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 39

"My love, if I die and you don't—,/My love, if you die and I don't—,/let's not give grief an even greater field. No expanse is greater than where we live./Dust in the wheat, and in the deserts,/time, wandering water, the vague wind/swept us on like sailing seeds./We might not have found one another in time./This meadow where we find ourselves,/O little infinity! we give it back./But Love, this love has not ended:/just as it never had a birth, it has/no death: it is like a long river,/only changing lands, and changing lips." ~Pablo Neruda, "Sonnet XCII"

By the time Willow and Oz arrived at the high school, they had already moved Spike back to his place, leaving Wesley to deliver the message and the broken arrow. "I would like to be of assistance, but Buffy asked me to call the Council," he said apologetically.

Willow smiled at him. "It's okay. I've got Oz and Xander."

"What are we going to do?" Xander asked, rising from the table.

"Find out what poisoned Spike, and maybe come up with an antidote," Willow suggested tentatively. "I'm going to try anyway, but I've never done that before."

"You can," Oz said confidently. "If anyone can."

Their eyes met, and even Xander could tell that something had changed. He was fairly sure he didn't know what it was—nor did he want to know. "Willow's the one to do it," he agreed.

Xander felt like a third wheel as he watched Willow and Oz work in tandem to set up their impromptu science experiment. Willow scribbled a list down on a piece of paper. "The magic shop should have all of this. I want to see if it's a mystical poison."

Xander looked apologetic. "I'm a little short of cash right now."

"Just tell them it's for me," she replied.

He left the chem lab, immediately running into Anya. "I thought you were leaving town."

"I am," she replied. "The car's all packed and waiting."

He raised an eyebrow. "Then what are you still doing here?"

"I came back for you!" Anya replied, sounding angry and impatient, although Xander wondered whether she was angrier with herself. "We can leave tonight."

"You want me to go with you?" Xander asked, no little disbelief in his tone. He'd thought prom an unmitigated disaster, and now Anya wanted him to leave town with her?

She glared at him. "If you stay, you'll die, and I don't want that. Whenever I think of you being dead it makes me want to vomit."

There was a piece of him that was rather touched by that, but it was a very small piece. "So I give you barfy feelings? That makes me want to go with you."

"Come with me," Anya insisted.

Xander shook his head. "I can't."

"Why?"

"I've got friends on the line." He held up Willow's shopping list. "They're counting on me."

"You're just going to get in the way!" Anya accused. "They'd probably be better off without you here anyway."

"Way to touch a guy's heart," Xander said, brushing past her and heading down the hall.

Anya stared after him, furious at the both of them. At herself for feeling the way she did and at Xander for being so stupidly noble. "Fine! I hope you die!"

Xander just waved a hand, not even looking behind him. He knew without being told that every second counted. And no matter what Anya might think, he was integral.

