CHAPTER FOUR
&~~&
Spike supposed he should worry about his sanity. Having two extra entities in his head made him wonder how stable he truly was. He wouldn’t psychoanalyze himself so far as to believe he had multiple personalities - he didn’t switch from one consciousness to the next; he was always himself. At least, he thought he was. Did a crazy person know they were crazy?
The demon was nothing new. When it had first forced itself upon poor, newly vamped William, it had been blood thirsty and full of rage. Filled with new, alien sensations of raw anger and extreme bloodlust Spike had not been able to gain control over the demon until his Sire placed him firmly in hand teaching him how to control his savageness through particularly painful lessons. The next couple decades following William’s transformation into Spike, he had learned to temper the demon; controlling it to a point of submission. But sometimes, when he was unblocked or feeling strong emotions, the demon found ways to slide through his defenses.
The voice-like conscience he’d had since Africa, whom Spike dubbed the ‘Other’, seemed to be a reincarnation of William pre-Drusilla. For a long time after he had left Africa and traveled farther north up through Europe Spike was sure the Other was going to drive him insane. It was always there, nitpicking, telling him what to do. It didn’t speak to him, per se, but more portrayed emotions and feelings that were very difficult to ignore or misinterpret. And the guilt. He really should have been prepared. About half a year after Africa, when he was able to think lucidly for more than a half hour at a time, he was able to thoughtfully consider the situation. He hadn’t completely comprehended how deeply a soul would change him. In retrospect, he felt bloody idiotic. He had seen the effects of a soul on a vampire. He’d seen the most fearsome, vicious, merciless, and incredibly cruel vampire transformed into a simpering puppy. How could he have thought he’d be immune to that?
He himself was a kind of middle ground. He was himself, but not completely like he was pre-Africa. The best he could figure was that he was a mixture of both the demon and the soul with a bit of Spike thrown in. Confusing that was.
Like he had with his demon, Spike learned how to push back the Other, but he was never able to completely silence it. It was always there, nattering in the back of his head, but with practice he was able to ignore it … sometimes. Funny that Angel never mentioned this. The ponce had never once suggested his soul was like another consciousness’. Spike supposed his grandsire probably wouldn’t have mentioned it to his grandchilde even if it was. He had wondered many times over the last four years if the transition had been as bad for the older vampire. If it ever got better …
The constant conflict between his demon and the Other was frustrating. They were always pushing him in different directions. Most times he was able to push them back, maybe take their advice, maybe not. But sometimes, when he was experiencing particularly strong emotions, the demon or the Other would sneak past his defenses.
-This isn't a good idea-the Other harped. Spike pushed the voice away. The Other had been continually voicing its objections since Spike had come up with his plan to join the Newbloods as a spy. While the Other had been voicing its displeasure the demon had remained curiously silent, if not quietly humming in expectation. Spike supposed it knew that going along with his recruitment plan there was a likely chance of violence, and the demon was always in favor of destructiveness.
Spike sighed, raking a hand through his short platinum hair. Two days before he had called the number the vampire Don had given him. He had left his borrowed number and waited impatiently, constantly checking Xander’s cell phone in case he missed the call. Consequently, Spike’s constant checking the cell phone quickly ran down the battery, giving Spike a half hour panic while he searched for a charger.
Not that it mattered. They still hadn’t called. So he waited, afraid to sleep and miss the call. Not that he needed much sleep. Sleep only led to nightmares.
One thing Spike hadn’t anticipated was how many people actually called Xander. Almost all the calls were for Xander’s work; Spike began checking the caller ID before answering. It was very fortunate that he did as Anya, or as Xander’s phone displayed: Mrs. Anya Harris, called quite a few times. The first time Spike saw her name displayed he could only just stare at it, the cell phone shrilling a jaunty tune in his hand (a tune which Spike had soon after changed in a fit of annoyance to the Ramones). He didn’t know why he was so surprised to see Anya’s name on Xander’s cell phone. He knew she was living in the city with Xander. He knew it. But somehow, seeing her name made it seem more real. It made him realize that she was really here, living in the city he was. Not that this should have been a shock. He’d known for quite a while, ever since he smelled them all on Xander. Spike found himself clicking onto Xander’s contacts, and slowly went through the names revealed. He tried to convince himself he wasn’t playing peeping tom with Xander’s contacts in search of her number, but when he saw it, his heart clenched and he was unable to hide the truth from himself.
Her name was shown so simply. Right there. He could press the call button and she’d answer and he’d…and he’d. He couldn’t. He never felt so close, yet so far away from her in four years. Spike rubbed his thumb over her name gently, his eyes stinging with tears.
