CHAPTER TWELVE:
Spike took one last look around the lower level of his crypt. It was bare, with a distinctly cold feel to it now. His bed had been disassembled, packed up and moved to a storage locker the day before. Everything else had been boxed up and taken to Buffy's house earlier in the day. Although it had served as his home for more than a year, the process of dismantling hadn't taken all that long, what with Joyce, Buffy and Dawn's assistance. That being said, it was mostly Joyce and Buffy that had done the majority of the helping, as Dawn had flitted about with her new camcorder, recording the event for 'posterity’s sake', as she'd described it. It seemed that Spike's financial gift to the Summers family was beginning to produce fruits, as it were. Quite why the occasion merited it was beyond Spike's understanding, but he had let her carry on regardless, she wasn't hurting anyone, and had generally stayed out of the way.
Carrying the final box of books up the ladder into the crypt's upper level, he placed them on the floor, and took an unneeded breath. The decision had been reached the day after the evening at the restaurant. With Spike back on his feet, the Summers' house had almost returned to normal, or, as normal as can be for a household containing a Slayer and a master vampire that were trying to develop a relationship. It had been agreed that Joyce could return to her room, and Spike would sleep in Buffy's room with her. This allowed Buffy to vacate the couch that had served her as a bed in recent days. Needless to say, Spike's brows had nearly met his hairline when this was suggested by Joyce! It was, however, on the whispered condition that there would be no 'funny business' under her roof. Spike had given his instant agreement to the condition and so found himself wrapped around Buffy that night, holding her as she slept. It was perfect. There was no other way to describe it, just perfect. But at the back of his mind, there was a scrap of awareness that pointed out to him that, although Buffy needed somebody as a partner, an equal, she also sought a slight hint of normality in her life. Something to try and counter the otherwise abnormal factors she experienced every day.
It had come to him there, that night, that maybe, just maybe, he could try and provide that for her. Something as simple as him having a suitable place to call home, and maybe, given enough time, somewhere Buffy could call home as well.
He'd voiced this revelation to Joyce and Buffy the following morning, to gauge their reactions. While Buffy was initially a little subdued in her enthusiasm, she had eventually warmed to the idea. It was soon decided that Spike would stay with them until he was in a position to move into his new house, which, over the top of his vehement objections, Joyce would use some of Spike's money to purchase. Given the amount, Joyce had declared that it would not matter in the least if she were to give Spike a third of the total to use to buy the place and to cater to his needs. Despite how he protested that he'd given them the money so they would be 'looked after', Joyce would have none of it, and wouldn't let him finish his many objections. She was determined that if Spike was going to have his own place, then it would be bought and paid for as a whole. She also pointed out that if Spike were to have a more hospitable abode, when the time came, it would be more appropriate should Dawn, Buffy, or herself ever want to visit him. She had left unsaid the feeling she had that there was a distinct possibility that Buffy would be spending more and more time there, and that it may actually come to the point that it would be more likely that Buffy would be visiting her!
And so, with those decisions made, Spike had begun looking through the property supplements of the daily newspaper, looking for a suitable apartment or, what he'd learned the Americans called, a 'cottage', or to him, a bungalow. One such 'cottage' had caught his eye. The house had consisted of a spacious living room, a perfectly functional bathroom, a truly well appointed kitchen and dining room, all on one floor, with a lavish, large, master bedroom and extravagant en suite bathroom and shower making up the second floor. Buffy and Joyce had scheduled a viewing for the weekend, and no doubt, Dawn would go along with her camcorder, so Spike could also see it. The issue of the windows had been relatively simple to cure, as Spike knew that Clem had a few contacts in the demon construction industry. As long as it wasn't revealed that it was being done for Spike, it should be no problem to have necro-tempered glass installed in all the windows. Problem solved.
With all those situations dealt with, or in hand, Spike came to find himself here, five days after the restaurant visit, with the last box of his possessions, ready to leave the dark, dusty hole in the ground. Leave what had been his home, with the hopes of beginning somewhere new, and with the possibility of sharing that beginning with Buffy.
