Chapter 8
Buffy and Spike managed to get to the Shady Hill Cemetery to pick up Spike’s car without running into any trouble. The vampire had parked the DeSoto in the caretaker’s garage back before the Initiative had captured him. After paying the man for the trouble of keeping the old junk heap, Buffy reluctantly climbed into the passenger side.
“I don’t even have words,” Buffy muttered, pushing away some of the empty bottles by her feet.
“There’ll be no insultin’ my baby, Slayer,” Spike growled in reply, fondly running his hands over the steering wheel in a mock lover’s caress. He’d missed his old girl, and he was happy to be reunited with her again after so many long weeks of not knowing if she was safe.
“For something you like as much as you claim to love this hunk of junk,” Buffy said. “I thought you’d keep it cleaner than this, that’s all.”
Spike made a rumbling noise in reply before starting the engine, pleased when she roared to life with relative ease. He savored the short drive to the mansion, wishing he could just continue driving straight out of town. Keep both himself and Buffy safe from the Initiative wankers. That was out of the question, though, at least for the time being. With a pained sigh, he pulled his old girl smoothly into the long driveway.
They got out of the car and each of them grabbed half of the various bags they’d stashed inside the trunk. They made their way up to the house in silence, alert to any vagrants who may have taken up residence in the year it had been abandoned. There were no tingling warnings of anything demony about, so the Slayer proceeded into the ostentatious house.
Walking through the main hallway made Buffy weak in the knees. Her breath hitched in a short gasp as memories came flooding back over her. Angel’s soft expression after he got his soul back; so pained and resigned. The resistance of his torso against the sharp blade of the knight’s sword as it broke through his flesh. Helping him after he returned from Hell. Breaking up again after finally realizing it was all over before her prom. The pain of the memories still burned in her chest, but it was duller than before. She turned to look over at her companion and saw the hurt cross over his features as he got lost in his own painful memories.
Without thinking, Buffy reached to grasp his hand to offer him empathy and support. He hesitated for only a moment, before she felt his fingers weave with hers. They remained still and silent for a while, allowing the past to rear its ugly head in an attempt to scare them off, before silently slipping away in face of future challenges.
The memories Spike had been bombarded with as they stepped into the mansion, were as painful as Buffy’s, with the difference his were laced with bitter betrayal and even more bitter consequences. This place had been where he lost his Dark Princess forever after he’d pledged his allegiance to the girl standing beside him, with her warm hand wrapped tight around his own. Their combined misery and the weight of the past hung thickly in the air, causing the errand sounds of the night to still and disappear.
He turned to find Buffy staring up at him with her emerald eyes shining bright with emotion. They shared a look of sympathy for the shared pain that this house had brought them both before the Slayer controlled herself again.
“We should pick out our rooms,” she said in a whisper, aware of the full weight of the statement. Her eyes silently begged Spike to offer a viable situation. One that would keep Giles away from the room he was tortured in. That would keep them both away from Angel and Drusilla’s ghosts and their pasts.
“Right,” Spike reluctantly withdrew his fingers from hers. He moved further in, picking up the bags he’d dropped earlier, and assigning the aforementioned rooms to the various Scoobies. Xander and Anya were in Angel’s old room, Joyce in Dru’s old bedroom, and Giles in one of the unused spare rooms. Willow and Tara would share the last bedroom upstairs. Moving downstairs, he walked slowly towards his old room, pushing the door ajar and watching the dust float lazily around in the dim light. His old wheel chair still lay overturned in a corner by the bed.
“No one needs to stay here,” Buffy’s soft voice called him out of his nightmarish musings. It seems the weeks in shared captivity had taught her to read his emotions better than he’d expected. “There are a few more rooms on this floor.”
“Nah,” Spike said with feigned nonchalance, which Buffy saw right through. “’S alright for me to stay here. Not like I’m afraid of ghosts.”
“Spike,” Buffy started, reaching out to him.
“Leave it, Slayer,” he cut off whatever argument she would have started. There couldn’t be a more fitting place for him to adjust to his new crippling imprisonment, after all. He dropped his duffel in the center of the room, sealing his fate and ending any further argument before it began.
“I’ll take this one,” Buffy said, indicating the room across the hall, depositing her own bag down by the door. This way the two strongest fighters would be on the ground floor should anything attempt or even manage to come in past the wards the witches would be placing as soon as they had a chance.