He snapped the phone shut, shuddering. The temptation to call her, to hear her voice was almost overwhelming. God he missed her. He missed her voice, her smell, the taste of her skin …
Spike shook his head roughly. He didn’t deserve to miss her. He didn’t deserve to know any intimate things about her. Especially how her nose wrinkled when she was angry, or how her eyes flashed when she was extremely pissed off, or how much warmth she had, how much love he saw in her every action with her friends and family …
Spike groaned loudly. His plan to not think about her was obviously going splendidly. Spike leaned back on his makeshift bed placing the cell phone on his stomach. Stretching his arms above his head he stared at the ceiling of the church basement he was currently calling home.
It was unorthodox, he supposed, that a vampire would live in the basement of a church. But Spike didn’t care, he wasn’t a normal vampire anyhow. Not that he had planned to live in the church for an extended amount of time, but it was dark, quiet, and he was never afraid another vamp or demon would force him out. It was quite … comfortable really. Other than the loud sermons every Sunday - but beggars can’t be choosers.
Spike’s whole body jumped when Xander’s cell phone pealed out a few high pitched bars of I Wanna Be Sedated. Sitting up he grabbed the phone and quickly checked the caller display. Unknown. Unknown? He hadn’t gotten an unknown caller before. Could it be the Newbloods? Spike’s finger paused over answering the call. What if it wasn’t the Newbloods? What if it was … someone else? Seconds ticked by. Three rings. Four rings. Spike took a deep breath then pressed the answer button and hesitantly placed the phone to his ear.
“‘Allo?”
“Hello.” A mechanical voice chirped. “This is a recording from Castillo and Co. a branch of Wolfram and Hart. This is regarding a call received from this number. Please change and growl for confirmation. You have thirty seconds.”
Spike blinked. What the hell?
“Twenty-five seconds.”
Did they mean – ?
“Twenty seconds.”
Spike let his game face take over his human features; and, feeling more than a little ridiculous, he growled into the mouthpiece.
“Thank you,” The insufferably cheerful voice said. “Please wait one moment for confirmation.”
Spike’s eyebrows furrowed. From his brief altercation with Don he hadn’t thought the Newbloods to be a very organized group. However, having a calling system that analyzes a vampire’s growl – well, that spoke volumes.
“Confirmation verified. Address of meet at,” The voice paused, Spike hurriedly perched the phone between his shoulder and ear and scrambled to find a pen and paper. “Baker street, 5905, alley third on right side, two blocks in. Security number is 274228. Twenty-four hours. Goodbye.”
Spike finished writing the security number on the back of his arm when the phone clicked to the dial tone. Pressing the end call button, Spike slipped the cell phone into the back pocket of his jeans.
Well. That was easy. Very easy.
And yet his stomach was tied in knots.
~~…~~
“Tomorrow night?”
Spike nodded. “Yep. Got me a number and everythin’.”
Xander looked at Spike, thoroughly impressed. “Wow. That’s fantastic.”
Spike merely shrugged.
Xander paused a moment. “Spike … I … Just thanks. For doing this.”
“It’s nothing, mate.” Xander wanted to contradict the vampire. It wasn’t nothing. It was major. Majorly major. But the finality in Spikes tone made it very clear to Xander to let it go.
“I wish I could go with you.” He said instead.
Spike glanced up from the pool table at the human. “The whole pulser thing might tip them off. But thanks ever so.”
A few more moments passed in silence as Xander watched Spike methodically sink every ball he aimed at.
“What’s your game plan?”
Spike raised an eyebrow. “Game plan?”
“You know, once you’re in there, what are you gonna do?”
“Get a lay of the place, I s’pose. See what’s going on, what we’re facing and what all. Maybe get a piece of their property for Red to magic up, see if she can…”
Spike froze. He hadn’t meant to mention her. He really hadn’t. They passed several seconds in silence, neither moving.
“How did you know she’s here?” Xander’s voice was low, neutral.
Spike didn’t look up. He didn’t want to see the distrust or doubt he knew must be swimming through Xander’s eyes.
“It’s the smell, mate. I can smell her on you.” He said lightly tapping his nose.
Xander relaxed. “Okay, that’s kinda gross.”
“Perks of being a vamp. Wanna join?”
“World of no.”
“Pity.”
Xander was silent for a few seconds, inwardly debating with himself before blurting, “She can’t.”
Spike perched a cigarette between his lips, having a scratched a ball he gestured to Xander it was his turn. “What’s that?”
“Willow. She, um, can’t do magic. I mean, she can. Just she doesn’t do it – anymore.”
Spike stared a Xander. He could see the line that neither of them dared to cross. The line that led to personal topics. It was slightly blurred, but it was still there. Could he step over it? Should he? The Other and the demon were infuriately silent on the matter.
“Really?” He said carefully.
“Yeah. She kinda tried to destroy the world.” Seeing the stricken look on Spike face he hurried to continue, “We saved it. I mean, obviously. But since then she went to magic rehab … she’s been doing really well.”
