Avocation

Author: enigmaticblue <enigmaticblue@yahoo.com>

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, but Joss said I could play. Really.

Archive: Anywhere that already has my stuff. Anywhere else, just ask.

Summary: The gypsies curse the wrong vampire, and by the time they rectify their mistake, Spike has been fundamentally altered. Nearly a century later, the Slayer needs help, and there's only one person qualified for the job. Of course, he's not real interested in taking it.

A/N: I have a secret (or not-so-secret) weakness for early canon Spuffy fics. The only problem is that Spike is evil. No, really, he is. Which means that actually writing Spuffy pre-chip requires more suspension of disbelief than I can manage. Reading it is a different matter altogether. So, this is how I write early canon Spuffy. By altering events entirely. By the way, the title comes from a Robert Frost poem, "Two Tramps in Mud Time." Pay special attention to the last stanza.

Chapter 3

"Why should I blame her that she filled my days/With misery, or that she would of late/ Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways,/Or hurled the little streets upon the great,/ Had they but courage equal to desire?/What could have made her peaceful with a mind/ That nobleness made simple as a fire,/With beauty like a tightened bow..." ~W. B. Yeats, "No Second Troy

"Why doesn't this surprise me?" Spike muttered as the mansion came in sight. Angelus always had been a pretentious bastard, and it looked like he hadn't changed much over the years.

Buffy looked over at him sharply. "What?"

Spike shrugged. "He always did have to have the bloody best."

"Wait." Buffy put a hand on Spike's arm, stopping his progress. "When we get in there—are you ready to kill them?"

"Oh, I have no problem dusting either or both of them, pet," he said, his eyes hard. "Better question is if you have a problem."

"If we can do the restoration spell—"

"What?" Spike asked. "Everything will go back to normal?"

"No, but—" Buffy broke off. "I don't expect you to understand."

"I can't understand the fact that you still love him, is that it?" His voice was no more than a whisper, but Buffy's head jerked back as though she'd been struck. "Let me tell you something, Slayer. I loved Dru with my whole being. Loved her more than my own unlife."

"And now you're willing to stake her." Buffy said it as though it proved her point, as though the fact that Spike was ready to kill the vampiress disproved his feelings for her.

Spike grinned, but there was no humor in it. "Let me assure you that whatever torture Angelus managed to devise in the last few months is nothing compared to enduring three years of it, with the woman you love as a willing participant."

Buffy's eyes widened as she realized exactly what he was saying. "I don't—"

"I'll take care of Drusilla," Spike said, completely business-like, as though they'd never gotten off track. "Don't think her thrall works on me, and if it does, I'm ready for it anyway. He'll have minions—he always does. I figure we can split those up pretty evenly. You'll have to decide what you want to do about Angelus. You want me to do him for you, just let me know. I'll be happy to oblige."

Buffy shook her head, swallowing hard. "No. No, if—if it comes to that, it should be me."

Spike met her eyes. "Right, then. In we go."

Buffy paused only to pull the sword Kendra had given her out of the bag. Giles had kept it safe from the police. She stuck a couple extra stakes in her pockets and then watched as Spike rifled through the bag for a few stakes of his own.

Not another word was spoken. Everything had been said that needed to be said. Buffy had no idea how she'd wound up with another vampire as a companion, but there was something about Spike that made her feel just a little safer than she would have if she'd gone in by herself. It wasn't trust—she didn't trust him.

But he was dangerous, and right now he was on her side. There was something to be said for that.

They entered the mansion with as much stealth as possible, Buffy staking the lone vampire on guard from behind. Angelus was pacing up and down in front of Acathla. The sword was still firmly in place, and Drusilla was standing close by him, wringing her hands and muttering about everything going wrong. Spike glanced over, and he could see the relief in Buffy's eyes. He knew she was going to try and wait for the spell to be cast.

He nodded once, and then they burst out of hiding.

Under different circumstances, Spike would have taken a moment to admire the Slayer's form and grace. She was a phenomenal fighter, both creative and intuitive. As it was, he barely had time to notice that they fought quite well together before he found himself face to face with Drusilla.

"H'lo, Dru."

"You reek of goodness," she spat.

Spike gave her a thin smile. "We all have our faults."

"You were to be my brave knight! You don't love mummy any more!" She took a swipe at him with her fingernails, which Spike ducked. He was circling her, keeping a wary eye out for the Slayer and Angelus.

Then Drusilla attacked him in a full-out assault, forcing Spike to keep his entire attention on his insane sire. Drusilla was out for his blood, and she could be formidable in a fight when she was truly riled up.

Whatever Spike had told Buffy before entering the mansion, he wasn't quite as ready to dust Dru as he had said. No matter that he didn't love her any longer; she was his sire. She had been the one to save him from a life as William.

There was a piece of him that still loved her just a little bit for that.

