Chapter 25: Poisons
Since the prom, Spike had expected Angel’s visit and the foreseeable fight that would follow. The older vamp always had been possessive of what he considered his and Spike had no doubt that, despite breaking up with her, Angel still thought of Buffy as his girl and probably always would. Seeing her in someone else’s arms, even for something as innocent as a dance, must have hurt. Seeing her in Spike’s arms must have been downright intolerable.
Still, it took Angel three nights to finally come to voice his protest; and when he did, it wasn’t at all as Spike had thought it would be. Less violence for one thing, more words for another.
The sun had set a few minutes before and Spike was ready to go out and try to cheer up Buffy, his new goal for these long research and patrol nights before the Ascension. As he was about to step out, however, the door swung open and Angel strode in, gloomier than ever. Under the pretext of looking for his smokes, Spike checked for the presence of the stake in his pocket. If Angel was there to fight, Spike had better be ready.
“Peaches. To what do I owe the annoyance?”
Angel didn’t react; instead, he remained between Spike and the door, hands thrust deeply in his jacket’s pockets.
“You know she’s not for you, so why do you even try?”
Almost coughing on the first pull of his cigarette, Spike looked at Angel incredulously. He had expected many things, but not this resigned tone.
“All I know,” he replied guardedly, wondering what game Angel was playing, “is that you gave up on her. And when you did, you also gave up the right to interfere with her life.”
The younger vampire didn’t believe his elder would agree with him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t say it. And he was ready to fight over these few words and the truth they held if needed. He was surprised when Angel chose another angle of attack.
“It’s not her life I’m interfering with. It’s yours. You think you want her, but it’s the same thing as always. You want what’s mine, because it’s mine, and for no other reason.”
Spike snorted, smirking lightly.
“Get over yourself already. It has nothing to do with you. I don’t even know why I’m bothering.”
“Why you’re bothering is what I’m wondering,” Angel cut in. “Why did you bother keeping me alive when I came back as Angelus? Why did you bother to have me resouled? Why bother playing at the white hat game instead of killing again?”
Remaining immobile, Spike tried to show nothing in his expression. There were questions better left unanswered, and these were definitely that kind.
“I’ll tell you why,” Angel said after a few seconds, taking a step closer to him. “Because you wanted me to be there to see you take her from me. Because it wouldn’t have been as much fun if I hadn’t witnessed it. Well, you’ve done it. You’ve taken her; I’ve seen it. Now you can stop before it goes too far. She’s already been hurt enough, Spike; no need to add to it.”
Spike didn’t quite understand something in that speech. Apparently, Angel assumed his grandchilde had seduced Buffy, but why. Realization came in a sudden flash.
“You still think I slept with her,” he said blankly.
Angel didn’t reply, which was an answer in itself. Spike shook his head, barely believing what was going through Angel’s mind.
“I didn’t take her from you. You lost her, all by yourself. If you can’t see it, then you’re more blind than I ever realized.”
A muscle twitched in Angel’s jaw, and Spike tensed, certain that violence would surface soon. Once more, Angel proved him wrong as he slowly nodded, his calm denied by the edge in his voice.
“Fine. I lost her. I can admit it. But I still want her happy, and you can’t give her that. Come with me when I leave Sunnydale. If you truly care about her, you have to see.”
“What I see,” Spike interrupted, his anger rising, “is that you weakened her only days before the biggest battle she has ever had to fight. I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to stand next to her and make sure she gets out of it alive; and I’m going to do that until I’m dust, because nothing short than that will stop me. If you have a problem with that, then get over it.”
With a hard look at Angel, Spike walked past him and out of the crypt. Buffy was somewhere out there expecting him, and he certainly wasn’t going to disappoint her.
Spike’s forehead was burning under Buffy’s hand, and it made it all surreal. She replaced her hand with a cool rag, but she knew it wouldn’t make things any better. Spike was burning from the inside out, dying, because of her, because he had been helping her, because he cared more about her than a reasonable vampire should have.
He had been with her, helping in any way he could, as usual, when Faith had struck with a poisoned arrow. The gang was researching what the poison was. Meanwhile, he was burning in front of her, and she suffered for him. She couldn’t understand why it hurt so much to see him in misery. Just one more thing that didn’t make much sense in her life.
When she thought about everything that had been happening in the past few days, she felt like she had stepped into another dimension. Angel had ended their relationship or what was left of it, only a handful of days before; certainly, she still mourned his love. It had hurt so much, at first, that at times she had felt like she couldn’t breathe, that her heart was about to stop beating, that Angelus had taken his revenge and sent her to an eternity in hell. But the pain was slowly dulling; and now it was resentment, more than anything, that she felt toward him.
If he had left her because he didn’t love her anymore, she could have understood his actions. As much as she wanted to think that love was eternal and once she’d find the right person it would be forever, a more cynical part of her knew better. People fell in love and sometimes they fell out of love. That was just how it went.
But she was sure that wasn’t what had happened with Angel. At no point had he said he didn’t love her anymore. All he had said was that he was leaving for her own good, that she’d see some day that he was right, and that she deserved better than what he could offer her. On that last point, she was beginning to agree. She certainly deserved better than someone who thought she wasn’t able to make important decisions for herself and that it was better to make them for her.
Through it all, she had been grateful to the people around her. They weren’t twisting the knife by bringing up Angel and his decision to leave, and that was a good thing. She had enough things to concentrate her thoughts on, one of them being saving the town from the soon to happen Ascension; it helped not to be reminded of Angel. One more reason she was glad Spike was so different from him.
