The Real Boy
I trusted him, and he betrayed me. I needed him, and he abandoned me. I don't understand. I have all these feelings about Spike. All these feelings I'm supposed to have. All the feelings I'm not supposed to have.
Evil! Spike! I could throw him into that church organ - no problemo. It's what you do to the monster of the week that's hurt your boyfriend - big check in the Slay column. The enemy that makes you a deal to save the world in order to get his ho back - entering weirdville, but ok, if you squint it makes a kinda sense that's not. Killing shopkeepers, trying to kill my friends, and oh yes, me: that's easy - black hat electro-ray destroying Metropolis bad guy. Chipped, helpless and hunted - slightly fuzzier, but he still sold me out to Adam: so, easy again.
Then we get the 'in love with me' yuck, and cattle prods - what girl would put that as anything but big time bad? Hell god torture - that's hard and it's annoying, and it has to be good. Saving my life, helping me, being there for Dawn and them, when I was dead - it's so not fair. Why won't he be who he's supposed to be? It would be so much easier. I could deal then.
Then there's the bathroom. That one's so easy. I hate him for it; what woman wouldn't? It hurt. I know it shouldn't have surprised me, what with him being an evil, soulless thing, but I never expected that - killing me, yes, but never that. It made it easier, you know? I didn't have to think about anything I ever did to him. I didn't have to think about battering him senseless in an alley and leaving him to die. Oh no, I was the victim. I hated Xander taking away my choice to tell Dawn, but it did mean I didn't have to talk about Spike all summer with them. No forcing the victim to pick at the scabs - it's an easy way to live when there's a lot you don't want to face.
Then he does this. The bastard gets a soul. He does it because I battered it into him with fists and even more hurtful words that it's the only way that he'd ever be real to me. How can I forgive him what he's done? But I have to, right? Since he's got a soul now. I hate him for this. How could he do this to me? How dare he put me in this position?
Like I'd ever forgive him. But how can I not? I forgave Angel, and the last time I saw him without a soul, he was trying to kill me with a sword, after torturing the man that's been the only father I've had in recent years and, oh yes, trying to destroy the world. I should forgive Spike. He did it for me. He's suffered, and he's still suffering, I can see it in his eyes. Hell, even my Watcher vouches for him and trusts him. They've got this huge 'save the world' thing going down with these weird dissolving bad-guys. He's doing it for the sake of people who aren't me. What kind of person am I, if I don't forgive him? I don't want to be that kind of person. I didn't when I went to the desert. I don't now.
It would be easier, in fact it would be so good, if I didn't still want him. I'm pissed he seems to want to spend more time with my best friend than he does with me. Sure, they've got the whole 'recovering evil' thing to bond over, but he's mine, not hers. His soft hair, those so clever fingers, that voice that goes straight to the core of me - they're mine, not hers, and I still want them. I want him. I know it's shameful. I did the school thing. OK, I flunked school, but what kind of politically correct, Feminism 101 grrl of the 21st century would I be, if I forgive him and admit I still want him after what he did to me?
Yet he saved my soul from the soul-stealing spell. That's the most precious thing I have. Hell, he even saved Xander's.
My life is crazy. It's official.
I'm living La Vida Loca. Why don't I get French Champagne? I got bourbon that burnt my throat. I never get to dance in the rain. I dance with death. The candles we played with were so good, but all sticky and shameful, and I still got the sucky ending. It's so not fair. Why me? All I ever wanted was to be normal. I got this farce of a life instead, or should I say 'tragedy'? I should know, but I slept through most of English class, what with all the world save-age.
When we met at the Expresso Pump I said the words that got us this far, but feeling it in my heart is so much harder. Feeling anything is still so hard. It's been so hard for so long. Angel, Mom, dying, everything. When I got back everything was so sharp and bright and painful that I froze. I froze for so long, and it did numb the pain. I wouldn't have done it if it didn't help on some level. But I knew I shouldn't freeze. I used Spike to try to break the ice, but I couldn't let him. I couldn't let an evil soulless thing touch me, not and still be me. Freezing wasn't good for me - boy, I know that one. Nearly dying again made me try, and I've been trying so hard to thaw, to touch Dawn and feel like it's real, to touch life and really know it. It's so hard, sometimes it still feels like I'm touching the world through ski-mitts.
