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Gahhhh, where did June go? Better get as much of this out there while I can.

Follow for some more of the ridiculous!

Chapter Two

It was an unfair fight. Buffy could see that, and no matter how many times she told herself she couldn’t care less how Spike was treated, being tied down, beaten, and slashed just went against every consideration of fairness in a fight that she’d expect. The enemy fought dirty, and it was only when they were cutting him deep with long vicious claws—claws that she didn’t know bunnies even had—that she attempted to step forward, attempted to make it a little less one-sided, and discovered she was rooted to the spot. She’d become the watcher instead of the slayer.

There was something inside her that Buffy had never felt before, some tremendous depth of hate that observed the fight, the torture, and approved. Wanted to see the ending, revel in it and be thankful the vampire was finally out of her life for good. It was an awful sensation, so not her and Buffy struggled and fought hard to banish it just so she could move. So she could make her own decisions regarding Spike.

The presence vanished with a furious jolt and a scream, promising retribution as Buffy finally fell to her knees. It wasn’t entirely where she’d wanted to go, but in her exhaustion it was, at least, in the right direction. Pushing back to her feet, she took only one step before everything around her came crumbling down. She looked up just in time to see the giant-fluffy-bringer-of-death slash Spike from ear to ear, his head a separate cloud of dust from his body. The scream that tore from her throat was unexpected, but Buffy couldn’t control her reaction. As much as she hated him, she couldn’t wish him gone when he could love her. Never in all the time she’d known him had she even imagined what it would be like to watch him disintegrate before her eyes, and now that she’d seen it, she wanted to rewind and get him out of there. He was too dark, too beautiful, too impressive to end like this.

As both the slayer and girl in her keened their grief, a sudden wind whipped up his ashes and blew them away.

And Buffy jerked awake.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Morning, Buffy. Can I pour you some juice?” Joyce held the carton as if it were too heavy and she was struggling to keep it in her hand.

“I can do that, Mom. You should be resting.” Buffy looked at her sternly, then glared at Dawn for good measure before trying to quickly, but with care, reassign the orange juice into her own more able grip.

Joyce smiled gratefully, tiredly, and then positioned herself at the breakfast bar. She was still dressed in her nightwear and looked like she was planning to either go to work late or take the day off.

“You look like you could do with some more sleep,” Buffy suggested, hoping her mother would take the time to get well rather than push herself like she usually did.

“I can’t today. I have a shipment coming in and—”

“And you have employees that can take care of that,” Buffy chastised lightly, feeling relieved as she received a grateful smile from her mother.

“Actually, Spike told me he’d do all the heavy stuff.” Joyce sat with her hands being warmed by a fresh mug of coffee and watched Buffy’s face as she changed expression four times.

“What? When? Huh? Spike’s an evil vampire, Mom. What are you doing spending time with him? You never said you needed help with the—”

“He offered, Buffy. And I enjoy his company. He’s quite knowledgeable about so much in the world. He’s very interesting to talk to, and he takes the time. He never tried to hurt me when he was still killing people, so I see no reason to be afraid of him now when you say he can’t.” As usual, the voice of maturity and reason had Buffy stumped, and Joyce again smiled as she took her first sip of the strong caffeine. “Besides, he’s pretty to watch. You’d never guess how many muscles he’s hiding underneath all that black—”

“Mom!” Buffy hissed, scandalised. It wasn’t enough that Dawn had to go and tell her that Spike had a crush on her, sparking all sorts of unwelcome thoughts and images in her mind, now her mom had to plant more ideas of not-so-evil-and-disgusting Spike in her head? “That is just so wrong. You’re a grown woman.”

“And Spike is a much more grown man.” She considered for a second at Buffy’s glare. “Okay, vampire. But he’s still very pretty, and very helpful, and I really need that at the moment, Buffy. I have too many shipments coming in and being messed up and it’s time consuming and exhausting. He takes so much of the pressure off. And really, he’s not so bad. Well, not as bad as I’d think he was if I actually listened to you and your friends.”

Buffy felt stunned into speechlessness while she stared at the woman that had given birth to her, her mouth hanging open ready for the words to fall out at any minute.

“You’re not actually…falling for him, are you?” Why did the idea of her mother lusting after Spike make her feel sick of the green with envy kind? Buffy filed that little bit of confusion away for the day where she actually wanted to understand why she felt things she couldn’t explain, and decided she would just let her mother have her day with Spike. It wasn’t like she could help. She had to investigate some weird slaughter on the train, and she was taking Xander with and that guaranteed much fun with the topics of interest on her mind lately.

“What would be so bad about Mom getting interested in Spike anyway? Not like anyone else is after him.” Dawn watched Buffy and grinned evilly at her sister’s wide-eyed look of horror. She knew Buffy would convince herself that the idea of Spike at all was icky and gross and better not left to sane minds, but she knew underneath all the insults and pretend-hatred, the Slayer could easily have the hots for the one vampire that Dawn, herself, thought was pretty drool worthy. “And if Mom doesn’t want him,” she teased, “then I’ve got no problem chasing him down.”

