Summary: “It was time to be his own man now and let her decide whether she could truly accept what he was.” Spike discovers the importance of being his true self above all else. A somewhat angsty AU set post-'Grave'. *COMPLETED, October 2003* PG13

Author's Note: Hmm...I suppose this is an angstier, unusual take on what could have happened had Spike made a different wish when he went to Africa in 'Grave'. And I think that's all I'll tell you in advance. ~_^

William stared warily at the shot-glass, steeled himself up, and downed the entire thing in one gulp. In instinctive reaction to the burning liquid hitting his sensitive throat, he began hacking uncontrollably, coughing and gasping for breath, eyes watering in pain.

The bartender gave him a look and moved to take away the bottle.

“N-No,” William insisted in a hesitant voice. “I-I need—”

“I don’t need you killing yourself at my bar,” the bartender countered, plucking the whiskey out from in front of him.

A part of William wanted to protest, but his cheeks were already burning with embarrassment at yet another of his spectacular failures. Resorting to his typical tried and true method, he hunched in on himself, staring down at the table and trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Maybe if he tried hard enough, one of these days he’d completely disappear, and he wouldn’t have to face this miserable shell of an existence anymore. Unfortunately, today wasn’t his lucky day…

“You gonna want anything else, then?” the bartender asked pointedly, eyeing the table William took up critically. After all, the evening rush would come in soon, and this guy didn’t look like he’d be much of a customer. Too scrawny to hold any liquor.

William blushed again, and once more cursed the human affectation and the humiliation it constantly brought him. “U-Um, no,” he stuttered, rising abruptly and – in his clumsiness – knocking over the chair beside him. He hastily scrambled to pick it up only to bang his knee badly on the chair he’d just vacated. He gasped at the pain and clenched his eyes shut tight, cursing this awkward body and the sharp pain it felt at even the slightest infraction for the umpteenth time.

The bartender, casually observing the spectacle – as was everyone else in the bar, William had no doubt – decided to take pity on the young man. “It’s okay. I got it,” he insisted.

William managed to nod numbly, dropped a few bills on the table, and fled from the bar as fast as he could, tears stinging his eyes. He didn’t even notice the tall, pale woman at the far back table rise with predatory grace and follow him out the door, vanishing almost instantly into the black of night.

No, the vampire-turned-human was too busy commiserating…well, that exact fact, actually. As he had nearly every night for the past two years. He blinked out into the night through the thin frames of his glasses, felt the palpable hole in his chest where his demon – his confidence, his life, his essence, his being – had been cruelly ripped from him, and felt the tears rise up within him once more. And, not for the first time, he wondered whether he’d made the correct choice in that dark cave back in Africa…

“Make me a man so she can love me.”

Oh, it had worked all right. He’d returned, broken and battered, but with a pulse and a deep ache within where the Spike he’d known had been yanked right out. And she’d actually cried in relief and hugged him – no apologies needed – and cared from him as he tried to survive in this bleak, harsh world…

He rounded the corner onto Santa Maria Boulevard, staying well within the light of the street-lamps and clinging to the doors of the open shops like a little boy scared of the dark. And he was scared – he was terrified. Because, without the demon that had made him a power to be reckoned with for over a century, William was nothing more than a sniveling coward. He jumped at his own shadow, he barely ever left the house, and he could hardly string together a sentence in the presence of a stranger.

It was even worse than when he’d been human the first time because now he knew what he was truly capable of – great evils but great goods, as well – and every minute this pathetic human shell failed to live up to the potential of Vampire Spike was just another pain to his already aching heart.

He paused on the corner of Santa Maria and Chevalt, squinting out into the blackness of Restfield Cemetery for quite some time. His heart was beating a mile a minute, and he was beginning to feel a bit dizzy and headachy – undoubtedly because he was unaccustomed to the alcohol. In short, he was terrified and pathetic, as always. He turned back to look down the well-lit street that led safely back to Revello Drive and, just like every night, he made a decision. Only this night he finally mustered up enough courage to choose the cemetery instead.

