly on her hips, trying to pull her towards him.

Buffy resisted, considerably irritated. “No.”

“You love me,” Spike desperately insisted, his hands working their way over her unwilling body with touches that were no longer wanted and caresses that now stung.




Spike fell off the cot from the force of Buffy’s powerful shove. His eyes widened as comprehension began to sink in, the strong coppery taste of her empowering blood still lingering in his mouth.

“Buffy?” he hoarsely whispered as his ice blue eyes focused on her right hand, which was firmly pressed against her bleeding neck.

The Slayer began to speak, her tone desperate, her face consumed with fear. Spike couldn’t hear her though. Only a few muffled garbles broke through the haze. He was being taken somewhere else by the existential whirlwind that was the Prokaryote Stone.




His newly transformed mother stood before him in the parlor, the fireplace’s glow illuminating her revitalized features. She no longer appeared ill. Instead an inexplicably radiant quality suffused her being. William had never seen his mother look so healthy. Again, he noted the irony in the fact that she was now dead, but she still looked wonderful nonetheless.

“Oh, William,” his mother began in response to his compliment, “you're so... tender.” She placed a delicate hand on his face.

Oblivious to her subtle ridicule, William continued on with subdued excitement. “Well, this is as it should be, mother. You and I together. All of London laid out before us.”

“Ah, yes. Us,” she said, smiling disdainfully.

William, ignorant as ever, smiled brilliantly. “First, we'll feast. Then the night is yours. Theater, perhaps. Dancing? Tell me, what's your pleasure?”

His mother turned toward him, staring him dead in the eyes. “Pleasure? To take my leave of you, of course,” she stated matter-of-factly. “‘The lark hath spake from twixt its wee beak? ’You honestly thought I could bear an eternity listening to that twaddle?” she condescendingly asked.




Spike growled involuntarily as the memory finished playing in his mind. He shook his head vigorously, trying to shake it away. His fists flew to the side of his head, desperately pounding at his temples in the vain attempt to end the visions. It was futile however. The second he peered back over to where a distraught Buffy was now standing, he was pulled back.



“Ow, no, stop it,” she determinedly refused, her fear lying just beneath the surface of her angered annoyance.

Her words were ignored as Spike’s hands continued to inappropriately peruse her body, groping at her flesh as he desperately tried to kiss her. Buffy frantically struggled to push him off. “Spike no…Ow…What are you…”

Fevered emotions fueled the struggle, which quickly escalated to the sound of fabric being ripped as it echoed throughout the bathroom. In one unguarded moment, Buffy lost her balance, clutching at the shower curtain, which inevitably ripped off of the rod, sending her already sore back to crash down against the side of the tub.

“Ow!” she bellowed.




Why was this happening to him? Of all the misdeeds to choose from in his past, why show him these two? Why did the stone have to remind him of the two lowest moments of existence? Spike wasn’t allowed the time to postulate an answer. His mother wasn’t finished with her malicious diatribe.




“I feel extraordinary. It's as though I've been given new eyes. I see everything,” she whimsically explained. “Understand...” she paused before frowning at her son, “everything.”

William was becoming increasingly disturbed by his mother’s sudden exposition. “Mother…”

She ignored him, her tone sustaining its nasty quality. “I hate to be cruel,” she started before abruptly stopping. “ No, I don't. I used to hate to be cruel in life. Now, I find it rather freeing,” she cheerfully confessed. “Nothing less will pry your greedy little fingers off my apron strings, will it?”

William took a step back, uncomfortable with the shift in his mother’s behavior. “Please stop,” he pleaded, unable to look her in the eyes.

Once more, she disregarded his request, approaching him slowly. “Ever since the day you first slithered from me like a parasite...”

He interrupted her, flabbergasted by her words. “What're you s—”

She supplied him the bitter answer before he had a chance to complete the devastated question. “Had I known better, I could have spared myself a lifetime of tedium and just dashed your brains out when I first saw you.”

With a disgusted huff, she stepped away from him, her voice rising in exasperation. “God, I prayed you’d find a woman to release me, but you’d scarcely showed an interest. Who could compare to your doddering housebound mum? A captive audience for your witless prattle.”

