Subject: [SpikesSalvation] Normal's A Place in Illinois- Chapter 11
Date: Mon, 24 Nov 2003 15:02:00 -0800 (PST)
From: Jerusha Hancock <enigmaticblue@yahoo.com>
Reply-To: SpikesSalvation@yahoogroups.com
To: SpikesSalvation@yahoogroups.com


Chapter 11: A Stone to Stand On

A/N: Again, lyrics are mine.

"silently if,out of not knowable/
night's utmost nothing,wanders a little guess/
(only which is this world)more my life does/
not leap than with the mystery of your smile/
sings or if (spiralling as luminous/
they climb oblivion)voices who are dreams,/
less into heaven certainly earth swims/
than each my deeper death becomes your kiss/
losing through you what seemed myself, i find/
selves unimaginably mine; beyond/
sorrow's own joys and hoping's very fears/
yours is the light by which my spirit's born:/
yours is the darkness of my soul's return/
--you are my sun,my moon,and all my stars"     ~e.e. cummings


The fight was on. The Fyarl Spike and Buffy had taken on was bigger than most 
of its species, and pretty much bigger than Buffy and Spike put together. The 
ex-vampire wore his long leather coat as he had since Buffy had returned it to 
him, at least on patrol. Everywhere else he was still human-Spike, or William, 
depending on who you were talking to, but here he was the Big Bad again, the 
only one who was qualified to watch the Slayer's back. Unless, of course, he 
got laid out on his.

The Fyarl backhanded him, sending him flying and crashing into a tombstone. As 
he lay there stunned, he dimly saw the Fyarl get the better of Buffy, sending 
her sailing into a tree, where she fell in a boneless heap. In that split 
second, he thought he had lost her again, and the inner demon he'd thought had 
been exorcised in Africa came out with a roar. With a strength he didn't know 
he had, Spike picked himself off the ground, speeding across the intervening 
space, and began beating on the demon with his bare hands. Buffy, who quickly 
came around, watched with an expression bordering on awe as he took it down 
with a strength born of adrenaline and fear, snapping its neck.

She almost expected his face to be that of a vampire's when he turned to check 
on her, but it was purely Spike, the expression in his eyes one of worry and 
fear for her safety. As she picked herself up off the ground, he turned from 
her to look at what he had done, and another expression took over.

"Buffy," he choked out. "I'm sorry."

The Slayer frowned slightly. Spike had just killed a huge Fyarl demon with his 
bare hands. The vampire he had been would have been preening at this point, but 
she realized the man was shocked at the level of violence he was still capable 
of. "Spike, it's okay. You killed him, not a big deal. In fact, that was the 
whole goal."

He shook his head, unable or unwilling to understand his own actions. "I can't 
be around you," he whispered. "I'll hurt you."

"Spike, you killed it. If you hadn't, it would have killed both of us, or it 
would have tried. There's nothing wrong with that." She watched, bemused, as he 
simply stood there, unmoving. Sighing, she took him by the arm and gave him a 
little shake. "Come on, help me get rid of the body and then we'll go talk."

"But—"

"Don't argue," she commanded. "Trust me. If you decide to hurt me, I'm more 
than capable of taking care of myself."

He helped her move the body in silence, and then allowed her to take his hand 
and lead him. Buffy knew that home would not be a good place at the moment. 
Spike had just done a really masterful impression of his vampire-self, and 
Buffy realized, in a moment of insight, that he would need a place to 
decompress. A place that wasn't a reminder of what he was now, something that 
was in-between, and there was really only one place to go.

He pulled back from her when they reached the Bronze, protesting. "Buffy, I'm 
not in the mood."

"Fine, you're not in the mood," she replied. "But you need a drink, and I can 
certainly use one, and you can't go home right now." At the shamed look in his 
eyes, she rolled her own. Really, he was a great guy, but sometimes he was such 
a drama queen. "I only meant that you need some time to chill, kind of work 
through what just happened. When we've done that, we're both going to go home 
and go to bed."

He nodded shortly, some of his temper coming back at the impatience in her 
tone. Buffy left him at the table and went to get a couple beers. While she 
didn't suggest making drinking a habit, especially since bad things tended to 
happen to drunken Slayers, a beer had the tendency to take the edge off, 
especially for what they had to talk through.

