All I Need
Despite the frequency of occurrence, Buffy wasn’t about to lose sight of the irony that ensured a day could start off with blissful laziness and end up all but wreaking of world destruction—and not in the literal fashion. Today was one such day. And it wasn’t appearing as though it would get any better.
Of course, she hadn’t been entertaining the delusion that all would go smoothly with the entire confrontation. Wright’s account of Xander’s temperament the day before was evidence enough of their unwillingness to see reason. However, she had hoped that whatever was said was enough to at least calm the raging sea before she set off in search for dry land. It wasn’t. And in all honesty, she was likely wasting herself in an effort to not be surprised.
The day had started off so wonderfully, too. Spike had awakened her with a series of lavish kisses that naturally led to an impromptu shagathon, exploring a touch of fast, slow, gracious, and passionate without changing whim. After much teasing, she finally explored the makeshift shower he had drilled into his crypt and reveled in the way cold water no longer affected her. Then they had awakened Wright—who noisily took up the full of the upstairs sofa—and enjoyed several more rounds of Egyptian Ratscrew before he volunteered to pick up blood and doughnuts. Then he was gone again Revello Drive to collect his child, and everything else was left for waiting.
A continuous exercise in making time standstill. While Spike offered to employ the sewer system he used to navigate the town during daylight hours, she was grateful for the excuse to stay put. They watched television, discussed the pros and cons of Spike Lee movies, and began idly arranging imaginary furniture for their future apartment.
It couldn’t last, though. The sun had inevitably set. And it was time.
Now she was sitting in her extremely unchanged living room on the sofa that had seen more drama than any soap opera. Her hand was entangled with Spike’s, their bodies pressed as closely together as possible without moving to fill his lap completely. The sea of stares their manifest intimacy procured wavered on the side of intimidating. However, every time she tensed, her sire would squeeze her hand with stanch reassurance, and that was the only reality that kept her from losing herself.
She didn’t know what horrified them more: the closeness between her former enemy or her newfound vampirism. And she hadn’t even sealed the punch line.
“I wondered why I had to invite you inside,” Dawn finally murmured, breaking the awkward silence with more awkwardness. “It was…weird.”
Buffy smiled weakly. “Yeah. It was.”
“So…this is it, huh?” Willow acknowledged, strengthened now that the quietude was severed. “No tricks. No candid camera. You’re really…a…you’re really a vampire.”
Spike squeezed her hand but did not interrupt.
“It’s obvious,” Anya observed with an indifferent shrug. “You really didn’t notice when she walked in the room? No human has skin that pale.”
“Honey,” Xander intervened with gritted teeth. “She has just spent the last few weeks under an evil law firm.”
“Yes, and most likely suffered massive blood loss,” the former demon agreed. “But there is a difference between sunlight-deprived and vampire sunlight-deprived. Believe me, I’ve seen it.”
From his position in the corner, Wright’s eyes widened comically and he glanced to Spike with newfound respect. “Okay. She’s scary.”
“Told you, mate.”
The Slayer shrugged as though the matter was of little consequence. “As far as the vamp thing goes, it’s really not as bad as all that,” she said lamely, ignoring the voice that screamed its protest within her chest. There were some truths that still had to be reckoned with. “I mean…definite transition. The entire blood thing still wigs me out…but if you pretend it’s diet soda, it’s better. And even flavorful.”
Xander blinked slowly as though just coming out of a daze. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, exhaled deeply, and nodded. “Okay,” he began. “Could you…repeat everything you just said and use very, very small words so I know I’m not having some very bad nightmare?”
Her expression hardened at that, as though the notion in itself was offensive. “You heard me.”
“Yeah. It’s the hearing part that has me falling off my seat.”
“How did this happen?” Willow demanded, flabbergasted. “I mean, I know the basics. The blood swap and everything…but if Angel knew that you would keep your soul, why did he even bother to—”
“He didn’t.”
The first two words to escape Spike’s lips drew the entire room to a horrid standstill.
Wright rolled his eyes and graced his friend with a narrowed glance. “Great. You couldn’t have eased into that at all?”
The peroxide vampire kept his gaze trained stealthily on Harris as though daring him to do something. He hadn’t even hazarded a glance to Giles yet, for whom he knew the reaction would be the direst. “What can I say, Zangy?” he replied quietly. “I like my cards on the table where I can see ‘em.”