Buffy spluttered angrily and Joyce watched in amusement before deciding to play along. “Just don’t do it again without informing us where you are going. And ask Spike to walk you home. He’s quite the gentleman, you know.”

Buffy choked, checking the pair of them suspiciously before sitting down and ignoring them both while she poured out her cereal and juice. “You two are just the funniest. How I ever thought I could live on campus away from you is a mystery to me.”

“Me too,” agreed Dawn before she conveniently bounced out of the room to finish getting ready for school. One thumping run up and back down the stairs and she was shouting out her goodbyes as she slammed the front door.

“Ahh, the impatience of youth,” Joyce commiserated and Buffy pinned her with an intense look.

“Promise me you’ll take it easy today. And that you’ll remember at all times that Spike is an evil bloodsucking vampire that would rather kill your daughter than play nice with her mom.”

Joyce grinned at the conflicting look on Buffy’s face. There was worry there, of course, but she could see just a touch of jealousy and it made her stop and wonder if the teasing had been a good idea. As much as she liked Spike, enjoyed hearing his tales of the world and where he’d been—what he’d seen as well as who—she didn’t favour him as being one of Buffy’s love interests. Spike was unstable when it came to his girlfriends, easily relying on alcohol when things didn’t go the way he would like.

“There’s no need to worry about me, Buffy. Spike is a friend, nothing more. Can you say the same?” She wasn’t surprised that Buffy didn’t answer, but had expected more of an incredulous glare than a thoughtful chewing of her cereal while her daughter failed to meet her eye.

Joyce slumped back resigned. There were many lessons that she should have learned along the line of Buffy’s love life. Angel was the very worst a young girl could epitomise as her first great love and unworthy of the broken heart he caused. Riley was a nice boy, granted, but even Joyce could see the lack of chemistry between the two and had hoped Buffy would come to her senses and cut the boy free. While it was sad that her daughter forced herself into a relationship where she was only half alive, it was sadder for Riley to see it too. She couldn’t say she was sorry that Buffy had seen the light, and she had no details of what really had happened to send Riley off in a great wind, but neither was she disappointed.

Unless the considered replacement was Spike.

As a mother it was hard for Joyce to stay out of Buffy’s decisions. All she could do was offer advice and hope that Buffy would see the wisdom of what she had to offer—not that she had much in the way of vampires, but she refused to see that taunting Angel into leaving was a mistake. She only hoped Buffy wouldn’t fall into the same trap twice—though it pained her to see how possibly right for each other the blond couple could be.

With a deep sigh, Joyce finished her coffee and then stood to rinse the mug in the sink. “I’d best go get ready. Do you need a lift anywhere today?”

Buffy looked up from her deep contemplations and shook her head. “Nope. Xander and I have this thing to do today, so he’ll be by to pick me up. I probably won’t be home until late.

Joyce nodded and left the kitchen. She had this niggling feeling that today was going to be a very strange day.


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Her head hurt. All of Xander’s laughing—while totally expected—seemed to grate for some reason. It wasn’t like she hadn’t laughed, too. Because she had. Lots. But that was yesterday, or last night and she’d kind of gotten used to the concept so it wasn’t so much funny anymore as deeply disturbing. And she was convinced that the disturbing came into it not because of the horror of an evil monster being romantically interested in her, but from the feelings that she still hadn’t shaken from seeing him dust in her dream.

Buffy had no doubts that her nightly rendezvous with Spike and evilly persistent giant wererabbits were part of some bigger picture that she was missing, but it wasn’t the first time the Powers had made her visit the obscure in her down time. It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t they just send that weird little guy Whistler to give her messages, or hey, appoint some Cordelia-like-vision-having-person to her. Then she could not only fight the bad guys, but get a decent night’s sleep, too. Goodness all round.

Anyway, back to her splitting headache and the frightening impulse to tell one of her closest friends to just shut his chops and leave the poor neutered vampire alone. There was nothing on this train, nothing but this strange hyena giggle Xander persisted to shatter her eardrums with and a sense that she knew someone that had been on here lately. It was light; she could have easily missed it if she hadn’t been willing to give the whole Spike crush thing the benefit of the doubt and actually concentrate on the job at hand. There was some evidence here if she could just find it.

Standing and determined to give her search another try, Buffy closed her eyes and tried desperately to shut Xander out. She really thought it was kind of silly that he was worried Dawn had transferred her hero worship to someone who at least had superpowers, but if it made him feel good…

Buffy concentrated on the tingles that were tickling her spine. She could sense someone here, someone familiar and it grated on her to know they were back. Opening her eyes suddenly, she knew who it was, and with two short strides, she was underneath the storage compartment, almost too scared to look up and find whatever had been left.

