Disillusioned
Summary: What does a pissed off
vamp do when he's dragged to the Hellmouth when he'd rather be swanning
around Europe? Why, he gets inventive in order to have fun with the
Slayer of course.
Rating: I'll go for R at this
time. Though knowing me, a change is possible.
Disclaimer: These characters
belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. I have merely manipulated his
creation to make myself and hopefully you happy. I gain nothing but
satisfaction mentally.
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Chapter Sixteen
It only hurt when he opened his eyes.
He did it once, at the beginning when he first regained consciousness.
Dru was there, her face serene in that confused little girl way of hers
while she held her doll—that bloody meddlesome Miss Edith—and looked at
him like he'd been the saddest most upsetting thing to happen to her in
a long while. When the sword was thrust through his gut, wrenching a
shout of ragged agony from his lips, he saw her tiny smile and could
guess the way she would have it be made better. She stood back from her
minions as they thrust more sharp blades into his broken body, wary of
getting his blood spatters on her spotless filmy white dress. It was
her encouraging little clap and bounce that finally did it, and Spike
closed his eyes.
It didn't hurt if he couldn't see. He wouldn't let it hurt. They could
slice open his testicles for all he cared, on the inside of his
eyeballs was a vision in the sunlight, her golden hair swept about her
face in a sudden gust of wind as she giggled and the tinkling sound of
her happiness gave him something to hold onto.
Something that wasn't Dru and her disloyalty.
If he was honest with himself, he'd let go of Dru in that moment of
irritation and sarcasm when they'd first rolled into town. When it
became clear that his opinion was again inconsequential to her bigger
plan, Spike had had enough and allowed his feelings for her to dull.
And then she'd left him wandering around the town while she shacked up
with the wrinkled up old git and the rest of their family. It had been,
for the most part, convenient while he researched the Slayer with his
unusual soul card. Until the impromptu deception turned into something
else entirely. Until it became opportunity that showed him many
different paths and ways toward true happiness.
Like was apparently his tradition, he'd buggered that up in no short
order. His commonsense had become skewed from a century of evil
thoughts and actions so he wasn't quite aware of what was acceptable or
not in this world of many alternating shades.
Buffy might be smiling in his dreams, but he knew his nightmares would
be closer to reality. Each hot painful lance in his body, each and
every blunt punch that shattered his bone could have been her. He knew
that hatred could be the only response to what he'd done. It seemed
only fitting that he realise his mistake and almost immediately being
captured by Dru and her minions.
Up to now he just hadn't wondered why.
He knew that Drusilla wouldn't react well to rejection, but he never
pictured her going this far. He'd never taken her for a hypocrite, not
really. Mixed up for sure, especially if she had her git of a sire
prodding her into confused loyalties. So why was he here when he could
be ducking and diving into hiding spots until he was ready to face the
stake that Buffy had most assuredly carved his name upon?
As holy water was thrown in his face and he felt and smelled the way
his flesh burned, he gave up caring. It seemed more than apparent that
whether Buffy or Dru had him, he was the proverbial toast. And as the
image of a drained Jesse and a desperate Xander came to his mind, he
couldn't summon up the will to care.
To be condemned was to be condemned, didn't much matter who took care
of the sentence. At least he wouldn't have to see her face as he
fluttered into dust. At least he could die remembering her lips and her
smile for him, and imagine that that one time they'd committed their
feelings for one another had been more explicit and she'd said the
words to his face.
His jaw clenched until his teeth felt pained, his eyes flowing water
through the tightly squeezed barrier, Spike imagined how her lips could
convey the words, and he felt it alright to give up.
His last moments had been an effort to do good by her, to try to turn
the leaf she needed to be with him guilt free. He could pass with the
knowledge that in his last he'd made peace with himself and his
actions. He made peace with being a demon and killing indiscriminately
until pain painted the world over.
Feeling serenity sweep over him, Spike opened his eyes and soaked in
Dru's frown. He smirked and winked at her, knowing that she could tear
him apart limb by limb and he wouldn't even feel it. Self-absolution
was powerful.
He waited for the final toll to be paid and his chance to pass beyond.
Bloody hell it was slow.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Buffy kicked Angel out of the apartment so he couldn't stand over them
with his ironic judgement about what they should or shouldn't do with
Jesse. One missing vampire was all the stress she could handle from
that quarter and to have a souled yet unrepentant demon staring at them
with judgemental disdain and disapproval was too much even for her.
Buffy had phoned Giles, requesting he take Willow home before meeting
them with the intention of transporting Jesse somewhere they could
control the situation when he rose. Not that she'd told Giles that.
Only that they had a man down and needed his trusty car. It was only
after as much of the plan was relayed that she felt comfortable sharing
over the phone and she'd hung up the receiver that Buffy marvelled at
the existence of a phone line in an evil vampire's apartment in the
first place.
And a comfy bed, though the ewwness of that discovery so didn't want to
be visited at this time. Buffy felt like she was doing pretty well at
holding the consuming grief at bay, but realising the truth, she knew
that she ultimately hadn't gotten that close to him. It was that fact
that upset her more than anything—even that Spike had sired him and
run. This was what made her feel the tight constriction of guilt in her
throat. It seemed like as soon as she'd arrived in the school she'd
come between such a strong trio of friends, offering up a secret that
only two of them became privy of. Oh, it had been Xander's call, and
evidence was pretty good at showing that that may not have been the
best course of action to follow, but she'd still given Xander enough of
a situation for him to make such hard decisions.
It was like she'd walked in and just taken his place in the group and
it made Buffy feel such wrenching guilt that she almost felt the need
to collapse and cry against Xander's shirt.