His mother dug the knife in deeper and all he could do was stand there, utterly helpless.




Spike scurried back, keeping his distance from an advancing Buffy. He shook his head again, not wishing to believe the painful words spoken by his own mother.

“Whatever I was, that’s not who I am anymore,” he shakily announced, his ambiguous words coincidentally directed in Buffy’s direction.

Confusion was instantly added to Buffy’s fear. “I know Spike. This isn’t you. The stone is doing something,” she started to explain, not understanding that he was still under the Prokaryote Stone’s influence.




Snickering mockingly, William’s mother took a step toward him. “Darling, it’s who you’ll always be. A limp, sentimental fool.”




Having had just about enough, Buffy raced over to the hallucinating vampire, grabbing him roughly and hauling him up to his feet. She shook him violently, hoping it would jostle him from whatever delirium that had ensnared him. She was about ready to do anything just to get Spike to snap out of it.

The momentum of her shaking spun them around, causing their feet to become tangled in the chains on the cold floor. Losing her balance, Buffy fell, bringing Spike down on top of her.

The face of his mother drifted into oblivion as Buffy struggled beneath him. He knew what was coming. He knew what memory he was about to relive. But he couldn’t do anything to stop it. He was trapped to relive the moment he truly felt like a monster.




Spike stared down at Buffy, his expression maddened as something primal, something animalistic, took him over. She continued to struggle beneath him, but for once he was stronger, faster. Desperation fueled him, his mind focused on one thing. He was deaf to her pleas.

“No! Stop it!” Buffy cried out, her voice screeching in panic.

“I know you felt it. When I was inside of you,” he muttered, his eyes wild, his grip painfully demanding.

His frantic hand pulled and tugged at any available piece of fabric. Not hindered in the slightest by the sound of her robe ripping, unaffected by the tears cascading down her cheeks.





Buffy continued to squirm on the floor, trying to extricate herself from beneath Spike’s unusually heavy form. Glancing up into his eyes, she saw nothing but an emotionless void in their depths. He wasn’t fighting her; he wasn’t trying to get up. Spike wasn’t even moving. He simply remained motionless above her with a hauntingly vacant expression on his face.





William staggered back up against the rough brick of the fireplace, his mother closing in on him. Her contempt for the son that had sired her was now clearly seen on her no longer docile face. “Do you think you’ll be able to love her?” she spat scathingly. “Think you’ll be able to touch her without feeling me?”

He squirmed, trying to get away as she invaded his personal space. It didn’t deter her in the slightest. His mother would not stop until she had completely torn his heart into shreds.

“All you ever wanted was to be back inside…”





Buffy finally slipped out from under him, rolling onto her stomach and crawling away from Spike. She froze from the feral roar that was emitted from behind her. A steel grip latched onto her ankle, brutally dragging her back to him with one strong jerk.

‘Oh God! Please don’t let this be happening,’ Buffy inwardly prayed. ‘Not again.’

Flipping her violently onto her back, Spike pinned her arms above her head. As hard as she tried, Buffy couldn’t muster the strength to free herself. The delusion he was currently seized in made him inexplicably and extraordinarily strong. Not to mention that the blood loss wasn’t helping her either.

Buffy ceased struggling when she realized Spike had stopped moving. Looking up at him, he was gazing back down at her, his cobalt eyes lost in another vision. He remained frozen, hovering above her with hands like vices around her wrists.





Buffy’s frantic screams resounded throughout the bathroom. They did not, however, dissuade the vampire on top of her from his forceful assault.

“No. Ow. Ow!” she shouted. “Please, Spike. Please!”

“You’ll feel it again, Buffy,” he urgently assured her, his voice dripping with maddened conviction.

“Please don’t do this,” Buffy hysterically implored, a heartbreaking sob escaping from her lips.

Her pleas continued to go unheeded as Spike reached for the top of her ash colored robe, clasping it brutally in one hand. “I’m gonna make you feel it,” he furiously promised, nearly ripping the garment in half.





