Chapter 17: Humans, Vampires, and Souls
Spike was still going over moldy books when Angel, Steven, and Gunn returned and made the research null and void. They had found whatever they had been looking for, and they had killed it, the only normal human of the trio wearing slimy proof of it. Fred disappeared with Gunn, presumably to help him scrub demon remains off his back, leaving Spike with a fidgeting Steven and a mildly annoyed Angel.
“I don’t suppose you brought provisions with you?” the older brunette asked once Spike had announced his and Buffy’s intention to spend the night in LA.
“Not any more than usual, Peaches,” Spike replied with a slight smirk. “Why? Did you ditch all your blood already?”
“What would I keep it for?”
“Guests, of course.”
“Well, if the guests were courteous enough to warn that they’re coming…”
Shaking his head a little, Angel picked his car keys off the desk and made his way out.
“I’ll be back in half an hour”, he called over his shoulder. “Try not to set the hotel on fire this time.”
“I’ll try if you remember that my favorite’s O neg,” Spike shot back.
Before Angel disappeared, Spike’s acute hearing caught a few muttered words that made him chuckle.
“’Wonder why I don’t just open a vein, it would be quicker and less painful.”
Spike focused his attention back on the ex-vampire’s son, who was still acting strangely nervous.
“What’s up, kid?” he asked a bit warily.
“Can I ask you a question? Kinda personal one?”
“Try your luck; we’ll see if I care to answer.’
Steven tilted his head slightly. “Did you really ask to be a vamp?”
The question surprised Spike, because a few days before the kid hadn’t been particularly troubled by the news of the couple being revamped. At the time, he had seemed more interested in knowing about his father state of life – or unlife. The answer was a bit tricky too. Technically, Spike hadn’t asked to be back to vamphood.
“What I asked Cordelia,” he answered truthfully, “was to take my life to heal the girl. I thought that meant I’d be dead, so being back to being a vamp was definitely of the good. But I probably would have asked her later if it hadn’t happened right then.”
“Why?” the kid asked, his tone curious but not judgmental. “Why were you ready to die for her? And why did you want to be a vampire again?”
Angel had asked just before it happened, Buffy just after, but no one had bothered to inquire since. It pleased Spike immensely that Steven cared enough to want to know the reason. He motioned for him to take a seat, and sat again himself on Angel’s desk.
“When I became human,” he explained slowly“, I got my soul back. You saw the result of that.”
Steven nodded, mouthing quietly the word ‘William’, and Spike winced.
“Yes”, he sighed. “William. More or less. Not the same as when I died. Not Spike either. A mix of the two, I guess. It wouldn’t have been so bad, except for the guilt. A hundred years of killing was a bit too much for poor William. I was told I could work the guilt off by doing good deeds, but it was still breaking me inside. During the fight, Manon got hurt by saving my life. If she had died, it would have been one more Slayer on my conscience. One too many. It would have killed me. So, dead for dead, giving up my pulse for the girl was just logical. And I’m actually quite happy to be a vampire. I’m used to it, I enjoy it, and I even still have my Slayer with me so unlife is just perfect.”
Again, the kid nodded, more slowly this time, almost thoughtfully.
“I think I understand,” he said at last. “Not sure if congratulations are in order, but it’s good that you got what you wanted.”
Almost gratefully, Spike smiled at him.
“I’ll go see Dawn,” Steven added, returning the grin. “She always gets worried when I’m out working with dad.”
Spike warned him that Buffy was with her and that maybe they were not done talking, but the kid went anyway, saying that he could try to smooth things over if needed. For a few minutes, Spike was alone in Angel’s office, and he thought back about what he had told Steven about his human experience. It was the first time he had actually put what it had been like into words. He hadn’t talked about it with Buffy, because he hadn’t needed to. She had been there, by his side, all along. She had even faced with him the multitude of his victims. She knew. Better than he could ever explain. Better than anyone, or almost. Angel probably had a pretty good idea of what Spike had gone through too.
As if summoned by the blond’s thoughts, the brunet returned, and handed Spike a brown paper bag.
“I am told chairs are more comfortable than desks to sit on,” he commented casually, himself sitting in his leather armchair. “And I’ll add the blood’s price to your tab.”
Shrugging, Spike got off the desk, not because he had been indirectly asked to do so, but because from this position he couldn’t see Angel behind him. Dropping the bag in one of the chairs opposite the other man, he sat in the other one, legs stretched in front of him, one booted foot resting on top of the other. They studied each other for a while, neither taking the initiative to start small talk, until Spike lit up a cigarette.
