12.
Giles pinched the bridge of his nose again and sighed. He didn’t share Buffy’s apparent enthusiasm. “Yes, Buffy, I should think Spike would have already known who Jimmy Cagney was.” Rupert Giles was a patient man, but frequently obtuse as well. This merited a pitying eye roll from Buffy.
“No Giles, the Cagney thing was something between me and Spike. We watched this old gangster movie and Cagney kept doing this shoulder thing. Spike copied it and then I did and then we started talking like him.” She nodded and smiled, hoping for some sign that Giles would appreciate the significance of this momentous development. It was just a small detail from the past made all the more precious because Spike knew it. Or parts of it. Giles’ skepticism wasn’t going to bother her.
“Well, it was funny at the time.” Buffy’s voice trailed off at the memory of her gut aching from laughing with Spike. Spike seduced her with a mangled Cagney vocal imitation mixed with his mangled North London gutter twang. It was priceless. After the laughter subsided they fell onto the softness of their bed and made love. Now that memory was priceless.
Willow shifted uneasily in her seat at the table. Maybe Buffy was seeing something that just wasn’t there. Willow knew from bitter experience that wishing didn’t make things so. It had been many weeks and Spike hadn’t given any sign of remembering anything from the Sunnydale years. Buffy noticed Willow’s expression.
“What? What’s that face?” Buffy didn’t expect uncertainty from Willow. A doubting Willow was a serious thing.
“No…there’s no face.” Willow shook her head in apology. She hadn’t meant to give off any unwanted facial vibes. “I didn’t say a thing.”
“It’s something, Will. I know it’s something.” Willow pressed her lips together and forced a smile and a nod. It wasn’t that she doubted Buffy’s instincts regarding Spike, it was just difficult see her friend hurting.
“I’m sure it is.” Willow had a knack for well placed optimism.
Giles spoke up once more. “You said Spike’s exact words were that he knew the Cagney thing, but had no conscious memory?” Giles pulsed his shoulders up and down, mimicking what he could remember of the established James Cagney gangster stance.
“That’s what he said, and he did that too.” Buffy unconsciously mimicked the shoulder motion. “Rolled his shoulders.”
“Hmm…” Something triggered Giles. He stood from the table and walked across the shop to a tall bookcase.
“What’s ‘hmm’? Please say it’s good.” Buffy perched on the edge of her seat and stared at Giles.
“Something I read recently…not a chronicle…” His purposeful gaze swept back and forth across the spines. It wasn’t a book but an article in a magazine. It’s location in the basket by his desk hit Giles like a Eureka! moment. He hurried into his office and came out with an issue of the Journal of the American Medical Association.
“Here it is,” Giles waved the issue and flipped through until he came upon an article. He set the magazine in front of Buffy and tapped the page with his index finger. She looked at the tiny printing and paragraph-like title.
“I can’t take any more hairy maidens, Giles. Can you give me the basics?”
“This article concerns ongoing research into kinesthetic memory, muscle memory–“
“Hey, I’ve heard of that,” Willow spoke up with interest. “Isn’t that part of the research for reversing paralysis?”
“It has been used in that research, yes. This article is about the intelligence inherent in movement.”
“How does that help Spike?”
Giles took a moment to scan the article and then began speaking. His theory took shape as the words fell from his lips. “If, in living tissue, neural pathways obstructed by, say a brain injury, can be bypassed and movement can be achieved by other means, perhaps there could be a useful corollary in necrotic tissue.” Giles’ face seized with concentration. Saying it out loud didn’t sound that far fetched.
“At the risk of sounding completely blonde, huh?”
Willow spoke up as the sparks of intellectual inquiry began to flame. “Buffy, I think Giles is saying that maybe the demon didn’t take everything. Spike may have some residual memories–“
“That could manifest during physical exertion and therefore bypass the damage caused by the Alchemist. In essence, bypass memory itself. Spike may have other sensory recognition triggers, for lack of a better word, that simply exist within him.” Giles’ face glowed with academic fervor. The more he pondered, the more it made sense. His voice whittled away to a thread. “Memory in the flesh.” It was an extraordinary hypothesis worth investigating.
“Well, we were kind of moving before he said it.” Buffy tried to be helpful.
“You were fighting?” The corner of Giles’ mouth quirked. His theory might actually have two legs to stand on. It was a thrilling proposition. He grabbed a pen and spontaneously began to take notes. It was an old habit he couldn’t shake.
“Kind of, but Spike wasn’t really trying. He didn’t even go game face or anything. I think he was testing me.” Buffy stated the plain facts without feeling the need to embellish and reveal the rampant sexual innuendo portion of their encounter. That part was private and nobody’s business. “So, you think if I beat him up he’ll remember me?” That was a plan Buffy could get behind.
“Buffy,” there was that glasses polishing tone again. Calm down and be patient. As always, it was accompanied by Giles’ tightly pursed lips. Restraint, Buffy, restraint. He couldn’t be more cliched if he tried. She half expected him to waggle a finger at her in fatherly condescension.
