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10. Something blue.



The vampire’s senses were still just as acute, despite the accident, and Spike tried to stand up, hiding himself behind one of the windows. Someone was inside the big house, and that person must be very brave and resolute, if they dared to enter the nest of three dangerous vampires.
Who am I kidding? he asked himself, suppressing a laugh. Spike, dangerous? Dangerous as a kitten. He could hardly stand up, and his sire’s generous sharing of her blood - though necessary to his recovery – would not be enough alone. He needed time to heal, to become again what he had been before, the slayer of slayers.
The vamp who had seduced that one, unforgettable, slayer…
Spike had a clear vision of the world, after one hundred and thirty years of non-life. Of course everyone has his own vision, he thought: but Drusilla was too insane to care, Darla too egocentric, and Angelus too proud. Their immortality, true or false, didn’t matter, didn’t save them from problems such as loneliness, frustration and sadness.
“Even if we’re not wise, we can love in our own way,” Drusilla used to say, and she was right. But one had always loved more than the other; and this happened to humans too, in every couple there would be one who gave love, and one who took it; but the world was a wasteland. In which they had to live. For years and years, and years…
When he became a vampire, William had looked for inspiration from his creators. But he hadn’t found an answer in his sire’s mindless insanity, nor in Darla’s arrogant and insouciant self-assurance.
And he had found even less in Angelus.
Angelus lived intensely, his non-life made up of evil domination and pleasure, the esthetics of torment. But he never deprived himself of anything, and that was admirable. William smelled in his spiritual sire uncommon power that, in a being not so constitutionally bonded to evil, could lead to either unreachable heights, or to unknowable depths of pain. William didn’t believe that Liam, the prodigal and dissolute man Angelus had been before, represented his entire existence. If life - or non-life - is just a journey, Angelus could still reveal many amazing steps along the way. And Spike was curious about the final destination.
So it didn’t surprise him at all that Angelus had used all his energies to seduce that blonde and courageous thing, the Slayer.
Regarding himself, William had a clear vision too. William, le poete maudit…nothing, apart from his own bloody will, had led him from that modest and bourgeois life made up of little unsatisfied aims, to the effulgence of a life with no rules or borders, transgressing even the thin borders of pure evil.
Will.
Spike clutched the crutch in his good hand, ready to use it as a weapon. Death had freed him from certainty, and now he belonged to the universe of the will. The will that constitutes the destiny of a man…of a demon…of every single creature, from the simplest to the most complex, that lives in this dimension.
Spike wanted…therefore he existed.
Once he had known what his true goals were, nothing could stop William the Bloody.
Nothing, apart from…
The ineluctable. That which he could not fight, could not face.
Not death; no, nothing so trivial, so bourgeois.
But there were other ineluctable things.
Like the one that at that precise moment - he was as sure as if he could see it with his own eyes - was keeping Dru kneeling in front of her sire, her knees spoiled by the rough grass.
Like the one that quickened the heartbeat of a blonde Slayer, who had known the pleasures of the flesh in his own arms, and who had lost her mind and her reason to be for Angelus. And still didn’t realise it.
The night visitor was penetrating deep into the overgrown garden that nobody had tended for many years. Spike did not hesitate: bloody hell, he feared nothing, not even the devil!
He gripped the crutch and stepped out under the moonlight.
“Spike…”


“Buffy!” he exclaimed, letting the crutch fall to his side.
He wouldn’t fight her, even if she had come with the precise aim of staking him right through the heart.
And he was sure that was what she was there for.
He remembered her misty glance when she had watched them – he and Angelus - share the blood and the sex of that silly blonde girl Harmony.
And he still remembered the deepness of her gaze when they had silently wished each other good luck during the fight, when their lives had divided them, maybe for ever. She had gone with Angelus, and he was with Dru, his sire.
“God…you’re here. And you’re alive. I thought…”
“You thought I was already dust, Slayer?” he asked her, lighting a cigarette with his good hand. He looked at her through the cloud of light-blue smoke. “I’m moved by your interest. I’m fine now, as you can see.”
Buffy came closer, tucking the stake back inside her jacket. Spike relaxed, instinctively, unaware of the deeper meaning of her gesture, but glad she had done it.
“Is it hard for you to walk? And the bruises? Have they healed?”
“Angelus is out there,” Spike told her, pointing with his cigarette in the direction of the nearby cemetery. “I’ll tell him you dropped by.”
“I didn’t come to see Angelus,” she admitted.
“Bored with the new menu?” Spike asked with a wry smile. “Sorry, the canteen here always serves the same slop. The dish of the day is the one you’ve already tried. But maybe now it’s a little more…flambé.”
Snoticed his bitterness, and was surprised by it. She could not imagine that he was jealous. God only knew why she was so worried for him.
“My nark told me there were some vampires in this old house…and, no, I’m not here for Angelus. He told me clearly he didn’t need me anymore. To be honest, I’m asking myself if your injuries have been properly attended to. You’ve still got two powerful enemies out there – or had you forgotten?”
