Chapter Fifteen

 

----====Spike====----

I felt the power coming from the earth. The soul felt wrapped in a cashmere blanket: all cosy and warm. My demon hated it: my fangs itched and my brow felt weighted with lead. The energies of the land and the woman who'd greeted us both welcomed and repelled me. Hey, I'm used to the latter, so even being half-wanted was a nice change.

So I made nice, and meant it.

She turned to me, looked closely, smiled, and said, "What a beautiful soul, and how strange to find it within a vampire. I think you were meant to come here, but that's not my field. You all look in need of some healing though, which is. Come inside, all of you. Let me help."

I nodded. Giles smiled his thanks. Wes's ingrained manners resurfaced in front of this serene woman. He said, "Thank you, but with the enemy at the gates, I think perhaps we should attend to them before availing ourselves of your kind hospitality."

She smiled again, and said, "Thanks for your concern, but they can't pass within our borders, at least so far. We'd certainly appreciate your... all of your help with ensuring it stays that way. But for now, I believe we are safe. Come, rest, eat, heal."

So we took the bags out of the car, and followed her into a big, old, stone house, with a slate roof, set in a garden full of flowers and plants. I recognised a few from the Magic Box, but these were still alive and they made my head feel all fuzzy, and in dire need of a cuppa.

I got my cuppa - unfortunately the house was a caffeine free zone, so it was herbal muck, with vegan rock buns and homemade jam. The jam was ok. The buns put my fangs at some risk, which was a pain as there aren't any dentists catering to vampires. Which is quite understandable I suppose; the attrition rate would be huge.

The ladies were lovely: we got shown up to three small, comfortable, if a little floral for my tastes, rooms to put our bags in. Then we went downstairs, and Giles and Wesley had a long chat with a couple of the ladies. The seer, Imogen, was apparently still locked in a vision coma, and it worried them. I put my tuppence-worth into the conversation, but a lot of it was over my head - well, it might not have been if I hadn't been so emotionally drained - especially as the description of Imogen's sufferings reminded me so much of Dru.

So I paced a bit, explored the parlour, and fended off friendly witches of all ages out to mother me. Admittedly the mothering bit was nice - and something I'd missed since Joyce went, but I knew I didn't deserve it so it was hard to take.

When I asked for a hot chocolate and got offered carob with roast buckwheat, I knew I had to get out. I mean, about the only thing worse would have been lentil bake for dinner. Then I looked at the menu board up in the dining room, and guess what, yep, lentil casserole with mung beans for the main course. I got a soul, but I'm not exactly cut out to be a vegetarian. I still have some limits - lentils are one of them.

I must have looked in panic meltdown mode, because Giles whispered low enough for only me to hear, "We have alternative supplies, don't worry, I'm not too keen on the mung beans either."

I love that man.

I must have looked well relieved, but I still felt a little smothered from all the 'nice'. So I said to Giles and Wes, "Want to check the beasties can't get in, lads?"

Wesley looked up from where he was deep in a talk with one of the women, and said, "Do you strictly need me? Melisande has some fascinating ideas about what the sprays could contain, and the possible purpose behind them."

I shook my head, and left him with the long-haired, slender herbalist. Nice looking bird, but her hair was a dull, wild mass of mousy blond, nothing like the shining tresses that haunted my dreams.

Giles picked his jacket back up from the chintz sofa and said, "Let's go. I'll feel better too knowing if they're still out there or not. Regan, Melisande, we'll be back soon."

I put on my jacket and said, "Lead on, McDuff! Ladies, Wes, see you later."

They nodded, and Giles and I took a little walk.

The setting was beautiful. The mist had cleared while we were inside. The big house and garden sheltered deep in a wooded valley, with a small river further down the hill, supplying water and serenity. I could feel the power coming from the stream: it didn't have the sting of Holy Water, it felt older and soothing somehow. The land felt old and strangely out of time with the 21st Century. I said as much to Giles.

He said, "The Stones are still active here; they escaped being neutralised in the Burning Times, and the powers can still be felt. But we're still here in 'Blair's Britain'. The girls pay their poll taxes and buy organic food from the supermarkets, but there is something older, stronger, and tangible here, I know, and it's worth protecting. So lets look for some intruders and knock them into the middle of next week."

He had a truly Ripper grin at that. I couldn't help myself; I grinned and said, "Mm... think I'll settle for the middle of the nose." He chortled.

We walked up the valley, keeping eyes, and my nose, out for DH's. I heard the faint hiss of inhalers, and I got a whiff of menthol at a couple of points, but while the smell could drift across the border, they couldn't get in. We couldn't get out either - so it was stalemate, which was a pain in the arse, as I really needed another good fight-stroke-distraction at that point. The fights, the pursuits, having company even, had all got me out of myself and given me a purpose, and had stopped me from getting lost in my past atrocities.

But I was so tired underneath.

The power of this place made me feel even more drained. It felt like the demon and the soul wanted a big smackdown. It was like being torn in two. When we climbed out of the valley up onto the moorland and saw the standing stones, my demon got itchier still. I've been in plenty of churches: Dru never could resist them, but they hadn't felt like this did. I've been in other power centres over the years, and the feelings had been similar, but I'd never had a soul and a demon inside me before, and it hurt.

It got worse as we got closer to the stones. "Giles, can we not go in there, please. It's this place... it's tearing me into pieces. My demon's itching at all this 'good', and my soul's fighting the demon 'cos it loves it here. I can't do it, I can't go in there right now."