“We need to proceed cautiously here. This theory may have some merit, perhaps not. What we do know is that the vampire in that room is bent on killing you.” Obviously, Giles hadn’t listened in on her last encounter with Spike. Giles really relished those dire predictions, there hadn’t been much of those lately. Buffy wasn’t so certain. She saw Spike’s eyes. They weren’t the eyes of a killer anymore.
“Gee, Giles. Melodramatic much?” She stood and stretched. “I’m bringing some of his stuff in tomorrow.”
“He’s not the same as he was, Buffy. Anything you bring him could be used as a weapon against you.”
“I don’t care. I’m tired of treating him like a prisoner.”
“Not a prisoner, Buffy. It’s more like he’s quarantined.” Willow nodded with a smile, pleased with her more positive spin.
Buffy stood and started packing up her things. She felt a little more hopeful than when she came in earlier. Giles stood with his hands on his hips.
“Buffy, please,” he continued. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking that your Spike is lurking somewhere in that creature just because he knew some minuscule detail from your past.” Buffy had just about given up on a fantasy ‘popping out of the cake’ moment with Spike returned to his normal self amid kisses, confetti and champagne. One thing remained clear, her Spike was that Spike once. The lines of distinction were swiftly disappearing. No matter what Giles said, this Spike was Spike and she still loved him.
“He’s not that different, really.” Her voice quieted. Giles sighed, tired of her girlish fantasies. She needed to be told the truth, however difficult it was to hear.
“I see no lessening in his motivation to kill you and now that he knows of Drusilla’s death that aim has most likely been increased. Buffy, the Spike we knew was a mixture of experience tempered by time and emotion: Drusilla’s leaving, the chip, the love he came to feel for you, and his soul. It was a gradual transformation and that path has been obliterated.”
Tears of frustration filled her eyes. “I miss him. I want him. I even want that–” Buffy’s throat heaved at the disclosure.
“Buffy–” Willow spoke first but Giles interrupted her.
“This version doesn’t love you.” His harsh words cut into Buffy’s mind.
“God, Giles. Way to be helpful.” Willow grimaced. Giles remained unmoved.
“It’s the truth and Buffy has to face it. He may not have his soul anymore, either.”
“Then I’ll ask him!” Buffy’s defiance shone through.
“We must proceed in a detached and neutral manner and not stir him up. In any way.” Giles glared at Buffy. “In ANY way, Buffy.” She’d heard enough. Spike wasn’t some lab rat and Giles’ predictions of doom were really starting to piss her off.
“I’m going to bring his stuff and get him a real bed; then I’ll tell him about the Initiative, the government chip, the First’s trigger and…oh yeah, how he went to the ends of the earth to get a soul because I didn’t want the Spike version 3.0 that’s sitting in that box back there!” She sounded bitter and defeated. Buffy closed her eyes to the pain. “He’s a hero, Giles, a champion. He–“
“That’s all gone now.”
“NO! No, it’s not gone. He did it. Spike did those things and nothing can take that away. Drusilla doesn’t win. Not this. Not Spike. She doesn’t get to take him away from me. I can’t fail him. I have to do everything I can Giles, everything. He’d never quit if this situation was reversed. Never.” Buffy sounded resolute, but uncertainty lingered just beneath the surface.
Giles removed his glasses and slowly polished them. His voice remained calm. “Please, do not even consider intimate activities with him. You love the Spike you shared a life with, a home. That vampire in there may look and sound and feel just the same, but he’s not. He doesn’t hold you in any regard except as another tally on his kill column.” Buffy’s lower lip began to tremble. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. Giles’ voice softened further.
“I know you, Buffy. Don’t give that creature the opportunity to destroy you.” He didn’t mean her death, although that wasn’t out of the picture. A cunning, evil Spike could shatter Buffy if he chose to. “I couldn’t stand to see you in that kind of pain, caused by someone your heart tells you is yours.” Giles meant well, but she’d already been there and done that. She knew full well that slayer healing never extended to matters of the heart.
Angel and her father had taught her those lessons long ago.
“Please don’t be rash.” It was a heartfelt plea from someone who loved her.
In an effort to end the tension for the night, Willow spoke up. “I can give you a ride if you’re ready, Buffy.” Willow swung her laptop case over her shoulder. With a nod Buffy gathered her belongings and put on her coat. Giles started closing up the shop.
Outside, Willow unlocked her Honda and the girls climbed in. “Are you hungry? What about some drive-thru? You can come to my place and we’ll watch a movie just like old times. What do you say?”
“Thanks, but no. I need to think about some things. Sorry, Will. You’ve been great about this and I’ve been a basket case.”
“It’s okay, Buffy. I know how important this is to you.” That was the truth. The two friends had their ups and downs over the years. Soon further coven studies would take Willow away to England once more. They were both grateful for any time they had together. The two friends embraced in the cramped space of the compact car.
“It’s the only thing, Will.” Buffy’s voice broke and the tears fell once more.