Buffy stood on the chair underneath and hoisted herself up better to see, rolling her eyes at the melodramatic display. How did Dru part with one of her dizzy dolls? She thought they travelled around in packs, having dainty little pretend parties to mystify the onlookers. She snatched the doll down and strode off the train, Xander spluttering along behind her.

“What’s with the doll, Buff?” Xander asked as he tagged along behind.

Buffy looked down at the porcelain, blind-folded doll and cringed. This represented too many things that she didn’t want to consider right now. Drusilla in town brought too many variables into play, made her question how strongly she felt about the status-quo and whether she would be disappointed if the brunette with an intoxicating beauty would be exactly what Spike needed to lure him back to the life he’d always led. Or if this crush newly developing would factor in and cause him to think through other possibilities before he threw away the past year.

Lip tightening and determination lengthening her stride, Buffy refused to think of this as anything but another vampire she could kill. This world needed to be rid of the likes of Drusilla, and if Spike was stupid enough to join up forces with her again, he’d be next on her hit list.

Ignoring Xander’s attempts to get her to explain or coddle him through his newest Spike-trashing obsession, Buffy walked on and attempted not to think. Thinking was bad. Thinking led to ideas and decisions that she’d find out later got way out of her control. With a sigh, she tossed Xander something about meeting him later and left for home.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Know what I saw, Joyce. A bloke knows his evil veggies. An’ if I wasn’t already twigged to the next big bad, I surely would have guessed it tonight when I got home to find my crypt’s been utilised for the harvest. Bloody giant carrots everywhere. Buggered if I know where they even came from. I only saw the one sprouting out of the ground last night.” He knew that the story was ludicrous and he was more than a little peeved that Harris hadn’t seen fit to spread the news of their supernatural veggie patch to those who should be in the know. It shouldn’t be his job to keep the Slayer informed of what was going on in her own backyard.

Joyce was looking at him like he’d lost his marbles, and maybe he had—or he would have been half on his way to believing it if he was pissed, or if he wasn’t positive that Harris’s bird didn’t have a clue what it was all about. The chit couldn’t keep her trap shut for five seconds straight, let alone be stone silent for ten minutes in the face of one of the most truly frightening vegetable experiences he’d ever had.

“Well, Spike, that’s just awful. So I guess that means you’re homeless.” Even as she said the words, Joyce knew Buffy was going to kill her. Upbringing aside, she couldn’t let someone who couldn’t even safely wander the streets during the day have nowhere to sleep, as unbelievable as his story was. But then, they were on the Hellmouth, the centre for the most unbelievable of everything.

“That it does, pet. Right inconvenient it is too. Barely managed to squeeze in there and get my gear.” Spike slumped dejectedly. He was sitting on the benchtop under the cupboards of the kitchen, feeling more comfy and at home than anywhere else in his long life and it felt good. He loved talking to Joyce. She made it possible for him to forget who he was—forget that everyone around him hated him, including the one he wished wouldn’t. She made it easy to let expectation slip from his back and to drop the conventional big bad and allow himself to be free. It was a liberating experience—more so than when he’d forced himself to become Spike and lived as a legend to fit into his name.

Joyce had a visual of Spike, squeezing between a crypt rammed floor to ceiling with giant carrots and couldn’t hold back the giggle. “Would you like to stay in our basement, Spike? It will save you trying to run around tonight to find a new place to sleep. And then you’ll be on hand to tell Buffy all about the nasty vegetables that are here to take over the world.” Her smile was large and Spike felt good that she was so entertained—even if it was at his expense. There had been too many sad lines around her eyes of late.

“Don’t you laugh,” Spike accused, defying the glint in his eye. “Your daughter should be out there slaying whatever gardener is loading my home up with his produce. She wouldn’t know an evil vegetable if she fell over it. Told her about the enormous specimen still sticking out of the ground last night. Did the chit go and investigate?” It was more rhetorical than anything, yet it bugged him no end that the girl never took him seriously.

Joyce looked apologetic at his plight and he felt himself soften, and he couldn’t say how grateful he was for the offer, knowing probably better than Joyce herself how uncomfortable she’d been with doing it. He didn’t kid himself. Spike knew he was liked by the elder Summers, much more than being barely tolerated by her eldest and her chums, but he could still see how much being a vampire went against him.

“Appreciate the offer, pet. Slayer could probably do with all the help she can get when she pulls her head out of her…armpit,” he quickly saved, “and works out what agenda these sinister veggies have got. The chit’s having enough trouble keeping enormous caterpillars out of her house, let alone controlling killer carrots in her backyard. Reckon that ex-demon bint’s got a bit of a clue ‘bout it all, too.” Spike stopped, satisfied that he’d done enough work to cement his usefulness in being there and glad that Joyce had issued the invitation.

Being this close to Buffy could be just what he needed—it would either get him staked, or allow him to do the staking. Either way it would put him out of his misery.

And with Buffy entering the house and getting closer, he was fast going to find out if he’d make it through the night. When he recognised the doll in her hands, he wasn’t so keen on his chances.

“Balls.”





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