Chapter 23: Proofs
The Scoobies had finished locking down the whole cafeteria except for the front doors; undoubtedly, the Mayor would be arriving very soon. Spike was restless, unable to stop the wheels turning furiously in his head.
Earlier that night, he had helped the gang steal the mystery box that apparently was so important to the Mayor. Spike hadn’t known about it until offering to help the gang, and he was wondering if that meant the Mayor hadn’t needed his help with it, or hadn’t wanted him to know. His assistance to the Scoobies hadn’t amounted to much; Buffy had assigned him to protect the two Watchers, who hadn’t needed his protection in the slightest. He was all too aware that she had suggested that role for him in order to keep Angel and him away from each other. Also aware that if he had persisted in accompanying the Slayer, the brooding wonder, and the witch, he might have prevented the latter from being captured. And, if Willow hadn’t been captured, they would be destroying the Mayor’s pretty box instead of waiting for him now.
The whole hostage thing wasn’t what was upsetting him, though. He was confident that the exchange would go fine – each group had something precious the other one wanted; there was no reason to shed blood. The trouble was that for the first time, he would be in the same room with both the Scoobies and the Mayor, each side believing he would fight for them. He wasn’t sure what the Mayor’s reaction would be to the fact that Spike hadn’t warned him about the Scoobies’ planned attack. He was even less certain as to which attitude to adopt. Not being there at all would have been easier, but Buffy had insisted, saying she needed all the back up she could get.
The lights went out. Spike could still see fine, but he had to fight back his instinct to shift to game face. He didn’t want to show any sign of being on edge, especially in front of Angel. The doors opened, two vamps entered, followed by the Mayor and Faith, the latter holding Willow. Buffy stepped closer to the Mayor, and Spike tensed, ready to jump in at the first hint of a threat toward his Slayer. For an instant, his eyes met Faith’s, and he frowned at the cruel smile that bloomed on her lips. Something was up, but what?
Willow was safe.
Just for that, Buffy could have smiled, but she didn’t dare, not so soon, not until the Mayor and his clique were gone. It was her plan that had put her friend in danger, and she’d do anything she had to in order to get her back in perfect health. If that meant returning the Mayor’s box, she had no problem with that, Wesley be damned.
It could have gone perfectly fine; but of course, it didn’t. The Mayor first took a few easy shots at her relationship with Angel, pointing out with barely hidden glee that Angel would never be a day older while Buffy would age in front of his very eyes. Buffy had made her peace with that, and it didn’t bother her. At least, not too much. But she knew Angel, knew how he thought, and could already hear him mournfully say that she deserved better than him, more than he could offer. She didn’t want better or more, simply wanted him to give her all he could, just like she was ready to give him all she was. And it was time he understood that, before things between them got irremediably broken.
By itself, the reminder that one of them would live to see the die wouldn’t have been so bad. The fact that they wouldn’t grow old together was nothing new. But what the bastard said next.
Faith had just let go of Willow to take the box Angel was offering her when the Mayor spoke again. His words sent the room into speechless shock.
“I’ve got to admit, I was a tad disappointed by your behavior, Miss Summers. I thought you stood for all that is good and pure, and there you are, lover to two vampires, both of whom lost their soul at some point because of you; yet, you still keep them close. I could almost understand about Angel, if he really does have a permanent soul now, but to keep a soulless killer in your little group? Do you even know he offered his services to me? I don’t understand how.”
He was abruptly interrupted by the intrusion of Snyder and two police officers. Then the box opened, and Buffy needed to concentrate on fighting. Until it was over, though, questions ran through her mind. Was it true? Had Spike really lost his soul? The Mayor had lied when saying she had slept with him, so he could have lied about the rest. He had to have lied. She couldn’t believe it was true. She didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to be told that, all these months, her trust in Spike had been misplaced. She had been betrayed too often already, and couldn’t go through that again. Not when she had been relying so much on Spike. Not when she hadn’t questioned his help in months. Not when his presence on patrol had become as much of a comfort – if not sometimes more – as Angel’s.
The cafeteria doors swung close, leaving a few humans and a couple of vamps alone once again. Angel’s first reaction was to turn toward Spike and stride to him, throwing him to the floor before the younger vampire could react.
“What the fucking hell is wrong with you?” Spike spat, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Are you still souled?”
A mere second of silence followed the growled question, but it wasn’t Spike who answered.
“You can’t truly believe what the Mayor said.”
Momentarily leaving Spike, Angel’s gaze found Buffy. Her face expressed the same incredulity her voice had.
“You can’t truly believe,” she repeated coldly, “that I’d sleep with anyone who isn’t you.”
Again, the room was quiet. Angel wanted to believe her more than anything, but a nagging doubt wouldn’t leave him. Spike had changed. Angel wasn’t sure when it had happened, but the blond wasn’t as depressed as he had once been, he was fighting better; he simply was more like he had been before the curse. It could be that he had simply adapted to the soul, as Angel had believed until now. Or it could be that he had lost it. And if that was it, then how?