Spike and me have made our peace and a fresh start, and it's working, what with the whole saving the world thing again. We've even spent time together without hurting each other - and I so didn't believe that was possible. Then there was the moonlight on his eyelashes. He has such beautiful eyes, and they always see through me. But that's how we got into that mess, isn't it? He could see more than I could ever admit to me, let alone him. Now it's too late. He's done what should give him a clean slate, but it's there like an elephant in the corner. He can't make a move on me - I can see him wanting to and checking himself. I can't make a move on him, even if I want to, not and be a hero and a good role model to Dawn.
Another monster mess that is so my life, huh? I'd swear up a storm at all this, but the only people that do seem to get to swear are Brits - as Giles pointed out when we all watched Independence Day - apocalypse by alien made a good change from apocalypse by demon. Spike's so good at swearing; all his 'little nasties' made me so hot. I want that again. But I can't have it, can I?
Now there's all this. He's been far away for days.
Oh, he's there to patrol and he spends hours with Willow. He even goes for take-out for the ward-breaking research parties. His body's here, and still so fine to look at when no one can see me, but his attention's been elsewhere. He told me everything he's been doing, and did while he wasn't here, at the coffee shop. It was more than I could ever ask of him, and much more than I'm able to take in, though I tried, I really did. But there's something else in his eyes, and he's asked me over here to tell me, "Something important, pet, that you need to know." When you think of the vamp-ho's and my boyfriend that I got to see the last time Spike said something like that, you'll understand why I'm all wiggy.
So, Spike's apartment; apartment of Spike - and so still trying to get my head around that idea. Still trying to get my head round so much. I'm not sure I'm gonna be able to deal with more Spike bombshells, but I have to try. If he can try for and win a soul, I can trust him enough to be here and to listen. It'll be hard, but I have to try. I owe him that at least. I'm still scared though. Part of me might always be a wounded girl in a bathroom, but most of me is the Slayer, and she's strong and able to take anything he has to tell me. Or him, if he hasn't really changed.
I do trust Giles, but not blindly. How can I trust anyone blindly anymore? It only leads to betrayal or desertion. So I trust that Giles thinks Spike's changed. I trust the evidence of my eyes and ears that he saved my soul at great pain to himself. Though he saved my neck before he even got the soul.
Against all the laws of female common sense, I'm walking into the home of the man who tried to rape me - but, then, he's not the same man, according to everything I've told myself for years, is he? It's the first time I've been here, but my house is full, and he said I might want some privacy, which is worrying, but I have to make a start on the trust the 'New Spike' thing at some point, I guess.
It's not a great area, and the building is shabby, but clean. I knocked on the door. I stared at my knuckles for a moment, as 'knocking' on Spike's door felt the oddest thing of all, but I shook it off when the door opened. His hair was mussed, like he'd been running his fingers through it too many times for even his hair-gel to cope. His tasty adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, tilted his head and almost shyly invited me into his home.
I crossed the threshold.
It was a small place, with heaps of books and papers piled up in the corners, and a computer surrounded by note-paper. But it was surprisingly tidy, and very clean, with a strong scent of incense similar to that in Willow's room. I wrinkled my nose at that thought, but managed to say, "Very nice."
"Not much, I know, but it's all legit, and it's a start, right?"
I smiled only a little nervously, "Yes, it is. And you don't need to tell me, I know you've changed."
He gave me a quick smile, clearly heartfelt. "Thank you. Um... come in. Would you like a cup of tea or anything?"
I sat on the small, shabby couch. "Now I know there's a problem. It must be a genetic thing with all Englishmen. See trouble, make tea."
He ran his left hand through his hair, pushing it further into the curly mess he hates so much. "Tea, yeah, must make tea. Knew this was a stupid idea."
"Spike, no tea. Sit. Talk to me. What's up? More apocalypse-y badness?"
He sat facing me on the wooden chair by the table, chewed on his full lower lip, and said, "Maybe, dunno at the moment, no-one does, that's the problem. But there's something you need to know. God, this is so difficult. I knew I should have listened to Giles and let him tell you. You're going to hate me, but I can't not tell you. Gotta be open and honest, the witches said so."
