Chapter Six

Spike scrubbed the water from his hair.  He wrapped the towel around his waist and stretched.  His body felt abused, but sated for the first time since him and Dru broke up.  He used Titia's brush to give his hair a few swipes, then ran his fingers through it to make sure it laid flat to his skull.  Not able to see the wavy pattern his hand left behind.

He rubbed his face with his hands, wondering at the mixture of satisfaction and edginess that warred for dominance in his feelings.  How come part of him felt guilt at the thought of the pleasure and contentment he had been experiencing?  He never felt an ounce of guilt at shagging Harmony while blatantly pretending she was Buffy.  Hell, she even pretended to be Buffy to get me revved up.  Maybe that was the problem, he didn't need any tricks or pretending to get heated up with Titia.  All he had to do was smell her and his body reacted.  The fact his body reacted without his control shouldn't bother him, but it did.  He was a demon.  He should be impulsive and wild.  It was his nature.  So, why then?

Why had he so easily left the company of Buffy and jumped so wholeheartedly into this woman's bed?  It was one thing to try and make Buffy jealous, it was another to enjoy it so much in the process.  He must have been crazy.  Seduced by her heat and unexpected strength . . . so much like Buffy's.  Her scent was warm and seductive . . . like Buffy's.  Titia felt in his arms like Buffy would.  They had mingled in his mind at the Bronze.  Their scents intertwined.  It had been heady, powerful.

They had become practically inseparable to his perception, his lust layering the two together in his mind.  He hadn't divorced himself from Titia, like he had been doing so recently with Harm.  Maybe, it was because she had felt right, hot and soft . . . or I wanted Titia.  Part of him must have realized that she wasn't the human she played at, all of me is aware now.  A normal human didn't have sex with a vamp and come back four times for more.  What was she then?  She smelt human, she tasted . . .  He licked his lips, that had been unexpected.  She was probably right.  He knew the chip didn't activate unless he had intended harm.  He had always expected it would draw the line at biting of any kind.  He had bit her without intending to feed.  That bothered him on so many levels.  What had he been thinking? Apparently sod all.  He wasn't sure that much in the way of human thoughts had broken through the heat of the moment.  He couldn't help but leer at where his image should be in the mirror.  Spike, old boy, you're still bad.

And she wasn't human, at least not completely.  He couldn't get over that thought.  Images of her impassioned face with its gold eyes sent shivers down his spine.  Almost vampiric.  It sort of 'wigged' him out.  The term brought a smile to his face.  He realized her inhumanity had been part of her seduction.

No.  He wouldn't fall for that.  He was in love with the Slayer, he had to be.  If he wasn't, would that mean Buffy had been right all along?  He couldn't love?  Had it been just demon lust he had been experiencing for over a hundred years?  No, he couldn't except that.  He wouldn't.  He couldn't bear the thought.  How could he have been bound solely to Dru for over a hundred years only by lust?  How come he still felt twinges of emptiness even now at her loss?  He gripped the edges of the sink trying to think.

Titia must have had help.  A small love potion.  A spell.  That's what it had to be.  He looked around and found her cosmetics bag.  Emptying it out on the counter by the sink, he found a small brown glass bottle with a label from a Chinese herbalist in Montreal.  It had the words 'Pure herbal tincture of ' printed, then in scratchy handwriting, the Latin 'Artemisia Dracunulus' followed by an array of Chinese characters.  He gingerly unscrewed the top and took a shallow sniff.  He felt a giddy tingle pass through him, leaving a warm trail in its wake.  He fought the urge to take a deeper whiff.

She had drugged him.  A fierce anger flashed through him.  That explained things.  He ignored the thing from deep inside which pressed against his mind wanting to be heard.  No, the drug clouded his feelings, intensifying them, making him want her.  He wasn't under any illusion that he wouldn't have shagged Titia into the mattress without the drug.  He would still have enjoyed it but it would have been in its proper place.

Taking the bottle, he left the bathroom to get the truth.
 