He was certain of it.

~~~~~

Spike's eyes fluttered open as Buffy applied the damp cloth to his forehead. "Hey."

"Hey," she replied, giving him a watery smile. "How are you doing?"

"Apparently hanging in there." He shut his eyes tightly as another wave of pain crashed over him. "Any news yet?"

Buffy tried to smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "No, but Willow's working on doing some trace-thingy, and Wesley's calling the Council. We should have you back on your feet in no time."

Spike hissed and then shook his head. "Hope so. I'm still supposed to make sure you stop that apocalypse."

"You're going to be fine," she insisted, brushing back his sweat-soaked hair.

"Buffy?"

She turned to see Wesley standing in the doorway, looking unhappy. "What is it, Wes?"

"I think we need to talk."

The Slayer squeezed Spike's hand. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Be fine," he managed. "Go."

She followed Wesley out to the living room where Giles was sitting on the couch. "Okay, what's going on?"

Wesley swallowed, unwilling to meet her eyes. "The Council won't help."

"What?" Buffy asked. "Did you explain what was going on? That we need Spike?"

"I explained, but—they said he's a vampire, and it's not the Council's policy to save vampires." Wesley winced. "I'm very sorry, Buffy. I tried to tell them..."

Buffy believed him. Wesley didn't appear to be any happier with the situation than she was. "What did they say?"

He cleared his throat. "They said you should concentrate on the Mayor's Ascension and forget about Spike. I—I told them that you wouldn't, and—" Wesley paused. "They didn't take that very well."

"So they won't help us?"

"No, but I am at your disposal." Wesley gave a bitter little chuckle that Buffy didn't quite understand. "I could tell you what their orders were, but I didn't think you'd listen to them anyway."

"You're learning," Buffy said dryly. "Damn them!" she burst out. "How dare they when they know what kind of help Spike is to us?"

"There are rules," Wesley tried to explain. "They've been around for longer than—"

"I don't care if they've been around for longer than dirt," Buffy spat. "Fine. You know what? I don't need their rules. If you're not with me, you're against me, and they've picked their side. I'm done with the Council." She gave Wesley a hard look. "I hope you don't plan on standing in my way."

Wesley shook his head. "I meant what I said, Buffy."

Buffy took a deep breath. "Then call the Council and tell them where they can shove their orders. I will save Spike, and I will stop the Ascension, and I will do it without their help." She turned to Giles. "I can't stay here. Will you look after him?"

"I'll call you if there's any change," Giles replied. When Buffy had left, he turned to the younger Watcher. "What exactly happened?"

Wesley sighed. "Mr. Travers took exception to my argument in favor of helping Spike. When I told him that Buffy wouldn't follow the Council's orders, and expressed my reservations about attempting to force her to..."

"They fired you?" Giles guessed.

"Something like that." Wesley gave him a tight smile. "I've been relieved of my duties pending an investigation."

"Why?" Giles asked bluntly.

Wesley shrugged, knowing what Giles meant without asking. "I told you I'd been doing some reading on Spike, and I've watched him here. To simply let him die would be as great a crime as allowing a human to die." Wesley shook his head. "Besides, I was well aware that she wasn't going to listen to me. It's not like she ever has in the past."

Giles raised an eyebrow. "It seems you're learning."

The younger Watcher sat down on the couch. "Let's just hope that we all have time to put that to good use."

"Don't get too comfortable," Giles warned him. "I need you to go back to the library and look over the information from Professor Wirth's files again. Cross reference it with known demons and then see if you can identify what type of demon the Mayor is most likely to become. Once we know that—"

"We'll know how to kill him," Wesley said, sighing as he stood. It was probably better not to remain seated on Spike's rather comfortable couch. There was no way he'd manage to stay awake if he did.

"Wesley," Giles called after him as he went to the front door. "If it helps, I believe you made the right choice."

Wesley looked down at the tops of his shoes for a moment then back up at Giles. "Thank you. I believe that it does."

~~~~~

They had all been surprised by her decision. Buffy was the Slayer. She was supposed to be the good guy, and she was talking about killing a human being. In fact, once Willow told her that only Slayer's blood would save Spike, Buffy hadn't even hesitated.

Faith had killed at least two people, had shot down Spike, and there was no way the cops were going to be able to handle her even if they ever managed to catch her. She was Buffy's responsibility, and Buffy was going to end it. Tonight. She would drop Faith's dead body into Spike's lap.

Buffy would just have to deal with the nightmares later.

The gang had done their jobs. The address was the right one. "Thought I'd drop by," Buffy said when Faith answered the door.

"How's your boy?" Faith asked with a smile, backing away into the middle of the room.

Buffy shrugged, as though the very idea of Spike not being around anymore wasn't terrifying. "He'll be just fine once I deliver the cure."

Faith tilted her head. "Cure, huh? The Mayor said there wasn't one. So what is it?"

"Interestingly enough, it's your blood," Buffy responded.

Faith laughed. "You're not getting that."

Buffy didn't bother with a warning. The right hook connected solidly with Faith's jaw. "Oh, I think I will."

The dark Slayer's eyes glittered. "Welcome to the dark side, sister." Faith met Buffy's attack with relish.

They battled furiously. It wasn't often that Buffy faced someone who was just as quick, just as skilled, and who loved the fight as much as she did.

Well, not unless you counted her boyfriend.

Although they had both had the benefit of training with Spike, Buffy's sessions had been a little more regular, and over a longer period of time. For every blow Faith managed to get through her defenses, Buffy managed two. They danced around the room, exchanging punches and kicks in rapid succession.