“Wait a minute, I’m confused,” Joyce intervened. Everyone softened at that; the poor woman was still recovering from the revelation that named her eldest child as a vampire. The notion of something buried even further beneath the surface was not yet within the territory of comprehension. “Spike…are you saying—”
“I know perfectly well what he is saying,” Giles said coolly, gaze unreadable. “Spike is the one that sired Buffy. Angelus had nothing to do with it.”
Zack arched a brow. “If I may—”
“I wouldn’t call it nothin’, Rupes,” the vampire replied with an easy shrug, composedly breaking through Wright’s objection without tossing him a glance. The message, though, was perfectly clear. He would gain no friends by detailing his involvement in Buffy’s transformation, and all the more likely, none would believe it. “When I found her, she was all but dead. Peaches was given a heads up an’ decided to change the rules before Zangy an’ I could break her out. When I saw her, it was let her die or vamp her. I chose. So bloody bite me.”
Xander’s eyes flared and he leapt to his feet with a swift, angry motion that clearly stated Spike would be a pile of dust if looks could kill. “You expect us to believe that?” he hissed. “You expect us to believe that we sent William the Bloody after the Slayer and his only thought was how to bring her home, safe and sound? How many have heard that before, I wonder? Oh wait. You can’t ask them. They’re dead!”
A shadow crossed Buffy’s face. “That’s enough.”
Her objection warranted a sharp glare that was more betrayed than actually angry. “Why are you defending him?”
“Because he saved my life!” she snapped, clutching onto Spike’s hand as though releasing her grip would determine a complete loss of self. “Because he did more for me than anyone else has ever tried.”
“You know we would’ve come if we’d had the option, Buff,” Willow intervened with a frown. “But Dawn…and Glory…and your mom. We were going to come, but Spike showed up and volunteered. Do you have any idea how hard that decision was…sending someone you never trusted to rescue you from his own? Give us some credit here.”
“You did what you had to,” the Slayer agreed. “You really, really did. If you’d’ve come after me while Dawn was in danger, I’d’ve made snack food out of you by now.”
A still note settled through the living room.
Spike leaned forward, lips curling in a smile. “That’s a joke, kiddies. Bloody hell. She might be a vamp, but she’s still dear ole Buff.”
“Don’t bother trying to tell them anything,” Wright snickered, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen a more closed-minded group since those Church of Christers in the Midwest…and never went back again, I might add.”
The peroxide vampire quirked a brow and favored his friend with a skeptical leer. “What were you doin’ in the Midwest?”
“My job. Hello.”
“For the Church of Wankers?”
He shrugged easily. “There was a demon, they weren’t catholic so they couldn’t exorcise him properly. Good thing, ‘cause those type of demons only get pissed when you try to—”
Xander blinked, frowned, and held up a hand. “Is there any possible way you can not talk about this right now? If you didn’t notice, things of—oh say—importance are being discussed.”
The demon hunter gave him a long look before snorting in private humor. “Bloody,” he said without glancing away. “If you ever decide to fall off the wagon, I won’t stake you for killing that one.”
“I think the lady might, but the sentiment’s appreciated.”
“And I’m noticing that the Slayer in the room doesn’t come to my defense as her so-called rescuer plots my death,” Harris noted with a wry grin. “Thanks Buff. Knew I could count on you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Stop. He wouldn’t.”
“Oh really?”
Willow placed a hand of warning on Xander’s shoulder. And just like that, she understood. The observation, of course, did not go unnoticed by Wright, who chuckled briefly and arched his brows at his friend.
“You had your money on the redhead, right?”
Spike shrugged easily. “Her or Rupes. But I betcha anythin’ it’ll be Stay Puft who comes at me with a stake.”
Buffy scowled. “You two bet on this?”
“Had to keep it entertainin’ somehow, sweetheart.”
Zack nodded appraisingly. “I’ll say this, Buffy. Your boy’s very good at inventing random games to keep himself occupied.”
“Your boy?” Xander repeated. “Okay, will—”
“For God’s sake, it’s perfectly obvious what he meant,” Giles said with a groan. “Do you really need everything spelled out in large letters, or were you making an untimely joke?”
The other man frowned. “An untimely joke?”
“They’re having sex,” Anya said simply. “Lots of it, from what I can tell. Buffy has that satisfied look that I get after we have finished copulating, so I’m guessing they have also had sex recently.”
“Thank you, Ahn. Anything else?”
“It’s good sex,” she added, unhampered. “I can tell because Buffy doesn’t have that unsatisfied-and-still-horny look that she often had with Riley.” She flashed a winning smile at the snickering couple, completely stabilized by her revelation. “Congratulations and many happy orgasms.”