“Are you trying to kill me with second hand smoke?” Angel remarked then. “Because if you are feeling murderous, I’m sure you could find a faster way.”
Smirking, Spike blew smoke toward Angel, but then put the cigarette out in the ashtray on the desk.
“Wouldn’t it be fitting?” he said smugly. “You give me fangs, and a century or so later I use them to kill you. Fate is such a funny thing.”
He waited long enough for Angel to start wondering if he was serious, before adding: “Of course, I’d rather have a really good reason to off you, because the Slayer would be pissed off, and the cheerleader would probably skin me alive. Where is she, by the way? I had a few things to tell her too.”
Angel’s cheeks took a nice reddish tint, which only confirmed to Spike that something was going on there.
“The Powers called her,” he said quietly. “Other missions in other places. She said she’d be back, though.”
Spike nodded, his rant for Cordelia could wait. Right now, it was Angel he was dealing with.
“OK. First things first. Do you still consider yourself as my Sire?”
Angel blinked several times, and his eyes widened slightly in obvious astonishment that Spike could easily understand. A few seconds before, he had been casually mentioning the idea of killing the brunet, and now he was inquiring about what link existed between them. Unwilling to let Angel know the meaning he attached to this question, Spike tried to keep his features smooth and expressionless. He wanted an honest answer, not one dictated by what Angel thought he wanted to hear.
“I told you before”, Angel finally said, his voice serious and soft all at once. “You are like a son to me. An obnoxious, annoying, disrespectful one, but still a son. Still my Childe even if I’m not a vampire anymore. And you always will be.”
A weight was lifted off Spike’s shoulders by these simple words. One of the few good things about being human for a few days was that it had allowed him and Angel to put some old demons to rest and define exactly where they stood in relation to each other. He was glad the understanding still held now, but felt reluctant at having Angel know it.
“Does it mean you’ll let me sample every now and then?” he asked, his mischievous tone hiding deeper emotions.
“Don’t push it,” Angel replied, amused. “Be grateful I went to get you blood, and don’t expect I will do it again next time if you don’t warn that you’re coming.”
Spike nodded lightly. This matter having been settled, on to the next.
“Buffy and I are getting married.”
He watched for a reaction at his quiet announcement, and received a very faint smile and a slightly raised eyebrow.
“I had gotten that already,” Angel said. “I was there when you bought the ring and when you two told the gang, wasn’t I?”
“And you’ll be there for the wedding?”
A flash of surprise passed through Angel’s eyes.
“If I am invited, I will,” he replied carefully.
“Of course you are, you ponce.”
“I am torn between feeling flattered and insulted”, Angel chuckled.
There was a genuine, so very rare happy light in the brunette’s eyes, and it occurred to Spike that ever since turning human his Sire had been less prone to brooding, and more inclined to show his emotions. Definite progress on both counts.
“That’s not all,” Spike said after a few seconds, unsure how to say the rest. “If it wasn’t… if it was someone else but Buffy, this is the point where I would ask you to be my best man.”
Again, Spike could see that his words were surprising his Sire, and, again, pleasing him.
“But you’re not asking me.” Angel said, tilting his head just a little. “Why not?”
“It just would feel uncomfortable,” Spike reluctantly admitted. “Considering who you are to both Buffy and me. Awkward, for all of us.”
Slowly, Angel nodded his understanding. “Who are you asking then?”
Despite him, a light smirk came to Spike’s lips. “’Can’t say I have a lot of options, but even if I had, the choice is easy.”
“Steven?”
“Yes, Steven“.
“Did you ask him yet?”
“No, ‘ wanted to tell you why first,” Spike said, rising from his seat and picking up the butcher’s bag. “Now that I’m done, I’ll be out of your nancy-boy hair. ‘ Night, Peaches.”
“Good night, Will.”
For a second, the thought came to Spike to turn around and complain about the use of that particular nickname as it brought back unpleasant memories of a few days before. But it only took him another second to realize that for Angel it was more likely to be a reminder of their newfound peace than of his temporary insanity. So he said nothing, and just smiled as he walked away.
*****
“The offering. The sacrifice. The blood. All to beg from thee that you glance upon that creature, once Chosen, now fallen. And when your eyes look away, let them keep amongst them the core of what she was, what a demon shall not have, what I implore that you take from her. For a Slayer cannot be a vampire, for a vampire cannot have a soul, let her become the beast so that the hunt can be unleashed.”