She set the bottle down in front of him and waited for him to say something. 
When he remained stubbornly silent, she reached over and touched his hand. "Do 
you want to talk about it?"

He withdrew his hand. "No."

Buffy shrugged and took a drink, deciding to wait him out. After a rather tense 
pause that lasted all of two minutes, he said quietly, "I thought I lost you 
tonight."

"Spike, he knocked me into a tree. Last time I checked, it took a fall from a 
seven story tower through a rip in the sky to kill me." Her words were light, 
but her tone was tender.

He shook his head. "I saw you hit the ground, and you were laying there like 
you did that morning, and I was there again, and I hadn't stopped it. I was too 
bloody slow and I didn't stop it in time."

This time Buffy reached across the table and grasped his hand more firmly. "I 
thought we went through this, Spike. You did your best, and you kept doing it 
long after I was buried. You did more than I ever thought to ask you for. It 
wasn't your fault." She hesitated, and continued as she realized what their 
conversation was really about. "But that's not why you're upset."

"I lost control," he admitted. "I might as well have been a vampire with a 
blood lust. I would have killed anything right then, Buffy. I didn't care."

"But you didn't kill 'anything,' you killed a very large demon."

"Doesn't matter. I'm still evil. I've still got it in me. I thought I'd gotten 
rid of it, that I could wear this coat again and make something new out of it, 
but I'm still ugly and dark inside, Buffy. What can I offer you?"

Buffy hesitated, choosing her next words very carefully. She could make him or 
break him with her words, she finally admitted to herself. Spike didn't get 
fists. You could beat him to a pulp, and he still wouldn't change his mind or 
back down, but say the wrong thing, and you would rip his heart out of his 
chest and stomp it to pieces. "Do you love me, Spike?"

He looked at her, hurt evident in his eyes. "You know I do. How can you ask me 
that?"

"Do you love every piece of me?"

"What?"

She stared into his deep blue eyes. "Come on, Spike, it's important."

"Of course, I do. Wouldn't be love otherwise. You're everything to me." His 
look was intent, letting her see the pain her question had caused.

"Then do you love the darkest part of me, the part that no one else ever wants 
to see or will admit exists?" she asked, and though she knew the answer, her 
heart hung on his words.

"I've seen it and I still love you," he replied. Then, as understanding dawned, 
he protested, "Buffy, this is different."

"Is it?" she countered. "No one has ever loved me like that before, Spike. 
Angel didn't want to see my dark side, and Riley couldn't completely accept it. 
You're the only one who took everything I am and never even flinched. There's 
no one else in this world I can say the same thing about, not my friends, not 
my sister, not even my mother. That last year, when I treated you so badly, I 
wanted you to go away because I needed you too much.

"I see everything you are, and I need every part of you. Tonight, you let the 
demon loose, and that's okay, because we were in the middle of a fight, and you 
lost it because you wanted to protect me. If you didn't have that little bit of 
darkness left inside, we couldn't be together, because I would always feel as 
though I had to hide something from you. And I don't."

"What if it happens again, and the next time I hurt a person?" He looked away. 
"I won't let that happen."

"No, you won't, because you never have before. Look, Spike, when it was all 
over, you made sure I was okay. If you were really that crazy, if a demon were 
really in control, you'd have run off or tried to kill me or something. You 
took care of your target, and that's the important thing." Buffy reached across 
the table to touch his face. "Besides, I liked your demon. He could be really 
sweet." When he didn't move, she pulled him away from the table onto the dance 
floor, showing him with her hands and her movements what she felt in her heart. 
As the music slowed, she let him pull her into the circle of his embrace, 
offering comfort to him.

She had forgotten that Ardent Living was playing tonight, and she listened to 
Simon's young voice floating across the dance floor.

          "I got nothing left to give,
          Got no reason left to live,
          But you're standing there looking in my eyes.
          I got nothing left in me,
          Got taken by life and reality,
          But you're still lookin' at me like I'm somethin' fine.
          Have I ever told you what you are?
          You're my stone to stand on,
          My port in a storm,
          You're the only one who's still got faith in me.
          And I been black and blue,
          I've been torn in two,
          But your hand is always gentle over mine,
          I've been left behind,
          Almost lost my mind,
          You're the sanity I thought I'd never find.
          So I'll tell you what you are.
          You're my stone to stand on,
          My port in this storm,
          And you're the only one who still has faith in me.
          You make me stronger,
          You make me better,
          I'd be a man for you,
          You make me stronger,
          You make me better.
          And I'll be the man for you."