A long beat rang through the living room.
Spike nodded at her with a smirk. “Thanks, luv. We’ll get right on that.”
Buffy elbowed him but said nothing to the contrary, and her action earned a chuckle from Wright.
“Dawn,” Joyce said suddenly. “Go to your room.”
An affronted gasp strangled the air. “Mom!”
“Go to your room.”
“Come on. I go to a public school. I’ve heard the word ‘orgasm’ before.”
This time, her decree was supported by more than half of the house’s occupation. “Go to your room!”
“Ahn,” Xander said slowly after the teenager had walked off in a huff—stopping briefly to hug her sister and congratulate her personally on her relationship, which she had always secretly been rooting for. “You do know that the question was rhetorical, right?”
“Yes. I decided to answer anyway. It made things very amusing.”
Willow rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. They’re holding hands, Xan. You can’t tell me you haven’t seen that.”
“I have selective blindness, thank you.”
Wright sighed dramatically. “Your friends are crazy.”
Xander blinked. “Ummm…she’s the one having sex with Spike and we’re the crazy ones?”
That earned a disgruntled snicker. “I’m beginning to wish I’d stayed upstairs with Rosie and Tara. Suddenly, even Disney sounds like a fabulous alternative to this blatant double standard.”
“I—”
Zack rolled his eyes. “Your girlfriend is an ex-demon, for God’s sake! The only thing about her that isn’t demon is the lack of powers, and yet you attack my friend who has done nothing more than get your Slayer back as well as he could. Oh and by the way, before you mention it, the entire siring thing—”
Spike sat forward suddenly, gaze wide with warning. “Zangy, don’ do anythin’ stupid.”
“It was my fault, okay? I’m the one that made her drink.”
“Like that,” the vampire finished dejectedly.
The room again came to an effective standstill. Giles took a serious step forward, face grave. “You…how?”
“Simple, really,” the hunter continued, unfazed. “We found her, Spike ran over to her, she was all dead-like, I slit his throat and made her drink. It wasn’t his fault. Hell, it wasn’t even his idea. He had no control over what was happening until it was too late, and then he fucking chastised me for saving the girl he loves. So, there you have it. Chastise away. What do I fucking care?”
A low groan rang through the Cockney’s lips. “Zangy, you well-intentioned fool.”
“I had to tell them. It was annoying the piss outta me.”
Willow pursed her lips and glanced to the Slayer. “Buffy?” The blonde nodded. There was nothing else to do. The Witch took that in with a grain of salt, then turned her attention back to Wright. “Why? Why would you do something like that?”
“’E did it for me, Red,” Spike intervened softly, drawing attention back to himself. “Y’see, a few years ago, Zangy here lost his wife to a particularly nasty vamp. You might know her…name of Darla.”
Dead or not, mention of her brought a short shudder to the hunter’s spine.
“Darla,” Giles murmured, turning to Zack with newfound understanding. “There is an incident that the Watcher’s Council has yet to document but has always been well aware of. You did say your name was—”
“Her name was Amber Wright,” the man said solemnly. “And she wasn’t the only one. Darla killed my unborn son, too. It’s the reason I became a demon hunter.” His gaze fixed resolvedly on his friend. “Losing Amber killed me. When I saw Spike break down at Buffy’s side when we found her, I knew it’d kill him, too. It went against everything I…but it was worth it. They’re happy.”
Willow’s eyes went wide. “You…Spike, you—”
“I love her, she loves me, end of bloody story.”
“That’s the reason you went in the first place,” Joyce said, tears rolling down her face. “I should’ve seen it. I should’ve…you brought her home. Oh, how can I ever—”
Her prattling went on in the same manner. It was a typical Mom moment, but it had Buffy’s eyes watering all the same.
“Am I the only person who isn’t okay with this?” Xander wondered aloud.
“Yes,” Wright snapped.
“No,” Giles countered.
Spike rolled his eyes. “Bloody typical.”
The demon hunter snickered incredulously. “So, let me get this straight…he’s good enough to send after your Slayer, but when it comes to—”
Harris glared at him, raising a hand impetuously. “Can we vote him off the island?”
“Hey, I don’t have a problem with demon-bashing,” Wright snapped. “All I’m looking for is a little consistency. You hate demons? Fine. Don’t make exceptions, and especially, don’t date them.”
“But I want Xander to date me,” Anya argued.