His steps quickened with anxiety as he entered the wrought-ironed gates, and he buried his hands deep in his pockets, fighting off the evening chill. In the back of his mind, he could see Buffy’s sad and disapproving face, but it wasn’t enough anymore. Not enough to make up for a lifetime of misery…

She’d said it less than a week after he’d returned as a human. “I love you” – three words he’d longed to hear from her lips for so long, tarnished now by the fact that she didn’t even understand how the vampire and the human had been so alike, that only his exterior form had prevented her sweet admission in the past. He’d cried then, not knowing whether it was with joy or anguish, and she’d held him, whispering over and over again how much she loved him and how they could finally be together now, they could finally lead a normal life together.

Less than a month later, she’d asked him to marry her. He’d agreed readily. After all, hadn’t this been the purpose of all his suffering?

Their life together was anything but perfect or normal, though. After all, Buffy was the Slayer. Her life’s work consisted of stalking cemeteries after dark, hunting and slaying the fiercest foes on the planet.

On that first night when she’d asked him to join her on patrol and he’s had to refuse, he’d seen the disappointment flash in her eyes for the first time. Somewhere in the back of her mind, William was sure she’d imagined him as being some glorified human fighter – like Riley, or even Xander – someone who would fight by her side as her partner. She seemed to realize then that she’d lost her equal, but she’d fought the notion for the longest time, insisting that she would protect him if anything went wrong.

Her protect him. What kind of a partnership was that?

She’d even urged him to take self-defense classes for a while, but what she didn’t realize was that it had been the demon who knew how to work this body. Vampire Spike was a graceful dancer; Human William had two left feet. Worse than that. Three left feet.

Oh, he’d tried for her. But in the end his natural klutziness and his overwhelming terror had driven him to hide in the house after dark while his wife went out to do battle.

He paused in his reminiscing for a second, glancing about at the still-familiar landmarks and making his way around the bend of the Hawkins crypt, venturing deeper into the blackness of the night despite every instinct in his body that screamed against it. He was no longer a bold creature of the night, but a timid creature of the day. Nevertheless, he’d already gone this far. He couldn’t stop now…

The disappointment quickly spread to other aspects of their lives, as well. On their honeymoon – quite by accident – Buffy had hurt him badly in the heat of passion. His body was so weak and fragile compared to hers now, and she constantly had to hold back, fearing to damage him again. And he knew all too well that their lovemaking wasn’t able to satisfy her. After all, hadn’t he been the one to say that she needed a little monster in her man?

In any case, it had turned into a vicious cycle. He could rarely get it up at all anymore. And he didn’t have much stamina for pleasuring her in other ways, either. So most nights, they ended up lying side-by-side in the dark, both silently mourning what he’d given up, although she would never admit it and he was afraid to.

He’d tried to tell her once, ask whether she thought he’d made a mistake. Her answer had been simple. “You’re human now. Of course you made the right choice.” They way she said ‘human’, like it was the most important thing in the world to her, had filled his heart with fear. Would she feel disgust that he hated this human existence so much? If she knew how he really felt, would she revoke her gift of love?

The way she’d said those words made the discussion seem final. And he dared not challenge her decision. She was the only thing he had in this sad existence, and he’d had to do so much to win her. He couldn’t risk losing her now. It would just kill him.

So when she said that she wanted a human, he tried not to regret that he was no longer a vampire. That didn’t mean that he didn’t see it, though. The first night Zalen had come into town, he’d seen it. That vital sparkle in her eye, the flashy clothes and clever quips, the excitement that flushed her cheeks at having a worthy opponent once more. In his heyday, Spike could’ve taken the other Master vamp in the blink of an eye. But now…

Buffy had casually hinted that he start taking drugs to help with his ‘problem’ and practically tackled him back onto the bed every night after she did battle with her latest foe. William had come to dread her return home every evening, lying limp beneath her as she tried to use him as an outlet for the desires she so vigorously denied.

Back when he’d still been Spike, she’d insisted that sleeping with him was killing her. Well, now it was killing him. Knowing every night that she wanted what he had been and was secretly fantasizing about his vampire self as she whispered soft words of encouragement and love to him, using him in a different sort of way now…

He pled weariness every night he possibly could. And more often than not cried himself to sleep with silent tears.