Spike was now up again, scowling.
“Can’t you see what’s happening?” he said spitefully, gesturing to the door through which the Mayor had disappeared. “That guy just tried to have all of us turn against each other. Standard tactic to weaken your opponents; have them fight amongst themselves.”
“Without putting in doubt Buffy’s faithfulness,” Wesley said primly as he slowly approached, the stake in his hands all too obvious, “I’m sure we’d all sleep better if we did a simple truth spell to assure ourselves that.”
“Sod that. I’ve proved myself enough, I’m done jumping through fucking hoops.”
Spike cast a defiant look across the room, making eye contact with everyone, finishing with Angel and Buffy. Whatever he saw in each of them, he apparently didn’t like, because he strode off, head held high and almost visible waves of fury coming off him.
“I think.” Buffy started, voice shaking ever so slightly before she could control it. “I think he may have really lost it.”
Angel said nothing, but inside, his soul was screaming that she was right. Yet, at the same time, he had a hard time believing it. Spike had changed in the past months, yes, but at no point had Angel smelled human blood on him. If he had been killing again, Angel would have known, he was sure of it. So, what was going on? And how had the younger vampire reached perfect happiness?
Morning was well on its way when Giles finally returned home. He had spent the last few hours examining the few sheets Willow had stolen from the Ascension books. The news so far was rather grim. It was even grimmer when combined with the Spike situation.
Even as he had been taking notes about the Ascension, Giles had been pondering Spike’s soul status. It was hard to believe the vampire could be soulless and still help them, patrol with them, without the barest hint so far that he wanted to hurt them, or anyone else for that matter. However, now that he had given it some thought, Giles could easily see the changes Spike had gone through, could even remember remarking to himself how well the vampire had adjusted to his soul. Well, maybe he hadn’t adjusted at all. Maybe.
He smelled the cigarette smoke as soon as he entered the courtyard, and immediately found the shadow leaning against the wall, his face faintly lit by the red glow of the cigarette. Instinctively, Giles retrieved the stake from his jacket’s right pocket, and the bottle of holy water from the left. Maybe he should have accepted Buffy’s offer to accompany him home, but his pride had gotten in the way.
“Watcher,” Spike greeted him coolly, still immobile against the wall save fort he movement of his fingers bringing the cigarette to his lips and away.
Never taking his eyes from the vampire, Giles continued to his door. Unlocking it required some juggling with his weapons and keys, but only when he finally pushed the door open and stepped in, out of Spike’s reach, did the vampire move. Flicking the remaining of his cigarette away, he approached the door, and Giles had the urge to close it before he reached the threshold. Ridiculous, of course. Spike didn’t have an invite to his house anymore, and he wouldn’t have waited for Giles to walk in if he had wanted to kill him.
“‘Have to talk to you,” the vampire said grimly.
“Yes, it seems so. About what?”
It felt a little weird to stand inside and talk to someone outside, but the alternative was unthinkable. He would not play with fire and invite him in.
“About what? What do you think?”
Giles took a deep breath. Time to test his conjectures.
“I think you lost your soul sometime on Buffy’s birthday. Which is either a coincidence, or some echo of Angel’s curse being broken last year.”
A raised eyebrow was Spike’s only visible reaction until he spoke. “Interesting theory, but not accurate. Lost it a few days before. How did you know?”
It had been one thing to think the vampire had lost his soul, but it was still very different to hear it confirmed. Giles fought to keep his voice even.
“You changed,” he said calmly. “Started to meet my eyes when you never would before. Other little things you said or did. I didn’t know what it meant until tonight, though. Why did you play that act for so long?”
Spike’s brow furrowed even as his features darkened. Not anger, because the demon’s eyes would have accompanied anger. Nevertheless, if not anger, what did he feel?
“It wasn’t an act. You said I could choose to do good and I chose. I chose when I had the soul, and I chose again after losing it.”
That, Giles had trouble believing, and it certainly showed on his expression because Spike shook his head and said:
“Right. Never thought you’d believe me. That’s why I’m here. Have an offer for you.”
“What kind of offer?”
Had he been less tired, Giles might not have had this conversation at all. He might have tried to stake the vampire, or at the very least would have closed his door on him. However, he did listen, even though he was doubtful, and let Spike say what he wanted to say.
“I know you lot. I’d bet you’re thinking about resouling me, and you’d already have done it if you hadn’t all been too tired.”
He paused then, as if waiting for confirmation. Giles didn’t say a word; but yes, they had talked about it.
“I don’t want to go through that again,” Spike continued when it was clear Giles wouldn’t reply. “If that’s what you plan on doing, save yourself the trouble and just stake me. ‘Cause I swear I’ll take a walk in the sun if you curse me.”
