Subject: [SpikesSalvation] Normal's A Place in Illinois- Chapter 5
Date: Wed, 19 Nov 2003 11:49:05 -0800 (PST)
From: Jerusha Hancock <enigmaticblue@yahoo.com>
Reply-To: SpikesSalvation@yahoogroups.com
To: SpikesSalvation@yahoogroups.com


Chapter 5: Success Unknown

"Success is counted sweetest/
By those who ne'er succeed./
To comprehend a nectar/ 
Requires sorest need./
Not one of all the purple host/
Who took the flag to-day/
Can tell the definition,/
So clear, of victory,/
As he, defeated, dying,/
On whose forbidden ear/
The distant strains of triumph/
Break, agonized and clear." ~Emily Dickinson


He spotted Buffy easily enough, standing by the baggage claim. She was chatting 
up a thin, lanky young man, and he found that curiously appropriate. His Slayer 
had never missed an opportunity to flirt, though he had to admit that there was 
something familiar about her companion, as though he'd seen him somewhere 
before. She saw him before he got a dozen steps closer, and came to greet him. 
"Giles!"

Giles enfolded her in a warm embrace. "Buffy." He pulled back to get a better 
look at her. "You're looking particularly well."

"Thank you. You're not looking too bad youself," she replied cheerfully. Giles 
had to admit (though only to himself) that he'd been more than a bit concerned 
about her after hearing of Spike's return. Whatever it had meant to her, 
however, she seemed to be dealing with it well enough.

She pulled back slightly and looked over her shoulder at the young man that 
she'd been talking to, and Giles suddenly realized why he had looked so 
familiar. "Good Lord. Spike!" he exclaimed unnecessarily.

Spike seemed more embarrassed than offended by Giles' faltering manners, and 
merely shuffled his feet, murmuring a somewhat shy greeting. "Rupert."

Giles' English manners turned themselves back on, and he went to greet the 
ex-vampire with no little curiosity. "Forgive me. Buffy had told me you'd 
changed in appearance, but I wasn't expecting you to look quite so well after a 
bout with malaria."

"Good save, Giles," Buffy said with a smirk, watching as Spike considered the 
hand the Watcher held out. He seemed to briefly debate the merits of shaking 
hands, as though Giles might have a stake hidden up his sleeve somewhere, but 
finally met it with a firm grip.

"Ta, Rupert."

There was an awkward silence as everyone looked at one another and tried to 
figure out what they were supposed to say next. When the baggage carousel began 
to turn, Spike looked at it in relief. "I'll get your bags then, if you 
wouldn't mind pointing 'em out to me."

"Certainly," the older man replied, relieved. "Tell me, Buffy, how is everyone?"

"Good," Buffy replied, more at ease than either of the men. "I was actually the 
only one who didn't have to work today. Dawn was going to come, but she got 
called yesterday to babysit and couldn't pass it up."

"I'm certain that meeting me at the airport falls a distant second to earning a 
bit more pocket money," Giles said with a smile.

Buffy nodded and rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "We're doing a lot better on 
the money front, but there's still things that she has to get herself if she 
wants them. Right now I think the goal is a new leather jacket."

"A laudable achievement," was the comment, as he kept an eye out for his bags. 
"There, the garment bag coming up is mine."

Spike snagged it from the belt in one easy motion. "Any more?"

"One large black one," Giles replied. "Then Dawn is doing well?"

Buffy hesitated slightly. "I think so. Spike thinks she may be having some 
adjustment issues with the crowd she's been hanging out with this summer."

They both looked at Spike, who looked around at the mention of his name. "Just 
seems to me that the Bit's out on the fringes a little. Might pass over time, 
'specially if this is a new group she's been hanging with."

"Spike is probably right, Buffy," Giles said encouragingly. "I remember you 
were once outside the in-crowd."

"Yeah, but I was in really good company," she replied. "Oh, I'm just being a 
mommy. It's probably not a big deal."

Giles took a moment to point out his last bag, and Spike pulled it off the 
carousel. "That's it," he said, watching as Spike allowed Buffy to grab the 
suitcase while he took the garment bag. He followed them out to the car, 
realizing that Buffy had not been wrong where Spike was concerned. He was 
different; quieter, more reserved. There was a lack of self-assurance, even a 
shyness, in his body language that had never been there before. Buffy had 
described him as broken, and while Giles could certainly see why, he wasn't so 
sure. He remembered a very young version of himself who had just discovered the 
limits of hubris. Humility was a form of brokenness, but very beneficial in its 
way.