Faith managed to knee Buffy in the side, catching her off guard, finishing it up with a backhanded punch to her head that sent Buffy flying through the large window. Buffy recovered quickly, but not quickly enough. Faith seized her advantage and started coming at Buffy with a dizzying attack that allowed Buffy no time to catch her bearings.

Buffy managed to get a breather by head-butting Faith in the face, causing the other girl to stumble back, and she pulled the dagger she'd grabbed from the book cage. Faith gave her a feral grin when she saw the weapon, pulling her own knife from the sheath strapped to her back. "Looks like you're not the only one packing tonight, B," Faith said. "I thought I might be seeing you."

Buffy didn't waste words. She launched herself at the other girl, both blades flashing silver in the moonlight. With a clever twist of the knife, Faith managed to disarm Buffy and pin her against the rail guard around the roof. "Been fun, B," Faith said. "Looks like you'll be joining your boyfriend tonight after all."

Spike had taught Buffy a move she didn't think Faith knew about. He'd told her the name of it, as well as the particular branch of martial arts it came from. She couldn't pronounce it if her life depended on it—but it didn't.

All Buffy had to do was to reproduce it.

"Guess again," she gasped, twisting her body, taking Faith's knife-hand with her, and burying the knife hilt-deep into the other girl's abdomen.

Buffy stepped back, standing with the knife in her hand, stunned, unable to believe what she had just done. There was blood on her hands now, too. "You did it," Faith said, then she pushed Buffy away from her, hard enough to send her back several feet. "You killed me. But it's not going to do you a hell of a lot of good."

Buffy could do nothing except to watch helplessly as Faith plunged off the roof onto the bed of a truck.