Spike. He was something else. Soulless, yet still fighting for good. Soulless, yet able to care so much for her. Maybe even. love?
She had realized it in the middle of the truth spell, and almost had asked straight out if he was fighting his own nature for her. She hadn’t asked. She had grown to know him, during the months they had patrolled side by side. She dared to hope she knew him enough to see past the hard shell he presented to the world.
What she couldn’t understand was how she had managed not to notice until now. Once the question had been on the table, it hadn’t taken her long to realize all the little things she had ignored had meaning. Strange smiles, prolonged looks, peculiar words. Spike cared for her, maybe was even in love with her, and she suspected that was why he fought his demon from killing. It was why he was doing something a soulless Angel had never considered for an instant.
If she had had any doubts left, his words and actions since their prom night dance confirmed it. He hadn’t said anything about his feelings, hadn’t even hinted at them, but he was there for her, fighting with her, trying to cheer her up, and more often than not succeeding. Part of her wondered how long it would take her to get over Angel and fall for Spike. Another part wondered if maybe it wasn’t happening already, and that was why Angel’s leaving didn’t hurt so much anymore. The rest of her was scared half witless at the idea of letting another vampire – another man – into her heart. Or even worse, of taking advantage of him, of his feelings, and using him as a rebound guy. He certainly deserved better than that.
Blue eyes opened, watching her steadily, and she let herself hope his fever had fallen.
“Hey there,” she murmured, forcing herself to smile. “Feeling better?”
“You shine like an angel.”
She repressed a sigh. He wasn’t any better.
“Are you my guardian angel?” he insisted, reaching out to touch her cheek with a wavering finger.
“If you want me to be,” she indulged him, taking the wet rag from his forehead and rinsing it in a bowl of cold water before placing it once more on his burning flesh.
“Knew you’d take care of it,” he mumbled, turning his face to touch her hand.
“Take care of what?”
“My soul. Isn’t that why you took it from me?”
Buffy froze, her heart beating a tad too fast, her thoughts pulsing even harder in her mind. Could she ask him, now, how he had lost it? Would he forgive her for intruding into his weakened mind? She wanted – needed – so much to know, to understand.
There was noise behind her in the crypt, and she turned in time to see Angel step off the ladder. She frowned, wondering what her ex was doing here, but his presence made her decision easier. Returning her attention to Spike, she cupped his sculpted cheek in her hand.
“Spike? Can you tell me how you lost your soul?”
A small smile tugged at his lips.
“You were there. Don’t you remember?”
She heard Angel’s hiss on the other side of the bed, but ignored it.
“I forgot. Can you remind me?”
Her eyes slowly widened as he complied and told her, in broken sentences and quiet whispers, how something as simple as being accepted and embraced by her and her mother had given him a few moments of true happiness. A few more prodding questions and he confirmed what she had suspected, that he was fighting for her, to please her, and no other reason.
It became too much, then, and she had to leave the room, leave the crypt, leave Spike to Angel and Giles’ care. Should she have cared so much that a vampire was dying because he had feelings for her? Her job was to kill vampires, wasn’t it?
Unsure what to think or feel, she joined the rest of the gang and listened dispassionately as they told her the poison’s cure. She didn’t allow herself to think before deciding to bring Spike Faith’s blood.
I can’t say I remember much of what happened after I collapsed in the library. What I can remember is fuzzy around the edges, more like flashes than real memories, so imprecise that I’m not sure whether they’re real or dreams. I think I might have taken Willow for Buffy at some point, and talked too much about how I felt. I probably did, because the next time I saw Willow and was conscious enough to know it was her, she had a look of half wonder, half suspicion. I had the clear impression that if I ever hurt the Slayer she’d make me regret it in the most painful way.
I remember Angel also, though that might have been before the Willow episode. That one I know was real, because it’s been a long time since I’ve dreamed of Angel’s blood. Not that I didn’t want it – hell, no sane vampire would refuse blood from a sire or grandsire, not when it’s the next best thing to Slayer blood, and I’m placed well enough to know that. Dru never minded sharing blood with me, which probably helped me become the Master I am today; but I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times Angelus granted me that privilege. Once when I was hurt and he needed me to get better fast, once when he allowed me a taste from a shallow cut inflicted by Darla’s nails, a couple of times when I had done something that had pleased him enough to reward me. When I was stuck in that damn wheelchair, a good drink from him would have put me right in no time; but of course, the bastard didn’t offer, just taunted me with the possibility. I never thought that, souled, he’d ever feed me his blood. Seems I was wrong. He gave me more in that one time than he ever had before, probably as much as he could spare. Must have stung that it wasn’t enough to cure me. For a little while, I felt better, but it didn’t last; and when Buffy came back, I was out there in lalaland.
Her presence by my side was vague, but I think she was there at least twice. I’m not sure what I told her the first time, but from our later discussions, I know I said enough. Too much. Told her I had lost my soul because of her. Told her I was fighting for no other reason than her. From what I recall, Angel was there, too, heard it all, and it’s once more a wonder that he didn’t stake me. Increasingly, I think he had truly given up on her, more deeply than anyone had supposed, maybe even more than he suspected himself. He stayed there when she left, and that’s when he fed me his blood.
The second time she was there.
The second time, she smelled of blood. Not her own, but still blood, fresh blood, human blood, Slayer blood. I was already delirious, and the scent just made things worse. I hadn’t fed properly in a long time and Angel’s blood earlier, while it had filled me, now made me crave even more. The demon took over, and I lunged for her throat.
She didn’t fight me off.