Titia pulled on a pair of dark grey sweats and a cropped forest green t-shirt.  Grabbing a stack of papers from her briefcase she took her coffee to the desk.  She flipped through the documents, then un-suspended her laptop.  She dialled into LA and downloaded the messages that had piled up since earlier.  Scanning the list, she out rightly deleted what she knew would be the less important ones.

She stretched and yawned, trying to gain some interest.  Shaking her head at her lack of concentration, she suspended the computer and gathered up the pile of papers.

She placed the reports back in her briefcase on top of her ivory handled stake.  She checked the corners pushing aside the antique crucifix and pen hoping for gum.  Her search was rewarded and she popped the gum into here mouth.  She also found a slim volume of modern poetry she'd stashed there for times of need.  That's right girls, never leave home without our stake, cross and poetry.

Chewing the gum, she headed to the sitting area, intent on a filling the next couple of hours with something other than work and sex.  Her mind leapt from that thought to Spike. What takes them so long in the bathroom?  Its not like they really need to use it.  Probably primping.  Smiling at the image that created, she moved the chair to a better orientation.

She was about to sit when strong bare arms grabbed her from behind immobilizing her.  "Spike?"  He didn't answer.  He sniffed her hair were it fell about her neck.

"You drugged me."  His voice rough with malice.  He held her brown bottle from Dr Hum in front of her face.  She could see out the corner of her eye the ridges of his forehead.  A small thrill of fear and excitement passed through her.  She glanced at her briefcase, still open on the other side of the room.  She'd never reach it even if she tried.

"Artemisia Dracunulus.  It is common tarragon.  I prefer the French herbe au dragon or my own coining vampnip, since it best describes its effects.  A fairly unassuming culinary herb, today.  It is remembered, by most European style herbalists, as a cure for snake and mad dog bites.  The traditional Chinese herbalist remembers its use as stimulant applied to the necks of sacrificial victims to quicken their deaths.  They are both wrong.  Dr. Hum did some deep research for me going back to very ancient writings, to find an herb to dull the 'kill' instinct in a vampire.  This didn't fit my original plans, but it fit a gap in others.  All those poor victims assured of going to a quick death, probably got played to death."  She sighed in his relaxed grip.

"Nothing that I haven't already told you about.  It's the stuff in my perfume.  I asked you if you wanted it back before we left the Bronze.  You were only exposed to the little bit.  If you've taken a smell of it from the bottle you've given yourself a greater dose than you originally received.  Granted, you given yourself more continued exposure over the last fifteen hours.  You seemed to enjoy it.  And it can't harm you.  Why are you mad now?."  She pulled away, cautiously and turned to look at him.

"Why?" He growled.

She reached up and traced the hardened ridges of his brow,  "It was just a precaution.  Make you a little more playful and a little less 'drain my life away'.  If you didn't already feel in the mood, you could have just shaken it off.  It affects vamps in a similar way to the way catnip effects cats.  They respond if they are in the mood for it.  That's why I call it vampnip, because it lets your inner cat come out to play. "

"I still don't understand why you used it.  You knew I couldn't hurt you.  I've got this bloody chip in my skull.  Remember?"  His face slowly softened as his mask slid back into place.

"Yes, so you keep saying.  So everyone else says.  But, I have reason not to trust it being true.  You are a demon even if you couldn't directly injure me; there are lots of other ways to hurt.  I wanted to make sure you had reasons not to kill me before I stopped using it just to be safe."

"I'll give you bloody safe."  He lunged at her, his game face on, and then doubled over in pain.  His hands clutched his head.

She reached out and gingerly touched his hair.  This is the first time she experienced the chip in action.  It was definitely not an act.

"See.  I can't hurt you, even if I did want to.  I can't hurt anyone."  He slumped down sullenly on the love seat.  His bare white chest made him seem all the more vulnerable.