"Spike, worrying me now. What should you have let Giles tell me? Is there something he missed out about your soul?"
"No, pet. You got the full story, un-edited, unabridged an' all. And I'm right grateful he told you, I'm not sure I'd have been able to keep it together long enough to tell you myself. Or that you'd have given me the time to tell you without staking me - which I'd deserve."
"We covered this. I really don't want to go there again! What's the matter, Spike? What do I need to know so badly and that I need privacy for?"
"Nothing to do with me, not direct anyway, we think. Though we could be wrong"
"Spike!"
"Buffy, I know this is a difficult subject, but how much do you know about what's been happening in LA over the last year?"
"How 'bout them Lakers?"
"Buffy!"
"Sorry, avoid-y girl here. I take it you mean Angel." He nodded. "Not so much. Too painful, and you know me, not-so-good-at-communicate-y Buffy."
A pained snort/smile. "Yeah, Angel. Before I say anything and you tear my head off, I just want to say I'm not doing this to hurt you. You've a right to know, and I can't hide anything from you. I never could, can't start now. It's been tearing me apart thinking about it. I'm sorry, Buffy."
"Spike! More talking, less babbling - that's Willow's job."
Again with the smile/snort. "Too right. Ok, talking. What do you know about Wolfram and Hart?"
"Evil lawyers, big with making Angel's life miserable. But that's pretty much it. He's not big with the sharing thing either." I tried to talk to him when we last met, but it never works and it always hurts.
"Too bloody right. There's this big prophecy."
"Can I say again how big with not loving those things I am?"
"Me too, pet. Me too. Anyway, there's this big prophecy about a souled vampire who'll be vital in the End of Days, but it's unclear which side he'll be on. So, Wolfram and Hart have been trying to send Angel dark, but soul-having."
"But, you're all soul-guy now too."
"Yeah, and that's another reason to tell you, if I'm to be around. They may well start on me, and so, gotta tell you, right?"
"Right. Big check. Evil lawyers badness on the Buffy highway."
"Probably. But that's just for starters. Main course - in trying to send him dark they brought back Darla."
"Dust Darla?" Not loving this.
"Yep. They brought her back human. She did her bit in trying to send him around the bend. He tried to save her, failed and Dru re-vamped her. He flipped, sacked his mates and.... I'm sorry, Buffy. This is hard... but there is a reason I'm telling you."
"Spit it out, Spike." I hate feeling scared.
"He slept with Darla, and she came back pregnant. She dusted herself to give birth to my nephew/great uncle. Anyway, that left Peaches with Miracle Baby, the product of two vampires, who may be very important in yet more bleeding prophecies, and who shouldn't exist, but does."
I could feel my heart being crushed in a vice. "Uh? What?"
"The baby was kidnapped by Wesley to save the boy from a prophecy that he'd be consumed by his own father. Wes got his throat cut trying to protect the kid from a resurrected 18th century vampire hunter with good cause to hate both Angel and Darla. Vamp Hunter took both of them into the very worst of the Hell Dimensions. The kid's now a teenager who's back and living in LA, after lots of adventures. Angel's not happy with Wes, to say the least, and Wes is a mate, making me even more persona non-grata with Angel. The kid is family, and possibly a danger, as he was brought up to hate vamps, demons, and probably witches."
"Angel's got a child? And he didn't tell me?" That really hurts. It shouldn't, but it does. He didn't trust me? About something so important? About every important decision he ever made for me? The last twist of the vice - I could feel something crack.
"Um, no. Sorry, pet. I know this must hurt."
"You know this must hurt?" I lost it. I stood up and stomped over to him. "You. Know. This. Must. Hurt!" I got right in his face, swung my fist and connected. "It's gonna hurt. Oh yes, it's gonna hurt." I was white-hot furious. I could feel the anger burning through my veins. I knew I shouldn't do this, that 'don't shoot the messenger' and all that garbage, but all I could see was red, and it hurt so bad, and punching Spike always helps.