The rest of him remembered her laughter as Angelus tortured him for hours after his unsuccessful escape attempt.

Spike dodged another blow but couldn't pull himself out of reach of her claws. They tore through the fabric of his shirt where his jacket gaped open, drawing blood. Spike hissed in pain and then quickly backhanded her. She screeched, and he turned in a tight circle, hitting her square in the chest with the stake in his left hand.

She stared at him in shock, whispering, "William," as she turned to dust.

Standing frozen for a moment, Spike quickly looked around. The minions were gone, either dusted or fled, and all he could hear was the sound of swords clashing. He ran to the door leading out to the courtyard, watching as Buffy and Angelus dueled.

It was a furious fight, Buffy's sword a silver blur in the pre-dawn light, clashing with the long poker Angelus was wielding. Spike could see the concentration on the Slayer's face. She had the disadvantage, since she wasn't nearly as willing to kill Angelus as the vampire was to kill her.

Briefly, Spike considered stepping in, staking his grandsire if the Slayer wouldn't. He held himself back, however, understanding that this was something the girl would have to do herself. Spike would save her if he could, but he wouldn't make this decision for her.

Watching from the outside as he was, Spike could see the turning point in the battle. There was always a moment when things could go either way, when you had no choice but to kill your opponent lest you be killed yourself. Spike saw it—and like the Slayer she was, Buffy took her opening, ramming the sword through Angelus' chest.

The vampire grimaced, and then his eyes narrowed, became yellow. "You'll have to do better than that," he rasped, pulling the sword out of his chest. Angelus leapt for her, fully intending on sinking his fangs into Buffy's throat.

Buffy met him halfway with a stake.

She stood for some minutes, staring at the pile of dust on the ground, taking a deep breath to hold the tears at bay.

"Slayer?" Spike called.

She held out a hand in warning. "Stay away from me, Spike."

"You did what you had to do."

"Stay away!" She was nearly screaming, staring at him with wide eyes. "Just—stay away!"

If he had been a different man, Spike might have ignored her warning. He might have gone to her, tried to hold her. He might have gotten a stake through the heart for his troubles—or something else altogether.

Spike respected the fact that Buffy wanted to mourn on her own, though, and he nodded shortly. "I'll see you around, Slayer."

"Get out of town, Spike!" she warned him, grief making her angry and combative.

He smirked at her over his shoulder. "Sorry, Slayer. I still have a job."

~~~~~

Spike pushed all thoughts of Buffy out of his mind as he sprinted out of the mansion. He would need to hurry if he wanted to get back to the Watcher's flat before the sun made the journey deadly.

If the truth were to be told, the Slayer's grief hit far too close to home. Spike was trying not to think about the fact that the last links to his past were dust on the wind. He was finally free of them.

Spike wondered why he didn't feel happier about that.

The first true rays of the morning were creeping out over the horizon, causing Spike to curse his stupidity. He should have insisted on driving to the mansion, but when he'd suggested it, the Slayer had flatly refused to get in a car with him. "Stupid bint," he muttered as he skidded to a stop in the Watcher's courtyard.

Spike rapped sharply on the door, slipping inside as soon as the door was open, before Giles could ask any questions. "Where is Buffy?"

The vampire shrugged. "She's fine."

"Where is she?" Giles grabbed him by the shoulder and slammed him up against the closed door. "Spike, if you left her to—"

"I left before I got stuck in that damn mansion all day!" Spike shot back, grief causing his mask of indifference to drop. "Angelus and Drusilla are dead. The Slayer told me to get out, so I did."

"Is she okay?" the redhead asked.

Spike shook his head. "She didn't get hurt. As for whether or not she's okay, that's not something I'm in a position to judge. Bloody hell, I don't know. She was trying to keep him occupied so the spell—" Spike broke off. He wasn't entirely sorry that Angelus was dead, and then again he was. The confused mix of emotions irritated him. "Did it work?"

"Did what work?" Giles asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Spike snorted. "Did the sodding curse work?"

"I—I don't know," Willow replied for the group. "I felt the power go in, but then it just fizzled."

The vampire sighed. "You might not want to mention that to the Slayer, ducks."

"What are you still doing here?" Xander asked.

Spike raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"What are you still doing here?" Xander persisted. "You got what you came for. Why aren't you leaving?"

"Because I didn't get what I came for, you git," Spike retorted. "I got paid to do a job, and I gave my word. I'm staying. Get used to it."

Giles sank down on the couch wearily. "What job, Spike?"

"Stay and help the Slayer through the next apocalypse," he said glibly. "Apparently, there was supposed to be a souled vampire here to help. It was very important, and then it all got shot to hell." He gave them a thin, humorless smile. "I'm the second-string hero."

Giles shook his head. "And how do you know that your presence won't make it worse?" he asked. "What if you lose your soul just as Angel did?"

Spike grinned. "Because I'm not a complete idiot, Watcher. My soul is my own. It's not going anywhere."

