Chapter 11
“I have been one acquainted with the night./I have walked out in rain—and back in rain./I have outwalked the furthest city light…I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet/When far away an interrupted cry/Came over houses from another street,/But not to call me back or say good-by…” ~Robert Frost, “Acquainted With the Night”
Spike woke to find a message waiting for him on his cell phone. Buffy had asked him to meet them at the school library as soon as he possibly could.
He frowned slightly. Spike had patroled with the two Slayers the previous night, but they had been talking about Buffy’s new boy-toy. When Faith had said all men were out for one thing, Spike had decided to call it a night.
Maybe he wasn’t human, but he was still a guy. He didn’t need to stick around for the male-bashing portion of the evening. He didn’t particularly care to hear about the wonders of Scott Hope, either.
What kind of a nancy-boy name was that, anyway?
It seemed as though Buffy and Faith had reached some sort of understanding, and the new Slayer appeared to accept the fact that Spike was not to be staked.
Spike had left to pursue his own interests, which had included a couple of beers at the Bronze and hustling a few brain-dead gits at pool. He’d made fifty bucks and killed a couple of vampires. It had been a fairly typical evening.
He might have tried to find Willow or Oz, but he’d remembered that the werewolf was locked up for the evening and the witch had a test the next day. So, after a few hours, he’d called it a night and had gone home.
The message from Buffy was just terse enough to have him taking the sewers to the school, although Spike was careful not to be seen as he navigated the tunnels. There had been a lot of underground activity lately, and he would rather not get caught by anyone.
Keeping a low profile didn’t come naturally, and it had been a difficult lesson to learn over the years, but it had stuck.
“What’s up?” he asked as he entered the library. The faces that greeted him were grim, and even Oz—who was typically nearly expressionless—didn’t look too happy.
Buffy sighed. “It looks like we have a small problem.”
“Oz killed a kid.” Xander blurted out.
Willow gave him a dirty look. “We don’t know that, Xander.”
“Slow down.” Spike took a seat at the table. “What exactly happened?”
“A student was found mauled to death,” Giles explained. “We don’t know for certain that it was Oz, but since the window was open, there’s no way to be sure it wasn’t.”
Spike frowned. “I thought somebody usually stayed with you,” he said, looking over at the boy.
Oz gave him a grateful look. Even though he understood why they were doing it, he didn’t care for the way they were all talking around him. “They do.”
“Xander fell asleep,” Willow said, still not looking too pleased with her friend.
Xander shrugged, looking extremely guilty. “It was just for a little while.”
Spike sighed. “So, what’s the plan? You want me to stay here?”
“Could you?” Buffy asked gratefully. “I thought Faith and I could patrol to make sure that there wasn’t anything else out there. It could easily be another demon of some kind.”
“Besides,” Willow added. “You’re a vampire, so you won’t fall asleep.”
Spike shrugged. “Being nocturnal goes with the territory. I don’t have a problem sticking around.”
“Thanks.” It was one word, but Spike could hear the tension in Oz’s voice.
“Whatever.” Spike shifted uncomfortably. “I still owe you for helping me find a place.”
Willow broke the uncomfortable silence that fell. “Okay, well, Xander and I are going to go examine the body, see if we can’t find anything there.”
“And I’ve got to meet Faith,” Buffy announced. “I’ll catch up with the rest of you tomorrow.”
A few minutes later, they were all gone. Giles left him directions on where he could find tea if he wanted it, and then left for home. Willow had tried to say goodbye to Oz, but he wasn’t in the mood. Spike couldn’t blame him. The idea that you’d killed an innocent—it wasn’t an easy burden to bear.
Spike would know.
Darkness fell, and Spike was left in the library with a werewolf in a cage. He decided to find a book to read to keep him occupied for the night, since it looked like he was going to be stuck there. Someone had left The Call of the Wild on the central table, and Spike quickly found himself lost in the story.
After a few hours, the growls from Oz tapered off, and all Spike could hear were the sounds of the werewolf whining in his dreams and the dripping of a leaky faucet somewhere in the building.
It wasn’t the first time Spike had been asked to guard something—or someone. He generally relished this sort of job as a nice change of pace, even though he enjoyed the thrill of the hunt.
“Spike?” The quiet voice called his attention away from the novel, and he looked up to see Willow watching him. “How are things going?”
He frowned, realizing that he had about an hour before the sun came up. “What are you doing here, Red? There’s still a few hours yet before class, yeah?”
“I wanted to be sure you got back home before the sun came up.” She came over to sit next to him on the table. “Thanks for staying.”
“It wasn’t a problem, pet,” Spike said gently. “There wasn’t any trouble.”
She smiled. “He’s really upset about this whole thing, you know?”
“Don’t blame him,” Spike replied. “It’s not easy to be out of control, and yet to know you’re responsible for any damage you do.”
“But he’s not responsible!” Willow protested. “Oz can’t help what he does while he’s the wolf.”