Lighting a cigarette, he hopped up onto the sarcophagus in the centre of the crypt and took a drag. It was still amazing to him all that had happened since that night on the tower and the encounter with Glory and Doc. He'd saved Dawn. He'd kept his promise to Buffy that night. He'd protected her. But everything that had happened since was almost like a dream. He had Buffy. She'd made the choice to be with him, and at one time, that was everything he thought that he wanted. But he found now that it was also the support and affection, and, dare he say it, the love, of Joyce and Dawn that he craved, as well. He almost felt like he was being accepted as part of a family, which was something, a feeling, he'd never thought he'd truly feel again. Not since the death of his mother at his own hands.
Removing the cigarette from his mouth to flick the ash away, his eyes followed its progress down and to the left, and he spotted it. 'Bloody bit! She'd forget her head if it wasn't attached!'
Standing on its side, Dawn's new camcorder was sat on the cold stone of Spike's impromptu seat. Just as he reached for it, the crypt door slammed open with a deafening crash. Stood framed in it was the last person he thought he'd see, and certainly the last person he wanted to see.
“So, evil-dead, how's un-life going for everyone's favourite blood-sucker?” Xander spoke with a vitriolic contempt that infected every word.
Spike sighed, 'Great! Just what I needed!' “What do you want, Harris? Bit late for you to be out all on your own, innit? Does your keeper know you've toddled off?”
Xander took a step into the crypt and glanced around, taking in the lack of furniture and the box of books on the floor, and smiled gleefully. “So, finally took the hint, huh? Leaving Sunnydale? About time, if you ask me.”
“D'you 'ave to work to be that stupid, or s'it like a natural gift that just comes to you? Why, in the bloody fuck would I leave? I love Buffy and the bit, and Joyce as well, and they've accepted me into their lives. Why the hell would I leave that?”
Xander advanced into the crypt, keeping his contemptuous stare fixed on the vampire before him.
“You know they don't really care about you, right? I mean, all you've done is buy your way into their lives. They're grateful, sure, but that doesn't mean they really give a fuck about you, bleach boy! You're just a walking, talking bank account.”
Spike's brows furrowed slightly, a flash of doubt creeping into his mind for just an instant before being banished. Maybe, just maybe, Buffy might have treated him like that, but he seriously doubted it. But he knew, without question, that Joyce would never have treated him like that, never have used him and his feelings for all of them in that way.
“S'yeah, alright, mate. Keep telling yourself that. I haven't bought my way into anything my whole soddin' existence! I’ve had to fight and earn everything I’ve ever gotten, and this is no different. I’ve earned my place in Buffy's life, and one day, one day I’ll truly earn my place in her heart as well, just like I have with Joyce and Dawn.
“Know I’m not there yet with Buffy, but I’m trying, for her, and I’ll make her proud of me, no matter what you say! And I can hope that maybe, eventually, she'll love me like I love her. See, that's the difference between you and me, dough-boy. I try my best, and earn the things that come to me, whereas you coast along, and just expect to be given them! And why? 'Cos you're a human with a soul, as you love to go on and on about!
“What exactly was it that you did to earn that soul of yours, boy? Not a bloody thing! But ya think it entitles you to everything, don'tcha? Love, forgiveness, friendship, even your place in the Slayer's little Scooby-club! All the things that you tell me that I can't have, you get by default, because of that fucking soul of yours! How bloody convenient.” Still sitting on the sarcophagus, Spike's blue eyes blazed with disdain as he took a deep, angry drag from his cigarette, keeping his gaze riveted on the brunette.
Xander's glare hardened further as he made his way slowly across the nearly-empty crypt towards the chipped vampire. “Dress it up anyway you want, dead-boy, you're still nothing to them except a bit of extra muscle and a shit-load of stolen blood money! You'll see it eventually. Your money will run out, and you'll be kicked to the curb, just like you deserve. And maybe I didn't earn this soul of mine, but I still have it, don't I? Something you sure as shit don't! Sucks, huh? To know that you'll never be a part of her life the way that you want to be?”