Giles still didn’t let himself respond.
“And with the Ascension coming soon,” the blond finished, obviously disappointed by his unresponsive audience, “you could use all the help you could find. Including mine. So here’s my offer. Don’t do a souling spell on me. Do a truth one, like the other ponce said. ‘M sure you can find one in your musty books. Bewitch me so I’ll tell nothing but the truth, and ask me what my plans are. Ask me if I plan to hurt any of you. Then you’ll know you can trust me.”
Stunned, Giles watched him and wondered why the vamp was willing to go that far for them to accept his help. Everything the Watcher knew, everything he had experienced, told him that it was incredibly dangerous and stupid to believe that a vampire, any vampire at all, was harmless. And yet.
Yet, he had taken Spike in after he had been cursed. Had let him go. Had talked to him about redeeming himself. Had offered him money in exchange for his help on patrol. Had invited him into his house, shared drinks with him, talked with him, in one word, trusted him. And some of it, he had done while Spike was soulless.
The question was could he still do it now that he knew Spike was soulless. The vampire was offering him a way to find an answer.
“Tomorrow afternoon,” he said tiredly. “We’ll come to your crypt.”
Spike merely nodded before leaving, and Giles was left to wonder about what would happen if they didn’t like the truth the vamp would tell.
When the wanker suggested it in the cafeteria, I wouldn’t have agreed for anything in the world. But once I thought about it, it wasn’t such a bad idea. I knew what kind of risk I was taking with that truth spell, but I was ready for it. Better that than being cursed again – and I have no doubt that’s where they would have headed without my refusal. Better, also, than leaving town and being away from them, from her, when I knew I’d have missed her so much. No, there was no way around it. I needed their trust, needed to be a part of the group again, and that was the only answer I could come up with at that time. Seeing how much I hate having magic done on me, you can see how desperate I was.
As the Watcher had promised, they came the next afternoon. Him, the Slayer, the little witch, her wolf, and Harris. All armed. It reminded me of that night when they had come to the mansion to curse Angelus. Like then, they were there to gain an ally through magic, but they were ready to fight if it didn’t work. Out of them all, the Slayer was the hardest to read. I wished I had had that little mind reading trick of hers then, it certainly would have been helpful.
Except for the Slayer and her Watcher, they safely remained standing in the sunlight pouring through the open door. Harris made some remark about not agreeing with playing my game, and Willow answered by pointing out that the Ascension was coming in very few days and they needed all the help they could find. Giles eventually put an end to their ramblings, and Buffy never said a word about it.
Before I agreed to the Watcher’s request that I sit down in the armchair placed in the center of the crypt, I laid out my rules. I was doing this for them to be able to trust me, but there were limits to what I was ready to reveal. First, I had them assure me of how long the spell would last; then I announced my one restriction.
“I will not tell you how I lost my soul,” I said, my eyes going from him to the Slayer and back, “so don’t ask.”
She looked ready to argue, but Giles agreed, his eyes frank but cool. “We’re here to know how far we can trust you. How far you want to trust us is up to you.”
I sat down, paid attention to the spell only until I was sure it wasn’t the soul curse, and then closed my eyes and tried to remain calm. I had practiced my answers to what I was certain they would ask, and I could think of a thousand ways this could go wrong. But the simple fact that they were ready to test me was reassuring, as it showed how much they needed all the help they could gather, including that of a soulless vampire.
Once the chanting and smelly herb part was done, Giles produced a sheet of paper from his pocket. Trust him to have a list. The first question was easy enough, simply requesting my name. I was left wide-eyed and startled when the simple ‘Spike’ I had intended to voice became the full name I had worn as a human and had never spoken aloud since. The spell was working, alright, no doubt about that. I wasn’t too happy to see Giles scribbling on his paper, and had already guessed that he would research the name I had just given him, but it was too late to take it back.
One by one, he read the names of the Scoobies, Joyce, Dawn, even Angel, and asked if I planned to hurt any of them. All names received a negative answer. I’ve got to admit that I was somewhat surprised myself about not wanting to hurt Angel.
Then came the fun part.
“Have you at any point worked for or still work for the Mayor?”
That one, I had practiced, and the words that came out were exactly the ones I had intended to say.
“No. I did not work for the Mayor. I pretended to, but it was always an act. I thought I could be the gang’s spy, like the Mayor was using Faith to spy on you. I never found out anything that was worth breaking cover. I guess he didn’t trust me as much as I had hoped he would. All for nothing.”
There were murmurs from the Scoobies at that, but I paid them no mind, and kept my attention on Buffy and Giles, knowing that the final judgment would come from them, and no one else. They shared a look, Giles’ eyebrow asking a silent question, Buffy answering with a short nod. Next question.
“Did you kill any human since you were given back your soul?”
