Title: Willow and Spike
Author: Luisa
Email: luisa_barros@hotmail.com
Category: Willow/Spike (although all the major BtVS make appearances)
Rating: PG13, I guess.
Description: The characters interact with interesting consequences. All dialogue.
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns all.
Dedication: To James Marsters, my favourite actor on Buffy, the Vampire Slayer.
Spoilers: None, unless you haven't seen Season Four.
Comment: It's my fictional take on what could have happened in Season Four. I prefer the ending that the writers came up with, but!, this is mine. ;-)

On campus.
181.


"Gray, sometimes life's a treasure box."

"What prompted you to say that?"

"Something that gave it meaning."

"Something or someone, Will?"

"Someone."

"Oh."

"Anyway, how's Rye…?"

"That was the most furious change of topic I've ever witnessed."

"Sorry. Just don't wanna create heaviness."

"You can't. You're glowing today."

"I'm happy. And it's a great day…sun and all."

"Yeah. California finally living up to its full potential."

"And no work awaits."

"I kinda have training."

"Poor you…"

"It's cool. I dig it."

"Do you still want to escape?"

"There's no point in wanting stuff."

"Why's that?"

"Cause you can't see the future. Might be worse than what I've got now."

"It's all relative."

"Some things aren't. Those hurt."

At Giles'.
182.


"Spike, can you draw?"

"Mate...?"

"Can you pick up a pencil and create demon art?"

"Nope. My CV's action-packed enough."

"Do you have *any* artistic talents at all?"

"Acupuncture."

"Oh."

"Why the third degree, Watcher?"

"I just thought your century of experience might prove of some use in saving the world."

"The world's self-destructive. Sod all I can do."

"Well, you could certainly lift a finger to rehabilitate it!"

"Watcher, I've told you before, I'll say it again. That bloody Frankenstein's no threat."

"You are appalingly wrong. He's assembling an army."

"Of what? Third-rate pranksters?"

"Spike, this is *not* a joke! Adam's a dictator. He's charismatic and powerful."

"He's made up of rags and scrap metal. Ooh, *scary*."

"When are you going to stop underestimating your opponents..."

"I never did it with the Slayer."

"Oh come on! You're always pulling darts out of your hat...poor girl doesn't stand a chance, though she certainly gives you a run for your money."

"Mate, I always thought she was a bitch and she never disappointed."

At Giles's.
183.


"Slayer! Come to bitch?"

"Spike! Busy sponging off, I see."

"Your Watcher's keen on jolly hosting."

"For parasites."

"You should know something about that."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's all about *you* all the time. Me, me, me. That's the extension of your vocab."

"Shut up!"

"Right, sacred duty and all. Fine. But give others a flipping break! Give your Watcher a break."

"What are you talking about, you asshole?"

"You! You take every bloody thing for granted! Red, Giles, *me*!"

"WHAT???"

"Yeah. I won't always be here to hold up the mirror. Point out those nasty little flaws of yours..."

(...)

"Bodily assault, verbal abuse, cruel intentions. And the Faith chick's the so-called rogue one..."

"You're just too full of yourself, Spike! Get over it! You're not *God*!"

"Bloody hell, how do you know that?"

"You're just a sad, defanged vampire mourning for the old glamour!"

"I'm not the one pining for the hair-gel nancy boy in LA who's probably busy screwing every blonde soul he saves. Redemption, my *ass*! Two-faced wanker."

"You're pathetic."

"No, Slayer. Take a long, careful look at yourself. And then we'll talk."

"Show's over, mister. Get up."

"Buffy! I *thought* I heard loud, hysterical voices."

"Yeah, Giles. Just me and Bleach Bottle having a friendly chat..."

"The Slayer came on to me."

"SPIKE!"

"I've got scars to prove it, Watcher. She's hot and ready, but I don't cater."

"Spike, before you go any further, let me remind you that you're at the receiving end of a very sharp piece of wood aimed directly at the empty space you call heart."

"Thanks for the warning, Watcher. Nothing like living on the edge."

At Buffy's.
184.


"That son-of-a-bitch's just begging to have the crap kicked out of him."

"Buffy!"

"Willow, how long have we been friends?"

"Too long, apparently."

"Will!"

"OK, OK, he's an undead Bart Simpson. Still-"

"Still nothing. You might fall for the bleached charm and the cockney accent but-"

"North London, not cockney. He loses it if someone calls him Cockney."

"I DON'T CARE!!! He thinks he's God gift to slayers and if he's not careful, he's powder."

"What did he do…this time."

"Angel. He shot Angel at me like a fucking cannonball! What does *he* know about it?! Nothing!"