Buffy reached up and tilted his chin so that he was looking her in the eyes. 
"You're it for me, William," she whispered softly. "All of you."

He smiled, though his face was still slightly pained. "I'm still all yours, 
luv."

~~~~~

Spike's face was creased in concern as Buffy came out of the bathroom. "You all 
right, pet?" he asked, reaching out to put a hand against her forehead.

Buffy smiled at him. Spike had never been one for brooding, but he'd come 
dangerously close to it the last couple of days. Unlike Angel, who always 
seemed to have a dark cloud hovering overhead, Spike had done relatively well 
with the new addition of a soul plus humanity. There were still traces of the 
grief he bore, however, in his eyes and in the lines around his mouth that 
hadn't been there before he'd gone haring off to Africa. But in his concern for 
her well being, he was completely concentrating on her welfare, rather than the 
burden of his past. "I'm fine. It's probably just a little flu or something. I 
don't even feel that bad, just a little sick to my stomach."

"Still, maybe you should go see the doctor or something. Or call in to work. I 
don't think you should be goin' anywhere today." As if to underscore his point, 
he tugged her back towards their bed.

"I'm not going to the doctor, Spike. This will pass, I promise. And I'm not 
calling in sick to work. I don't have sick days, which means if I'm not there, 
I don't get paid." Buffy was firm on this point. While they might be doing 
better financially with the extra Spike was bringing in, it simply meant that 
they could afford to buy decent food, and maybe go out once in a while. It 
didn't mean she could slack off; she had a place for every penny in her 
paycheck.

He sighed. "Maybe we should talk about that, Buffy. I could probably pick up 
another job, bring in some extra cash."

"Absolutely not," she replied hotly. "I don't get to see you often enough as it 
is. You go getting another job and I really won't see you." She gave him a hug, 
relishing the tenderness of his hands as they stroked her back. "We're fine, 
but I can't afford to miss work over getting a little sick. If I start feeling 
worse, I'll come home, but I'm fine. Really. Slayer strength, remember?"

"How could I forget?" he asked with a leer.

She grinned back. "Don't get me started this morning, buddy. If I don't get 
moving, I'm going to be late." She gave him a quick, hard kiss and went about 
getting ready for work.

~~~~~

"So is she okay?" Willow asked, her voice mirroring the concern in Spike's face.

He shook his head. "She says she is. The nausea is gone by the afternoon. Says 
it's just a little bug, and when I told her she should see the doctor, she said 
she wouldn't. Bugger me," he muttered. "Don't know what to do, but I thought 
she might listen to you."

Willow raised her eyebrows. "This is the same Buffy we're talking about, right? 
Because the last time she was really sick we had to wait for her to pass out 
before she'd go to the hospital." Seeing the look in his eyes, she quickly 
added, "Not that she needs to go to the hospital this time, of course."

He sighed. "Maybe she's right. Bloody hell, it's not like I know that much 
about human females." At Willow's giggle he gave her a dirty look and then 
changed the subject before the territory became too unfamiliar. "Have you told 
the rest of them about Cambridge yet?"

Her smile faded to a guilty look. "Nooo. I'm waiting for the right moment."

He quirked his eyebrow and gave her a sardonic smile. "Well, I suppose you 
could wait until you throw your own going-away party before spilling the news."

Now it was her turn to glare. "Fine, Spike. You tell all your friends that 
you're going to a foreign country for who knows how long, and there's no 
guarantee you'll be back."

He smiled and shrugged. "Think I'll pass, Red. Never was much one for 
good-byes."

Willow rolled her eyes. "I'll tell them." She glanced up at the knock on the 
door. "Looks like you've actually got a student for office hours," she 
observed, smiling. "That's my cue to take off."

As she opened the door to let in a very young looking freshman, she turned to 
face him again. "I promise I'm going to tell them."

"Sure, pet," he replied, watching with amusement as she left and the other girl 
came in. Willow would have to tell them soon, he knew, because she definitely 
wasn't any good at keeping secrets like this one. "What can I do for you?" he 
asked the girl, putting personal matters out of his mind to focus on the 
business at hand.

