Chapter Forty-Four
Two days after the story broke in England, a terrible blaze tore through the US base of the Initiative. The cause was blamed on extremists who’d been whipped into a frenzy on the Internet communities that had sprung up to protest against the inhumane treatment of vampires. But all those in the safehouse knew that it was another example of Maggie Walsh coldly covering her tracks at any cost.
No one knew the numbers of vampires that had perished, but the human death toll was twenty-eight and rising. From the aerial photographs shown on TV, Buffy knew from her tour of the site, that the blaze had completely destroyed the retirement sheds along with offices.
In England, Roger Futtock was being posthumously blamed for all the atrocities that had occurred in his branch. Maggie Walsh’s weasely face seemed to be on every newscast, proclaiming her innocence and professing her shock at what the man had been up to.
Clips from the as yet un-shown documentary showed images of Spike being prepared for the hunt. As he growled with anticipation, the voice over calmly informed the viewers of the vampire’s state of sexual arousal. It was hard to reconcile those scenes with the vampire they all knew. Public opinion was split after it had been shown. Was the creature just the monster the Initiative said he was? Or was there a sentient being within?
The humans in the house became increasingly worried that the whole thing would backfire and public opinion would demand all vampires be dusted. Down in the cage in the basement, Spike, was going half insane with boredom, but was blissfully unaware of the drama unfolding out in the world.
“Spike’s never going to get over it if Walsh walks,” Buffy said to Willow one evening as they sat out on the patio.
“Henry is still working hard to get the message across. And Mark has agreed to a TV interview as long as his face isn’t shown,” said Willow, leaning over to squeeze one of Buffy’s hands. “She won’t be able to escape the fallout.”
“I hope you’re right, Will, ‘cause I can’t deal with Spike being stuck down there. I need him here with me. I want us all to go home and get back to living like we did before all this happened.”
“Things are never going to be the same.”
Buffy took her hand away. “I know. I do. I have two sons who remind me of that every second of every day. But,” she stood up and paced restlessly, “why is it too much to ask to be able to live my life with the person I love?”
“It’s not, and it sucks big time, but this is real life, Buffy, not something in the pages of a novel. You have to face up to the fact that happily-ever-afters don’t always happen.”
Whirling on her heels, Buffy glared at her friend. “You’re giving up! You think we’ve lost.”
Willow simply stared up at her until Buffy sighed and sat back down in the chair.
“I’m sorry. I was out of line.”
“You were.” Willow smiled. “You might not like what I’m going to suggest.”
Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
“When Mark goes on TV, I think Spike should too.”
“What?” The chair toppled over as Buffy leapt to her feet. “He’s not stable. How can you even suggest it?”
“He’s okay as long as no one gets physical with him.”
“We don’t know that for sure. How do we know he won’t bite the interviewer if he disagrees with him?”
“You’re forgetting one thing,” Willow said.
“And that is?”
“His soul. It will keep him in control.”
“What like it did when he went for me?”
“In a way, yes.”
Shaking her head, Buffy said, “I don’t understand.”
“He lost control when his demon thought it was threatened, but the soul helped him be strong enough to recognise that. He asked to be locked up, Buffy. He asked me to stake him if he doesn’t get better. No way would the demon ever offer itself up for death like that.”
“It’s still risky…”
“I know, but if I’m on hand and he turns feral, then I’ll zap him with something and keep everyone safe.”
“If he says no, I’m not going to try to change his mind.”
“Wouldn’t expect you to. “Do you want me to ask him?”
“No, it’s okay.” Buffy stood up. “I’ll do it. I need to take him some blood anyhow.”
*~*~*~*
Spike raised his head from where he’d been cradling it in his hands and cocked his head as he heard Buffy’s footsteps on the stairs. She strode into the basement, her hair bouncing in time with her strides, and Spike’s gut clenched with the love she engendered in him. What he’d felt for Drusilla paled into insignificance compared to his feelings for the retired slayer.
“Hey,” said Buffy, turning the key in the lock.
“You should stay out there.”
She ignored his words, locked the door behind her and walked to him, pulling him into a hug before she handed over the blood.
“Thanks.” He vamped out briefly to nick the bag, before changing back as he drank it. When he finished it, he looked her in the eyes. “Out with it.”
“Out with what?” Buffy feigned innocence.
“Woman.” Spike rested his hands on her shoulders. “I can read you like a book. You’ve got to tell me something that you think I don’t want to hear.”
“You’re wrong.”
Spike raised an eyebrow and tilted his head to the side.
“Okay. Okay! You win.” She took his hand and guided him to the cot, not speaking again until they were both sitting.
She told him Willow’s idea. And she also told him of her fears regarding Maggie Walsh. His eyes glittered gold but he kept control and after a moment told her his answer.
“I’ll do it.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I do, Buffy, and you know it.”
“But they’re going to be hostile towards you. Are you sure you can handle it?”
Spike snorted. “Hostile? Really? Hostile? Are they going to rip my eyes out? Fry my brain? Amputate my thumbs or dick with my dick?”
“Uh…”
“I think I can fucking handle the words they’re gonna throw at me, no matter how nasty they are.”