Zack’s gaze widened and he gestured at her emphatically. “You see? She even knows what I’m talking about!”
“Ahn was a demon for a long time. She isn’t anymore.”
Spike met his friend’s irritated gaze and smiled. It was useless trying to preach this load of ‘heard that’s’ to a crowd that no longer listened, but he appreciated the sentiment all the same. “That’s right,” he added helpfully. “Our Anya’s a good li’l girl now. Wouldn’t harm a fly. Ahn, tell the good people how much atonement you’ve gone through since you saw the bloody light. How many tears you’ve cried over the thousands of men you eviscerated over the centuries. ‘m sure Zangy’ll understand once he gets a picture of everythin’ you’ve done to make up for your naughty deeds.”
“That’s not fair,” Harris objected.
“You all better remember this,” Wright advised. “Ten years from now when you’re asked where you were when democracy failed, you’ll wanna give them a straight answer.”
“Look,” Buffy intervened sharply. “There’s no use fighting—it’s not like it’s going to change anything. I know you’re all worried about me—”
“Worried.” Giles blinked at her as though she had spawned another head that was singing Cantonese opera. “Why would you think we’re worried?”
Xander crossed his arms bitterly. “Other than the fact that everyone here is insane.”
“Look, this is Buffy’s decision,” Joyce snapped. “Spike saved her life—”
“And it looks as though he’s earning every penny.”
That was it. The peroxide vampire snarled to life, leaping to his feet as his eyes flashed yellow; he all but bounded across the room, ready to tear Xander’s head off. Buffy and Wright were instantly at his side, each grasping an arm to hold him back though their exercises seemed overly futile. For the moment, for all the outrage pumping the Cockney’s veins, even a sired Slayer and a demon hunter stood not a chance against his strength.
It was immeasurably enough. Buffy’s hand slid to his and her fingers laced with his own. The intimate contact seemed to draw him back to himself, and while his anger faded, the growl behind his tone remained steadfast. And the entire room was still.
“Look, you sodding ninny,” he snarled. “Attack me all you bloody want. I expect it from you. ‘ve been sayin’ the same to the Slayer an’ Zangy since we left LA. ‘S jus’ you, Harris. You an’ your small-minded unwillingness to accept what you don’ want to understand. An’ that’s fine. But ‘f you ever, ever make an insinuation about my girl like that again, I’m gonna bloody rip your heart out an’ shove it down your throat.”
“More over,” Zack added coldly. “I’ll help.”
A very cold beat settled throughout the room. Everyone favored Xander with a mixture of horror and appraisal—the signs of a marked man. Perhaps it was the knowledge of Spike’s newfound power, or the comprehension that they had lost Buffy’s protection where he was concerned. The look on her face read more of the same for her offense. She was hurt, and she had a right to be.
“You hurt Xander, and I’ll cut off your penis,” Anya threatened. “Then you and Buffy won’t be able to enjoy numerous orgasms.”
“Ohhh, you’re makin’ me quiver in my li’l booties.”
“Those issues aside,” Giles said neutrally, “we have some other concerns.”
“And I think violent outbursts is one,” Willow agreed, worry lines wrinkling her brow. “Honestly, Spike. We’re trying to get the full here, and yeah what Xander said was very, very out of line. Hell, he bypassed the line by several county marks.”
“Thanks, Wills,” the man commented with an ironic smile.
Spike growled again and the man quieted.
Wright shook his head heavily and broke for the door.
Buffy frowned. “Where are you going?”
“I need to kill something,” he explained, gaze leveling on Harris. “Now.”
The slam of the door enunciated his leave effectively. Xander tossed the Slayer a wry, insincere smile. “Gee, Buff. I sure am loving all your friends.”
“You provoked him, Xan.”
“An’ Zangy’s not the type of bloke you wanna provoke,” Spike observed wearily, allowing the Slayer to draw him back to the sofa, even if he refused to sit. He would never fault Wright for leaving, but his absence did resonate a sort of furthering of the already uneven odds throughout the room. All things considered, he preferred standing. “But he’s a man who stands by his convictions an’ doesn’ shy to admit when ‘e’s wrong.”
“Regardless of his nobility,” Giles began evenly. “He distracts us from the point. Spike…while I am sure—no, not even at that—you should have clarified your motive before you left. Had we known—”
“You wouldn’t have let me within fifty feet of the Slayer.”
“Damn right,” Xander mumbled.
“An’ she’d be all sorts of dead. Do you wankers have any bloody idea what it took for me to get as close as I did? Angelus barely trusted me to be in the city. ‘E wouldn’t have trusted any of you—”
“I am not saying that,” Giles corrected.