“Darla?” Spike smiled. “You can’t really be afraid of someone you’ve fucked, Buffy, believe me. And the feeling is completely mutual.” His angry smile almost erased her good intentions from her mind. Almost. “Regarding little suburban Wonder Woman, believe me, I’ve seen better slayers. And then, other better ones”.
Buffy looked at him, then came closer. Before he could stop her, her fingers were on his face. The fire had left bruises that were disappearing…but had still not completely gone. She missed his smooth and gloomy beauty, even if she knew that soon he would have it again.
While poor Harmony rested forever in the ground. To rot. Wasn’t that enough to make him hateful to her?
“Why do I worry about you?” the slayer whispered.
“Because your heart is weak and I light up your life with my wonderful presence.”
“Go to hell, Spike,” she said, laughing despite herself. “Let’s sit down there in the moonlight, and talk for a bit.”
He dragged himself over to her and let himself fall onto the little stone bench that Drusilla sat on to count the stars. For a moment they remained still and quiet together, in the dark and the silence of the night to which they both belonged,; then when he had finished his cigarette, Spike dropped the butt and trod it into the ground with the toe of his Doc Martens.
“Do you want to know how to progress your relationship with Angelus?” he asked her, calmly. “I’ve already told you. Run away as fast as you can. You are not crazy, nor immortal: two important qualities required to survive an affair with him.”
“And what exactly could I not survive?” she asked, fascinated, despite herself.
“His tortures. Physical, psychological, spiritual. Sex with a vampire. At the moment, you only know the Harlequin version for lonely hearts. I’m talking about true sex. And blood. And sex again. And nothing else except misery.”
“You really are Mr. Happiness tonight,” Buffy said. “C’mon, it wasn’t so bad. I mean, doing it with you. I remember you as a gentle and wise lover, who took my virginity as if it was a flower…”
“Yes, it’s true, tonight I’m a bit sad…depressed. But…thanks,” he said. “That means a lot to me.”
She looked at him to find the irony on his face…but it wasn’t there. He looked sincere.
“And maybe it was good with Angelus too - in his revised and corrected version for young and naïve people, I mean…But I think next time you wouldn’t have fun. Not at all.”
“Don’t be mean.”
“I’m not, I’m being realistic. If you really want to experience his passion, you must be ready to bear the consequences. I don’t know if you’re ready for that…for that definitive descent. Ask yourself who you are, and what being a slayer really means, Buffy, before you give your heart to Angelus. I’m serious. Take all the time you need. Because you can never come back. And if that is the journey you choose, maybe you won’t like where it takes you.”
Buffy kept silent, thinking about his words.
“Spike…what was I to you? I mean…just an easy bang?”
“No,” he answered. “Not just a bang, and particularly not an easy one,” the vampire admitted, deadly serious. “I feel as if this weakness and these bruises are more due to you, to the kiss I gave you that night at the Restfield, than to your companion, the other slayer, who threw me inside that bloody organ. I can’t aspire after grace Buffy. There is no heaven for the damned, and I don’t want it either…but in your arms I had faith…faith in something effulgent.”
“Thank you,” she said, and an involuntary tear trickled down her cheek.
“The journey has led us forward, my lady,” he told her, wiping the tear away with his fingertip. “But where its end will be, finally, is a mystery. I just want to live it.”
In his deep blue eyes there was such an ardent will to live, that she felt touched. Spike was really an amazing creature, and maybe the Lord also had a place for him, the slayer of the Slayers, in his infinite plan…at least as much as He had one for Angelus and the darkness he was the emblem of. And for a confused vampire Slayer.
She felt she couldn’t live without them, either of them.
She wanted his smooth mouth, the one that had given her the first adult kiss. She wanted them both, her princes of the noir…and, even if confusedly, she wanted to bring them to the light, to bring them out of the darkness that separated her from them. But no-one could say for sure if she would be doing this out of love…or vengeance…or desperation. And would that be sufficient? Would it stop her feeling so alone?
“Buffy…” he whispered, caressing her face, touching her delicate skin with his fingers. He wanted to be a man for her. But, also in that moment, a part of himself, maybe his demon, couldn’t give up the will to be special.
Without words, their bodies approached, once more, with feeling. And then, the lips of William the Bloody were again on those of Buffy Summers - a seventeen-year-old girl, a vampire Slayer.
There were no more reasons, loves, destinies, but only the inescapable beauty of their lips, of their breaths – hers, quick and amazed, and his, so useless and artificial, but still so human…- of their skin, of a magic contact.
And there were regrets, because it was imperfect in the instant it was born.
While Buffy, lost in the sweetness of that kiss, was asking herself if that charming imperfection came from her soul…or from the fact he had no soul at all, Angelus and Dru came in from the other side of the garden.



“Buffy…you must go!” Spike whispered, his hand still on her face “Angelus and Dru are coming.”