“Oh, I wouldn't say that. I’m the one that's staying in her family's house, ain't I? While you're not welcome. I was the one that was invited to dinner with all the Scoobies, while you were told not to come, weren't ya?
“Looks to me like you're the one that may not have a place in her life for that much longer, you keep goin' the way y'are. Like I said, lackbrain, I’ve earned my place with Joyce, Buffy and Dawn. They want me in their life. That's good enough for me, an' lashings better than can be said for you. How does it feel, to know that they'd rather 'ave me in their lives, than you? That the love I feel for 'em is actually being returned?”
Xander felt something inside him snap; his blood seemed to suddenly boil in his veins as his anger overflowed. Spike dared to throw that in his face, the fact that the vampire had the Summers family's affection, while Xander had been ostracised!? Incensed, the brunette closed the space between them in a single stride and grabbed Spike by the lapels of his duster, his fingers digging into the leather.
Holding Spike in an unyielding grip, Xander got right in the vampire's face and ground out as harshly as he could, “We both know you can't love, you lying piece of shit! It's just a matter of time 'til they all figure it out, too, and they'll dump you like the lump of soulless demon garbage you are! You'll see. You'll be all alone, no-one to protect you, and then... … … I’m gonna do what Buffy should've done a loooonnng time ago! I’m gonna stake you, Spike. It'll be the best day of my life. I’ll finally be able to put an end to you.”
Spike pushed him off, jumping down from the sarcophagus and discarding his cigarette in the same motion. The vampire flowed with a predator's grace, though wincing as the chip fired, sending a twinge through him as he landed on his feet. “Fuck off, Harris. Reality called, they'd like you to come home now! I’ve been around since before you were twinklin' in yer dad's eye, and I’ll be around long after you're dead and forgotten! You really think I’m gonna let myself be ended by a pathetic poof like you? Face it, Harris, you're all mouth and no trousers.” Spike snorted inelegantly, his contempt and amusement at the idea warring for position on his features.
Xander seethed in anger as he pulled his fist back and launched it towards Spike's face. Spike saw it coming, had plenty of time to duck and move away, but thought it was about time to try and make a point. Xander's fist impacted Spike's cheek with as much power as he could apply to it, which was enough to turn Spike's head all of forty five degrees!
Slowly bringing his eyes to meet the raging carpenter, Spike smiled benignly.
“S'that all you got, ya poncy little prick? I thought you wanted it to hurt, not tickle! C'mon, 'ave another go, but really try this time, yeah?” Spike smirked at the slightly widened eyes of Xander. He'd clearly expected Spike to be floored by the punch.
Xander's chest heaved as his anger and frustration built. “You... bleached... bastard,” he grunted out as the carpenter responded with another right hay-maker, trying to put all his strength and weight behind the hit. This time the results were better, Spike's head rotated a full ninety degrees!
Spike let out a frustrated sounding sigh. “Oh, for the love of....Harris, for fuck's sake, stop trying to touch me up and HIT ME!” He could barely contain his mirth at the impotent rage that filled the brunette in front of him. At this rate, Spike was sure that Xander would hurt him, but it would take 'til the next millennium, and he had to admit, he really did have better things to do with his time than stand here and let Xander try and find his long missing masculinity and testosterone! Almost all of those 'better things' involved Buffy and her body!
The next punch had even less impact than the first, barely moving Spike's head at all, allowing the vampire to keep his eyes on the human the whole time.
“So, I’m guessing, judging by all these little love taps that you're giving me, demon-bird's not into the rough stuff? Gotta get your rocks off with me, have ya? Really flattered mate, but you're really not my type!” Spike added another smirk for good measure.
“Why you-- son of a bitch!” Xander threw another punch at the vampire's face, once again succeeding in turning Spike's head slightly.
Spike touched a finger to the corner of his mouth. “Nearly drew blood on that one, Special Ed....” he taunted, dropping his hand from his face and hooking his thumb casually over his belt-buckle.