It had gotten bad enough that even Buffy acknowledged that something was wrong. She talked about going on holiday together, visiting Europe perhaps where he could show her all the wonderful places he’d been after his death. She didn’t seem to understand why the idea made him even more depressed, though. How the world seemed dead, dull, and gray to him now. Like all of his senses were muffled by one of those terrible head colds. That seeing the pale imitation of the vivid, vibrant world his vampire senses had brought him would only make the pain worse…

William shook himself to again, scanning the cemetery confusedly, not sure which way was home. He made a guess and rounded a small copse of trees, feet cautiously feeling the way in the moonless dark. For one second he thought he heard a rustle behind him, but he paid it no mind. After all, he was here for a reason.

This wasn’t a decision he’d come to lightly or quickly. Unlike Spike, William wasn’t impulsive in the slightest. He was hesitant and second-guessed himself all the time. It was one of the things that drove Buffy crazy – yet another proof that when she looked at him she didn’t see the half-man he was now, but the real man his demon – rather ironically – had been. Only in an acceptable human body now. She even called him Spike still, although the name was grossly inappropriate for the shy creature he’d become.

And William had agonized over this dichotomy for as long as he’d been human. When he’d been a demon, he’d known what and who he was. But now… Did he have a soul? He didn’t suffer with guilt over what he’d done the way Angel had. And he wasn’t sure if it was because he was defective in some way but, as a human, he sort of didn’t think the man that Spike had been becoming was all that bad. He wished he could’ve seen Spike complete that journey on his own, and he wished Buffy could see it, too. If Vampire Spike had become a good man, would she be able to love him even though he was still a demon? Did it mean that he was soulless, that something was wrong with him, that he even thought it?

And, if he didn’t have a soul and he didn’t have a demon, then what was he? A ghost, a facsimile of a man with nothing but emptiness within? It was frightening how often he felt as though that were the case…

But the final blow had been struck last Tuesday when he’d received the call from his doctor. Anya, in a rare moment of compassion for her employee’s personal needs, had let him leave the counter and take the call privately in the back room. It had been a good thing, too, when he’d burst out crying as his last hope was shattered.

The fact that he was warm-blooded again made no difference. A hundred twenty-two years of death had made him as sterile as a human as he’d been as a vampire. He would never be able to father Buffy’s children. His only reason for clinging to this fragile, human existence was gone…

William breathed an audible sigh of relief when he rounded a final bend and found himself before the crypt he had once called home. He reached out to touch the stone, surprised how cold and hard it felt. His vampire self had never been put off by the hardship. He had once found joy, love, and life in death; whereas, now that he was alive he felt more dead than he’d ever been. Another irony.

A deep gulp, and he entered Spike’s crypt…

It was vacant, of course. William suspected that Buffy kept it clean of intruders in memory of the vampire she would never quite admit she’d lost. It had grown dusty over the years, though, as filled with dirt and cobwebs as when Spike had first taken residence here. Inwardly, he winced at the idea of such a fixer-up, but Spike had always had boundless energy. He wasn’t weary of his existence like William was…

“A bit late for a cute guy like you to be out alone…” The drawling female voice came from the door. William hadn’t even heard the vampiress’ approach.

Hands sweating horribly with fear, he turned to face her. “Y-You followed me?” He hated the way his voice trembled and squeaked. He hated the cold terror that shot through him at being helpless, weak, useless…

She prowled over to him, eyes flickering yellow. “Well, aren’t you a pretty one?” she asked, eyeing his high cheekbones and lean build. Slowly, she licked her lips. “You look…delicious…” And, with that, her bones shifted, revealing the demon within.

William hated that he flinched at the change in her, that he was still second-guessing himself even now. That he was too slow, too frightened to even move to stop her as she yanked him back by his now-brown locks and grazed his throat with her razor-sharp fangs.

“Oh, I think I’ll keep you…” she whispered seductively against his ear.

William shut his eyes tight and said his last five words. And he even stuttered through those. “Y-Yes,” he pleaded, “m-make me like you…”

And then he felt the blinding sharp pain of fangs in his throat, and a cool, bloody wrist was pressed against his lips. His mouth opened willingly, and he drank in the unlife-giving essence. Deep in his mind, he felt another presence slipping in. But this time he wasn’t afraid, for he recognized the demon as it wove itself back into his mind.

Somewhere deep inside, he’d known that it would be his demon that was waiting beyond the void. After all, weren’t they two broken halves of one whole? And, as the two merged once more, a strange feeling of peace, of rightness, settle over him once more.