Buffy blinked as Spike suddenly disappeared above her. She sat up, horrified to see him flying through the air, painfully crashing into the basement wall with a resonating crunch. She became even more alarmed by the sight of the person who had pulled Spike off of her. Buffy stared dumbfounded as Wood marched with a seething focus toward a debilitated Spike.

The vampire however was none the wiser to the nearing threat. He simply remained on the floor, slumped against the cracked wall. Nothing could permeate his mind. Nothing could free him from reliving his nightmares.





“You finally got your wish, didn’t you?” his mother disgustedly wondered, her small but deadly body too close to his own. “Sank your teeth into me. An eternal kiss.”

William shook his head frantically. “No. I only wanted to make you well,” he insisted, his voice quivering as he tried to defend himself against his own mother.





Wood glared down at Spike, sneering in abhorrence. “I’ve been waiting for the longest time for you to fuck up,” he wrathfully stated as he pulled a wooden stake from out of his back pocket. “I don’t know how people could actually think an animal like you would ever care for anyone but yourself.”

Spike kept still, his empty gaze falling upon the small space separating him and the looming principal.




“You wanted your hands on me,” his mother hissed resentfully. “Perhaps you’d like a chance to finish off what you started,” she suggested, placing her hands on his body in a manner that was beyond inappropriate for a mother.

William pushed her away, trying desperately to extract himself from her advances. “I loved you. I did. Not like this.”

“Just like this,” his mother persisted. “This is what you always wanted. Who’s my dark little prince?”





Buffy fought to get to her feet. The world spun around her, her head lightheaded from the lack of blood in her veins. She couldn’t let that stop her though. Wood was all stake happy and Spike was stuck in la-la land. She had to stop Robin before he killed the incapacitated vampire.

Bolting in Spike’s direction, Buffy knocked Wood aside, the stake in his hand clattering as it slid across the floor. Crouching in front of Spike, she reached out to him, to see if he was alright. What she got was not what she had been expecting.

The vampire jolted abruptly, as though he were being electrocuted from an internal source. Gaining a brief moment of consciousness, awareness returned to his previously blank gaze. A bellow ripped from his lips, his arms shooting out in front of him as he jumped to his feet, shoving an unprepared Buffy out of his way.

“No!”

Wood jumped into action, smacking Spike down again, thinking the vampire was attempting to resume his attack on the Slayer. Spike crashed to the cement floor, another ferocious snarl emanating from his throat though he remained in a motionless heap. Raising his stake up high, Robin readied himself to plunge the splintered piece of wood into the chest of the vampire who had taken his mother away from him so prematurely. At last he would have his vengeance.

“STOP!” Buffy screamed, colliding into Wood with every ounce of strength she had left.

The sound of Buffy’s screaming had Spike suddenly hyperventilating, his chest frantically heaving unnecessarily as memories inundated his mind.





“Stop!!!”

With one final slayer-strength powered shove, Buffy sent Spike hurtling through the air, his flight quickly impeded by the protruding bathroom sink. She managed to her feet, gripping her robe closed; trying to salvage whatever sense of decency she had left.

Panting erratically, Spike also picked himself off the floor, his azure eyes incredulously wide as realization hit.

Buffy’s tear streaked face was contorted in a mixture of hurt and fury. The enraged words flew out of her mouth almost instantly. “Ask me again why I could never love you.”





With Robin momentarily out of commission, Buffy spun on her heels, dropping to the floor to check to see if Spike was okay. “Spike. C’mon snap out of it,” she urgently pleaded.

He didn’t respond. He couldn’t see her. It was another Buffy staring at him, disheveled and livid, her burning glare boring holes into his soul. And suddenly, as though he had blinked her away Buffy was gone, replaced instead by his demon faced mother. She stood there, her amber eyes staring at him with the same hatred and disgust he had seen in Buffy’s.




“There, there, precious. It will only hurt for a moment.”





Almost as soon as the vision of his demonic mother voiced those words, Spike helplessly watched as she disintegrated into dust.

“I’m sorry,” he croakily whispered, the prophylactic stone induced fog lifting from his brain. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

Buffy gave him a confused look. “It’s okay Spike. It’ not your fau—umph!”