“I just—”
Spike placed his finger over her lips.
“I know. I’m sorry. But I need to be with you, pet. Properly with you. Not be terrified that I’ll flip out if you bump into me. If going on TV achieves that for me then I’ll do it. I love you, Buffy. I love you so much.”
He lowered his finger and leaned in to kiss her, tentatively at first, then with more heat, stopping only when she pulled away, panting for breath.
“You’re amazing.”
His self-satisfied smirk made Buffy chuckle and slap his arm. They both froze when they realised what she’d done.
“Hey, what do you know? It’s like the chip only backwards!” said Spike grinning broadly.
“Huh?”
“You didn’t mean to hurt me – so I didn’t freak out! Like the chip would fire even if I only thought about hurting someone.”
“It did that?”
Spike nodded.
“I never knew.”
“Yeah, well, not my favourite topic of conversation.”
“Are you sure that’s why you didn’t react just now?”
“Hell no, but it sort of makes sense.”
He wrapped his arms around her again.
“I hope you’re right.”
“Me too.” He kissed the top of her head. “Now go upstairs and get that interview sorted out. They’re going to be skittish, tell him I’ll do whatever it takes to get on camera, as long as I don’t end up looking like Hannibal bloody Lector.”
Buffy took his hands in hers and stared into his eyes. “Are you sure about this? We could—”
“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
“Yeah, like that’s possible.” She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I just want this to be over.”
“I know. Me too. It will be soon.”
Spike said it with conviction that he wasn’t sure that he felt. He’d never let Buffy know, but he was beginning to think that over would mean the dusting of all known vampires. But would his ultimate death mean that Walsh would leave his family alone? He doubted it. He needed her to be behind bars. Only then could he rest in peace.
*~*~*~*
Willow teleported both Mark and Spike to a secluded point several miles away from the TV studio where Henry Garthorpe was waiting for them.
“I tried my best, Spike, but they’re insisting that you’re restrained,” Henry said as he drove them the rest of the way.
A muscle ticked in Spike’s jaw as he nodded. “I expected it. So how’s it going to be?”
“They’ve…uh…they’ve…”
“Just say it, mate. I’ve got to do this, so just spit it out.”
“They’ve brought one of the chairs from the Initiative. From the lab.”
Henry didn’t need to add the last bit for Spike to know what chair was waiting for him. Most of the pain he’d suffered over the years had been while strapped into one of those things.
“Okay.” He nodded slowly. “I can do that.”
The reporter turned to Mark. “They’re going to have you in darkness, so only your silhouette will be shown. Are you happy with that?”
Mark cleared his throat before managing to croak, “Yes.”
When they arrived a tall man with a clipboard and headset walked into the room. “We’re ready for the vampire to take position.”
“His name is Spike!” Willow took a stride towards he, the air crackling with static as she curled her fingers.
“Hey, Red. Cool it, yeah? Everything’s going to be okay.” Spike put a hand on her arm.
Willow continued to glare until the man dropped his gaze and muttered an apology to Spike. He led the way to where the chair was waiting for Spike. As he got strapped into it, Spike thought how odd it felt with to be in the chair and yet be fully clothed. If he was honest about it, clothes still felt a bit weird to him too. If his heart could beat, its rate would be increasing as he was left alone – helpless and vulnerable should anyone attack – while the others got into position.
The interviews were being filmed to be shown later that day. The TV channel had proved reluctant to have a vampire on the show without the luxury of editing out any offensive material.
“So,” said Carl Lancaster, the host, “you’re back with us, Henry, and this time you have brought two of the…er…people that we talked about previously.”
“That’s right.” Henry nodded. “We felt that it was only fair for the victims of the Initiative to have their chance to speak to the public themselves.”
“Is that how they see themselves? As innocent victims?”
Leaning forward in his seat, Henry shook his head. “I never said innocent. One is a centuries old vampire and the other once helped to torture and maim in the name of science, before falling foul of his employer.”
“Shall we talk to this man, first then?” Carl turned to the camera. “To protect his identity, we are not showing his face and his voice will be digitally altered. For the purpose of this interview we’ll call him Mr. X.”
Carl focussed on Mark, and welcomed him to the show. “So, Mr. X, in your own words, please tell us your duties in the Initiative and what Roger Futter ordered you to do.”
“Futter never ordered me to do anything. Professor Walsh was my boss. She’s the one who told me what to do.”
“I’m sure you’re aware that she refutes these claims completely,” said Carl.
“She’s lying.”
“Or you are.”
“Why the hell would I lie?” Mark shifted in his seat. “I’m not lying about what that bitch had done to me!”
“Mr. X, I am sincerely sorry for the terrible injuries that you have suffered, but working with dangerous beasts, surely it’s an occupational hazard?”
“It wasn’t an accident. I was sent out to retrieve Seventeen and failed. My balls were the price of my failure!”
“Uh…calm down,” Carl spluttered at Mark’s outburst. “We can edit that out.”
Enraged, Mark got up from his chair and walked into the full glare of the studio lights. “Edit it out?” He threw his arms up in disbelief. “What is the point of this interview if you’re going to edit out the truth?” He grabbed the front of his pants. “Maggie Walsh ordered me to be castrated. She put me in with one of her fucked up experiments and I was raped and beaten and …” He sank to his knees. “She took my future away from me. The woman is deranged and needs to pay.”