He vaguely recognized her from his mythology course. While he did his best to 
learn names, he didn't take roll, which meant he usually only knew someone if 
they made it a point to talk in class or get to know him. This girl was very 
young, very thin and extremely nervous. "I didn't mean to come at a bad time, 
Mr. Benton," she replied, hesitating.

"Not a bad time at all," he answered smoothly, finally coming up with her name. 
"Jen, isn't it?" he asked. "These are office hours, so I'm here to serve you. 
And please call me William."

Jen held out a paper to him hesitantly. "I just wanted to know if you thought 
this paper was okay," she confessed. "I really need a good grade in this 
course."

He smiled gently, waving her into the chair on the other side of his desk even 
as he took the paper from her. Spike wanted to put her at ease, since she 
looked like she might bolt at any moment. "Of course," he replied. "Just to let 
you know, though, this is a freshman course for a reason. I don't think I've 
given anyone less than a B at present, provided they turn their work in on 
time." There was no question of that with her. The paper she'd given him was 
due in about two weeks.

"It's just—I really want to do well." Spike could tell the poor girl was on the 
edge of a nervous breakdown, and he set the paper aside.

"Why don't you tell me what's really going on?" he suggested. "I'm sure you 
know by now that I'm supposed to be one of the easiest teachers on campus."

She shook her head emphatically. "Oh, no, but you're not. It's just that you're 
so good at teaching, it makes it seem easy." Jen frowned. "I just think I'm 
going to get a B in physics, you know, and I think a good grade in this class 
will balance that out."

"Nothin' wrong with a B, now," he encouraged her, but she shook her head and 
proceeded to tell him why her life was about to end. After about five minutes, 
Spike felt like he had gotten in way over his head. The poor kid's father was 
dying, and all she wanted was for him to be proud of her. She had scholarships 
to keep, and she knew that if she lost them, she'd never be able to finish 
school. Her roommate was a social butterfly, meaning she couldn't study in her 
room, and it was hard to find another spot. She was having trouble adjusting to 
college life and was afraid she'd get lost and wouldn't make it.

Spike had no clue why she was confiding in him, but she was, and there wasn't 
much he could do except sit there, listen, and make small sounds of 
encouragement at various intervals. In the end, she stood slowly. "I'm sorry, 
I've taken up too much of your time."

He looked over at the clock and realized that his office hours had been over by 
a half an hour. "Anytime, Jen. Lighten up on yourself, though. I can tell you 
you're gonna do fine in my class. But if it makes you feel better, I'll go over 
the paper, give you some tips."

Her whole face lit up. "Thank you so much. You've been a huge help."

Spike was still unsure of what exactly he had done, but it gave him a small 
glow of happiness in his middle to know that he'd managed to lighten her load a 
little. Later, when he was talking to Liz over a pile of very old books, he 
told her about Jen's visit.

"I'm not that surprised," Liz responded. "I expect she simply needed to get a 
few things off her chest. Besides, you're a wonderful teacher, William. I would 
like to have you teach my beginning Latin class next year as well. I think 
you'd do a marvelous job."

He stared at her. "You really think that?"

"Of course," Liz said. "You're a good man, with a great deal of compassion and 
patience, just the right combination for teaching a bunch of freshmen trying to 
learn Latin." She smiled slightly.

"If you think so," he replied dubiously.

"I know so," was her rejoinder. "William, I'll be retiring in a few years. By 
that time, I'd like you to be ready to step into my spot. There are very few 
who are qualified to take my place, and I would like you to be one of the 
candidates. Also, there are fewer still who would be willing to come to 
Sunnydale. I feel you are an invaluable asset, and I have no intention of 
losing you at any point in the near future."