“Red tried to … destroy the world.” Spike said it but had a very difficult time merging the idea of destroying the world with Willow as the destroyer. It was unthinkable.
Xander correctly interpreted Spike gob smacked face. “Yeah, I know. Really insane. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t been there.”
“When did this happen?”
“Uh, not long after you left actually.”
Spike closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Not long after he left her. He’d left her when she needed help. He’d left her and her best friend tried to destroy the world.
“Why?”
Xander looked up from his position bent over the pool table. “Huh?”
“Why did she try to do it?”
Xander’s face darkened. “Tara was murdered.”
Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.
Spike pressed a hand to his stomach. He was going to be sick.
“Listen, mate, I … gotta go.” He didn’t wait for a response. Spike flew out of the bar and down the street. He finally ended up in the back of some nameless alley, landed on his knees and heaved. Tears ran down his cheeks.
Oh god. Glinda was dead. Murdered. Red tried to destroy the world. He left. He left her. He left her after he tried to … and then Glinda … and then Red …
Sobs racked him. He ached. His heart ached. Glinda … Tara … such a sweet, kind girl. She didn’t deserve to die. He deserved to die! Was there no justice? What he did to her … and they took away such a pure soul and let him continue to exist? How was that right? How could that be?
Poor Tara, poor Willow, poor Buffy …
Spike mentally shuddered. Buffy, Buffy, Buffy. He hadn’t allowed himself to think her name in so long.
He growled, his game face on without his realizing it. He growled in pain, in mourning. For Tara, for Willow, for Buffy.
Then, curling up on himself, he wept.
.~~...~~
His emotions were not always steady. Hell, even before the Other he knew his emotions controlled almost every part of his existence. He was passionate to a fault. Angelus had tried to beat it out of him, but even at his worst his grandsire was never able to fully eradicate William. To survive Angelus’ reign of terror Spike learned to pretend William wasn’t a part of him. However, there was something that he couldn’t hide, something that never failed to stroke Angelus’ anger: Spike’s love for Drusilla. Spike had loved her passionately, reverently, completely without reservations. Sometimes he still found himself amazed he had fallen out of love with her after a century of her being his entire world. Not that he didn’t still love Drusilla, he knew he always would. But he would never be in love with her again. No - most definitely not. When he was in love he put his entire heart, his entire existence into it, and there was only one woman he was in love with. One woman that he loved with every fiber of his being – one woman that would never love him back.
Spike sighed rubbing his eyes. He had to stop thinking about her. It only brought pain and sorrow … not that he didn’t deserve it. He couldn’t even begin to fathom how Buffy felt after Tara died and Willow tried to destroy the world…
-We didn’t know what would happen.- The Other soothed.
I should have! I left her when she needed me most.
-Do you really think it would have been in our best interest to stay after what happened? Do you think she would have wanted us there?-
Spike shied away from the question. Of course she wouldn’t have. Of course.
--
Spike checked his arm, then the address, then back at his arm. Had he written it down wrong? No, he was sure he hadn’t. Yet, here he was in a dark empty alley, no markers for ‘Castillo and Co.’ nothing that alluded to Newbloods. Nothing. Feeling a moment of irritation Spike ground his cigarette out with an angry growl.
“Computing confirmation.”
Spike jumped, looking around the alley trying to detect where the voice emitted from.
“Confirmation verified. Please type in security code.”
Something slid out from the wall. Some sort of mechanical device was the best Spike could wager. It popped open revealing a set of keys with numbers neatly imprinted on them.
“Please type in security code.”
Stepping forward quickly Spike typed in the security code he had written on his arm. The device closed with a click and disappeared into the wall.
“Computing security code verification.”
Spike touched the wall trying to see where the device had emerged from, but his fingers only met rough brick. His eyes narrowed, was this magic?
“Security code verified. Please step into elevator.”
For the second time in less than five minutes Spike jumped as elevator doors sprung open right in front of him. That most definitely hadn’t been there. Spike hesitated, feeling more than a little unnerved. The elevator was slick metal; he didn’t know why but it gave Spike a distinctly ominous feeling. He hadn’t expected magic – if that was what that was. He had a brief moment of clarity where he knew he was getting in over his head.
“Please step into the elevator.”
Well, he’d come this far hadn’t he?
“Please - ”
He stepped in.
The doors slid shut silently behind him. There were no buttons, only smooth metallic walls. It was thankfully a short descent. The elevator came to a halt, but the doors didn’t open immediately.
“Please be on guard.” The voice said. Spike only had a moment’s confusion before the doors opened.
Then he smelled them. Demons.
-Oh, dear,- the Other lamented.
The demon giggled with excitement.
“Oh, bugger.” Spike said as ten demons came into view, each holding a wicked looking machete.
&~~&
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