“Yeh, well your spokesman is.”
“Maybe it would be better if we talked to Buffy alone about this,” Willow suggested helpfully.
Anya shrugged. “That’s Laymen’s terms for ‘we want you gone so you’re not influencing her’.”
“You’re not getting anywhere with me,” the Slayer said calmly.
“Then you won’t mind our trying.”
She rolled her eyes. “I swear. And I thought you’d be more upset about the dead thing.”
“Call it all of the above,” Giles reasoned evenly. “We need to speak with you.”
“Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of—”
The platinum vampire abruptly released her hand and walked out of the living room. The Slayer’s words choked her throat and her eyes went wide, the bottom of her stomach dropping as her eyes followed him—her legs granite. While his strength was some of the most potent that she depended on, his presence was nothing without his support. And when she opened her mouth to call after him, she berated herself for how unstable she sounded.
“…Spike?”
He turned then, caught her expression, and smiled with gentle reassurance. “Jus’ thought I’d give you an’ your mates a minute,” he explained.
“You don’t have to—”
“Nah. ‘S all right. Think the Bit’s sneakin’ down, anyway.”
Buffy watched, well aware that everyone in the room was watching with her. Sure enough, Rosie appeared in mere seconds, wide-awake and grinning when she saw him waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. They listened as the child explained Dawn and Tara had engaged in a heated argument about who was better: Bagheera or Baloo, and fallen asleep just seconds after the discussion ended. The movie was still playing, she said, but she wanted to see her father or Spike or someone and not watch television anymore.
“Your Pap went out for a nightcap,” the platinum vampire told her, smiling kindly. “Come on. You hungry?”
“Daddy doesn’t let me eat after nine o’clock.”
His eyes widened mischievously and he neared her with a grin that spoke of all kinds of mischief. “Daddy doesn’ have to know.”
The Slayer watched the whole of the brief exchange and it warmed her heart. Though he would protest until he went hoarse, Spike was surprisingly good with children. He knew how to make Rosie smile, which was something not many outside her admitted circle could claim. He knew how to exercise patience that seemingly came from nowhere. He was smitten with her girlish charm, such to the point that she wouldn’t be surprised if he volunteered to be her godfather.
The girl was more than his link to the Powers. She was the daughter of his best male friend. And he treated her like family.
No sooner had the pair disappeared through the dining room and into the kitchen did the Scoobies reinstate their campaign; everyone but her mother voicing a thousand different reasons why what she was doing was a bad idea. All things that she had already had time to take to committee, review, and retire. After all that had occurred, none of that mattered anymore. All that mattered was the road ahead.
This was what he wanted, he said. This was what he was willing to live if she willed it so.
“Buffy,” Giles was saying reasonably. “I understand your feelings of obligation. We all owe Spike a tremendous debt. But sires have strong holds on those they create. Exceptionally strong. What you’re feeling…”
“Let’s not forget the fact that he sired you,” Xander added. “As in, made you dead.”
“I was already dead,” Buffy replied, gaze focused on the vacant dining room. “I was dead long before Angel killed me. Spike came and he was there, and he asked for nothing in return.” She turned slowly to her family and offered a watery smile. “I love you guys. I do. And I know this is hard. I can barely understand it myself. But what I feel…it’s the real thing.”
“How can you know?” Willow asked softly. “I mean, if it is, go you. But the last time you did the vampire thing, it ended bad.”
“Very bad,” Giles agreed.
“So bad that he decided to kidnap you two years after he dumped you bad,” Xander finished.
Buffy glanced to her mother for the last, but all she had to offer was a neutral shrug. “We just don’t want to see you hurt. And…” Her gaze drifted to the dining room as well, a clandestine motherly smile crossing her face. “I think, after all we’ve seen, that we know he will not hurt you.”
Her words had barely had time to die before Giles was speaking again. Only the tenor altered drastically, and the look behind his eyes was haunted and still. The revelation itself was random, as though brought upon himself by shades of guilt. “I am so sorry,” he said. “For everything.”
“You didn’t—”
“We never prepared for the option of your turning, Buffy. You experienced vampirism briefly the first year that we met, but we never discussed it afterward.”
She shrugged halfheartedly, forcing a smile to her lips. “It’s really not as bad as I would’ve thought. I don’t love it, but—”
“What happened wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?”