"Oh." It wasn't a clever response, but it was the only one he could think of. 
He admired Liz greatly, and to have her give him her approval gave him a warm 
feeling similar to that he'd had earlier with Jen. Knowing what she thought, in 
spite of what he'd done in the past, thawed out the part that had frozen with 
his realization that he was still capable of great violence even after the 
demon had left. He smiled slowly. Not only did he have something to offer 
Buffy, he also had something to offer the world.

~~~~~

It was quiet in the house. Both he and Buffy had made a very quick patrol and 
then had gone back to the house around 10, neither one of them quite able to 
keep their hands off each other. Just because they were starting to feel like 
an old married couple certainly didn't mean they had to act like it.

They lay in the afterglow of their lovemaking and talked idly of their day. 
Spike had to concede that this was the part he enjoyed the most. The sex was 
amazing, of course, but he'd had amazing sex in the past, and it didn't mean 
anything in the end. The bit that came after, where they talked, and laughed, 
or disagreed with each other, that was what was gold to him. He was telling her 
about the girl who'd come to see him, and what Liz had said.

"You were surprised?" Buffy asked incredulously, twisting in his embrace to 
face him, one elbow propped on her pillow.

He frowned slightly. "A bit, I guess. Didn't bloody well expect for her to want 
me to take over."

"Why not?" When the look on his face continued to be one of puzzlement, she 
explained patiently. "Spike, you're a good teacher. I know because I sat in on 
one of your classes a couple weeks ago, and I thought it was really 
interesting. You don't know what it takes to keep me awake in a class, 
especially when they're not telling me what's going to be on the final."

"When were you there?" he asked, totally appalled that he had missed her.

"A couple weeks ago. I thought it might be weird for you to have me there, so I 
didn't say anything, and then there was that Ghora demon that night..." She 
trailed off, and Spike knew exactly what she was talking about. Along with the 
Ghora, there had been about a dozen vampires, plus a couple other demons of 
indeterminate variety. By the time they'd gotten home, they'd been so exhausted 
that they'd showered together with no intentions other than getting clean and 
falling into bed. Spike hadn't believed it possible.

"You really thought I was good?" he asked, a delighted smile creeping across 
his face.

"Yes," she replied, exasperated. "How many times do you have to hear it?"

He gave as good a shrug as he could manage from his position lying on his back, 
looking up at her. "It's just—I haven't been good for much of anything except 
death and mayhem for a while, luv. It's nice to know I have other talents."

She grinned at him. "Oh, trust me, you have plenty of other talents." She 
leaned down and kissed him, causing him to groan. Then the kiss deepened, and 
might have led to more except for the doorbell.

Even at a Slayer's house, a doorbell after 11 o'clock did not speak of anything 
good. Spike was immediately out of bed and pulling on a pair of pants, Buffy 
close behind him. He'd just managed to pull a t-shirt over his head when he 
reached the front door, surprised to see Simon standing on the other side. He 
was actually less surprised to see the bruise darkening one side of the boy's 
face.

"Come in," he said quietly, holding the door open for him.

"Thanks," Simon replied, clutching a pack and looking at the older man 
nervously. "I'm sorry if I woke you up. I just didn't know where else to go. I 
had to get out of there."

Spike laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "And I said you were welcome here at 
any time. I meant it." He sat the boy down on the couch and watched as Buffy 
came into the room. Their eyes met, and she could see the anger he just barely 
had a hold on.

"I'll get some ice." She went into the kitchen and got the ice she needed, 
furious. She wanted to go over and beat that man to a bloody pulp, and she knew 
Spike wanted to do the same, but they were adults, and they were supposed to be 
responsible ones, at that. Sometimes being responsible sucked.

She sat down next to Simon and gave him the ice she'd wrapped in a towel. "This 
should help with the bruising," she said. "I should know."

He gave her a wry look. "Thanks," he muttered against the ice pack. "I don't 
want you guys to get into trouble, but my step-dad was on a major rampage 
tonight. Mom pretty much told me to get out of the house."

Both Buffy and Spike's jaws tensed. It was a good thing that Simon had been 
able to come to them, and that he lived nearby. Chasing a kid out of the house 
after dark in Sunnydale was akin to attempted murder. Sensing their anger, he 
tried to smile. "I had my stake with me."

"Bloody hell," Spike muttered, and walked away, his back stiff.

"I'm really sorry," Simon repeated.

"Sweetheart, it's not your fault," Buffy assured him. "We're not mad at you. 
