Chapter Four:  Tin Soldier.

It wasn't the first time Spike had gone food shopping.  He had done so for Joyce on two occasions, working strictly from a list each time.  The first time she had checked the change down to the last cent when he returned, frowning suspiciously at him as she did so.  The second time she told him to keep the change, thanked him, and gave him a genuine smile, before ushering him out as she wasn't feeling well and needed to lie down.  One of the early signs of the illness which would eventually lead to her death.  Spike sighed as he remembered.  If only he had been more perceptive, had urged her earlier to see a doctor.

Last summer he had shopped for Dawn a few times, but again he had followed the instructions of others, usually Tara, to the letter, and had never had to think for himself about what to buy.  This was the first time he had shopped for food for himself in all his existence.  In his human life there had been servants to do that sort of thing.  The decisions had been made by his mother and Cook, and William had never been involved in the process at all.  Food had appeared when required as if by magic.  Now he was having to think for himself, and it wasn't easy.

Luckily Trader Joe's had assistants who were willing actually to assist, rather than just sitting at a checkout and waiting for the customers to arrive with baskets or trolleys already filled, and they reminded him of essentials like cooking oil.  The Hawaiian shirts they wore were disconcerting, reminding him of the awful time when he had shared a basement with Xander, but they were friendly and helpful, and he left the store confident that he had enough food to see him through the next couple of days and wouldn't suddenly find in the middle of making a meal that he had forgotten something crucial.

The apartment had proved to be fully stocked with crockery, cooking utensils, and bedding.  Even toilet paper and soap.  Everything was ready for him to move straight in; except for food.  The cupboards, and the vast gleaming stainless steel refrigerator freezer, had been absolutely bare.  A deficiency easily remedied by a trip to the store.  After packing away the results of his shopping trip Spike familiarised himself with the coffee percolator and sat down to relax and try to get to grips with his changed situation.

A huge luxury apartment.  Four bedrooms; two bathrooms, one of which opened directly off the largest bedroom; a kitchen equipped with the latest in kitchen appliances; a dining room with a table around which eight people would be able to sit in comfort; and a living room which seemed almost large enough to get lost in. A three-car garage, in which the Jaguar looked rather lonely.  And a TV.

He had known there would be a TV; he had seen it mentioned in the documents he had signed at the realtors.  He had expected that it would be a small one, a 14" portable perhaps, just so that 'TV included' could be shown in the specifications.  That could hardly have been further from the truth.  It was a 42 inch widescreen plasma model.  Spike remembered having seen one in a shop window recently with a price tag of $8,000, and having briefly considered stealing it before rejecting the idea on the grounds of it being too big and conspicuous.  There was a DVD player, a TiVo, and a cable descrambler.  Technophile heaven.  Spike gazed glumly at them as he drank his coffee; they made him feel intimidated, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to get to grips with operating them.  Maybe Clem would help him.

A computer desk sat empty in one corner.  Somehow it seemed to be silently accusing him of negligence in not rushing out to buy a computer to fill it.  Well, that could wait.  Although there was porn on the Internet, wasn't there?  Perhaps a computer might be something that he should get in the near future after all.  Purely for educational purposes, of course, and perhaps the occasional computer game.

"La la la, la la la la la, la la la, la la la la la," Buffy sang to herself.  "I just can't get U out of my head ..."

Dawn scowled at her.  "Jeez, Buffy, enough already.  Okay, you're happy about quitting the Palace, but Kylie Minogue?  How lame is that?"

Buffy smiled back.  "Sorry, Dawn, just can't get it out of my head.  Better than the Double Meat song, have to say, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess.  You're like really chipper."  Dawn looked at her sister appraisingly.  "And what's with the make-up?  Just 'cause Anya's asked us all to call at the Magic Box?  I don't think so.  Gotta be a guy involved."  Her brow furrowed.  "So, who's the lucky man?  Not that wanker Richard, I hope."

"Dawn!  Language!" Buffy scolded.  "You've been spending way too much time with Spike."

"Not so much lately," Dawn reminded her.  "He hardly comes round any more.  Your party was about the only time I'd seen him in weeks.  Which sucks.  No wonder my grades were slipping, without him helping me with my homework."

"Well, maybe he might be around a bit more in the future," Buffy revealed.

"Buffy!  The make-up's for him?  That is so cool," Dawn squealed, a huge grin spreading across her face.  "You're going to give him a shot?"

"Maybe," Buffy admitted.  "You don't mind?"

"Mind?  No way.  Why should I mind?"

"He's a vampire," Buffy pointed out.  She had to keep his human status to herself, conceal her foreknowledge, let it come out naturally.  Which shouldn't be long now; she had a suspicion that it would be the subject of the meeting that Anya had called.