Spike unlocked the back of the Jeep and loaded the bags. Giles frowned as he 
realized that he was planning on driving. "Spike? You're driving?"

"As I explained to the Slayer, Rupert, I've been driving probably longer than 
either one of you have been alive and I've never gotten pulled over." He 
paused. "Well, strictly speaking, that isn't true."

"Wait a minute," Buffy said, eyeing him narrowly. "You said you'd never gotten 
a ticket. That's one of the reasons I let you drive."

He looked completely innocent. "I told you the truth, luv. I never did get a 
ticket. Got pulled over though, once in the '80's for speeding."

Giles regarded him suspiciously. "And how did you get out of receiving a 
ticket?"

Spike looked from one to the other of them in surprise. "I used my charm to 
convince the nice copper to give me a warning," he said sarcastically. "I was 
evil. What do you think I did?"

Buffy stared at him. "You ate a cop?"

"Like you've never been on the wrong side of the law before," he scoffed.

Buffy hesitated and then nodded without much good grace. "Okay, maybe, but I've 
never eaten the law. Giles, I don't suppose you still have your California 
driver's license?"

"Come on, Slayer," Spike protested. "I got you here safely. I'll get you back 
safely."

"Oh, let him drive Buffy. I'm sure he'll be whinging the entire way to your 
house otherwise." Giles was watching the interplay between the two of them with 
much interest. There was a playfulness there that hadn't been in the past. 
They'd always harassed one another mercilessly, but there had always been a 
hint of malice under the surface from at least one or the other of them. Now, 
however, there was no anger, nothing but an easy-going friendliness. 
Considering how their relationship had ended, it seemed that much had happened 
in the last two weeks.

Spike did indeed get them home safely, and even delivered Giles' bags to his 
room before pleading exhaustion and disappearing to the basement. Giles watched 
him go thoughtfully. "I take it he's staying downstairs."

"Yeah, Xander had pretty much finished it. We set up a cot. He thought it would 
be more private than staying on the couch, and he still sleeps at weird hours 
sometimes." Her eyes had followed him downstairs, and she turned to look at 
Giles. "I know you're probably tired, but do you want to go for a walk?"

"I've been sitting for hours," Giles replied. "It would be nice to stretch my 
legs."

They ambled along with no particular destination in mind, Giles enjoying the 
midafternoon sun. He found it bemusing that he had missed the rain and the mist 
of England while in sunny California, and then had missed the sun when he'd 
returned. "So, tell me, Buffy," he invited. "How is everything going?"

He listened as she rambled on, talking about how Xander was getting on, and 
Anya and the shop, and Dawn. Basically, everything except for how she herself 
was doing, and how Spike's return had effected her. Giles let her run down and 
then decided to ask a question that was a bit more specific. "And how is the 
new job?"

She smiled, a look of true pleasure crossing her face. "It's good. It can be 
completely boring, but it's definitely better than burger-flipping. No more 
greasy Buffy, and the discounts are more to my taste. It's definitely helping 
prevent my wardrobe from taking huge slaying-related hits."

"Well, we certainly couldn't be having that," Giles replied drily.

Buffy nudged him with her elbow. "Don't laugh. A girl likes to look good while 
fighting evil. It's important."

"I'm sure." He smiled. It was good to be home again. "And Spike?"

"So now we get to the important stuff I'd rather avoid, huh?" Buffy looked off 
into the distance. "He has changed, Giles."

Giles nodded. "I believe he has. I'm more interested in how you're dealing with 
his return. After the way it ended between the two of you..." he trailed off. 
Buffy had told him enough about their relationship for him to be concerned 
about Spike's presence in her home.

"You and everybody else. Giles, what happened is between Spike and I, and it's 
going to stay that way." She looked off into the distance. "He still loves me. 
How incredible is that?"

He looked at her in sympathy. "Not so remarkable considering both the source 
and its recipient."

"We're dating."

Giles looked at her in what could only be described as alarm. "Again? Do you 
really believe that to be a good idea?"

Buffy rolled her eyes, giving him a dirty look. "It's not again. We weren't 
dating the first time around. And, yes, I think it's a really good idea. We're 
taking it slow, just trying to find out if we really even like each other that 
much."

"A relationship is not built on the feelings of one person," he warned her. "I 
dislike saying it, but while Spike may have changed, have you? Is what led up 
to that particular ending different enough so that it won't happen again?"

She looked grave. "Yeah, I think so. If not, this time one of us will walk 
away."