"Everything."

"What?!"

"You forget they have history together. Spike's struggling as hard to bury it as you are."

"I'll bury him with it, he only has to ask…"

"Stop it! Show some heart, will ya? Spike sets traps and you walk right into them. That's what makes him tick, for God's sake! Just ignore him!"

"Just about as much as I can ignore a sharp chest-pain, alright?! He's a fucking splinter!!!"

"Well, he certainly did wonders for your lingo, that's for sure."

"It's the only lingo he gets."

"Try Fiarl…you'll get better results…"

At the crypt.
185.


"Some report I got from Buffy today…"

"What? More whining?"

"Spike, we need to talk about this grudge you've got against her. It's not, erm,…productive."

"It beats the telly. That's all I've got to say."

"Oh no, you don't! You're not cunning your way outta this one, mister! Look at me!"

"I am looking. That's one sexy little number you've got on."

"Spike…"

"Oh not that tone again…"

"What is it with you and Buffy? It's not just a slayer thing…"

"It's a *Buffy* thing. The name alone gets me queasy."

"Huh…?"

"It sums up everything she is. Centre of the universe, Miss Chosen One, hung up on a bloke that should've died and stayed dead. Gives me heartburn."

"I think you two are alike."

"Yeah. Like chalk and cheese."

"Spike, I mean it."

"Pet, that's Freudian claptrap. Bottom line: I hope the Hellmouth gets hungry and gobbles her up for breakfast."

"This doesn't help anyone, least of all, you and me…"

"Red, I'm not an actor. I don't pretend. I'm actually doing her a favour."

"OK, expand on that one…"

"Sunnyhell's a sodden black hole of two-timing wankers with horns and bad skin. Nobody is what he is, always something else. At least with me, she knows where she stands."

"Guess Merciful's your middle name."

"No, *the* is."

At Xander's.
186.


"Anya, what makes people hate each other?"

"Fun."

"Huh…?"

"Sparks, Will. Kicks."

"There's more to it than that. It's such a waste of friendship!"

"That's such a Willow thing to say."

"It *is*?"

"Yeah. OK, as far as I know people hate each other when they are opposites."

"Just that…?"

"Different wavelengths, different Holy Grails, that kinda junk."

"Spike and Buffy are not that different."

"Similar attitudes doesn't make them clones."

"I know that, Anya, but they're both…BLOND!"

"OK, my turn: Huh???"

"What I mean is, they could fight triple as much evil if they just joined forces."

"Willow, Spike *is* evil. He's not gonna fight himself."

"He doesn't fit into that pattern anymore. He's a loose thread."

"Willow, it sounds to me like you're talking to yourself."

"Maybe I am."

"The essence of demonness is making humans pay. For their humanity."

"Spike has never thrown that in my face."

"I haven't done it to Xander either."

"What's wrong with us?"

"Wouldn't *we* like to know…"

At Xander's.
187.


"Xander, when you and the cheerleader went out-"

"Uh-oh."

"Did sparks fly?"

"Yeah and they hit me in the eye."

"Clash of chemicals."

"Sorta, hon. Sorta…"

"Do you think about her?"

"No."

"I can read you, so come up with a better lie."

"She's in LA, I'm not into long-distance."

"Do you ever picture Angel and her together?"

"Hell no! Angel's as lively as a tomb, she's High-Class-Party-Girl. Nope."

"Opposites."

"Ebony and Ivory."

"Lived in perfect harmony, remember?"

"Talking of Harmony, I wonder where she is now."

"XANDER!"

"Man, I'm learning a trick or two from the Spike Man!"

"Watch it, before someone chips *you* too."

At Giles'.
188.


"Hey Rupert!"

"Willow…Rupert?"

"First name. As in *yours*."

"Good Lord, I'd forgotten."

"Can I come in?"

"So sorry. Of course."

"Busy?"

"Bored."

"Aren't we all."

"Are you?"

"Not really. Spike's laughs aplenty."

"He's a tad too aplenty for my taste."

"For Buffy's too. I wish I could spell them together."

"Don't try it, dear. Our hands are full with Adam as it is."

"*He's* dreary…"

"Dreary and deadly. Very, very deadly."

"Undead?"

"Worse. He guts humans."

"Gee, can't they come up with something original these days? Like hugging them or something?"

"Have you been watching the Care Bears again, child?"

"No…"

"Hand in the cookie-jar."

"I'm an idiot."

"Willow, you are not. You're just the medicine Spike needs."

"He hates medicine."

"All children do."

"He's a century and odd old...!"

"Odd being the key-word."