He let me take a couple of punches before he caught my fist, kissed the knuckles, stood up, and said, "I deserved that. I deserve a hell of a lot more, but I'm not a punching bag anymore, Buffy. I'm not telling you this to hurt you. I'm telling you this because you could get hurt worse if you don't know."
"And you care if I'm hurt." I'm crying now, but still furious.
"Of course I care, you stupid bint. I love you."
He wiped away a tear with his thumb. I smacked his hand away, and punched him with my left fist. My left isn't as good as the fist he already had custody of, but that's not surprising - he's the southpaw, not me. "You love me? You take pleasure in telling me that the love of my life has a child that's all big dangerous prophecy stuff and he couldn't be bothered to tell me. And you expect me to believe you that you love me? You?"
He grimaced, and caught my left, holding my two hands together between us. He looked me right in the eyes and said, "Yes, me. The one that's honest with you always. And do you think this is easy? That this is a pleasure? God, no! I've torn myself apart thinking about this. Don't you think it would have been a bloody sight easier not to tell you, or let Giles do it? He offered, you know."
"So why not let him do your dirty work? You did with the soul." I ground my heel into his foot, but with his DM's that didn't work. It was the honesty thing that got me. It hurt. It hurt so much. Why couldn't Angel ever be open with me? And why the hell is Spike always so painfully honest with me?
"Because Giles did that for me. I couldn't ask him to do it again. Poor sod's been through more than enough."
"Yes, and it's all my fault. I couldn't kill Angelus fast enough, and Jenny died and he was taken. It's always my fault." It is. The tears poured down my cheeks.
"Buffy, no, it's not your fault. You did your best." His thumb stroked my imprisoned hands, but I'd stopped trying to free them. There wasn't anything but support and love coming from his face. He was there this time. I wish he wasn't. I wish I hated him for it. It would be so much easier to hate him.
"Oh yeah, sure I did. I did it so well we nearly got sucked into hell, and I still had to kill the man I loved, who left me anyway. They all leave me."
"I wouldn't leave you," he smiled at me.
"You did!"
"Duh, yes. To get a soul for you, you daft bitch."
"I never asked you to!" Not that I ever thought it even possible, but then Spike's always been different. I wish he wasn't - it would make my life so much simpler.
"Multiple fractures say otherwise, pet," he said, with a lack of rancour that shamed me. I hate that feeling, so I swung my head back to head-butt him. With both hands trapped and one foot on his boot that was a mistake. We both lost our balance and fell back onto the carpet, him on top of me.
Time stopped.
He blanched and let go of my hands, and almost trod on my leg in his hurry to get off me. He scooted to the corner of the room, rocked himself with his hands over his head going, "No, no, no, not again. Never again."
He looked torn apart. The pain on his face was almost worse than I'd ever seen - worse than after what Glory did to him, worse than his face when I mushed it. I'd seen him like that once before, and it sent him to get his soul. The sight this time tore the need to hurt him right out of me. It hit too close to home. I'm not excusing anything, but I couldn't help hurting for him - and that's a first, I think.
I looked at him. I don't think I've ever seen him before, not really.
He was crying. He'd done something foul to me, but he'd saved my soul. In getting his and making it permanent, he'd done the one thing Angel never did for me, and which he'd killed to prevent when he was soulless. He'd told me something I never wanted to hear: that Angel had moved on and got the one thing I'll never have; though I do have Dawn.
I'd blamed Spike for telling me about Riley, more than I did Riley - and that makes a sense that's not, I know - though I do think Spike told me so I'd turn to him then. But this time he'd told me the news about Angel for the right reasons. I could see in his eyes that this time was different. That he was different from what he was before, and that he really did never want to hurt me again, and couldn't.
I really could see the difference in him, and that was a shock and not the first tonight.
That sent me over slowly to him. I crouched next to him quietly. I didn't want to send him further into himself. I put a hand on his shoulder, and he flinched. That tore the last cracks around the ice I've felt in my heart for so long that the pain no longer registered. Now I could feel everything at full intensity again. That hurt, and I started crying again.
My sobs brought him out of himself. He said, "I'm sorry. Buffy, I'm so sorry."
"I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have hit you. You should never let me hit you again."
"Deserved it."
I wiped away his tears with my thumb. "Not this time, Spike. And hey, new start here, we agreed, remember?"