“So, we’ll need sheets, towels, and basically everything to clean with,” Buffy trailed off, avoiding emotional turmoil by throwing herself into a plan of attack. The two moved back into the main room of the mansion as Buffy rattled off supplies.
“Slayer,” Spike attempted to cut off her rambling list, having noticed a small group in the front hall.
“Just a sec,” she brushed him off irritably, closing her eyes to go over her list again.
“Slayer,” Spike said a lot more forcefully. When she opened her eyes to glare at him, he pointed her toward the group.
Buffy immediately fell into a more defensive stance, surprised when Spike didn’t follow her lead.
“Mistress Buffy?” a soft voice broke through the silence. “We are here to help you. Anyanka sent for us.”
“Help?” Buffy asked dumbfounded. “With what?”
The small blue-skinned demon who had spoken to her took a few nervous steps forward, revealing a large pile of cleaning supplies and implements as well as bags full of what appeared to be linen and towels.
“To prepare your living quarters,” the demon continued softly. “Anyanka called on us and told us it was of urgent need. That the neferaili that have captured many of us are hunting you as well. If we offer you our aid, you may fight the neferaili and restore the balance.”
“Nefer-what-i?” Buffy asked. Spike looked at her sharply, and she paused before inquiring further. “I’m sorry, who and what are you? I am unfamiliar with your species.”
“They are Gourlack demons, Slayer,” Spike answered for her. “Harmless demons who are known for their love of order and cleanliness. Make great night janitors at all the big companies in town.
“Really?” Buffy’s brow furrowed in thought. Maybe the people of Sunnydale weren’t as ignorant as they appeared if they hired little blue demons to do the work.
“Nah, they enlist the help of demons that look more human,” Spike answered her unspoken question. “Then they work through a company they create. Smart little buggers they are.”
“What the vampire speaks of is true,” the Gourlack replied. “I am Hassfarita, and Anyanka employs us at the store she works at. She called and requested our aid here and explained what you are setting out to do, Slayer. We have lost many of our friends and family to the neferaili, the humans with the guns.”
“The commandos,” Buffy replied. “Yeah, I’m totally going to kick their gun toting asses.”
“We offer our aid to you, Slayer,” Hassfarita bowed deeply. “We will make this abode habitable for you and your warriors so you may defeat the menace and restore the balance.”
Buffy looked over at Spike, unsure of what to say and how to react. Spike tilted his head at her as if the answer should have been obvious.
“Thank you,” Buffy said and was pleased when Spike smirked at her. “Oh, and will you keep our location a secret, please?”
“Of course,” Hassfarita replied gravely. She turned and looked back at her crew of six Gourlack cleaners. “We will set to work now, Slayer. We shall be swift and silent and shall speak of this to no one.”
“Thank you,” Spike said with a short respectful bow to the small demoness. Buffy echoed his actions and the crew set off to work cleaning the place.
“Shall we then?” Buffy asked Spike, indicating that they return to her house to collect more weapons and supplies.
“Sure,” Spike shrugged, throwing a last glance in the direction of the demons who appeared to have spread out to various corners of the mansion.
~*~*~
Buffy stared out at the passing scenery through the open passenger side window of Spike’s car. The window had to be open for her to see out as they were still caked with the black paint he used on long trips. He normally cleaned them off if he was planning on staying in location for a while; he’d told her as much at the Initiative. The whole situation felt surreal to her. They had just filled the trunk of the car up with weapons and essential from Giles and Xander’s houses and were heading back to Revello for the final pick up. Spike sat relaxed beside her, smoking a cigarette and carefully blowing the smoke out the window so it wouldn’t bother her too much.
He had helped her load items from both her watcher and friend without so much as a word. He knew they were still weary of him and he had no real desire to get involved with them at all, but Buffy had been firm in including him in everything. Besides, they needed someone to keep the demons at bay while she focused on the human threat.
Human threat. It sounded wrong even in the hushed interior of her mind. Humans shouldn’t be a threat to her. Not to anyone around them at all. But humans were the ones who had inflicted the wounds on her body that still hadn’t closed and probably wouldn’t for days. Humans were the ones that had experimented on her like she was a lab rat and had held no regard for her whatsoever. Humans had treated her like a thing, a monster to be cast away. At least if she fought a vamp or a demon she knew it would be a clean fight. Well, for the most part, she realized, casting a sidelong glance at the driver. Spike didn’t always fight clean, but he was always fair.