"Are you certain?"

She faced him squarely. "If I don't walk away, Spike will. And I won't hurt him 
again." Buffy bit her lip. "I know you don't like this, Giles, and I'm not 
asking you to give your blessing, but could you just go easy on him?"

Giles had wondered if she loved him, and if he were to be truthful, he was not 
certain that she did. But there was a look in her eyes that had not previously 
been there, and that she would be willing to protect him, even from her 
Watcher, said a lot. She had protected Angel too. "I don't know this Spike, 
Buffy. If he's as different as you claim, I don't think I could stand in your 
way, even if I should like to. Until I know more, I won't make a judgment."

She smiled, relieved. "Thanks."

~~~~~

Giles made his way down to the basement, walking softly. Xander had done a good 
job, managing to get a storage area made, fixing the water damage, and 
installing a wood floor that was perfect for training with the additional mats 
Buffy had laid out. Weapons hung on the walls and a punching bag hung from the 
ceiling. Spike's cot was against the far wall, and he lay sprawled out, a book 
in one pale, long-fingered hand, reading. "Looking for something, Rupert?" he 
asked, not looking up.

"For you, actually, Spike. I wanted to talk to you." He watched as Spike put 
the book down and sat up to face him. Watched as he swallowed nervously and 
nodded, not quite meeting his eyes.

"All right then."

"Buffy told me you were dating." Giles was amused at his startled expression. 
"Did you think she was going to keep it a secret from everyone?"

He motioned with his shoulders, an uncomfortable shrug. "Didn't want her to, 
but yeah, I didn't expect her to tell anyone. You going to tell me to get the 
hell out of town, Watcher?"

Giles met the other man's eyes and saw youth and naked vulnerability there. It 
shouldn't have surprised him, but he understood that what he was seeing was 
both the man the vampire had been as well as the vampire he had become. It was 
a curious combination, and it hit Giles that this was going to be a difficult 
road for both of them. "No. I went back to England so that Buffy would learn to 
make her own decisions. I can hardly return only to insist on making such a 
decision for her."

"I don't want to hurt her."

"I know." And Giles did know. This stranger before him was suddenly a very lost 
young man with a mild resemblence to a vampire he once knew. "I wanted to give 
you something."

He handed a manilla envelope to the younger man and sat down on a folding chair 
that had been leaning against the wall. Spike pulled out the contents, his eyes 
widening as he realized what it contained. "How?" he managed.

Giles watched as he pored over the birth certificate, passport, driver's 
license, and various assorted documents that identified him as a real person. 
"I called in some favors and rearranged a branch on the family tree." At his 
startled reaction, Giles raised an eyebrow. "You didn't think I would actually 
bring forgeries into the country with me, did you? This is not a good time to 
attempt that kind of smuggling. All the information is exact, save for the last 
name. According to the paperwork, we are very distantly related. Third cousins, 
twice removed, or something like that."

Spike shook his head. "I don't understand. You hate me."

"No, I don't hate you. I wouldn't confess to actually liking you either, but I 
do not hate you. Buffy needs an ally, Spike, and you cannot be that in your 
present state without some options and a modicum of protection. Proper 
documentation grants you both." Giles regarded him for a long moment. "What are 
your intentions toward her at this point?"

Spike gazed at the paperwork with something like awe. "This must have cost a 
pretty penny, Rupert. I can't pay you back." He looked at the Watcher and then 
glanced away again at his implacable look. "I thought to come back and 
apologize, let her kick me in the teeth a few times if she wanted. Then I'd 
stay or go, whatever she wanted. I never expected this to be it." He shrugged. 
"I just want her to be happy. That's all."

"And yourself?" Giles asked.

Spike looked at him as though he'd grown a second head. "What do you mean?"

"What do you want for yourself, Spike?"

Spike's look didn't change. "I want her to be happy."

Giles nodded. "I see. I'd like you to do me a favor."

Nodding, Spike replied, "If I can, I will. I owe you for this."

"I have a friend who teaches at the university and she's been having a problem 
that's stumped us both. I'd like you to see if you couldn't be of some help." 
Giles prayed that this worked. He hadn't been certain of his actions before he 
got to Sunnydale, but he thought he could kill two birds with one stone. Spike 
needed someone to help him get on his feet again, and Elizabeth needed help 
that she couldn't find elsewhere.

"What makes you think I could do anything for her?" Spike asked.

"I believe you received a university education, did you not?" When Spike 
nodded, Giles continued. "My friend is head of the classics and ancient 
religions department. There's a document that talks about a particular ritual 
along with a certain artifact. I thought you might be familiar with one or the 
other."

Spike looked unsure. "I'll try, Rupert, but I can't make any promises."

"I'm not expecting a miracle, nor am I requiring that you accomplish anything. 
I just thought you might be able to shed some light."

"I'll try."

"Good." Giles stood. "I believe the others should be here shortly, if you feel 
up to dinner with all of us."

"Why not?" Spike said, and Giles could hear him muttering faintly as he climbed 
the stairs. "This should be an interesting evening."