"So?  Not like you let that stop you with Mr Tall Dark and Broody.  And Spike's way cooler."  Dawn frowned.  "Although, have to say, Xander's probably not going to be thrilled."

"So keep it to yourself for a while, Dawn, please," Buffy pleaded.  "Not a word to Willow, or anyone."

"Okay, but they're gonna have to find out sooner or later."  Dawn's expression brightened again.  "Hey, does this mean he can come round and give me a hand with homework tonight, or maybe tomorrow?  Got this essay about Xenophon and the Ten Thousand, and he knows all about that shi - stuff.  Kinda been lost without him.  Although, guess you've got plans, going by the make-up and the hot clothes."

"No specific plans.  We'll see."  Buffy's brow wrinkled.  "Xenophon?  Sounds like a demon.  They're making you do essays about demons at that school?"

"Jeez, Buffy, how'd you get into College in the first place?" Dawn teased.  "Xenophon was like this Ancient Greek guy, mercenary for the Persians, and his boss got killed and the Greeks had to fight their way all the way home.  Pretty much the classic fighting retreat, and he wrote this famous book about it."

"Spike knows that sort of stuff?" Buffy asked, surprised.

"Hi guys!" Willow interrupted, walking into the room smiling.  "Ready to go to Anya's thing?  Sure you don't know what it's about?"

"She didn't say, just that it was something nice, and she wanted us all to be there.  Probably lame wedding stuff again," Dawn sniffed dismissively.  "Still, maybe it won't take too long.  She went rushing off to the airport as soon as we shut the shop, picking up one of Xander's relatives, so she won't have had time to eat.  Hey, maybe she's gonna take us all out for a meal."

The doorbell rang, cutting off Willow as she was about to reply.  Dawn took a step towards the door, but her sister leaped forward and pre-empted her.  "I'll get it!" Buffy laid claim to the task, scampering eagerly to the door.  'Spike!  Human Spike!' she thought eagerly, and she pulled open the door with a beaming smile of welcome which faded as she recognised the caller.  A tall man in black fatigues and a flak jacket.  Someone she hadn't seen for more than a year.  "Riley?  What on Earth are you doing here?"

"C'mon, Anya, what's the rush?" Xander asked, tapping on the steering wheel as they sat in traffic.  "So we're a bit late, who cares?  The Scoobs'll wait.  Dawn knows where we are, and Buffy's got a key, not like they're gonna be stuck outside staring in through the window."

"If I'm not there they'll find out for themselves, and I won't be the one to make the announcement, and I promised I'd be the one to break the news."  Anya glared at the cars holding up their progress.  "Go away, stupid people.  Drive faster.  Don't you have homes to go to?"

"News?  What news?" Xander looked alarmed.

"If I told you, it would spoil the surprise," Anya replied.

"Bridal shower?" asked Xander's Uncle Rory from the back seat.

"Oh!" Anya squealed.  "I forgot all about a bridal shower!  I am not following tradition properly.  Oh, I'll have to arrange something, and I've only got a few days. Why didn't someone remind me?  Why didn't Buffy or Willow remind me?  And shouldn't you have a bachelor party?  With strippers?"

"What, you're not having a party with strippers?  Maybe I should just get back on the plane," Uncle Rory put in.

"You'd let me have a bachelor party?  With strippers?"  Xander took his eyes from the road to stare at his fiancée in astonishment.

"Of course," Anya agreed.  "It is all part of the traditional preamble to a wedding.  Your last chance to boink someone else without being castrated with a blunt knife."

Xander squirmed in his seat, and swallowed.  He turned his eyes back to the road, saw a gap in the traffic, and manoeuvred the car through it.  "Maybe the guys at work might have set something up.  And maybe the girls have set something up for you.  Isn't it the bridesmaids who do that sorta thing?"

"I don't know.  I'll look it up on the wedding etiquette web page later.  Oh, I should have thought of it earlier."  Anya looked at her watch.  "The Gnarals will be here any minute, and I have to be there to meet them, and then we'll have to rush off to the Magic Box.  I should have set the meeting for eight.  Drive faster."

Buffy walked down the Sunnydale main street beside Riley, her lips protruding in a petulant pout.  Getting dragged along on some wild demon chase, not what she had planned for the night.  She hardly listened to Riley lecturing her on the objective.  Blah blah, Suvolte demon, blah blah, Paraguay, blah blah, fast breeder.  Fast breeder?  Huh?  "What, this demon's a nuclear reactor?" she frowned.

"Nuclear reactor?  What are you talking about, Buffy?" Riley stared at her in puzzlement.