"Odd is a relative key-word, Giles…"

At Buffy's.
189.


"Buffy, the other day-"

"Hon?"

"When you were having that dream."

"Oh."

"Oh. That means you know what comes next."

"I'm trying not to dwell on it."

"Don't repress."

"I thought you Initiators were all about repression."

"That's Gray's gig, not mine."

"Riley, don't add gas to the fire…"

"Honey, I just wanna know. Was it about him?"

"Him…as in Angel?"

"I thought his name was Angelus."

"When he was bad."

"Two-faced."

"He couldn't help it! It was my fault."

"*How*?"

"I gave him a bad happy."

"Huh?"

"We made love, he lost his soul."

"Jesus."

"Think cross. He's suffering hell."

"In LA?"

"Yeah. He's atoning for his sins."

"Setting himself up for a big fall."

"What?"

"He *can't* atone. Anymore than the people he killed can start breathing again."

"Riley, this is a one-way-ticket to a fight, OK? Don't push me."

"Buffy, he's deluding himself. Nothing's worse than that."

"There's nothing *bad* in what he's doing! It's all good."

"You still love him…"

"I-"

"And repression has never looked more attractive."

Outside.
190.


"Love."

"Yes?"

"Your 'rents."

"What about them?"

"Are they dead?"

"What? No!"

"You never breathe a word about them."

"We're not close."

"Flesh and blood. Doesn't get any closer than that."

"That's where you're wrong."

"Are they demonic?"

"…"

"No laughing matter. Are they?"

"No. Unless middle-class's synonym for evilness."

"Not as far as I know."

"Cool."

"Pet, just own up. What is it between you and them?"

"Repression."

"Did they chain you up?"

"They didn't care enough. I meant *me* repressing."

"Right. I'm getting the picture."

"I'm flooded by relief."

"Still doesn't explain it."

"It does to me."

"Nope. Make'em care."

"I can't, Spike! I can't…"

"You kick ass. You can do anything!"

"Except make them love me."

"I'd bet money they do."

"Spike, what's with the family values gig?"

"You dreamed of them last night. Oh Mom kinda thing. Scared the crap outta me."

"Sorry."

"This is the stuff unhappies are made of, love. Call them."

"I have."

"How did it go?"

"Two minutes. Then silence. Then bye."

At Giles'.
191.


"I guess Crayons're not your tools…"

"Thank you, Buffy. I am quite aware of that."

"Doesn't really stop you, though, does it?"

"Buffy! Have you come here to slay me?!"

"No, Giles. It's just shooting-practice. Sorry…bad hair day."

"I am doing my best to unveil Adam. But he's brand new! There's not much to work with."

"Will's trying to hack into the I-Files."

"I-Files…?"

"Initiative."

"I assume your better half doesn't know."

"You assume wisely, oh Obi-Wan. One word of this and-"

"Yes. Seems Spike's not the only one keen on edges."

"This has nothing to do with him! *I've* got nothing to do with him."

"Why so agitated?"

"I'm sick of his antics, that's why! He's *not* one of us! As far as I'm concerned, he's just another Adam!"

"In leather."

"GILES! I'M NOT KIDDING!"

"…"

"STOP SMIRKING!!!"

"So sorry. You are obviously in dire need of some camomile and here I am, bursting with laughter…"

At Xander's.
192.


"Spike, if I asked you to slash your wrist for me, would you?"

"No, but I'd give you another black eye any day."

"Good, that got your attention. Here's what I wanna know: are you a Scooby?"

"Not unless you people suck me in."

"Suck you in…?"

"Bribe me."

"Fat chance."

"Smashing. Nope, I'm no bleeding Scooby."

"Then what are you?"

"The Big Bad. The Evil Undead."

"Stop making voices. What are you?"

"Xapper, what are *you*, for that matter?!"

"A Scooby."

"A flipping ameba."

"HEY! I work, alright? I fight, I protect, I save the day…sometimes."

"Right. How many times?"

"Uh, hm, erm-"

"Once, twice?"

"A couple."

"Oh *bravo*. You're the real deal."

"Spike!"

"I'm what I've always been. Plus chip."

"And Willow."

"…"

"She's a Scooby. It *has* crossed your chipped mind…"

"I see it."

"When Adam strikes, we're gonna need all the help we can get."

"What for? You've got Goldilocks juggling stakes!"

"Buffy can't take him on alone."

"Bloody hell, she's done it before, she'll do it again. Now I don't care a whit for the chit, but she'll defuse the dummy in the end…"

"You're good at excuses."

"What?"

""Sorry, but"-those are your favourite words."

"No, mate. "No, thanks" are."




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