“Deep thoughts, Slayer?” Spike asked when he became impatient of the heavy silence. The Slayer hadn’t said a word since they left the whelp’s house and he figured she was re-evaluating including him in the group.
“Yeah,” she sighed deeply, eyes returning to the road beside them.
“You gonna share, pet?” he inquired. If she was planning on getting rid of him at least she would have to man up and tell him.
“It’s nothing,” Buffy mumbled, sighing again. She wasn’t even sure she knew where her train of thought was leading. “It’s just that I’m not sure I even know what I’m fighting anymore.”
Well, that wasn’t what he had expected at all. “Sorry, but I don’ follow, luv.”
“The Initiative,” Buffy turned in her seat to face him. “They’re humans, right? I’m the Slayer. I’m supposed to protect them, that’s part of the whole Slayer package. I never thought I’d be treated like a monster by them. The Council excluded, of course…” she trailed off, not wanting to account for the actions of the Watchers now. Maybe what they had done to her when she turned eighteen was no different than what the Initiative did pitting her against demons in there?
Spike looked over at her, studying her for long moments. He knew she hadn’t had the best run with the Council in the past; she had alluded to it but had never gone into detail. And having human scientists treat her as if she was an abomination, no different from him or the other various demons in the place must have been a tremendous blow. It would have been equal to abuse, maybe even rape.
“They just wouldn’t listen to me,” Buffy continued to fill the silence. “They claim to know all about the demon world and they don’t even know about me. And then they cut me open to see what’s inside, to see if I’ll bleed like them. When I did, they just said I must be special.”
“You are special,” Spike answered with a cheeky smirk, taking the seriousness out of the compliment. “They jus’ didn’ know what to do with you. Probly thought the Slayer was a myth told to little demons to keep ‘em from bein’ naughty. Like the boogey man.”
The comparison caused her to smile briefly, but her mask of concern fell back into place immediately. “But how am I supposed to protect them when they tortured me?”
Spike knew she didn’t expect an answer. She also wouldn’t have voiced this aloud to anyone else, especially the Scoobies. They’d spout of some drivel about it being her sacred duty and she would just have to carry on. Spike eased the car into her driveway and put it in park, carefully turning the words over in his head before turning to face her.
“Don’ know, Slayer,” he said, eyes fixated on hers. “I’d kill ‘em all an’ drain ‘em dry. Make ‘em suffer long for what they did. But I’m evil. ‘S what I do. You’ve got the whole white hat thing goin’ for you an’ sooner or later you’ll realize that the idiots at the Initiative aren’t the same as the humans you protect every day. Humans are all different jus’ like demons are all different. Shades of gray and all that rot.”
Buffy was quiet for a while, trying to understand what Spike was telling her. “So, it’s like they are serial killers and murderers and I don’t have to be responsible for them?”
“No,” Spike replied. “It’s more complicated than that, pet. You can see ‘em as murderers, rapists, the like, yeah? But you can only turn ‘em over to the authorities. You can’t judge them, can’t kill ‘em. I could. But you could never take a human life.”
“But it would be like capital punishment, wouldn’t it?” she asked.
“Suppose,” Spike mused. “Would you want to be the bloke who pushes the button?”
“No,” Buffy replied softly after a while.
“See,” Spike smiled. “Too bloody noble you are, Slayer. Some of those wankers deserve worse than I could give ‘em. But some of them, they’re just followin’ orders. Doin’ what they think is right. Soldiers have to follow orders or they’re put in jail, or worse. Back in the day they’d be shot for disobeying orders. Soldiers have had to have that mentality since the beginnin’ of time. Just like you thinking all demons are evil.”
“All demons are evil,” Buffy responded automatically, but without the authority she used to.
“Really?” Spike raised a scarred brow. “An’ the little blue blokes cleanin’ the mansion for you right now, are they evil, too?”
“No,” she replied, looking away from his intense scrutiny. “At least they don’t appear to be evil.”
“An’ the ones that deliver your food after dark, work at the fuel stations, 24 hour joints?”