Distracted by trying to help Spike, she hadn’t felt Wood approaching. Using the element of surprise to his advantage, he forcefully knocked her out of the way, stake back in his hand. His mind was made up. With the adrenaline pumping, he was convinced that Spike needed to be eliminated.

Though Robin was fast, he still couldn’t compete with a woozy slayer’s swiftness. From the floor Buffy retaliated, kicking his legs out from right under him. Wood landed on the floor with a loud thump, but he appeared unfazed, getting back on his feet in no time. Buffy recovered just as fast, firmly situating herself between Spike and the danger that presented itself as the Sunnydale High Principal.

“Get away from him,” she ordered, the unspoken warning blatant in her unyielding voice.

“Move out of my way,” Wood obstinately responded, refusing to budge. In his opinion, he knew better than Buffy. He hadn’t been tricked by Spike’s little remorseful act.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Buffy ominously remarked as her fist shot out, delivering a solid right hook to Robin’s face.

Staggering back, Wood stared in astonishment as he tentatively touched his now bloodied lip. Standing straight, he dropped his hand to his side as his face returned to its grim expression. “Why are you protecting him?”

“Here’s the more important question. Who made you judge, jury and executioner?” Buffy scornfully inquired, her stance defensive in anticipation of another attack.

“He’s compromising the mission,” Wood accusingly pointed at the sullen vampire sitting on the floor behind her, who at the moment was still repeating his guilt ridden mantras of ‘I’m sorry’s. “Are you willing to compromise the world for one vampire?”

Buffy’s demeanor remained unchanged. Wood had a lot of nerve to use ‘the mission’ as an excuse to get rid of Spike. She knew that he had found his window of opportunity to exact his revenge. She’d be damned if she let him go through it.

“This has nothing to do with the mission and you know it,” she bitterly retorted.

Wood shook his head. “He’s a vampire, Buffy. His sole purpose to for existing is bloodshed. One of these days, he’s going to destroy you just like he did my mother.”

“I’m sorry.”

The unexpected words were spoken in a much louder voice, an element of consciousness audible in the tone. Two sets of surprised gazes looked to Spike, who seemed to have returned to the land of the sane, no longer lost in his own hallucinated inner battle. Slowly, he rose up off the floor, his gaze locked on Buffy, completely dismissing Wood’s presence.

Robin took advantage of the distraction. Pushing Buffy out of the way, he aimed his stake for the vampire’s chest. The stake did not pierce the heart. It didn’t even break the skin. He didn’t even have the chance to lower his arm.

Like a bolt a lightning, Spike’s hand caught Wood by the wrist, painfully wrenching the weapon from out of his grasp. Robin wasn’t given time to holler at his potentially broken wrist. Spike’s other hand clamped around the other man’s neck; his grip near choking as he spun his would be assassin around, throwing him up against the cold hard wall. Wood gasped for air, desperately clutching at the hand wrapped around his neck, trying to relieve the unyielding pressure against his trachea. Spike pushed him up higher and harder against the wall, making the tips of Wood’s toes barely graze the floor.

“Never touch her,” Spike coldly commanded, his eyes flaring with rage, hints of the demonic amber trickling into the sharp blue of his irises.

“Spike,” Buffy calmly called to him, gently placing a hand on his rigid arm.

He turned his head to look at her, fury still blinding him. It all dissipated when he saw the weariness in her eyes. Nodding, he let go of Wood, letting the man fall.

Robin broke out into a fit of coughs, his lungs burning as he inhaled large gulps of air. “See what I mean,” he managed to rasp out, standing back up while holding his assaulted throat. “He was going to kill me.”

Spike snorted. “Hardly. I’d have a right mind to, though, seein’ as how you had the gall to manhandle Buffy.”

“Spike, let’s just drop this,” Buffy tiredly beseeched, slipping her small hand in his. The vampire turned toward the Slayer, about ready to walk away when Wood suddenly began to speak.

“I didn’t mean to hurt Buffy but she can’t see what’s staring her in the face. You’re a monster Spike and you always will be,” he explained spitefully.