Xander's chest heaved, his face was flushed and glistening with perspiration and his eyes were wild with frustrated rage. He flexed his hands, his knuckles aching from the impacts of his punches, as he glared daggers... or stakes, at the nonchalant vampire.
“I love a good slap an' a tickle as much as the next bloke, but just wonderin' what's got your panties in a bunch all sudden like,” Spike continued in a conversational tone. “Reckon I’ve always known you were a pathetic bugger with a yellow streak a mile wide runnin' down your back, but this is a bit cheap, even for you, innit?”
Spike smirked and tilted his head, considering the brunette a moment before prodding him further. “Wouldn't 'ave anything to do with Buffy and me, now would it? With 'er choosin' a vamp over a glorified brick-layer? That she's pickin' my monster, rather than the green-eyed one you're carryin' 'round?”
Once again, the monster that Spike alluded to in Xander's chest reared its head and roared, its rage filling the brunette's mind at the reminder that this... thing had Buffy. His anger flared at the full realisation that she was giving this soulless monster a 'chance' but had never truly given him one. He could make her happy! He could be everything she needed! All he needed was a chance to prove to her what he could be, how much he loved her... and once again a mass-murdering evil-dead was getting in his way.
“You fucking piece of shit!” Xander ground out through clenched teeth, his bruised hands curled into tight fists, his whole body vibrating with rage, his heart galloping in his chest. “What makes you think that you deserve her? I saw her first, I loved her first, and she chose fucking Angel over me! That filthy, disgusting thing got to have Buffy, got to fuck her, when she wouldn't give me the time of day! That's how that prick lost his fucking soul! He fucked Buffy... took her virginity! It should have been me! I should have been the one to have her, she should have been mine! I’m not gonna let another filthy parasite take her from me!”
Spike's eyes widened to epic proportions. To hear Xander speak about Buffy like that, like a … possession, he could barely contain his anger. It was obvious to Spike that Xander's rage and jealousy was making him speak without attempting to hide the truth from him, and it made him sick. This man was supposed to be her friend! He couldn't contain the growl that issued forth from his chest.
“So where does Anya fit in to all this jealousy then, eh? She just some place-holder for Buffy? Just some substitute? You disgust me, you fuckin' tit! From the sounds of it, demon-girl'd be better off without you! She wouldn't have to play second fiddle to Buffy without even knowing it!”
Another punch impacted Spike's face, such was its power, or lack thereof, Spike didn't even blink!
“SHUT UP! If Buffy had gotten jealous like she was supposed to, then I wouldn't be with Anya, and she'd be with someone who loved her! I’d be with Buffy and you'd have been dusted the day you turned up at Giles' door!”
Spike smirked again at the raging child in front of him. “And Buffy would be dead, wouldn't she? And Dawn... and the rest of the world, for that matter, idiot! Unless you were planning on figuring out how to stop Glory? That would be between stuffing your face with doughnuts and reading comics, I’m guessin'?”
Xander shook with anger, his blood racing like fire in his veins, a retort on his lips, but Spike beat him to it.
Spike hooked both his thumbs over his belt and stood casually in front of the raging man, keeping his voice conversational. “And, for the record, what makes you think you could satisfy Buffy? She's a slayer, remember? Ever think o' that? She's a right measure stronger than you, don't ya think? She'd break you in half if she lost control in the heat of the moment. Not that I can see you being capable of making her lose control, but I hear miracles happen now and again. If there can be a virgin birth, I reckon you could maybe find a way t' get the slayer off.”
Spike's face and voice suddenly hardened, his anger bubbling to the surface. He leaned in nearer the larger man, getting right in Xander's face. “Understand this, 'cos I don't wanna tell you again ... … You're not enough for her. You never will be. SHE'S. NOT. BLOODY. INTERESTED!”
Three rapid punches followed: a right, a left, and then another right. Spike disinterestedly reached into his duster pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. Tapping the bottom of the pack, he pulled out the protruding one with his lips. His anger back in check, he spoke calmly. “Listen, mate, I’d really appreciate it if you could stop tapping me while I smoke. Can't do it at Buffy's house, by order of Joyce, so I try and relish the ones I have, now that I’m out and about a bit more, that OK?”