Henry leapt up from his chair to comfort Mark as he broke down in helpless sobs. The producer yelled for a five-minute break and then gave Carl the thumbs up. With an outburst like that, the show would pull in an audience of millions.
With Mark too distressed to take any further part in the interview, attention turned to Spike. The chair he was bound to was wheeled into position, and Carl stood beside it staring open mouthed at Spike’s face. His eyes. The image of the vampire had been shown in newspapers and on TV but to see it in the flesh was something else entirely.
Spike stared back until he rolled the one eye that could and said, “Are you gonna gawp at me all day, mate, or are we going to get to the interview, ‘cause I have to say, being strapped in here isn’t evoking happy memories.”
Carl’s mouth snapped shut. “Were you conscious when they took your eyes?”
“No. Back then I was a potential star for her, so she at least anaesthetised me for that procedure.”
“What was it like?”
“What? Waking up to find out that they’d taken your sight? That they could see what the new eyes saw, but I couldn’t?”
“Yes.” Carl nodded gravely.
“This interview is bloody pointless if you ask shite like that. How do you think I felt? Terrified! Helpless! The last thing my own eyes ever saw was Maggie Walsh looking down at me. There was no real reason for her to do it. They’d beaten me. I did what was asked of me. I could follow the trails they wanted before they blinded me. But she did it anyway.” Spike flexed his fingers. “That woman enjoys her job way too much.”
“So you worked as a Tracker?”
It was Spike’s turn to nod. “Yeah. Think it was about fifteen years.”
“And in that time you never rebelled?”
“No. They’d done something to me – in my head. I had no memories of anything that came before the Initiative. I couldn’t speak unless prompted. Couldn’t hope to feed myself. So no…I just did the job and lived for the little rewards I got for being a good boy.” The self-loathing was evident in his tone.
“She took an evil monster with over a century of killing and turned it into a useful tool for humanity. What’s the harm in that?” Carl smiled a smile Spike wished he could hit.
Spike’s reply surprised him. “Nothing really, if that’s all she actually did. Look vampires are evil – I know it! But evil or not – to treat anything the way we were treated in there…well, I just think that vampires aren’t the only demons around. That woman has ruined the lives of two brothers. Their crime? To care for me.” Spike turned his head away as he composed himself. “Craig was to make sure I’d cooperate when they got me the second time. Cameron was punished for finding out the truth.”
“You’re talking of the retired Slayer’s sons.”
“That’s right.”
Carl guided Spike through questions that established how he came to live with the Buffy and her boys, and how he was taken back one day with his dust apparently left behind.
“Why did she feel sorry for you, and accept ownership of you?”
Spike smiled for the first time in the interview, and Carl was taken aback at just how human the vampire looked.
“Well, I did help her save the world one time.”
“Why was that?”
“Purely selfish reasons, mate.” Spike’s smile broadened into a grin. “I’d get my girlfriend back if I helped the Slayer.”
“Can you show the viewer’s your other face?”
Spike knew the question would be asked, but it still irked him. “Sure. It doesn’t look right without the eyes changing colour too.” He shook his head slightly as his features changed.
“Wow.” Carl glanced at the camera, before turning his gaze back on Spike. “What does it feel like, when you do that?”
“Sort of pinches around the eyes these days.” Spike’s tone was dry, and Carl to his credit, shuffled uncomfortably from foot to foot.
“Your teeth…fangs, I guess…look—”
“Wrong. I know.” Spike ran his tongue over them. “They did something to me in there that made them grow longer. Just had them pared down to keep them from cutting my mouth.”
Hating the way the presenter and the whole of the crew were staring at him, Spike let his features slide back to human.
“Spike, you seem like a nice…person…sitting there—”
“So nice you’ve got me strapped down.”
Carl didn’t miss a beat. “But that wasn’t always the case. If you take a look at the monitor on your left, you’ll see footage of the documentary that Roger Futter was having shot.”
Spike didn’t want to see it. So far he’d avoided seeing his face in the papers or on the TV, but he couldn’t look away.
“Oh fuck,” he whispered, as he saw himself bouncing on the ball of his feet, ready to go on the hunt. His cock hardened at the memory of the rewards he earned. How can she even look at me? Finally he managed to turn away, squeezing his eyes closed to keep the tears from overflowing, unaware of the camera zooming in on his reaction.
“How does that make you feel, Spike?” Carl’s words were softly spoken.
For a moment the reporter thought that the vampire wasn’t going to answer, but then Spike’s features changed and his eyes flew open. He sat up as far forward as the straps would allow, taking grim satisfaction at Carl’s hasty step back.
“It makes me feel like ripping that bitch’s fucking throat out!”
The gasps of the crew made Spike realise the mistake he’d just made. He tried to recant the words, but Carl just walked away. The film crew had got the explosive footage they’d hoped for. Unfortunately for Spike, it was he who looked like the murderous beast and not Maggie Walsh.
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Beta and banner by the amazing dawnofme.
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