Spike pivoted on his heels and stormed back to Wood, getting right up in the dear ole principal’s face. “Since the moment I met you, you’ve been pushin’ my buttons. I don’t know what you’ve got against me but piss the fuck off!” he growled threateningly.

“His mother was a slayer, Spike,” Buffy whispered sorrowfully. Sighing, she gazed sympathetically into Spike’s perplexed eyes. “The one you killed in New York.”

Spike heard what she was telling him but he didn’t cringe or flinch at the news. He didn’t show much of any reaction really. He simply looked over at Wood with an impassive acceptance. “Killed a lot of people’s mothers,” he gruffly stated, numbing guilt underlying his cavalier attitude. “Even my own.”

Buffy said nothing in response to Spike’s confession to matricide. Not because she’d been rendered completely speechless by shock but simply because there was nothing truly left to say. Sure she was a little thrown by the revelation but like all of Spike’s prior sins, it didn’t change how she felt. The devastated glances he threw in her direction were reason enough to not hold his past transgressions against him. Buffy slipped her hand back into his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She smiled warmly when he stared at her, his expression conveying a blend of relief and awe.

“I guess the guilt clause was left out of that whole soul contract of yours, huh?” Robin snidely criticized, angered by Buffy’s offhanded reaction to Spike’s admission.

“What is it that you want from me?” Spike bitingly asked. “An apology? Some kind of grand gesture with me fallin’ on my own bleedin’ stake? Well guess again, mate, ‘cos it ain’t gonna happen,” he mercilessly stated. “Yeah, I was the one that did in your mum, but at the time she was the slayer and I was a vampire.”

Wood sneered in disgust. “So that just makes what you did okay?”

“Never said that, mate,” Spike retorted. “But at least your mum died for somethin’. She was a warrior and in the end, she died tryin’ to make the world a better place. A better place for you.”

Wood remained silent, unsure how he should respond to what Spike had just told him. He didn’t want to listen to the vampire’s logic. He wanted to cling to the belief that Spike was evil and that he should be killed, even if only to calm the searing need for retribution in his heart. Yet he couldn’t disregard what Spike had said. He couldn’t ignore the truth behind the words. The restless feelings of payback were beginning to cool down as Wood’s own guilt over his actions consumed him. All he could think of now was how disappointed his mother would’ve been in him.

Spike continued with his melancholic rant, the elusive remorse Wood had commented upon earlier now flooding into the vampire’s dull blue eyes. “Least she died for a reason. Her death served a purpose. Least you weren’t the reason why your mum bit the dust,” he hoarsely uttered, choking back a sob as unshed tears filled his red rimmed eyes. “So yeah, I’m not weepy ‘bout offin’ your mother but that’s ‘cos I got enough grievin’ to do over my own.” Spike spun on his feet, turning his back to Wood, not wanting to show the other man the distraught condition he was in.

Robin eyes grew wide as he observed the vampire. He could barely put a coherent thought together as he watched a single tear escape the vampire’s defenses. Wood had never seen Spike with his guard down. He’d never witnessed the vampire so vulnerable. With his beliefs concerning Spike’s evilness now shattered, Wood let the stake he had held in his hand drop to the floor. With the sound of wood on cement echoing throughout the basement, Robin ran up the stairs, unable to deal with what he had just experienced. Not stopping once he reached the main floor, he bolted out of the house, needing the air and alone time to figure his shit out.

The moment Spike had sensed Wood’s departure he had sunk down on the cot, burying his face in his hands. After a few moments, he could not stifle the raging emotions tearing at his heart anymore. Sobs began to wrack through his body as his palms became damp with the tears that he could no longer suppress.

Suddenly, he felt himself wrapped in a gentle, comforting embrace. Lifting his bleary gaze to the owner of the two arms tenderly holding him, Spike couldn’t stop his lip from quivering as Buffy looked at him with such compassion and warmth. Burying his face in the crook of her healing neck, Spike allowed the guilt he had been repressing for so long to break free.

All Buffy could do was to soothingly stroke his platinum head and whisper reassuring words in his ear in the hopes that after this purging of emotions, the First would relinquish its hold over Spike.


 

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