~~~~~

Buffy trudged home, her feet feeling like leaden weights. She didn't particularly want to go home, but where else was there to go? She knew her mom would be full of questions. Heck, Buffy figured she was probably going to be grounded into the next century for leaving the house like she did.

Somehow she couldn't work up the energy to care.

Angel was gone.

It seemed impossible; he had been such a big part of her world. It was like everything had gone gray, because Angel wouldn't be coming back. Buffy had believed she was ready for him to be gone, but she'd been deluding herself. Secretly, she had hoped that one day her Angel would return.

Instead, she'd had to kill him, and in his place was that bleach-blond idiot. Buffy felt a spark of guilt. Spike had helped. Taking on both Drusilla and Angelus would have been suicide. If she wasn't mistaken, he'd felt some pain on their deaths. It didn't matter, though. Spike was a poor substitute for Angel.

Buffy slipped through the back door, hoping that her mom would still be in bed. Maybe she could be asleep by the time Joyce woke, and she could avoid the confrontation she knew was coming.

"Buffy?"

She stopped short, staring at her mother. Joyce was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, dressed in a robe. From her mother's eyes, Buffy could tell that she'd been waiting up all night for her to return. "Mom, I don't—"

"Are you okay?" The argument from the night before faded in Joyce's mind as she met Buffy's eyes. There was more pain there than Joyce had ever wanted to see.

Against her mother's question, Buffy had no shield. She had held the tears at bay up until that moment, but grief suddenly overwhelmed her. Shaking her head, Buffy's face crumpled. Joyce rushed forward, hugging her daughter.

Joyce didn't understand what it meant that Buffy was the Slayer. She didn't understand why Buffy couldn't just stop being the Slayer. What she did understand was that her daughter was in pain. Nothing else mattered at the moment.

She rocked Buffy in her arms as she had not done in a long time. "It's okay, sweetheart," Joyce murmured. "It's going to be okay. We'll figure it out."

A mother's promises were all that Joyce could offer.

~~~~~

"Would you like a drink?" Giles asked. He had finally sent the others home. The Watcher knew that Spike probably expected to stay on his couch for the day, and he had decided not to begrudge the vampire a place to sleep. After all, Spike's presence had most likely kept Buffy in one piece.

"Little early, isn't it?" Spike asked with some amusement.

Giles smiled. "Perhaps. But since I did not sleep, I'm going to say that it's rather late."

"Sounds good to me," he replied, taking the proffered glass with a sigh of relief. "Ta, mate."

Giles sat down on the couch, watching Spike sip. He hadn't said much more about the soul, other than there was no danger of him losing it. Giles had a hundred questions, and yet he was bone-weary. He couldn't decide if he wanted to start the interview now or wait.

"Spit it out." Spike's eyes were closed, and his head was tipped back, resting against the chair.

Giles took a deep breath. "Why is it that you cannot lose your soul where Angel could?"

"Because if there's one thing I'm not it's stupid," was Spike's rejoinder. "I wanted to know exactly what I had been cursed with, and so I did a little digging. If Angelus hadn't been so busy brooding, he might have done the same."

"So you discovered the loophole," Giles mused. "That still doesn't explain why you would take steps to ensure that you didn't lose the soul. I would have thought you would want to get rid of it."

"What? So I could kill more people?" Spike asked. "So that the three years I spent—" He broke off, unwilling to talk about that aspect of his past. "No. The soul was mine. I didn't want to lose it because the blasted gypsies were idiots."

The vampire's words were clipped, almost angry, and it caused Giles to watch him thoughtfully. Spike was shaping up to be an enigma. "You got it anchored."

"I did." Spike snorted. "After I got it made permanent, the guilt got more manageable, too, which just proves that it was part of the curse." He rolled his eyes. "Stupid, ignorant fools. They wanted to make Angelus suffer, and they didn't care how it got done."

There was a pause and then Spike continued. "Angelus was always about the planning, you know. Sometimes I thought the wanker was more into the preparation than the actual kill. Always thinking about the future or the past. I've always been of the opinion that you should live for the present. Doesn't take much to make me happy, yeah?"

Giles nodded slowly in understanding. It would have been much easier for Spike to lose his soul than it would have been for Angel. "I'll want to talk to you about this some more."

"I figured that," Spike replied. "I won't promise to answer your questions, Watcher, but I'll tell you what I can."

"In exchange for shelter?"

Spike smiled. "For now. I'll be looking for my own place, though. I'll be out of your hair soon enough."

"Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

Spike looked at him sharply and then shrugged. "It's what I'm getting paid for."

Giles wasn't so sure that was the only explanation for things.