She frowned. “Of course. And it wasn’t Spike’s, either. With what I saw, Giles, I wouldn’t have let him this close if he wasn’t the real thing. And I’m sorry to disappoint you—”
“You don’t,” he admonished instantly, eyes wide.
“We’re just surprised,” Willow added. “On all sorts of levels.”
There was a still beat before Xander stepped up to the plate. “There’s so much we don’t get,” he said, obviously making an effort to remain logical. “Think about it: the last time we saw you, you were…well, alive for one thing…and had the basic temperament of ‘Oh-I-Hate-Spike-Let-Me-Count-The-Ways-How-Long-Till-I-Can-Shove-Something-Nice-And-Wooden-Not-To-Mention-Pointy-Through-His-Chest.’”
The redhead nodded. “Maybe if we had seen it—”
“You’d be singing a whole different tune,” Buffy reassured him. “I know you don’t get it. Really, when we came here, it was big with the not-expecting-you-to. But you guys know me. You know me very well. And we were wrong…we were wrong about him. I don’t know why he changed, but he did. He’s completely different from the guy we thought we knew.” She turned to the empty dining room again, eyes shining with something unmistakable. Something she would have an eternity to enjoy. “He’s one of us.”
“Whatcha makin’?”
“Hot chocolate.”
“What are those?”
“Li’l marshmallows.”
“What are they for?”
“The hot chocolate.”
“Why?”
“’Cause you can’t have hot chocolate without the li’l marshmallows.”
“Why?”
“’S the law.”
“Says who?”
“Says the Hot Chocolate Police.”
Amazing how one could go from being one of the most feared and respected vampires throughout history and end up in a Slayer’s kitchen engaged in idle conversation with a nine-year old. The same hands that had ripped through human flesh without a flinch were tentatively stirring a sugary concoction for a girl he shouldn’t care two licks about. It was an unusual convergence from shades of realization. He remembered well his self-loathing for the manifest concern displayed in the alley the night they met. How he had felt himself overcome with anxiety in the namesake of a little girl he didn’t know, and likely would never see again.
It wasn’t enough that Buffy had made him fall in love with her. She had also made him a bloody humanitarian. The Spike of Old would never entertain the whims of a child. He would just as sooner rip her lungs out.
Now the thought of anyone trying to enact the Spike of Old made him see red.
Anyone who harmed Rosalie Wright had to answer to him, and he wouldn’t make it pretty. He would make them scream until their shrills were hit with a hoarse brogue.
That was it, then. It was official.
He was bloody tamed.
“I think you’re lying about the Hot Chocolate Police,” the child observed as he slid a mug-full of warm, chocolaty goodness down the counter.
“Yeh?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I think you ask too many bloody questions.” Spike’s brows quirked in jest, a smile tickling his lips. “Whaddya say to that?”
Rosie studied him for a long minute before her eyes sparkled, rising admirably to the challenge. “I say…” she mused thoughtfully. “Why is the sky blue?”
“’Cause God was colorblind. Anythin’ else?”
She giggled sharply and took an appreciative sip of her drink. “You’re funny, Uncle Spike.”
“’m a bloody comedian.”
“You don’t look bloody.”
He smiled a thin smile, patting her head with affection he was almost unaware of. “Trust me, Bit.”
She looked at him for another tentative moment, indulging another drink. It was adorable watching her grasp the cup; though she was old enough to keep hold of it with only one hand, she employed both, betraying the impression of a much younger child. “Why do you call me that?” she asked finally.
“What. Bit?”
“Yeah.”
“Well…look at you.” Spike flashed a condescending grin. “You’re a tiny person.”
“I’m not tiny.”
“Well, you won’ be for long.”
“I hunt demons.”
Yes, he knew that much. Unbloodybelievable.
“Your Pap sure knows how to set a good example, doesn’ he?”
“Where is he?”
“Your dad?” Spike nodded at the back door, taking a long drink of his own mug. “’E got a li’l brassed with Buffy’s mates an’ decided ‘e needed to go stick it to somethin’ good. An’ since Cordy wasn’ around, he settled with the demon population instead.”
Rosie frowned. “Why would Daddy stick it to Cordy?”
Though he had practically gift-wrapped it and shipped it to himself, there was absolutely no way that listening to such an innocent tenor vocalize an inherently naughty question could result in anything other than a mixture of a choking/laughing fit. He had to spit a mouthful of hot-chocolate back into his cup before mirth overwhelmed him completely. When girl moved to considerately pat his back, he all but lost it again.