~~~~~

Buffy glanced around the room, alarmed to find Spike absent. She looked over at 
Dawn who was listening absently to the conversation. "Dawn, have you seen 
Spike?"

Dawn looked over at her sister in surprise. "He went downstairs about a half 
hour ago. Do you want me to check on him?"

Buffy hesitated and decided to allow her sister to go down. As much as she 
wanted to see how he was, she didn't want to make a scene. She'd had her share 
of the whole emotional sharing thing for one day. "Will you?" she asked with 
relief.

Dawn nodded, not saying that she had really wanted to talk to him anyway, away 
from everyone else. As close as she and Buffy had grown, there were still some 
things she didn't really want to talk to her sister about, namely anything that 
would give lie to the fact that she was a popular, well-adjusted teenager. She 
descended the stairs to the basement, and saw immediately that Spike was 
sitting cross-legged on his cot, reading. "Hi, Niblet," he said, looking up at 
her.

"Buffy wanted me to check on you and make sure you're okay," Dawn said, feeling 
lame even as she did.

"I'm fine, Bit. I just needed some space, that's all." He looked at her 
steadily. "What's on your mind?" he asked quietly, his dark blue eyes serious 
and intent.

"I wanted to ask you something." When he nodded, she continued. "Why do some 
people fit in and others don't?"

That caused both eyebrows to raise. "I'm not sure I'm the right person to ask," 
he replied. "I've never fit in anywhere."

"You fit in with me and Buffy," she replied, stung.

He smiled a little then, sadly. "You can fit with a person sometimes even when 
you can't make it in the crowd they run with. Why do you ask?"

"I don't seem to fit in anywhere at all," she replied, misery evident in her 
voice and face.

"Come 'ere," he replied, patting the bed beside him. She sat down, and he put a 
friendly arm around her shoulders. "This about your friends at the Bronze the 
other night?"

"They're not my friends," she replied automatically. "Janice started hanging 
with them a lot, and they really like her. And they let me tag along, but 
they're not my friends."

Spike sighed. He wasn't sure he was cut out for this gig. Everything he touched 
in life seemed to turn to dust and ashes, and he didn't want to screw this up. 
"I would have to say fitting in is a little like falling in love," he said 
thoughtfully. "It has to do with chemistry, and liking the same things, and 
having the same interests. And sometimes, through no fault of their own, a 
person just doesn't make the cut."

Dawn looked as though she were about to cry. "So you mean I'm doomed? I'm never 
going to have any friends at all?"

Spike rolled his eyes and snorted. "I didn't say anything o' the sort, Dawn, 
and you know it. All I'm saying is that you might not fit in with this crowd, 
but it's nothin' about you. It's just about how things happen sometimes. Give 
it time. You'll find some kids your own age who like you fine. No reason why 
anyone wouldn't."

Dawn leaned back against Spike and wished she could just stay there. She'd 
always felt safe with him, and being with him now made her believe that 
everything might be okay. "You said you never fit in? Not even before you were 
a vampire?"

"No," he said softly, remembering. "I didn't have a place then, but I wanted 
one."

"And after you became a vampire?" she asked.

It hadn't all been roses and the hunt, Spike remembered. It had also meant 
pain, and fearing Angelus, and knowing he was the youngest of their family and 
the most expendable. And it had meant knowing, somewhere deep down inside of 
him, that Drusilla didn't love him nearly as much as he loved her. "It was 
better. The best times were when it was just me and Dru, after Angelus got his 
soul and Darla left us alone."

"And then?" Dawn asked. It helped to know someone else had been in the same 
boat she was in, even someone as cool as Spike had been.

"And then your sister put me in a chair and I helped her save the world. That 
was pretty much the end of it for me, Bit. You know the rest of the story." He 
looked at her and smiled. "You've got more going for you than I ever did. 
You've got friends, and a sister who thinks the world of you, and for what it's 
worth, you've got me. You're beautiful and smart and full of all kinds o' 
potential. You just sit tight, be yourself, and things'll work themselves out."