Spike paused for a moment, becoming slightly... pensive, would be the best word for it.
“Mind you, if Buffy had her way, I’d stop all together. She says she doesn't like the smell, especially when she's sleeping next to me in her bed.”
The words were delivered in as mildly a conversational tone as Spike could muster, precisely calculated to at once infuriate Xander, and convey the fact that Spike really didn't consider Xander a threat in any way.
Another punch was aimed at his face, but Spike was ready. Timing it perfectly, he allowed his demon to come forth, shifting his features into his vampiric visage. Something that Xander was obviously unaware of, but through an evolutionary process, vampire skulls were strengthened by an unknown and supernatural force when the demon was brought forward. The result being, Xander had effectively just punched an inch of reinforced steel! Needless to say, it wasn't pretty.
Spike doubted that the boy had broken any bones, such was the lack of power that Xander could put behind the blow, but it was enough to stop him from continuing his assault. Calming his raging demon, Spike slipped back into his human features, lit the cigarette that he'd managed to keep in his pursed lips throughout the contact, and continued on in that relaxed tone of his, taunting Xander to the fullest.
“If you'd asked me before-hand, I’d have told you not to do that, you stupid twat! Now, if yer done breakin' your hand on m' face, I reckon it's time we get a few things clear. First up, I love Buffy. That's never gonna change. Get used to it. Second, I’m not leaving. Not for you, or anybody. Joyce, Dawn, and Buffy are what matter most to me in the world, so if you think that I’m gonna let a pitiful excuse for a man like you chase me away from them, you've got another think coming.
“Finally, just so we're clear. FUCK OFF! You're not good enough for Buffy, you know it, I know it and she bloody well knows it. You never will be. Grow up, and for God's sake, realize how lucky you are to have Anya! You're not good enough for her either, but for some unknown reason she's chosen to be with you, so man the fuck up and treat her right!”
While Spike talked, Xander flexed his fingers back and forth, checking to see if everything was still in working order. The vampire's words washed over him and rolled off, like water off a duck's back, with no impact in the slightest. All Xander could think was that Buffy was choosing this soulless, murdering bastard over him. HE deserved Buffy. He was human! HE had a soul. HE could make her happy. HE was the man Buffy should be with.
The beast inside Xander roared in rage that he was being passed over again, the pain in his hand fuelling his anger to epic proportions. He was beyond reason at that moment, beyond anything but complete and absolute, obsessive, white-hot rage. Such was the utter seething fury boiling inside him, exacerbated by the pain in his hand and the dagger that seemed to be twisting in his gut, Xander's words came out completely unfiltered, laced with poison, directly from the monster inside him. Raising his head to look into the eyes of the creature that he hated like no other, he spoke through clenched teeth.
“Remember this, Spike. She can't be there for you all the time. One day, when you least expect it, I’ll get you. And when I do, I want you to think back to this moment. And don't worry, I’ll give you plenty of time to do it. It won't be quick Spike, I promise you that. I’ll take my time, and enjoy every moment of it! You're not gonna get to keep her. She belongs to me! She should have been mine, and I will have her! She'll see.
“I let Angel have her, and look what happened! She got hurt and people died! For fuck's sake, she let a complete stranger fuck her! That prick, Parker, managed to get balls deep in her pussy, but me, the friend that's been by her side all these years? Nothing! What do I get? Some ex-demon filth that does nothing but embarrass me, ALL THE TIME! It's not fair, and so help me, I’m gonna change things. I'll have Buffy, and Anya can find someone else, someone that actually likes her, and doesn't care that she used to be a disgusting demon!”
Just as he opened his mouth to continue his acerbic rant, the door to Spike's crypt opened for the second occasion that evening, only this time Dawn walked in, accompanied by Willow and Tara.
“Hey, Spike, I forgot my camera and I was wonder-- Xander?” Dawn's eyes narrowed in suspicion at the young man's presence. “What are you doing here?” she asked, barely able to keep the hostility she felt at the sight of him in check.