Spike shook his head. “You can’t draw that line, Red. My guess is that your boy knows that the wolf is with him all the time. It’s not something he can get rid of, even if it’s only in control three days out of the month.”
Willow shook her head, finding it difficult to accept that reasoning. “But—”
“Not saying that he’s guilty of killing anybody, just that you can’t always draw that line inside your own skull.” Spike was quiet for a long moment, unsure if he should share more. “After I got my soul, Angelus would taunt me. He’d try to get me to go back to what I had been. The very idea of killing someone made my stomach turn, and that’s not an easy thing for a vampire.”
Willow was silent, staring at him in rapt fascination. She seemed to sense what a momentous occasion this was for Spike to be telling this story. “So he starved me. Wouldn’t let me feed for weeks until I was so bloody hungry I went a bit mad.”
Spike stopped. He didn’t want to go on, to remember the expression on the girl’s frightened face when he ripped her throat out. It hadn’t been the first time that Angelus had done it to him, and Spike had grown better at controlling the hunger for longer periods of time, but a vampire needed blood.
There was always a breaking point, and Angelus had always made certain that they were bleeding when he thrust their bodies into Spike’s face.
“That’s not your fault either,” Willow protested. “You—it was Angel’s fault.” She fell silent for a moment. “Oh.”
“Exactly.”
Willow was quiet for a long time. “Will he be okay?”
“From what I’ve seen of him? Yeah.” Spike gave her a smile. Willow had never seen that expression on his face before—it was almost gentle. “He’s got you, Red.” Spike stood to leave, wanting to get back to his place before the sun came up.
“Spike?”
“Yeah, pet?”
Willow was silent, unable to find the right words to use in a situation like this. She was learning that sometimes there were no words. So she reached out, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze.
Spike stared at her for a second before squeezing back.
She couldn’t help but think that maybe she’d found the right words after all.
~~~~~
Buffy liked Scott Hope. He was nice. He was sweet. He had a great sense of humor. If she were the kind of girl to make a pros and cons list, his pros would definitely outweigh his cons by a ton. She was totally ready for an undemanding relationship.
That didn’t really explain why she couldn’t quite feel comfortable with him. There was a slight disconnect there that she was trying really hard to ignore.
Slaying, thankfully, was good for things like that. When in doubt, distract yourself with demon-killing.
It was different when the “demon” in question turned out to be a fellow student and one of your boyfriend’s best friends.
When the school counselor’s body was found mutilated in the middle of the day, they were all relieved that Oz wasn’t the culprit. Of course, that left them with the dilemma of finding out who was responsible.
Finding Debbie in the girls’ locker room, trying to cover a black eye with makeup, was definitely a major clue. “It’s tricky, covering a fresh shiner like that. You know what works?”
Debbie didn’t turn away from the mirror. She just continued to dab on foundation. “What?”
“Don’t get hit.” There was a small part of Buffy that wanted to sympathize. She knew what it was like to love a guy who treated you like shit. It had taken her a long time before she could get to the point where she could kill Angel.
Of course, that didn’t mean that she’d stopped loving him, and Buffy could honestly say that it was a part of herself that she hated. She hated that she’d loved Angel—even after he’d been responsible for Jenny Calendar’s death.
Maybe that was why she had very little actual sympathy for Debbie. Buffy had managed to kill the man she loved; Debbie couldn’t even tell the truth. The Slayer couldn’t afford sympathy when people were dying.
“What’s going on, Debbie?” Buffy asked, coming up to stand next to the girl, their eyes meeting in the mirror. “I’ll bet the farm you know.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she insisted, turning to leave.
Buffy wasn’t about to let that happen. “You know, normally I’d understand needing to keep a secret. In this case, however, people are dying, and I’m betting you know why. So why?”
On the last word, Buffy gave her a little shake and a push, forcing Debbie to sit on one of the benches. Debbie shook her head. “No, it—it’s my fault. I make him angry. Pete just does it because he loves me too much.”
Willow stared at her. “But Jeff and Mr. Platt were killed by wild animals.” There was a pause. “Weren’t they?”
Buffy’s smile was cold. “Pete’s not like other guys, is he, Debbie?”
Debbie tried to stand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have to go.”
The Slayer pushed her back down again. “No, you have to tell us what’s going on. We can’t help you until you do.”
“I didn’t ask for your help!” Debbie protested.
Willow looked incredulous. “Well, when were you going to? Because if you wait till Pete kills you, it’s pretty much too late.”
Debbie just shook her head, her eyes darting around the room, looking for an escape route.
Buffy definitely preferred dealing with demons. At least she got to beat the information out of them.
~~~~~
There were no messages waiting for Spike when he woke the next afternoon, which left him absurdly disappointed. He was planning on meeting the Slayers later for patrol, but he’d hoped that someone would have called him with news of Oz.
Spike dressed and ate, heading out as soon as the sun went down. In the Mustang, the trip to the school only took a few minutes, and he headed inside immediately. Something wasn’t sitting right with him.