"Thanks, Spike," she said, hugging him. "I think I'm going to go back upstairs. 
Are you sure you don't want to come?"

"I think I'm going to try to sleep in a while," he replied. "You go ahead." He 
watched her go up the stairs and laid back on the bed. "So maybe I didn't screw 
that up..." he whispered to the ceiling.

~~~~~

The body has memories of its own. Spike's body remembered all kinds of things, 
and that's usually what he dreamed of. Sometimes it was the taste of blood, the 
feel of it running down his face, his hands, his throat. And it was the sound 
of flesh ripping, of girls screaming, of harsh panting as they ran from him. 
And it was the smell of death, of endings, of wood. These were the dreams he 
had on some nights. But on others it was a different kind of memory, one where 
he felt fangs sinking into the soft flesh of his throat, heard Drusilla's 
seductive offer, and chose once again, over and over again, to take on the form 
of the demon. These were the nights he woke covered in sweat and unable to 
return to sleep.

But there were other things that were there, buried deep within his mind. He 
had realized when he returned that he had each of their scents memorized, 
Buffy's, and Dawn's, and Giles' and the other Scoobies', so that even if he no 
longer had the amplified olfactory sense of a vampire, he knew when one of them 
came into a room. And he remembered the speed and the strength being a vampire 
had given him with longing when faced with tiredness, and hunger, and thirst, 
and cold, and sickness. But he had faced all of these head-on while making his 
way back to Buffy. He had learned to fight with more cunning and less speed, 
more wisdom and less strength. Spike, who had known no retreat, had come to 
understand its strategic value, and had accepted it. As he had accepted the 
fact that Buffy would never love him. As he accepted the fact that with the 
return of his humanity would possibly come the return of William, and that he 
would be nothing again, though he realized that in a very real way he had been 
less than nothing before. Nothing more than animated dust.

Which was why it amazed him when he woke from his nightmare, sweaty and 
panicked and exhausted, that he could scent Buffy in the room, and he called 
out to her.

"Spike? I thought you were asleep." She came toward him, and he could make out 
the dim outline of her form in the darkness.

"I was." He pushed himself up into a sitting position as she came to sit down 
beside him.

"Another nightmare?" she asked quietly. "Maybe we could get Willow to make 
something for you. Nothing drastic, just something that might help with the 
dreams."

He shook his head. "I'll get through them."

"You know, macho ex-vampires are really not attractive," she replied, but he 
could hear the smile in her voice, and he took no offense. "Let me try to help 
you."

"I still don't know why you'd want to," he replied.

"Because I can." Buffy sighed and reached out to smooth back sweat-soaked hair. 
"You took off pretty early this evening," she commented.

He shook his head, though he didn't move away from her touch. "It's not me 
anymore, Buffy," he replied. "Like I've said, I spent most of last year alone, 
and I realized I liked it. I liked the quiet. And I don't fit in with your 
Scoobies. I never have."

"You could," she insisted. "You just need to give them a chance."

"Give me some time," he pleaded. "I just need a little time."

Her hand stilled on his forehead, and then she touched the side of his face 
gently. "Take all the time you need," she replied. "You gave that to me when I 
came back from the dead. But, Spike—please don't run away from me."

"Never you, luv."

"Come on," she said finally, after a long silence. "You really need to get some 
sleep."

He shook his head. "I'm not going to be able to sleep again tonight, Buffy. You 
might as well go to bed."

"I'm still wired from patrol," she replied. "It's all right. I'll keep the bad 
dreams away."

He lay down obediently, too tired to argue with her. "I'm going to start 
patrolling with you."

"Yeah, right," she replied. "Go to sleep, Spike."

"If I don't go with you, I'll follow you," he insisted. "I'm serious, Buffy. I 
may not be a vampire, but I've got a hundred years worth of fighting experience 
stored up. I can bloody well take care of m'self."

She smiled at his indignant tone, and realized that he was probably right. 
"Besides," he went on, oblivious to the fact that she was about to capitulate, 
"you've been lettin' the Scoobies tag along with you and they don't even have 
half the experience that I do."

"You're right. It's stupid of me to even think about not letting you come 
along." She laid her fingers across his lips. "But, Spike? Go to sleep."

It was corny, and it was something that he'd never have admitted to, but with 
Buffy sitting next to him, he was willing to believe that the nightmares might 
not come back, that she might actually be able to chase them off. And so he 
slept as she watched.

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