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Chapter Five

Spike flicked the goggles across the cavern and gave a massive whoop of success. The roar of the combined jackhammer and crumbling rock came to an abrupt understanding with the silence and watched as Spike did a series of fist pumping the air, joyous cheering and uproarious laughter.

“I did it. And they all said I couldn’t stick to a plan. No bloody faith.”

His grungy looking shirt was the next to be torn from his body and tossed aside. In glowing flesh, he pushed the crumbling rock around the hole in the wall aside and entered the long secret hidden chamber.

“I’ve struck bloody gold.” He laughed, noticing and roughly calculating the worth of the artifacts and jewellery surrounding him. “And this time, I’ll make sure I don’t lose any of it.” His fingers caressed the fine jewels he found—a bit on the gaudy side, but worth bucketloads of cash. He’d be willing to bet Joyce or Rupert would know the best way to cash it in and make sure he got as much as he could from it all.

But his eyes were magnetically drawn to the far skeleton, bedecked in horrible fashion and ostentatious jewellery. One piece stood out above all others; one piece that was immediately recognisable despite his very short association with it. Spike tore it from the bony finger and admired it happily before gingerly slipping it onto his own.

Tears gathered in his eyes and he slumped to the floor, cradling his head in his hands as his body began to shake uncontrollably. The changing message of the ring made him want to give in and weep. Weep for joy, and hope, and puppies and Christmas. No thought occurred to him of his indestructible status; this time he wasn’t out for power to kill and destroy. He gave in to images of Buffy in the sun, making love with Buffy in the light, bright rays bouncing off her skin and onto his but alighting nothing but passion. He could go to the beach with her, have picnics and go shopping, go with her to concerts in the park—provided Sunnydale actually had such posh events.

As his tears stemmed and flowed, stemmed and flowed according to the predominant thought, he recalled words, hateful words that foreshadowed the relationship he’d had with Buffy. His first go round with her he’d thought he had nothing to offer if he couldn’t place her anywhere but in his world, and so began his colossal fucking misrepresentation to her—she belonged in the dark with him. What a pile of complete bollocks. He should have been shot for suggesting such utter crap.

With the ugly ring that he’d coveted and now possessed, he had no reason to make the same mistake. Now he could offer her light, laughter in the sun with her friends and him at her side. So far from his former existence had he travelled it didn’t even occur to him to wonder at how dangerous this made him. His first time around, he’d had thoughts of murder and mayhem on his mind. This time, make love not war. That was his motto for this ring.

With another lingering look at the green stone, Spike bounced to his feet and went back through the hole to the cave, collected two medium sized copy paper boxes and returned. Almost in a daze of delirious possibility, he gathered everything he thought might be worth a pound or two and dumped it in the box. Pretty much everything fitthe only straggler being an extremely fine sword with a bejewelled handle, gilded and shining despite having been hidden for what was probably centuries.

Spike’s oceanic blues settled on the weapon and he nearly warped with wanting. He ignored it while he placed the lids carefully on the boxes, then, carrying the two with one arm he seized the sword almost jealously, giving the cavern a last sweeping look and then left it all for dust.

As strong as he was, Spike soon came to realise he wasn’t a bleeding circus juggler as he teetered back and forth trying to not drop the lot. He heaved a useless sigh of relief once he emerged from the mouth of the cave and took the few steps to his grounded Desoto. Keys inserted, he popped the boot and put his stash inside, bouncing in pure joy for the first time since he and Buffy had shagged.

He was standing under shady trees, but dappled splatters of sunshine sprinkled across his coat arms and he stared at the spots in amazement. Unlike the last time, he stopped and took it in, let his coat fall from his shoulders and watched as the sun played against his alabaster skin.

“Best not let the sun burn,” he told himself ironically, and his smile chased the sun as he headed behind the wheel of the car. Only when his bare back hit the leather of the bench seat did he notice his lack of clothing. Hauling himself back out of the car, Spike rifled through his bag in the back seat and came up with his staple black T-shirt. Pulling it roughly over his head, he frowned at his duster that was still lying discarded in the dirt, and chuckled at how the prospect of living in the light had wiped everything from his mind, including his precious coat.