“Jus’ forget I said that,” he advised once he regained control of himself.
“I’m gonna ask him when he gets back.”
Spike’s eyes widened. “You incorrigible shedevil.”
Rosie merely shrugged and took another sip of her hot chocolate, basking in the limelight of feigned innocence. She was a smart kid—she knew there were things out there that she wasn’t supposed to know. It was her fortune that her innate sweetness outbid whatever ulterior motives her conniving nine-year old mind could imagine.
“Why did you leave the others?” she asked a minute later.
There was a difficult question. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t known the Scoobies would be this way, but a secret part of him had been hoping for a little break.
They were more upset about their relationship than her vampirism. How’s that for family?
“To give ‘em some time alone.”
“With Aunt Buffy?”
The moniker made his lips twitch in a shadow of a grin. “Yeh,” he replied. “With Aunt Buffy. Y’see, Aunt Buffy’s friends don’ particularly like me.”
The child look genuinely affronted at the notion. “Why?”
“’Cause I’m a bad man, Bit. Never forget it.”
“You’re not bad, Uncle Spike.”
The sad part was, she actually believed what she said. Deceiving such an intelligent girl made his insides coil in disgust.
“’ve done a lot of bad things.”
“I once stole a pack of gum from Price Cutter.”
He smiled again with droll amusement. “Naughty girl.”
“Nikki made me give it back.”
“I wouldn’t’ve.” The peroxide vampire shrugged and leaned back. “’F you were crafty enough to get it out of there without gettin’ caught, I say good on you. You’ve done more than earn the seventy-nine cents they mark it for on the shelf.” He sighed heavily and propped himself fully onto the counter, reaching for his cigarettes. “’ve stolen a lot in my time. Never gave a penny back. An’ I’ve done worse. Much worse. Trust me, Bit. Your Uncle Spike’s not a nice guy.”
A sad, unadulterated look overwhelmed her at that. “You’re nice to me,” she said quietly. “And to Aunt Buffy. And to Daddy. I’ve never seen you be mean to anyone good.”
“You haven’t known me all that long.”
“I’ve known you.”
Odd how such a small package could make him quiver so. There was true conviction in her words. As though she believed it. As though it was true. And then—perhaps it was. She was his guide, after all. The Powers had sent her to him to serve as his link. When Buffy was killed, it was she—not Cordelia—who provided the vision. She had been the one to first convey the Slayer’s love for him. The first he allowed close when everything was falling to hell. A child who knew him.
Amazing.
“You might’ve been bad, but you’re good now.”
“Watch it. I resent that.”
Rosie smiled. “No you don’t.”
They traded a long glance and ages past between them. Then Spike grew uncomfortable with the serious introspection and furrowed in an attempt to navigate the spotlight away from himself and his numerous instabilities. Instead, he nodded to the upper level and puffed furiously on his cigarette, relying on the strain of nicotine in ways he had never before exercised. “So Nibblet an’ Glinda fell asleep arguin’ ‘bout The Jungle Book?”
A giggle ruptured her lips at that. “Yeah.”
“Y’know, I’ve seen The Jungle Book. Several thousand times.”
She nodded. “Dad says you’ve seen every movie ever.”
“’E exaggerates. There are some musicals I’ll never watch.” At her skeptical gaze, he sighed and conceded. “Okay, more than twice. Before I met your Aunt Buffy, I had a sick woman who I took care of. She bloody loved everythin’ musical—cartoons were some of her favorite. The colors an’ what all. Distractin’. Prob’ly the same shade she was used to seein’ in whatever world she lived in.”
“Drusilla,” Rosie acknowledged.
Spike favored her with a sharp glance. Then grinned. “You know too much.”
“Daddy tells me everything he can. When we talked about you after you two became friends, he told me everything there was to know.” She shrugged as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “I know about Dru. And Darla. Darla killed my mother.”
“Darla was a nasty bint,” he agreed. “Your Dad sure let her have it.”
“Good.”
It was disconcerting hearing such cold ruthlessness from a child’s mouth. Of course, a fair percentage of what Rosie said was disconcerting, so he didn’t allow it to bother him.
“You know any songs from The Jungle Book?”
Sadly, yes. “A few.”
“Sing them for me?”
“An’ that’s a no.”
She pouted. “Why not?”
“’Cause I got dignity. An’ pride. An’…sod it. Knowin’ you, you already know that’s a bunch of bollix.” He winked at her and inhaled deeply. “‘When you pick a pawpaw, or a prickly pear, an’ you prick a raw paw; next time, beware.’”