It was just a hunch, but Spike paid attention to his hunches. His gut rarely led him wrong.
Although there had been a few occasions when his instincts had failed him, and his screw-ups had been spectacular.
Spike was glad he’d come when he saw the chaos in the hallway. Willow was sprawled on the floor, a snarling Oz heading straight for her. Faith had the dart gun, and she managed to shoot the werewolf just as he reached the fallen girl.
“Where’s Buffy?” he demanded, knowing that if there was more damage being done, Buffy would be right in the middle of things.
Faith shook her head. “I don’t know. She went after Pete.”
Spike didn’t know who Pete was, and he didn’t care. His job was to make sure Buffy didn’t die, and that just required finding her.
He caught the scent of blood as he headed back towards the library, and Spike detoured to follow the trail, figuring that there were good odds he’d find the Slayer.
What he found was the body of a dead girl, and the Slayer facing off with a kid about her own age. There was something wrong with the kid, although Spike wasn’t exactly sure what it was.
“You’re all the same!” The shout was echoed with a backhanded punch that knocked Buffy into a stack of crates.
Spike didn’t wait; he waded into the fight, jerking the kid back by the collar and tossing him across the room. “Back off,” he warned.
The kid flew at him, swinging wildly, and Spike grappled with him, trying to gain some control. He was prepared to kill, but only if he had to.
Of course, you don’t always get what you want.
“He’s not human anymore, Spike!”
The sound of Buffy’s voice seemed to do something to Pete, who tried to get around Spike to rush her. Spike grabbed his head as he twisted around, letting Pete’s own momentum carry him forward.
There was a sharp crack as his neck twisted and broke, and Spike let the body drop to the ground in distaste. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she replied, pushing herself up. Spike’s hand was under her elbow in the next moment, assisting her, making sure she was steady before letting her go. Buffy glanced at Pete’s body, then at Debbie’s. “He’s the one,” she murmured. “He killed three people because he loved her.” She stared at the twisted body of the girl. “And she loved him so much she let him.”
Spike shook his head. Somehow he knew that she wasn’t just talking about Debbie and Pete. “I don’t think that’s the way it works. I don’t think you can call that love.”
Their eyes met, and Spike stepped aside to let her precede him out the door. They both knew the pain that comes from loving dangerously.
~~~~~
Spike couldn’t settle after that. He’d left Buffy with a sympathetic Willow—Oz would sleep for the rest of the night, so there was no need to leave someone in the library. The Slayer would be fine. He’d done his job—she was alive and basically unharmed.
He never had been quite able to wrap his mind around the evil that people inflicted upon each other. Spike understood the lure of lawlessness, of course. He recognized the seductiveness of the dark, the corrosiveness of power—especially when you felt weak yourself.
Such wastefulness, though, death piled upon death—such a twisted kind of love—it didn’t quite make sense.
Or perhaps it did, and that’s what made him so uncomfortable. Maybe it made too much sense, reminding him too much of Drusilla.
She, too, had a funny way of showing her love.
Needing a good hunt to distract him, and wanting to forget how it had felt to twist that boy’s neck, Spike set off to find some trouble. There was very little stirring in Sunnydale, and he was disappointed in the lack of action.
About an hour before dawn, Spike found a couple of fledglings to stake—pathetic creatures who were barely worth the effort.
“I was going to get those,” Faith said as he dusted the second.
Spike shrugged. “Have to be faster then.”
They stared at one another for a long moment, the silence tense. Suddenly Faith grinned at him. “I hear you had some good moves tonight.”
Spike relaxed slightly. He hadn’t been sure how Faith would react to him without Buffy around to play mediator. Although it’d be a rush to fight the girl, he didn’t trust her not to stake him, not like he’d trusted Buffy. “Wasn’t too hard. He was strong, but not much more.”
“Still, pretty crazy, huh?” Faith asked conversationally. “I mean, you don’t expect the demon to be a kid, right?”
“No, I don’t suppose you do,” Spike replied, falling into step next to her. “How are things, Slayer?”
Faith gave a casual toss of her head, and the vampire could feel the sensuality coming off her in waves. “Five by five, blondie.”
They were standing in front of his car. “You want a ride?”
Faith smirked. “Wouldn’t mind.”
“Not that kind of ride.” Spike’s lips twitched, amused.
She gave an appreciative chuckle. “Some other time then.”
“We’ll see,” Spike said, getting in, watching as Faith slid into the passenger side.
Faith ran a hand over the dash. “Car like this’ll get a girl hot.”
Her eyes offered a challenge Spike was tempted to take. It had been a long time since he’d had a good shag, but there were certain rules that he’d set for himself. He didn’t mix business with pleasure on long-term jobs.
And Spike didn’t do children. Whatever Faith might think, she was barely more than a kid.
“Then I suppose you’ll be taking a cold shower.” He softened the words with a wink, and she laughed, recognizing that he wasn’t going to take her up on her invitation, at least not tonight.
Faith didn’t mind all that much. She loved a good challenge.