Suitably attired, he found himself behind the wheel of the Desoto and driving over bumps and sticks until he once again rolled over asphalt. The grin was yet to leave his face as he rolled to a stop outside Giles’s apartment complex.

The cocky walk was evident as he made it to the path, turning back briefly to scan the surroundings and wonder how safe it might be to leave his haul in the boot of his car. For long seconds Spike stood indecisive, wondering if he should take his boxes inside or get Giles out here to find a better place to hide the treasures.

Finally, deciding he’d look a mite conspicuous walking into a fella’s home with a dirty big sword, he was swayed to the side of getting help first. With a definite light spring to his step and a hummed tune from his lips, Spike beat a path in the sunlight to Giles’s door.

Two hard knocks ought to do it, he thought in distraction, watching how the sun played chasies with shadows in the courtyard.

His laugh was infectious and Giles found himself smiling as he opened the door, not immediately clicking the phenomena of Spike standing in the sun.

“Well, you seem remarkably chipper,” he remarked in a matching mood, and Spike smiled even wider. The change in the old man’s reception of him caused some small melting of the hardness coating Spike’s dead heart, something so totally different to the way they were to treat him in the future. He might never have guessed that his few lousy death threats would have had this much impact, and just hoped that it would stay this light and carefree.

It never even occurred to Spike that it wasn’t necessarily his own actions that had caused the prejudice in the Scooby group, but the devastation of Angelus. That the paternal evil vampire completely played the torture game and visited emotional torment on this man in particular, was something that forced the lack of trust to be at the forefront of any Slayer /Vampire relations following.

“Wondered if I could borrow your muscles for a mo? Got some boxes that I was hopin’ you might look after for me till I can find a safer place.”

Giles nodded and, propping his door open, followed Spike to his beaten black classic.

“Like old cars, then, do you?” he asked conversationally, wondering what the vampire would think of his Citroen.

“Not in general. Got a bit of a soft spot for this beauty,” Spike answered while patting the less than shiny coat of paint. Giles released a disappointed sigh and watched as Spike popped the boot and began to lift out the boxes.

As one box was passed to him, Giles noticed the bright sun glaring on the sidewalk and looked at Spike in sudden nervousness. He took a step back, stumbling slightly from the heaviness of the load in his arms.

“Y-y-you, you’re in the sunlight.”

Spike stopped what he was doing and stayed still. No sudden moves as he could smell the slight tang of fear in the gentle breeze.

“I’ll tell you all about it, Rupert. Don’t go thinkin’ anything nasty and sinister. Look, let’s just get this stuff inside and I’ll reveal all. Alright?”

The older human nodded and Spike sighed that he wasn’t going to be challenged or ‘outed’ while still standing in the street. Before grabbing the second box, he slid the sword under his coat, away from prying eyes, and closed up the car. Following closely behind Giles, he heaved a sigh of relief once the Watcher’s door was closed and the newly liberating sunshine was off his back. The sensation of warmth was too new for him to want to take it for granted just yet.

Without asking, Giles removed the lid of his own box and gasped in shock.

“What is all this?” he demanded as his hands delved into the pile of gold and sparkling stones.

“There was this legend, see. A gem that could make vampires impervious to harm. Stakes, sunlight, crosses can’t hurt or kill them.”

Giles watched the vampire with horrified understanding. “And you have found the Gem of Amara? I thought it was just a legend.”

Spike took a while to think before finally nodding his head in concession. He shouldn’t be surprised that the Watcher knew about the gem.

“Look Rupes, before you start gettin’ all paranoid, I don’t plan to kill you. Look, lets go out, to the beach maybe, get some lunch and have us a chat.”

“You don’t expect me to watch you pick off a sunbather, do you?” Giles had retreated tactfully behind his dining table, and Spike clenched his jaw at how hard it was to earn trust. For the first time he could ever remember, he cursed his condition as a vampire.

“Actually, I’ve got a bit of a hankerin’ for some fish and chips, but that’s prolly not likely in good ole Sunny D.”