The sudden interruption seemed to startle Xander out of his diatribe, and he inwardly cursed himself for being so forthcoming to Spike. The rage and jealousy that the beast had released in him had been so all-consuming, he'd spoken unchecked and without thought. He'd shared a lot more of his deepest, darkest thoughts with the vampire than he would have if left to his own devices, but at the same time, he knew that all that he'd said was true. Spike didn't deserve Buffy, he did. Anya really was a stand-in for Buffy, and as soon as he had the assurance that Buffy would be his, he would leave Anya without hesitation. He'd sacrificed a lot for Buffy, and it was time that he was given his reward, a reward that Spike would not take from him! Buffy was his to have, no-one else's.
Before he could reply however, Spike answered Dawn's question for him.
“S'alright, bit, he was just leaving. Came over for a friendly chat, s'all, didn't you, Harris?”
“Huh? Uh... yeah. I... uh... I was just leaving.”
Getting his raging emotions under control, Xander realized it wouldn't do to be seen by his friends and Buffy's sister as attacking Spike, verbally or physically. Not when he had to convince everybody that Spike was evil and should be dusted, or when he had to get Buffy to finally see him as the only man for her. He had to be the good guy here, at least in the eyes of everyone that mattered, and given his current status among the Summers family, it would not help his case in the least to be seen beating on Spike, however ineffective that had turned out to be. Turning on his heel, without a backward glance at the monster that was standing in the way of his dreams, or a word to the visitors to said monster's home, he made his exit.
Dawn turned back to Spike and fixed him with a hard stare. “So, wanna tell me what that was all about? What was he doing here?”
“Told you before, bit, he just stopped by to talk. He's still got his knickers in a knot 'bout me and Buffy, s'all. Seems to think that Buffy can do better than me. Can't say I disagree with him on that. She does deserve better than me, but she's giving me a chance, and I’m not gonna let her regret it. You know that, yeah?”
Dawn walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his middle. “I know, Spike. I know how much you love her. Don't worry about Xander, OK? He's in need of a major 'tude adjustment! I swear, it's getting harder and harder to not hit him every time I see him! I mean, I know he's not happy about it, but does he have to be such a jerk?!”
Spike chuckled and placed a kiss to the top of Dawn's head at the same time as giving her a reassuring squeeze.
“So, what brings you by at this time of night, huh?”
Dawn frowned for a moment, her brows furrowing, before her memory kicked in. “Oh yeah. I lost my camcorder, and I think I left it here. Have you seen it? Mom'll kill me if I have really lost it! I only got it yesterday!”
Reaching behind him, he deftly picked it up without looking and held it up in front of her face. “Am I gonna need to glue it to your hand, so you don't lose it again?” Spike enquired with a grin.
“Ha ha. Very funny. No, I’m sure I can keep track of it, without the glue, thank you very much!”
Dawn took it from him and slipped it into her pocket, not noticing the little red light on it shining away. It had recorded the entire confrontation.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Well, hello one and all. I hope everyone is well. So here's my latest offering to the Spuffy 'verse. I hope it meets with everyone's approval. As per usual, A huge shout out has to go to PaganBaby for her beautiful banners, and for her encouragement and kind words to me. Thank you, PB. You're awesome! Secondly, to my wonderful Beta, who helps me in so many ways, not least of which is transforming what comes out of my brain into something semi-coherent! Passion4Spike, you rock, and are also in the awesome category. Thanks P4S. Lastly, my thanks go out to everyone that has left me reviews, I love hearing from you guys, and it still blows my mind that people are actually enjoying something that I've written! A huge thank you to each and everyone of you. And to top things off, just for the record, I don't own anything remotely associated with BTVS, this is done purely in the name of entertainment.
Chapter End Notes:
Hope everyone enjoys where I'm going with this, and will continue to give me a chance and tag along for the ride. Once again, thank you to all my readers and reviewers, and a huge and special thank you to PB and P4S, without whom, I wouldn't be here. The pair of them are simply amazing, and I owe them so much. Thank you, girls. Take care everyone.