"You're not gonna stake him, are you?" Xander looked at her with big
earnest brown eyes and Buffy felt the anger that had begun to rise at
being put in this position falter and dive. She'd thought all vampires
were black until Spike had introduced the concept of a soul. Now that
she'd met the true vamp with soul, she was glad that she'd learned of
it from Spike first or she might have felt the need to disbelieve the
possible good in whatever incarnation. Despite the tableau spread out
dead centre of the bed—and she was so ignoring that unintentional
pun!—Buffy still believed it was loving motives that made Spike do
something so monumentally stupid.
"What did you think was going to happen?" She couldn't stay mad, even
though she had every right to be. "Why did you ask Spike to do this,
Xand? You know that vamps are evil. It's my job to take them out."
He hefted a crazy sounding sigh in a mix-up of laughter. "Well, thank
God that's not true or that crazy blonde bitch might have killed us
all. If it was your job then you've slacked off with Spike—and that so
isn't a criticism right now."
Buffy jerked in surprise. Did that mean that Xander suspected...
"I know, Buff. I know Spike is soulless and yet, I'm so not with the
caring right now. I know it's something that's supposed to make me wig
spectacularly, but he's been nicer to us and more helpful when we've
needed him than Angel—and he's the one who claims to have the real
soul." He snorted, his lip curling in obvious disgust for what he saw
as soulful behaviour. His friend was dead because of that soul. "Nah, I
took advantage of him. Kinda goaded him into doing it. Yeah, he might
be trying hard, but I could see he didn't quite have all the knowledge
the soul crowd have inbuilt to do the right thing. Strangely—not that
concerned. He still seems no worse than Cordelia on a bad hair day. So
yeah, he may struggle with the technicalities, but he tries to do the
right thing—if he can work out what that actually is."
They shared snickering laughter before settling with a fond smile.
Buffy knew she should have been worried—should have started to prepare
herself that Xander might one day take this act and hold it against
her. Use it to drive a wedge between her and Spike. Ever since they all
discovered her secret they'd had the badness of vampires almost beaten
into them. Hopefully this relaxed and accepting attitude he held now
would exist long enough for her to show them that Spike really did
intend to do good, and that he was a great vamp to have around.
Obviously the collar of a soul wasn't enough to keep them safe, just
using Angel as the only example they had, so it was left to their
instinct and reliance on example to decide if being around any vampire
could ever be considered risk free.
She so hoped nothing would happen to jeopardise the one thing she had
full belief in.
The hesitant knock on the door broke her from the uncomfortable reverie
and Buffy felt a tightening in her stomach. Giles poked his head around
the door and found them sort of shielding the body on the bed. He
stepped inside, shutting the door with a determined click before making
his way around the bed and stopping at the obvious corpse.
"Oh dear lord. I-I understand why you wanted Willow home." Giles's eyes
seemed to focus on the ragged puncture marks at Jesse's throat and he
slumped a little in sadness. "I'm so sorry, Xander. This must be
tremendously difficult."
Xander shrugged, about to open his mouth and get on with the telling of
the dilemma when Buffy subtly elbowed him in the ribs and he clamped
his lips shut.
"Giles, we have a bit of a sitch. Jesse's kinda about to be undead. We
need somewhere we can keep him comfortable for when he rises, but
somewhere that we can chain him up and stuff."
Giles looked at them as if they were insane. "Are you mad? Your job is
to stake vampires, Buffy. Not make friends with them. We are not about
conducting experiments with our friends. A-as painful as it is to lose
a friend—" Giles paused and both Buffy and Xander could see the sudden
hollow guilt that tinged his eyes. "You can not expect that he will
rise to be anything but a monster in the body of a boy you once knew.
He will not remain your friend. He will wake a vicious monster who will
want nothing from you but your blood."
Buffy swallowed hard, knowing in her heart that in this situation that
was exactly what would happen. But she had to support Xander and she
also owed Spike the benefit of the doubt. Besides, if he'd created a
disaster it had to be one he dealt with on his own. Perfect learning
opportunity for him, too.
Xander's face was lined with tragedy and a knowledge no boy his age
should have to deal with. "I know that this is probably a mistake. But
I have to give him the chance, right? He's my friend. He'd do the same
for me." He implored the Watcher to see what he meant—and hoped that he
could recognise the desperation that had spurred on this act by a
vampire who would now be struggling with these people to be trusted and
accepted.
Rather than fight further, Giles helped them carry the dead boy out to
the car, glad that rigour had not quite started to fully set in as they
manipulated him into the back seat.
"I guess my place is the only one that is even half set up for
something like this. He can sleep on that old bed in the basement and I
have chains—plenty of chains." She studiously ignored the raised
eyebrows aimed her way. "Ooh, but we'll need blood and—" Buffy stopped
babbling, running out of things to say and the energy to say it with.
The night had been exhausting and she still had a wayward vampire to
find.
The look on Spike's face had been worrying, and teemed with his rather
sudden disappearing act, Buffy felt a chill settle. Something was
making her feel that it wasn't so simple—not any of it—and not having
Spike there to guide them was way beyond wiggy. This was his
experiment—his childe. How were three humans meant to know what to do
to pave the way for a newly born demon?
The little car zoomed through the streets of Sunnydale, preparing all
of them for what was yet to come. The urgency of it all escaped none of
them, and an edge of apprehension settled over all of them.
The night had been forever altered; a new level of darkness had
corrupted their lives and Buffy was left staring out the window,
imagining what kind of future there would be for them all.