Giles offered his first smile of camaraderie since Spike’s revelation and decided to move back to stand in front of the vampire.

“These things you have here are quite valuable. What were you planning to do with them, can I ask?”

“Pretty sure you just did, mate!” Spike grinned, feeling the groove of his good humour rebuilding at the thought of his plan. “Want to sell it if I can, get the best price and what not. Thought it might be a good idea to set up a trust fund for Buffy, just incase she should ever need it.”

Spike couldn’t help but become lost in thoughts of the blond he loved and so for the most part missed the look of surprised admiration on the Watcher’s face.

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

Spike could feel himself throb with the suggestion and tried to calm himself down.

“I’m lookin’ out for her best interests.” His reply was stubborn.

“You know she thinks she is in love with Angel, don’t you?” Giles couldn’t help pointing out the obvious, even if his judgement of this paradox was beginning to put Spike ahead of Angel.

“That poof is no good for her. He’ll hurt her in every way.”

Giles blanched at the cool, confident claims Spike offered him.

“He has a soul,” Giles argued, but got no further as Spike began to huff and pace in a frenetic manner around his living room.

“Do you know how bloody sick to the back teeth I am of hearing about the Great One’s almighty soul? It’s worthless. What does it even mean? He’s on the side of good? Well, so am I. I’ll do anything for her, and even you lot, as bloody irritating and useless as you all can be. I won’t leave her, I won’t hurt her, and I don’t have a soul to lose. And let me tell you, Watcher, an Angel without soul is far from a pretty sight.”

Given the evidence and the passion with which the blond vampire spoke, Giles felt more than compelled to agree with him. He accepted the argument, and silently he rooted for Spike. He had an odd feeling that there was something rather special about this one. He claimed he had no soul, didn’t want a soul, but there was something already there. Something that brought him so far into the light, almost unknowingly onto the road to redemption, that it was too late for him to turn back. And Giles was hit with the genuine feeling that Spike seemed to put everything behind him and moved on.

He looked hard at the contents of the box again and could see that if the other contained even half the treasures of the first, then Spike was in for possessing a rather large sum of money. That he wanted to put it into supporting Buffy was almost beyond Giles’s comprehension, but he would fully support it.

“I think it might be safer if we took these over to Joyce’s gallery. I am sure she would have a safe and could store these for you until we can work out the best way of selling them. Perhaps an auction would be a way to go. Keeps it all rather anonymous.”

Spike watched Giles in disbelief. His whole argument was shot down with silence. He’d mounted this worthy wall of rage to defend his actions and he was stopped in his shoes with tacit acceptance. His relief made him shake.

“Sounds like a ruddy marvellous idea. Never actually been to Mum’s gallery.” He perked up considerably at the idea of seeing Buffy’s mum and wondered if she stocked hot chocolate in her office. Probably not, he concluded sadly.

“And the gem?”

Spike’s attention returned to Giles with a thump, and he watched carefully for any further signs of fear.

“Can we go for that walk, have some grub and talk about it then? Jus’ let me enjoy some sun for the first time in over a century?”

Giles softened enough to offer a warm smile.

“Of course. And what were you planning to do with the sword you’ve got hidden beneath your coat?”

Spike beamed as he pulled it out, wielding it in expert arcs to the side of Giles, hoping the Watcher could see the beauty of the thing.

“See the pretty stones in the handle? Thought Buffy might like it. You know, as a birthday present.”

Giles nodded again in approval, and gave in to his curiosity. “It is rather stunning. I’m sure she will very much approve of it.”

“Don’ want her to approve of it, chum. Want her to feel it. Feel the way it talks and whispers its secrets. Reckon it’d be perfect for a Slayer.” Spike seemed to become mesmerised by the glistening blade as he cut circles in the air.

Giles picked up his box, lid now intact and indicated that Spike should do the same.

“Perfect time to drop these off to Mrs. Summers before the gallery closes, and then we can see about finding some chips at least. Not sure about fish, here. But the beach sounds like the perfect place for a chat.”

The two men carried their load back to the car, Giles locking the door after Spike’s later exit, stashing the sword for the meantime under the sofa.