So we sat down on the rocks facing the stones, under the stars, and I told Giles how I felt. I didn't want to. But I had to - especially if I might be a danger to these good people. I had to know if I was a risk. I didn't trust myself too well anymore, and I wanted to.

I crumbled again, not as bad before, but bad enough. I still wasn't used to people listening to me like I was worth anything, especially Giles after what he said to me during the singing spell, but he did. Then he handed me his handkerchief, took my cigarette packet out, and lit us both a fag. It helped a lot.

"Sorry about all that, mate. Just had to tell somebody. Don't like feeling torn in two. Not used to it. Don't normally have this problem. It was all-demon me that decided on the away-day to Africa after all, so it shouldn't whinge now. Dunno why it is, but it's bloody annoying." I sniffed.

"Quite. I think it's as you said; it's this place. We won't be here for long, so that will help. But I think you should talk to Regan and some of the others about this. They helped Willow integrate herself during the summer. She didn't have an actual demon powering her existence, but it wasn't far off that when she arrived. I think they may be able to teach you techniques to both control the demon and cope with the soul."

"Not chanting, please not chanting. Rupert, stake me now, please." I half meant it too. I am a Victorian, and one thing the Victorian in me doesn't do is get all chanty with non-hallucinogenic smoke. Hallucinogenic smoke is quite another thing.

He smiled, "There may be some chanting, but I think it might help. They know what they're talking about, and I know they'd love to help your soul." We both looked embarrassed, and then he said, completely taking the piss, "Your 'beautiful soul'". The laugh helped.

Giles continued, "I think talking with people who don't know the old you, and so don't have any pre-conceived ideas about you or grudges from the pre-soul period, might help too."

"Sorry. You're perfectly justified to hold grudges. Did some bloody horrible things to you, to Willow, to all of you, and everyone I've ever touched. And Buffy: I love her with every fibre of my being, and I can't stop, even now, even though I know she's never ever going to love me, and she's absolutely right not to, and I hurt her so much, even though I never meant to. I only ever meant to love her." I broke down again.

He dug out a dry hanky from another pocket. I reckon he owns shares in a handkerchief company. He passed it to me and said, "Buffy told me she behaved badly to you too."

"Bollocks, it's not her fault; it's all mine. God, Rupert, don't forgive me. Don't you bloody dare forgive me: I don't deserve it."

"It's not my role to forgive you or not. Do you see a dog collar round my neck? Do I have blonde hair and woefully inappropriate shoes? No, didn't think so. Only Buffy can forgive whatever it is between the two of you, which I most emphatically do not want to know the details of. I'm not an Agony Aunt - all appearances and the last six years notwithstanding, nor do I want to be. For me - I can forgive you what you did against me, and I do. After seeing what the soul's done to you, and knowing that you went for it of your own free will, how could I not forgive? Now can we please change the subject?"

"Course, and, thanks. Means a lot, you know?"

"You can make it up with another cigarette. You do remain a bad influence, you know. We really shouldn't be smoking here; we'll have to bring the butts back to the car. Regan will have my head if they litter the place."

I passed him a fresh fag. "Not literally, I hope?"

He smiled. "Hopefully not, though I haven't tested it before. But at least here we don't have to listen to any fake coughing and passive smoking lectures from Wesley. Although he has improved enormously since I saw him last. I think I actually like him now; it's most odd, I never expected to after all that happened in Sunnydale. But I do."

"Me too. Odd, innit? I'm a bit worried about him and that Lilah bird from Wolfram and Hart though. That one's a man-eater, and I've only just got to know the bloke; don't wanna stop now."

"They're... together?"

"All over each other, mate. Must have been going on for months, the way they'd soaked into each other's skin."

He grimaced, "I'm going to channel Willow now. Ewww." He did the face too. It was cute, in a really strange sort of way.

I grinned. "Very funny, mate. But, seriously, you and I both know what that firm's like, who it works for, and what it wants, and Wes has got himself all enmeshed with her and them. He knows an' all, but he's doing it anyway. He might not be able to get out even if he wants to. Know I ain't the right person to talk to him about all this, though I gave it a bit of a go..."

He exhaled sharply and looked tired. "I suppose that's my job, is it?"

Result! "Well... you being the expert and all."

He glared. "On what precisely?"

Not result. Bugger. "On... Watcher stuff. Wolfram and Hart bad, avoid at all costs, that sort of thing. Know you aren't the Agony Auntie, sorry, Uncle. But I do reckon he might listen to you, you being human, and a 'been there, done that, got the T-shirt, killed your personal demons' sort of bloke."

"That's who I am, is it?" He snorted, turned away for a moment, and took a long drag on his cigarette.

"I'm saying this all wrong. I'm sorry, Giles. I want to help and I don't know how to do it. I don't know how to do all this soul stuff - it's been a while, you know. It's the whole reason I set out on the bleeding odd journey that led me here. I needed help to work out how to function with a soul: I still do. I know I keep screwing it up, with what I want to say, and how it comes out. But I really do want to help. I'm just rusty, that's all."

He gave me a tired smile. "You're doing remarkably well so far, Spike. Keep it up and you'll make us all proud. I' will have a chat with Wesley, but right now think we should return to the house. There's blood in the cooler, but if you eat the pork pies, I may be forced to stake you."

"Anything other than the mung beans, huh?"

He snorted lightly, "Absolutely."

So I picked up the cigarette butts and we walked back to the house.

 

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