Spike's just trying very hard to not go over and kill your step-father at the 
moment."

As though her words had pulled him out of a trance, Spike turned to face Simon 
and Buffy. "Alright. Simon, you'll stay here tonight. We can put you up on the 
couch without any trouble. But tomorrow morning, I want you to call your mum, 
tell her you stayed with some friends. If she asks who, tell her the truth, but 
don't give out any more information than you have to. Then, when you go to 
school, you go tell the nurse what happened. If you feel like you're getting in 
over your head and need to call someone, you call me."

Simon looked confused. "Then what?"

Spike looked grim. "To be honest, I don't know, but I can sound impressive, and 
I can be on your side. We'll take care of things from there, play it by ear, 
like." He looked at him with compassion. "How long has this been goin' on, Blue 
Boy?"

Simon ducked his head slightly. "Pretty much since my mom married him, I guess 
when I was 12. He just doesn't like kids all that much, and he really didn't 
like me. He hasn't hit me for a while now, not since this summer, but he was 
pissed off about something his boss said to him, and kind of took it out on me."

Spike nodded slowly, his limbs feeling heavy. He'd been on the receiving end of 
that kind of beating before, handed out for his own good, to make him a better 
vampire. He wondered what his grandsire would think if he saw him now. "I know, 
lad."

Buffy looked over at him in surprise. She could tell by his voice that he did 
know, and she had a feeling she knew where he'd gotten that kind of 
information. It sickened her to think about it. "Let me go get you some sheets 
and stuff," she said quickly, letting Spike take over as he spoke to Simon in 
low, comforting tones. He'd always been good at that, she realized, making 
people feel okay. Or, at least when he was a vampire, he'd been really good at 
it with her and Dawn. Apparently, when he became human, that capacity stretched 
to include everyone else as well. She realized with a startling suddenness that 
he would make a really good father, and even though her middle gave a twinge of 
anxiety at that thought, her heart did a little dance for joy.

Later, once they'd gotten Simon bedded down on the couch, they went back to 
bed, grateful that Dawn had managed to sleep through the commotion. "We can't 
keep him, you know," Buffy whispered quietly.

"You're talkin' like we picked him up from the pound, luv," Spike replied 
lightly, but then sighed as he grew serious. "I know, pet. Even if the social 
nazis let us take him, it wouldn't be fair to Dawn or Simon."

"Mmm. Telling them not to sleep together, while living under the same roof, 
while we're doing it right under their noses, would be just a little 
hypocritical," Buffy agreed.

"Simon wouldn't touch her," Spike said with more assurance than Buffy felt was 
warranted.

"And you know this how?"

"Because we've spoken. He understands what happens if she gets hurt." Spike 
paused. "Have you talked to Dawn?"

Buffy hesitated. "Well, we discussed what happens when you sleep with someone, 
namely that if it doesn't work out the pain level is magnified about 1000 
times. And, if she wants to avoid mistakes like mine, that would be one to 
start with."

Spike chuckled. "That's one way to look at it. What did the Bit have to say to 
that?"

"She said that they'd talked about it and had decided to wait for a while, if 
only because they both feel as though they're too young to be playing house." 
Buffy smiled reflectively. "She also made some comment to the effect that she 
was already avoiding my mistakes by not dating a member of the undead or a 
soldier working for a secret government agency."

"Point," he said.

"So what are you going to do tomorrow?" Buffy asked.

Spike hesitated. "I'm going to do everything I can to make sure Blue Boy gets a 
fair deal. That's all I can do."

Dawn had been surprised to see Simon on the couch when she came downstairs that 
morning. She'd been furious with Dick the Dork, and had fussed over his bruise 
in such a way that made both Buffy and Spike hide smirks. She sat next to him 
as he phoned his mom.

"Hey, Mom." He waited a minute. "Yeah, I'm with friends. I'm okay...Oh...No, I 
understand, really...It's okay, I can have William drive me over there, and we 
can pick some stuff up...No, I get it...It's better this way...I'll see you 
later, while he's at work...bye."

When he looked up at Dawn, his eyes were blank with misery. "She says it's 
better if I don't come home. She thinks it would be okay if I grab some stuff 
this afternoon while Dick's gone."

She didn't say anything in reply, just moved to hug him. They stood that way 
for a long time. "It'll be okay," Dawn assured him finally.

He shook his head. "I know, but—"

"Hey," she replied. "We've stopped like a hundred apocalypses. We can work this 
out."

"Yeah, I guess this isn't really the end of the world is it?" Simon put a tired 
hand up to his bruised face. "It's just the end of mine," he whispered, so 
quietly that no one heard.

---------------------------------