Downtown traffic was quick and they reached the gallery after a comfortable silence in the car. Giles kept quiet, wanting desperately to give in to his inner researcher and ask a multitude of questions about the gem, about how Spike felt in the sun, about what he planned to do with it. But he could accept that the vampire wanted to wait before saying anything. Wanted to sort out the housing of his loot first.

A quick meeting with Buffy’s mother reminded Spike that he hadn’t really had much to do with her yet, and he found himself surprised. Seeing her had been difficult, though. He found himself wanting to bury his head in her shoulder and hold her hard, hang onto her life and never let it seep away from her. Ask her advice on how to help Buffy the best.

But this wasn’t his Joyce. Not yet anyway. Right now, she was someone he needed to relearn, and he had every intention of becoming her new best friend. When she died again, he wanted to be there to offer comfort to the grieving, and strength where needed. And he wanted to have someone care enough about him to help soothe his pain.

With a tear hidden deep in his eye, they had left the goods under lock and big steely vault before turning the big car to the surf.

While Spike sat at a bench, face tipped upward to soak in the rays, Giles had been dispatched to locate what could pass for fish and chips. Spike looked at the man horrified when he returned and passed him a bag of fries and a fillet of fish, all embossed with the special golden arches logo.

“What the bloody hell is this? A happy meal?”

“It was all I could find,” Giles argued, petulance forming a pout. “It isn’t like you actually need to eat food, anyway.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t.”

Spike watched the bag as if he was expecting it to stand up and throw itself in the rubbish all on its own. When it didn’t move, he hesitantly pulled out the little red cardboard carton holding his fries and began to munch.

“So, the gem?” Giles found it difficult to tear his eyes away from the spectacle. He never knew that vampires could eat human food, knowing that Angel never did. Another thing to make Spike an anomaly to his breed. And admittedly, Giles was fascinated with this subject and eager to work him out.

“Yeah, ‘bout that. Look, I know it’s difficult for you lot to trust me, so how ‘bout I give you the ring when we get back and you can just hand it over if there are times it would be handy for me to be out in the day?”

Giles was yet again left speechless.

“You have found a way to make yourself resistant to becoming destroyed, and you want to give it up?”

Giles could tell immediately by the way the vampire hung his head that his original assumption was incorrect.

“Not a matter of want. It’s all about need. I need you lot to trust me. I need Buffy to trust me.” He raised pleading eyes to Giles and watched as the human considered.

Giles was completely arrested by the honesty, and the yearning sadness that he was sure was genuine in the vampire’s face. And decided to risk. Spike had had more than ample opportunity to attack them all, if that had been his evil plan. He’d been alone in his home, with Buffy, and with Angel, and not one small leaning toward violence had occurred.

“I don’t think it would be safe for me to hang on to it in my home.” Giles could see the disappointment immediately shape the slope of Spike’s shoulders.

“It’s not safe for me to wear either. Just take some smarty pants to work the mojo out and attack me, slip the big shiny off my finger and I’m dust. Would be right dangerous for some other vamp to get his hands on.”

“You say that like you’ve already experienced it.” Giles jumped as Spike barked out a humourless laugh.

“You don’t know how right you are, Rupes.”

Confusion settled on the Watcher’s brow, but he refused to become ruffled by the odd implication, and instead settled on thinking up a solution.

“Wh-what about the possibility of, er, concealing it within your person?”

Spike stared, emotion passing like shimmering lakes over his face. His eyes gleamed as he allowed hope to taint his voice.

“You mean, like, sew it in under my skin?”

“Er, something along those lines, yes.”

Spike looked thoughtful.

“Won’t poke out and spoil the outline of my abs or anythin’, will it?”

Giles seemed alarmed at the thought of anything to do with Spike’s abdominals.

“I’m rather sure that between Willow and myself we can sort something out.”

“Yeah, okay then. Worth a try, innit?”

And they were back to smiling again, watching the sun bounce giddily off the water, watching the crowd soak up and take it for granted, watched each other in a friendly comfort that Spike had craved but never received.