"Well, you said 'fast breeder', and – hey, that it?"  A reptilian figure came into view, growling ferociously, and for some incomprehensible reason launched a vicious onslaught upon a newspaper vending machine.  "Okay, let's get this over with."  Buffy raced towards the demon, kicked it as hard as she could, seized it by the muzzle as it doubled up, and wrenched hard.  There was a sound like teeth biting into a crisp apple, and the demon crumpled limply to the ground.  "Right, it's been nice seeing you, Riley, but I've got to go.  Write sometime.  Bye."

"You've killed it!" Riley gasped.  "What did you do that for?"

"Well, hello!  Slayer here.  It's what I do.  Why you asked for my help, right?  You didn't want it dead?  Shoulda said so straight out.  'Don't kill the demon, Buffy'. I think that would have come under 'need to know'."

"Sorry," Riley mumbled apologetically.  "It was a tracking mission.  I should have said so earlier, I know, but it never occurred to me that you'd be able to kill it so quickly."  He stood over the demon corpse and produced a badge from a pocket, brandishing it at curious passers-by.  "National Forestry Service.  We had a savage bear.  Everybody keep back, we think it was diseased."

"Yeah, mad bear disease, there's a lot of it about," Buffy added helpfully.

"This is going to make the rest of the mission a lot harder."  Riley took out a walkie-talkie and spoke into it quietly.  Buffy didn't hear what he said; only the single word 'Acknowledged' coming back over the radio.  "I'm still going to need your help, Buffy," he went on, putting the radio away.

"Well, hope this isn't going to take long, 'cause, important Scooby meeting, and I'm already late," Buffy moaned.  "But, okay, if I've screwed things for you by killing this thing, guess I've got to help out, put it right."

"You look more like you were going on a date," Riley remarked.

"Well, maybe," Buffy admitted, lowering her eyes.

"That makes things easier for me.  Buffy, I'd like to introduce you to my wife."

"Huh?  You married a Suvolte demon?"

Willow and Dawn stood outside the Magic Box and peered in.  It was dark and obviously deserted.  "Are we early?  Do you think we should go in?" Willow wondered.

"They probably got caught up in traffic.  Going in, could be a problem.  Buffy's gone off with the key, unless she gave it to you."  There was a sound of footsteps approaching, and the two girls looked around.  It was Tara.  "Hi, Tara," Dawn greeted delightedly.  "Anya call you to this meeting?"

"Yes, she said it was important but good, and insisted I come," the blonde witch replied.  She met the eyes of her estranged lover.  "Hello, Willow."

"Hi, Tara," Willow replied nervously.  "How are you?  I'm doing great myself.  No magic for 38 days now."

"Glad to hear it," Tara responded, and then the two girls stood looking at each other in an awkward silence for a moment.  Luckily the silence was broken by the sound of Xander's car arriving.

"Sorry we're late," Anya greeted them, disembarking.  "Traffic, relatives, all sorts of bad things.  Not too late, I hope?  Been waiting long?  He isn't here yet, is he?" She rummaged in her purse for the Magic Box keys.

"Who's 'he'?  Who isn't here yet?" Xander wanted to know.  He locked the car doors and joined his fiancée.

"Buffy isn't here yet," Anya replied evasively.  "I thought you said she'd finished work early and would be here, Willow."

"She got called away unexpectedly," Willow told her.

"Yeah, Riley Finn turned up and dragged her off on some totally lame demon hunt," Dawn elaborated, glowering.

"Riley's back?  That's great," Xander grinned.  "He's the man.  I'm glad for Buffy."

"Like she would get back together with a loser who gets suck-jobs from vampire hos," Dawn sniffed.

"Hey!" Xander protested, but before he could say anything further he was interrupted by a car drawing up behind his.  An unfamiliar car, small by American standards, but with an engine that sounded both quietly refined and awesomely powerful.  Dark green, gleaming, and obviously brand new.  Xander's eyes went to the emblem above the radiator grille, and his eyes lit up.  "A Jaguar.  Cool.  One of your guests, Ahn, or a customer?"

Anya had just opened the shop door.  She turned to greet the new arrival.  "Both, I think," she announced.  "This is the guest of honour at tonight's meeting.  I'd like you all to meet –"

"Spike!" Xander broke in, recognising the driver as he got out of the Jaguar.  Then Xander did a double-take.  "I think."

Anya switched on the shop lights, and the light through the windows clearly illuminated the new arrival.  It was indeed Spike, but as they had never seen him before. Unbleached hair cut short, light coloured shirt, and fashionable lightweight suit.  "I think I'd prefer you to call me William," he told them.  "Hello, everybody."

"Spike!" Dawn squealed, beaming.  She ran to him and gave him a hug, then stepped back and looked him up and down.  "That is so cool.  Is that really your car? Unbelievable!  Gonna give me a ride in it?"

"Of course I will, Nibblet, but not right now, okay?  You like the new look?"