William would’ve sobbed at the pain; Spike laughed aloud at the joy of life once more…

Spike stood outside the door to 1620 Revello Drive, taking a final drag on his cigarette. God, it felt good to be him again.

He’d disposed of his latest Sire shortly after he’d woken up that evening. The poor thing hadn’t known what had hit her. She’d expected a weak fledgling willing to do her every bidding. Instead, she’d gotten herself a powerful Master that finished her off in seconds. After all, the finesse and control of over a century cohabiting a human body didn’t vanish with only a few years’ separation.

Spike had almost felt guilty at taking advantage of the younger vampire. But, after all, she was obviously preying on humans. He’d at least done her the favor of making her death quick, even though his entire body was exulting from the brief fight.

He’d had to sweep half the cemeteries in town before the joy of the hunt finally left him. Then, he’d made his way quickly to the butcher’s, downed two pints of pig’s blood without even getting an odd look, and made his way to corner 24-hour drugstore where he’d bought copious amounts of peroxide.

The leather duster that had seemed too big for the small man he’d been fit him like a second skin once more. A quick stop at the public restrooms outside Sunnydale pool, and his locks were as white as ever. Although he had unknowingly bleached twice more than was actually necessary, given that he hadn’t had the aid of the mirror. And the wanker-wear…

Well, he couldn’t really do anything about that until he got fresh clothes from his dresser, now could he? At least Buffy had prevented his human self from making a completely geek out of himself. Blue and tan might not have been Spike’s choice colors, but the t-shirt and slacks weren’t anywhere near as hideous as what he’d been wearing last time he’d woken from the grave.

So now, here he stood, waiting before his door and feeling nervous butterflies deep in his stomach. For, despite William’s obsessive over-thinking, this had been the one wild variable in the plan. William had decided that being himself once more was worth the possible cost, but Spike’s whole being – human and demon alike – screamed their love for the woman behind that door.

William had remembered correctly how intense the world suddenly seemed to a vampire, but he’d forgotten that emotions like love were just as overwhelming. Even now, dozens of poncy plans filled Spike’s head – how he’d finally give her that trip she wanted, how he’d make love to her until she screamed his name in fulfillment (and, oh, was he ready to please…), how they’d fight side-by-side from now on, true partners at last, how they would work together to make their lives still fit, adjust all sorts of little details… It would take a lot of work, but then it had taken a lot of work before, too. And now he was willing and able to do whatever it took.

And all this while stealing himself up for the very real possibility of her rejection. No, being Spike again didn’t make things suddenly easier, but it made him feel real again, and that had been the point.

He’d been willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for her, giving her what she’d thought she’d wanted, and it had killed him. It was time to start being himself, the man who loved her more than anything in this world, and let her decide the rest. He’d had the choice of being a mediocre, pathetic human or a good vampire, and he’d made his decision. Deep within, he could feel that this was what he was always meant to be…

Fortified by that thought, he opened the door and stepped into his home. Although it might not remain his for long. Instantly, his eyes met with the hazel he’d longed for every minute he’d been away. The gold of her hair, the subtle scent of her perfume, the sound of her powerful blood pumping through her veins… He’d forgotten how intoxicating it was, the message – Yes, you’re whole again, but the perfect compliment to your entire being is here, in this woman – screaming out to him…

“Spike,” Buffy breathed out a sigh of relief, rushing over to him and catching him in a fierce hug. “Oh god, I was so scared when you didn’t come home last night. Did something happen? Are you all right?” The questions slipped from her lips at a mile a minute.

“Yes,” he whispered simply before pressing his lips to hers, revealing his secret to her while at the same time pouring all his devotion into their kiss. It was time to be his own man now and let her decide whether she could truly accept what he was. No matter what, though, he’d tried and, if nothing else, he would at least go out complete once more. Everything was in her hands now.

Buffy melted into the kiss at first before she registered the chill of his lips. And, eyes widening in surprise, she realized…

Yes, the ending is intentionally left vague. Mostly because I want to leave it up to the reader's interpretation what Buffy's reaction should/will be. Obviously, I'm still working through all my odd thoughts on S7 in my stories, so here's just the latest little wrinkle. Actually, I kind of have a split mind about what Buffy will do myself, so I'm curious to know what other people think. As always, reviews are appreciated...