“They’re demons?” Buffy asked, shocked.
“Yeah,” Spike smirked at her. “You humans may not be the brightest lot, but you have enough sense to avoid those jobs in Sunnyhell. Not all demons are the same.”
“I’m beginning to see that,” Buffy replied. “But the Council, and Giles, they always said that demons equaled evil badness.”
“Of course they did, luv,” Spike didn’t seem bothered by the idea. “Slayers are young an’ impressionable. And you shouldn’t think anything else with all the things out there that want to kill you. You can’t be goin’ around wondering if the vamp you just staked was actually living peacefully off animal blood. Or if the demon had a family to support. You’re trained to kill. ‘S not much different from how soldiers are taught to kill the enemy durin’ a war, can’t kill a bloke if you’re thinkin’ he’s just like you with a family to support, can you? You have to see him as less than yourself. As evil, as the enemy.”
“You make it sound so crude,” Buffy said, horrified by how he explained her job.
“Well, it is. You’re made to kill the monsters. But sometimes the monsters aren’t as bad as you think. Like Red’s wolf, or the little blue things. But most of the time you come up against things like me, or even soddin’ Angelus or the Master from what I heard,” Spike finished with a grumble. “The Council may be a bunch of wankers, but they’re not completely wrong in what they teach you.”
“What about the Cruciamentum?” Buffy asked before she realized the words had slipped out. She looked up at Spike to see the immediate change in his previously relaxed features. Golden flecks intensified the vivid blue of his eyes, which had taken on a deadly look.
“They put you through that sadistic ritual?” Spike asked, barely restrained anger lacing his voice with deadly intent.
“Yeah, I turned eighteen so it was sort of part of the deal,” Buffy said, unsure of what had gotten Spike so angry. “I passed, sort of. I beat Kralick and Giles was fired for treating me too much like a daughter. He wasn’t going to let me do it in the end. But Kralick kidnapped Mom, so I had no choice.”
“They pitted you against Kralick? Without your powers?” Spike’s jaw ticked as he tried to keep his anger in check. He wasn’t supposed to be this angry to begin with. The Slayer could have died during the trial, was probably expected to, and he should have been happy to see her go. Instead, he was filled with cold dread at the thought that the famously insane and viciously cruel vampire could have had his one good day.
“Spike?” Buffy asked her tone softer than usual, surprised by the reaction her story got from him. She had obviously beaten Kralick seeing as she was here to tell the tale. She reached across the seats to lay a hand on his arm, wary of him as his eyes constantly flickered between gold and blue.
“They didn’t expect you to make it,” Spike said in a low voice.
“Yeah, I figured as much,” Buffy replied, having long ago come to terms with the Council’s dislike of her.
“They tried to kill you,” he reiterated, hand shooting out with vampiric speed to grasp her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. He was looking at her so intensely Buffy was terrified even though she knew he couldn’t harm her.
“They failed,” she said softly when Spike showed no sign of calming down. The hand that was on his forearm started moving in soothing circles, hoping to reassure him that it was in the past. When she pulled away, his grip on her face tightened briefly before he let her go, visibly shaking himself.
“Sorry, luv,” he said softly, staring straight ahead, arms resting on the steering wheel. “’S just a li’l too underhanded for my likin’.”
“You’d prefer to kill me in a clean fight,” Buffy said plainly, completely aware of their history.
“Used to,” he acknowledged, looking over at her with a soft look. “Not so sure I want to anymore.” And with that earth shattering revelation, he pushed the door open and got out of the car, leaving Buffy too shocked to move until he called her from the door. Spike didn’t want to kill her anymore? But then again, did she really want to kill him? Could she? After all they had been through? Buffy wasn’t so sure anymore. Shades of gray, indeed…
TBC…
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Sorry for the delay in updating. Had my parents here for a visit and am still busy trying to find a job so it hasn't left much time for anything else. But here's the next installment, a little more serious conversation rather than action packed adventure, but things will start happening soon. On that note, since I've entered both 81 prompts at Spuffy wonder and seasonal spuffy this round, there may be a bit of a delay in the posting of this story, though I'm going to do my utmost to keep up on this as well :) Thanks again to my wonderful beta Mari who always makes my work so much better *hugs*
Chapter End Notes:
Let me know what you think :) Reviews are love