"This is why you called the meeting?  What you rushed back for?" Xander glared at his fiancée.  "Just 'cause the Evil Undead has had a makeover and stolen a new car from somewhere?  Don't tell me you bought him that suit."

"Don't be silly, Xander, why would I tell you that when it isn't true?" Anya replied.  "Come on in, everybody; don't stand gawping on the sidewalk.  Oh, hang on a minute, I think I can make this a lot easier if I switch the lights out for a moment."  She did so.  "Okay, everybody look at the window."

"What are we supposed to be looking at?" Xander wondered.

"Oh my God!" Willow gasped.  "Xander!  Look."

"What?" Xander asked again, uncomprehending.

"S-S-Spike!" Tara stammered.  "How d-d-did you d-do it?  It's a miracle."

"Huh?" Xander stared, still not catching on.

"I think you are going to have to revise your selection of insulting names for me somewhat," Spike told him, smiling.  "Look at the reflections.  How many do you see?"

"Oh, wow, Spike," Dawn said, almost jumping up and down with glee.  "You're human!"

"So, you think this thing laid eggs somewhere, and you were trying to track it back to them?  Okay, I get why you were pissed when I broke its neck.  Hey, maybe it laid them in that vending machine.  'Cause, why else try to rip it apart?  See, last time I checked, machines not big on the calorie count."  Buffy gestured at the damaged device, which had been knocked onto its side and had a large hole in the front through which newspapers had spilled.

"No eggs there, I checked.  Anyway, Suvolte eggs are much too big for a normal clutch to be inside an appliance that size.  Each one is bigger than a football," Riley's wife told her.  Samantha 'Sam' Finn was a tall brunette with an athletic build and a pleasant voice.  Buffy disliked her on sight.  "Maybe the newsstand resembled some enemy, or else it was sheer frustration on the demon's part.  We believe the eggs may be in the hands of a dealer."

"People get high on demon eggs these days?"  Buffy's brow furrowed.  "And I thought sniffing glue was wacky."

"An arms dealer," Sam explained patiently.  "Calls himself 'The Doctor'.  He'll sell them on the black market.  There are some foreign military powers which would love to have their own Suvolte.  You could never train them, but drop them on an urban population ..."

"And they cleanse the area," Riley completed the thought for her.

"Sounds bad.  Not a newsstand would be safe," Buffy commented.  "Or gum machines, ticket machines, condom dispensers.  Maybe even ATMs."  She saw their disapproving expressions.  "Hey, just trying to lighten things up.  It wasn't so tough; forgive me for not being too worried."

"Not too tough if you're the Slayer, perhaps," Riley frowned.  "For normal people it would be a lethal threat."

"Okay, okay," Buffy spread her hands in a gesture of contrition.  "Big threat, find the eggs, stop the dealer.  I'm on it."  A memory surfaced.  "Except, maybe no need to be.  Big eggs, right?  I saw yellow gunk when you cut into that thing to see if it'd laid; would the eggs have yellow gunk inside?  The babies, maybe look a bit like crabs?"

"You've seen them?  Where?" Riley asked urgently.

"Smashed to bits, in Spike's crypt," Buffy told him.

"So they've hatched.  We're too late," Riley said bleakly.  "All we can do is dust Spike and then try to salvage what we can from this mess."

"There will be no dusting of Spike," Buffy told him flatly.  There was a steely note in her voice which held a promise of pain if anyone went against her.  "See, the crabby things, they were pretty much smashed into crab paste.  And Spike?  International arms dealer?  You got to be kidding."

"Spike.  Deadly, amoral, opportunistic.  Or have you forgotten?"

"And he doesn't even have a phone," Buffy pointed out.  "Come on, Riley, you know better than that.  Spike's pretty short of money these days.  I bet somebody offered him a few bucks to stash the eggs for a few days, didn't tell him what they were, then they started hatching and he saw they were nasties and pulverised them," she deduced, getting very close to the truth of the matter.

"Maybe," Riley said, unconvinced.  "We'd better check the crypt out, make sure all the Suvolte larvae are dead.  And I'm going to ask Spike a few questions."

"Okay," Buffy agreed reluctantly.  She climbed into the Finns' SUV to ride with them to the cemetery.  Suddenly realisation hit her.  Spike would now, thanks to her wish, have money, a new home, and a new car; and Riley would see it as evidence that he was indeed the one behind the trade in demons of mass destruction.  Was this the catch to the wish?  Had her desire to make things better for her lover instead placed him in deadly danger?

The characters in this story do not belong to me, but are being used for amusement only and all rights remain with Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, the writers of the original episodes, and the TV and production companies responsible for the original television programmes.  BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER ©2002 Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation.  All Rights Reserved. The Buffy the Vampire Slayer trademark is used without express permission from Fox.