Spike's last chance was gone.

~~~~~

Willow wiped Spike's damp forehead with a cool cloth. They had called Giles to let him know what Buffy was planning, and he had asked them to relieve him at Spike's bedside. Willow had gotten the feeling that Giles wasn't terribly happy about Buffy going after Faith, but he also wasn't going to try to stand in her way.

She just couldn't believe that Wesley had stood up to the Council for Spike. It looked like he wasn't quite as much of a dork as they'd thought.

Not that he wasn't still a dork, of course.

"Red?" Spike was squinting at her as though he couldn't make her out very clearly.

She smiled at him. "That's me. Hanging in there?"

"Where—where's Buffy?"

"Oh, you know Buffy. She can't sit still. She went to get your cure," Willow said brightly. She sucked at lying, but she was hoping that Spike's weakened condition would mask her over-bright voice.

He hissed in pain, arching off the bed. "You'll—you'll tell her something for me?"

"I'm not telling her anything!" Willow said. "You're going to tell her yourself because you're going to be fine." She pointed to her face. "You see my resolve face, mister? No one can resist the resolve face."

Spike chucked weakly. "Gonna miss you, Red," he mumbled. "You and your boy. Good people. Look after Buffy for me, will you?"

"Now that's just crazy talk," Buffy said from the doorway. "You're going to take care of me. You promised, remember?"

Willow turned in her chair, and her face fell when she saw Buffy give a quick shake of her head. "Hey, Buffy. How's it going?"

"You're hurt," Spike said. "I can smell the blood."

"It's not mine," she replied. "I'm fine, Spike. Willow? I think I can take it from here. Could you tell Giles that if he needs me I'll be here?"

"Sure thing, Buffy," Willow replied, giving Buffy's shoulder a squeeze on her way out the door. She wanted to ask what happened with Faith, but now wasn't the time. Not with Spike dying right before their eyes. Instead, she grabbed her boyfriend and left, feeling horribly guilty for the relief she felt that it wasn't Oz in that bed.

Buffy sat down on the edge of Spike's bed and stroked his face. "Hey there."

"Hey." Spike's voice hitched in pain. "Sorry, luv. Never meant for it to end like this."

"Willow and Oz found a cure, Spike," Buffy said. "You're going to be fine."

Spike frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Slayer's blood. It's good for what ails you."

Spike shook his head. "Buffy, no."

"It was supposed to be Faith, but I couldn't—I didn't manage to bring her back." She smiled at him. "So it's got to be me."

"Won't hurt you," Spike whispered hoarsely. "You don't know what you're asking, pet. I can't—not to save my own sorry hide."

"There's nothing sorry about your hide," Buffy replied, a lump in her throat. "Do you know what it would do to me to lose you? I can't, not like this. Not when I could prevent it. All you have to do is drink. You'll know when to stop."

Spike shook his head, his fevered mind playing through what would happen if he let Buffy have her way. He'd been here before; he had done this before. Angelus had offered him the option—to save his own life or to kill someone else, and he'd chosen selfishly every single time.

Not that there had been much of a choice. Every bleeding boy or girl would have ended up dead, and at least they'd gone quickly by his hand. Angelus always had liked playing with his food.

But if Spike took Buffy's offer he would—

"You won't," Buffy said. "You won't, Spike. I trust you to stop."

Spike shook his head again, but his resistance was fading. He didn't want to leave his girl. Not now, not as they were just beginning.

"Please," she whispered. "Spike, please. You can't leave me. If I can save you—I have to do it. Please, you have to let me."

When had he ever been able to say no to his girl?

Buffy saw the resignation in his eyes before he gave verbal assent, and she helped him to sit, cradling his limp form and holding his head to her neck. "Don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," she promised. "It's okay, sweetie. I want this."

Buffy could feel his lips against her neck, kissing her gently. She tilted her head to make sure Spike had clear access, and she could feel the bones in his face shift against her skin and the sharp prick of his teeth.

When he bit down, it was a rush. The endorphins hit her system, making her feel weak and invincible all at the same time. At the same time, a bolt of heat went right to her core. She never wanted it to end, and Buffy suddenly understood why most victims of vampire attacks didn't struggle.

Why would she want to end this?

Spike had never really stopped feeding from humans completely. Not only had he been known to catch a bite while he was on the job, but he had regularly supplemented his diet with just-expired blood from the hospital. Still, Slayer's blood was a rush to his weakened system that threatened to go straight to his head.

The last few hours had been one wave of pain and weakness after another, each one leaving him panting, wondering when it was going to end. The influx of Buffy's blood was a high that made it almost impossible for him to stop when he reached the point he knew he should.

There was a part of him that wanted to keep drinking, that wanted to suck the life right out of her.

It was that desire that gave him the strength to stop when he felt her start to struggle just a bit. Spike withdrew as gently as he could, trying not to do any more damage than he had already. He kissed her wounds, waiting until they had stopped bleeding before he laid her back on the bed.

"Did you get enough?" Buffy asked.

Spike nodded. "Think so. Gotta find something to cover that up, luv." He levered himself out of the bed, dismayed at how weak he still felt. His limbs were trembling, and Spike wondered how long it was going to take the poison to work out of his system. There hadn't been a choice, however. Had he taken more blood, Buffy would have needed a trip to the hospital for a transfusion. This way, they both had at least a chance of being at full strength tomorrow.

He found the medical supplies he'd stocked up on when he realized that even a vampire might need patching up in Sunnydale. That, and he was anticipating a night when Buffy might have to come back to his place for assistance.

Spike came back, sitting down on the edge of the bed to clean the bite and tape a gauze pad over the top of it. His hands were still shaking, partly because of the poison, but also because Spike had never wanted this.

Well, perhaps he'd had a few dreams, but he had never wanted to see Buffy in his bed, looking so pale. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," she replied. "But not that bad. I've definitely been worse." Buffy saw his trembling and grabbed his wrist. "You didn't take enough."

"Yeah, I did," he retorted. "The pain is gone. If I'd taken more, you'd be in the hospital."

Buffy glared at him. "You're still shaky."

"More out of the thought of losing you than anything else," Spike assured her, dropping the rest of the first aid supplies on the floor and crawling into the bed next to her.

Buffy grabbed one of his hands and draped his arm across her middle. "You're not going to lose me. You stopped."

"Might not have."

"You did. I wasn't going to lose you."

"So you said."

Buffy scooted back to get as close to him as possible. "We're going to be okay."

"Sure we are," he responded, although he wasn't terribly sure of that. "Anybody going to be looking for you?"

"No," Buffy said, sighing as she shifted a little to get comfortable. With Spike's arm a comforting weight over her, and his back a solid presence behind her, she felt sleep descend. "Don't go anywhere."

"Right here, luv," Spike murmured, pressing his lips to her hair. He didn't last much longer, the events of the day pulling him down as well. "Not going anywhere."