“Where?” she asked, agitated. She wasn’t scared of meeting Angelus, but she didn’t want to fight Drusilla. Would she be jealous of Buffy and her Spike together? And if so, would she …dust him?
“There is a shed…there, over by that wall. Hide my love, quickly!”
Buffy obeyed, and she made it to the shed just a second before she could hear Angelus’ boots sound on the stone path.
“All alone, Spikey?” Angelus asked. “Give me a fag, I need it.”
Spike’s face did not show any emotion. He took the packet and handed it to Angelus. Dru was behind him, a happy and satisfied expression on her face. “Was Miss Edith good company?” his beloved asked.
“Yes, she and…the stars,” answered Spike, noticing without any surprise her swollen lips, uncombed hair and shining eyes. She had fed also, and he suspected that Angelus, suddenly generous, had let her drink his blood. Only a vampire knew the indefinable ecstasy the blood of a sire could give. Particularly if it was hot due to the pleasure he had just experienced…
Dru looked deeply at him, as if she wanted to discover a secret he kept from her. Then she yawned. “I’m exhausted…I haven’t felt so tired for years.”
Spike felt irritated, but he was thinking about Buffy. Even if it was pathetic, he knew that if Buffy discovered the relationship between Angelus and Dru, she would probably suffer…and he didn’t want that.
But it was impossible.
“You’ve spoiled her, Spike. Dru is not as tight as she once was,” said Angelus.
“Dru has one hundred and fifty years of embraces behind her,” Spike replied. “Go back to your little blonde virgin. I’m sure she will suit you better.”
“That one? She’s good in the fight, like a sharp weapon. But in bed…she’s so boring.”
Spike smiled. Buffy would be able to hear Angelus’ unmerciful statement from the shed…but she couldn’t see his shining dark eyes. Those eyes were saying something else entirely…
“What’s the matter with you?” Angelus asked, unnerved by Spike’s smile.
“Someone has walked on your grave, Liam,” Spike replied, smiling, and he stood up, taking his crutch.
When the two vampires entered the house, following Dru, Buffy came out from her shelter, the stake tight in her hand. She could still go inside and kill them all… it would be hard, but it was possible. Spike was wounded, so an easy obstacle to erase…the other two left. Filthy, dirty, defiled and traitorous creatures…
Yeah, like she could do that.
She hated them: Spike and his sudden tenderness, Angelus and his bloody arrogance, Dru who was loved and healed by them both, despite everything.
She asked herself why Angelus’ statement was hurting so much. What had she expected from him, for giving him her body and saving him from his sire’s and Faith’s rage? Eternal love? How silly she was!
Feeling very down, Buffy walked home slowly. She had had enough of vampires and their games for one night. She wanted to forget Angelus, his dark eyes, his robbing kisses, his whispers, his big hands, his strong body that covered her like a blanket and that gave her a heat her skin could not have without him…
And she wanted to forget Spike too, and his ironical smile, his beautiful smooth mouth, his rough sweetness, his night-blue eyes.
Fuck them both!
She knew what she needed. She headed to the nearest cemetery, the one where Angelus and Dru had had their passionate evening, to find something to kill. To kill a lot.
But someone had got there first.
The brunette slayer was happily fighting three vampires and a demon, and it didn’t look like she needed any help. Buffy paused, arms crossed, to watch the show.
“You could help me B.!” Faith shouted, without stopping. “Instead of just standing there.”
Buffy threw her stake, and one of the vampires turned to dust immediately.
“Good!” Faith said, beheading the demon. Two vampires left: one ran away and Faith pursued him. The other one attacked Buffy, who grabbed her stake from the ground and dusted him with a slow and elegant gesture.
In a minute Faith came back, shaking the dust from her body and her long dark hair.
“You’re good.”
“I’ve been doing it a long time,” Buffy replied. “What surprises me is that you’re doing the same…aren’t you with Darla?”
Faith laughed.
“And aren’t you Angelus’ lover?”
“Nobody is perfect,” Buffy retorted.
“No…but he’s a great-looking man with long legs, big shoulders and everything in proportion, if I am right. How is he in bed, B.? I bet he satisfies you more than a good slay, doesn’t he?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Even better!” Faith laughed. “So, I’ll try to find out for myself what it feels like when you have a vampire in you. Beginning with your vampire, Mr. Black Leather Trousers.”
Buffy’s glance became unmerciful.
“Keep away from me and my life Faith…if you don’t want to discover what it’s like fighting against a Slayer. A true one”
Faith laughed again. “Whenever you want, darling…how about right now?”
Buffy took her stake and put it in her belt.
“I don’t kill humans.”
“And I don’t fuck vampires…oops, not yet, anyways.”
Buffy looked at her, not believing what she heard.
“Nice boobies B.!” Faith added, satisfied, and set off home, leaving Buffy alone, and much more confused than she had been at the start of that grotesque and disappointing evening.





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