“Got any suggestions of where I can bunk down for the night? I’ve left the factory, an’ I told Peaches I wouldn’t be back so he’d take Dru. Minions’ll be all arse backwards with no one to tell ‘em what to do so I can go back and stake ‘em with the Slayer later if you want. Or I could try and get ‘em to convert to good ol’ pigs claret.”

Giles looked delighted at the prospect. “Do you think they might?”

“Dunno. If I was still there, maybe. But if I’m not there to make sure they’re doin’ the right thing, then they prolly won’t.”

“Oh,” Giles said in disappointment. “It’s probably best to destroy them, then.” He thought for a moment, before taking a breath to strengthen his resolve and turned to Spike, who was again watching the sea. “I know this could potentially be the most stupid thing I have ever done, but you are welcome to stay at my place until you find somewhere more to your suiting.”

He was non-plussed at that look of awe again, wondering how it was that he could affect the emotions of a notoriously evil vampire so effortlessly. All he had done was offer a place to sleep in complete disregard for the possible health of his neck.

“Do you plan to chain me up to your bathtub?” Spike asked, tongue in cheek.

“Of course not,” Giles spluttered, embarrassed that the thought had indeed crossed his mind. “I think the sofa would be perfectly comfortable for a few nights.”

“Thanks, mate. That’s right generous of you.” Spike looked hastily away as the tears shimmered over the clear deep sky blue of his eyes.

Giles cleared his throat, a little uncomfortable about the display of gratitude and wandered back into the subject of Spike’s recent jewellery haul.

“Mrs. Summers suggested the option of an auction to see all the treasures? How do you feel about that idea?”

“I think it’s a bloody brilliant idea. An excellent start. Do you think that lot would be worth much?”

Giles couldn’t stop himself from the continual surprise he felt in the company of this strange vampire.

“Unless the stones are fake, which I doubt, I think the lot would be worth a very attractive sum of money. The jewels alone are priceless, but as collector’s pieces, I think the sum you’ll end up with could be quite astronomical.”

“And the commission? If I let Joyce take it on, it should get her a pretty penny, too?”

Giles again was stunned at the depth of care Spike was displaying in regards to Buffy and her mother.

“I should think so.”

They passed the following hours discussing everything from sport, to the Scoobies. Spike’s lack of soul wasn’t mentioned again, and so the tense up didn’t reoccur. When the sun began to set over the water, the two Englishmen decided it was time to finally make tracks and returned to the car, and back to town.

A suggested stopover at the factory ensured that Dru had been taken by Angel—the minions at a loose end. Spike was able to retrieve the rest of his belongings and left the building behind him. No lingering sense of pain or even nostalgia. In more ways than one, this place was his past; Dru was his past.

He felt the positive effects of all he had done so far in his second chance. He’d managed to get Rupert on side, and as manipulative as he may be in the way he was going about things, he didn’t mean it to not be heartfelt, for his heart pounded at every interaction he had with these people. And with Buffy. He’d do anything, be anything, and that was his wish. Here he was and he was buggered if he’d let it all go to hell now.

Further travelling and he could park on the roadside, alighting and following Giles into his temporary home. By the time they reached the door Spike was feeling pretty tired, what with having been awake and in the sun all day. He was right knackered and preparing to gulp down his heated pig swill when a pounding on the door heralded the arrival of Buffy and he was pulled back out the door rather forcefully.

Standing with fire blistering her every surface, she was a vision. Heat radiated off her and Spike could see himself going up in flames if he dared to touch. His eyes soaked in her image, not knowing how long it would be before he could convince her that she belonged in his arms. Her presence only added to his happiness, until she uttered the one request he’d rather pass on for another day. A day abut a hundred years in the future.

“Tell me about Angelus,” she demanded with all the finesse of a bullfrog, and Spike’s tired mind could do little but mutter bitter obscenities.

“What do you want to know, pet?” he asked, and knew that nothing about this could possibly end well.


A/N...I appreciate all comments so far and am so very glad you are all enjoying this fic. Please keep the reviews coming, it is wonderful encouragment.





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