A wide grin that somehow made it worthwhile had infectiously spread across Rosie’s face, and she suffered no ill pride in joining him. “‘Don’t pick the prickly pear by paw—”
“—‘when you pick a pear, try to use the claw,’” he continued. “‘But you don’ need to use the claw when you pick a pear of the big pawpaw.’” An inane chuckle rose to his throat. “Dru used to bloody love that.”
“You miss her?”
“Dru? No.” And it was true. He delighted in the tenfold of that understanding. For everything she had been to him, what he felt for Drusilla had long bitten the dust. “I love your Aunt Buffy more than anythin’ in this world, Bit. More than I thought I could. More than before I left to find her. I don’ deserve her, but she picked me. I’m jus’ a random lucky bloke.” Spike’s eyes narrowed teasingly. “Kinda like your Pap. ‘E doesn’ deserve Cordy, but he’s got her anyway.”
“You shouldn’t say that,” she observed.
“Yeh, well, whaddya gonna do?”
“Daddy’s coming back.”
The peroxide vampire drew to an impossible standstill and stared at her blankly. And the scent hit him two seconds before Wright threw the back door open, storming inward in a foul bit of temper. From the lack of goo or dust on his attire, it wasn’t difficult to observe that his hunting attempts had gone awry.
“Wouldn’t you figure,” he grumbled. “A fucking Hellmouth and not one fucking vamp to…” He glanced up two seconds too late, catching the bemused look on his daughter’s face. “Heya, Rosie Posy. And…what are you doing out of bed?”
She merely grinned. “Hi, Daddy.”
“What? Bedtime?” Spike turned to calculate the time based on the microwave clock, but it was flashing midnight like a perpetual VCR. “’m guessin’ ‘s nowhere near one in the mornin’. Isn’t that her normal bedtime?”
“Not anymore it isn’t. She’s gonna have school and stuff.” His eyes centered on his daughter. “Remember school? You gotta get up real early for that so Nikki can take you.”
The platinum vampire barked a laugh of interest. Typical.
Rosie nodded, evidently unbothered and sipped once more at her hot chocolate. “Spike knows Disney.”
A hoarse, fiercely defensive cough reached his lips the next second, coinciding wonderfully with the sound of Wright’s condescending chuckles. “No I bloody don’t!” he protested fanatically.
“He sang a part of ‘Bear Necessities.’”
“I bloody well did—”
The demon hunter was laughing richly, foul temperament completely pushed asunder. “I tell you,” he sneered. “No more making fun of the Barbies. We’re even.”
Rosie cocked her head thoughtfully. “He sang better than you do when you do ‘Under The Sea.’”
That was it. In one beat from sharp justification to laughing so hard he was grateful he wasn’t standing. The furious scowl depressing Wright’s features sweetened the deal all the more. “Kids,” he said, nodding appraisingly at the girl. “Gotta love ‘em. An’ no, Zangy. We’re not even. Come on. At least mine wasn’ from a poofy cartoon.”
Zack glared at him. “Two words. Egyptian Ratscrew.”
Spike paused and his eyes went wide, countenance sobering immediately. “Right. Right. We’re even.” He hopped down from the counter and stamped out his cigarette self-consciously.
They were still for a discomfiting moment—discomfiting for unknowing why it was discomfiting. An impasse that no one was ever to know about. Tacit in understanding and never referred to again.
“Uhhh…” Spike began self-consciously. “Back into the main hold?”
“Sounds good.”
“Gonna put the Bit down firs’?”
“Even better.”
The demon hunter hurried to scoop his daughter in his arms and turn back upstairs to see her properly to sleep, leaving the Cockney alone once more with his thoughts. It was strange how quickly people became relevant in his life. For over a century, he had crossed through countries, met a thousand or more wandering souls and killed his fair share without thinking twice. Zack and his girl were important to him, and soon they would be returning to Los Angeles. Soon, the life he had grown accustomed to over the past few weeks would be gone for good.
Those whose company he now enjoyed would sooner see him cast into a pit of fire than ever call him friend.
And yet, this was how it was. Though giving up acceptance for the woman he loved could well end up being the hardest thing he would ever do, it was worth it. It was more than worth it. His love for Buffy surpassed any form of happiness he could have found in Los Angeles without her. It was foolish to contemplate the woes of what could have been.
After all, this world wasn’t meant for having it both ways.
To be continued in Chapter Forty-Nine: Here We Found Plutus, The Great Enemy…