"No falling into bad old patterns."
"No." I tried to channel Perky! Buffy! "New patterns. No hitting and fresh starts."
He choked, "New start. If only. It's always going to be there, isn't it?"
"Can't change the past, but you've changed. I can see it. I can see you."
That shocked him out of the rocking and crying. There was a look of wonder in his eyes. He looked into my eyes. "You can see me?"
"Oh yes. I can, I really can."
The temperature in the room shot up noticeably.
"It's all I ever wanted, Buffy."
"And for Timmy to be a real boy, according to Mom." I said. He smiled, and I felt that smile deep in my bones.
"That too, Buffy. That too. Poor Timmy."
Clem must have been taping them for him. I only knew Timmy died because Passions is Dawn's guilty secret, and what kind of sister would I be if I didn't know?
"Timmy's become a real boy. I can see him." I put my other hand on Spike's shoulder, and he let me. It felt right there.
"You can?" He brought his hand up and stroked my hair. It felt wonderful.
"Yes, I can."
I ran my fingers down his cheek, and continued, "I can see him now, and I want to know him. I want to know if his soul is as beautiful as your face."
He laughed. I went to smack him, but stopped, tilted my head, tried for quizzical instead of glare, and said, "What's with the funny?"
He stopped laughing, but smiled bashfully, strangely enough, and replied, "Something one of the ladies in Devon said. She took one look at me and said I had a beautiful soul. Giles took the piss of course, but it was nice to hear."
I smiled back. "Hey, if they can cure Willow, and teleport Giles across the Atlantic, who am I to question their judgement?"
"First time for everything," he laughed, and caressed my cheek. His touch felt so good.
"Oh, yes. New first times too. For anything." I couldn't resist anymore. I kissed him, lightly and quickly as I felt scalded - ironically enough given the relative body temperatures involved.
He melted for a moment, before jerking his head back sharply. But he was still there and not back into a sobbing mess. He looked shocked, and that hurt. Maybe he's like all the rest, and he doesn't want me anymore. Without the ice, that hurt so much. Maybe I got it all wrong, like I always do.
My lip trembled and I babbled through the tears. "I'm sorry. I thought you still wanted me. I want you. I do. I always did, but couldn't admit it before even to myself, and hated you and me for it. There's someone else, isn't there? It's Willow, isn't it? You're spending all this time together, and she makes people happy, and I only make them miserable, and I understand. And I'm sorry. I know I haven't got much to offer, with my horrible life and 'massive self-involvement'. And if you want Willow, I'll try to be happy for you, even if it'll hurt so bad, and...."
His eyes had gotten huge and his jaw had dropped through my babble, before he stopped me by kissing me back. It lasted longer this time, and we both pulled back at the same time.
He pulled me gently into his arms, shook his head, and said, "Buffy, you got it wrong. I don't want Willow. I don't love Willow. She's a friend, someone who's been there and knows the rituals that help with being on the Hellmouth. I love you. I want you. I'll always want you, and I'll love you until the sun explodes and takes the planet and me with it, you daft cow!"
I wrapped my arms round him. The smooth, thin cotton felt like home. Being safe in the circle of his arms felt like home. I smiled up at him and said, "Ok, but only if you haven't got a bat-nose by then. I like your nose - it works."
He grinned - that big grin that's pure Spike. "Making no promises on the nose, luv, but the rest's true. It's all true. So, you want me? Even after everything?"
I nodded.
He looked at me intensely. "Do you love me?"
I looked back. The hardest question of all, but I owed myself an answer, let alone him. I swallowed hard. "I don't know - yet. I need to get to know the new you. And I think we both need time. Take things slowly and stuff, even if it's hard. But... but, I'm willing to try. There's lots of things I need to work out for me, and it's going to take time. But I'm willing to give it a try, if you are."
He hugged me closer. "All the time in the world, luv. All the time you need. But, no more hiding? I can't do that again. I really can't."
I kissed him again and said firmly. "No more hiding, even if we are so going to get some hell over this. But no, no more hiding. Wanna go kill some vamps before we go and face the music? I think we'll both need it."
He kissed me again, grinned, and said, "Oh yes. Lead on, my love."