Now that question, there, that was the breaking point. I had an answer, practiced and embellished – within the limits of truth, of course – but I knew that it would be the one that decided of everything. Either yes or no would have been a lie. I could only go for the third option.
“I don’t know.”
I watched the Slayer blink, ever so slowly as if she was replaying my words in her mind, and when she looked about to speak, I continued.
“I went to LA, after I lost my soul. Hunted a handful of wankers. Drug dealers, rapists, murderers. I hunted human predators, just like you hunt demon ones, Slayer. I drank from them. But when I left them, every single one of them, they were alive, and as far as I know they still are. I haven’t hunted or killed any human since.”
I saw her frown, when I compared what I had done to her own calling, and I knew she’d never agree aloud that it was the same thing. It didn’t matter so much though, or at least I hoped it didn’t. I just wanted her – wanted them – to admit that sometimes you need more than white and black to paint the world.
“Why not?”
I was surprised to hear Oz speak, for he had been silent so far, but not so surprised by what he was asking. He knew about grays, he was in that fringe himself, although on the opposite end as I was, and it made sense that he questioned my motives.
“I’ve made a choice,” I answered, speaking directly to him. “Every month, you choose to cage yourself not to hurt anyone. I cage myself every day. Every minute.”
“It’s hard to believe a vampire would choose not to kill without a soul.”
My gaze drifted to the Slayer. It wasn’t a question, and for that I was grateful. I would have hated to be compelled to tell her why I had made that choice in front of the others.
A few more questions, all of them asking in different ways if I intended to kill again, received the same answer. No, I wasn’t going to kill. When I think of it, it makes me wonder. For me to be able to say the words, I had to deeply believe them. Which meant that the demon part of me had to agree with them. Had I truly renounced fresh blood? Was I that convinced that I’d get the girl and be rewarded for giving up on fresh meals? Apparently, I was. For better or for worse, I was.
The jury finally gave its decision. I was deemed worthy of being their ally, under the provision that I wouldn’t hunt humans at all, even wrongdoers. I could tell that they were still wary of me, but they accepted that I had been telling the truth. I suppose it helped that each of them could recall at least one instance of me helping to save their lives.
I was somewhat surprised, when they left, that the Slayer stayed a little longer. I wasn’t being interrogated anymore, so I stood, walked around, grabbed my fags, all the while watching her watch me from the corner of my eye. I could tell she had more to say, more to ask, maybe, but she was hesitating.
“Why don’t you want to tell us how you lost it?” she finally asked, carefully wording the question.
I pondered my answer. Telling her how it had happened might have allowed her to see how special and important she was to me. But I wasn’t ready to reveal so much about my feelings for her, for her family. I still felt like it had been a terribly pathetic way to reach perfect happiness. So.
“I might tell you. Some day. But not now.”
She nodded, as if she understood, and I could only wonder if she really did.
“Did you and Faith.”
“You already asked,” I interrupted her, “I already answered. It’s still no.”
Her cheeks seemed to heat at that, in anger or in embarrassment, I couldn’t have told. She seemed ready to leave, or almost. There was so much I wished I could have told her, so much I knew it was too early to say.
“Your invite to my house was revoked,” she announced with the tiniest bit of uneasiness. “I’d like you not to visit mom and Dawn anymore. At least for the time being.”
If not for the last part, I would have protested and refused to agree. But the fact that she was setting a limit to her own request left me hopeful, so I simply nodded.
“I’m not sure I’d be comfortable enough to patrol with you anymore, so it might be better if you patrol on your own. Maybe you could drop by the library every couple of days and we’d see how you might want to help.”
I didn’t answer to that, drowning my objections into a deep pull on my cigarette. I already knew that, come nightfall, I’d be out to find her and patrol with her. Whether she liked it or not.
She looked like she had more to say, but after a few seconds of silence she directed her steps to the still open door and the light spilling through it. She seemed to glow as she stepped in the sunlight, and I think it might have been at that point that I decided to find a way to walk in the sun with her. I needed to see her in her element, and that need felt almost as pressing as blood.
She turned to me once more before walking out, and I could see that she was hesitating again. I smiled at her, asked her what was bothering her so much.
“When vampire Willow was here,” she said slowly, her eyes searching mine, “you said you wouldn’t help her because you didn’t want to disappoint someone. Is that why you decided not to kill humans anymore? For someone?”
The words burned my lips, and I had to fight myself not to say too much, all at once excited at the prospect of letting her know I was doing it for her, and afraid her reaction wouldn’t be as I hoped it would. I managed to barely say “Yes, for someone”, hoping that she’d care enough to ask the next logical question, to which I’d truthfully answer that this someone was her.
She didn’t ask, and simply left.
I thought at the time that it meant she didn’t care so much about who I was fighting for, as long as it made me fight for the good side. I learned soon enough that she didn’t ask because she already knew.