But you could in my Dream, she thought, as she turned away from him and sat in the chair she had arranged.  Her Dream image of Spike's gore covered face came unbidden into her mind. This changes things a bit.  The dreams must be further in the future than I thought.   She looked up at his dry chuckle.  Her brows drew together at the slight edge of hysteria it held.

"I'm so bloody fierce that small children visit me.  Sodding Scoobies can't even be bothered acknowledging my presence any more.  I shouldn't even care.  I'm a vampire, a lone wolf.  I even dress the part.  Why should I care?  I can't stand being reduced to this."  He scrubbed his face with his hands, and then reacted across to the chair beside him to a box of cigarettes out of his duster pocket.

She couldn't stand it.  She was drawn to his side.  Taking his head in her hand, she forced him to look at her.  Frustration, sorrow and anger fought for dominance in his dark eyes.  She fought the urge to gather him to her.  "You will overcome this.  They have shown me.  You will be strong and free again.  Push away those weak emotions, choose the anger if you must at least it's simple and pure."

Bringing up her other hand she cupped both sides of his face.  She tried to will him with her eyes,  "Forget the Scoobies, they take their lead from the Slayer."  His face caved in at the mention of Buffy.  Emotions she couldn't define battled behind the dark blue-grey of his irises.

His reactions toward the Slayer made her increasingly angry.  She didn't know why.  Why should I worry, I'll have him in the end.  It's just the thought of his arms holding Buffy had already started to grate on her heart.  She stood up, her anger drowning out the sympathy she felt for him.  She was an old woman.  She shouldn't have this boyfriend possessive thing going but she just couldn't help it.  He's mine, damn it!  It's foreseen.

"The stupid little twit!"  Her snarled, eliciting a growl from the love seat.  "Oh no, don't you defend her."  She was so grrrr, she lost her self-containment and paced.  "God!  I wished she pounded you into the mattress a few times.  I know it's selfish.  I can fight the reality of her, but I can't win against your dream Buffy."  She raised her eyes to the ceiling. This is cruel and unusual punishment.  I've been a faithful servant for thirty years, how can you torment me this way!  You sent me too early!

"Spike,  William . . . Look at me!"  Years of command made the voice hard to ignore, his eyes met hers, "She can't love you. Not because you don't deserve it, but because her heart fled to LA years ago.  She has been living with only a memory of it.  I think, part of her inability to accept you at her side stems from the fact that you bring its loss so close to the surface.  She doesn't want to feel it.  She thinks it's easier without it.  It needs her right now and she hasn't even gone to it."  Angel's sad features swam in her mind, intensifying her anger toward the little blonde.  "Even if she did turn her attentions to you.  How long could you hide yourself from her or put up with her priggish righteousness?  Her shiny goldenness would tarnish quickly.  She will never be yours."

He gave a bitter laugh,  " Oh.  And you could be.  Right, love."  He mocked.

Oh. You will be.  Laugh now, you will pay later.  She turned to him, "Laugh.  I can just see Buffy kissing your real face with passion.  Oh yah.  And I can just see her smiling with pride as you rip a bloody path through your enemies.  What a glorious picture. Just forget what I said you two were meant for each other."

She grabbed her coat and purse and stormed out the door.  Her sneakered feet making an unsatisfactory muted thump as she stomped her way down the hall.
 

He no longer felt angry.  He just felt drained. He had never get used to this emotional turmoil that had come to define his life.  If what Titia had said was true then he had wanted her.  The emotions he felt for Buffy must be a lie.  The hundred or so years with Dru all a lie.  How could this be?

Maybe he was left so empty and numb from the last few weeks that he had tried to fill it with Titia.  Was her wanting me enough to make me to want her back?  This was the best and easiest explanation.  One he might be able to live with.

He gathered his clothes from were they were strewn about the suite.  Tossing the towel out the bedroom door, he dressed.  He ran his hands through his hair, nervously taking in the early afternoon light.  He grabbed his duster and dug out his fags.  Grabbing Titia's nearly empty coffee cup for an ashtray, he set it on the bedside table.  Then plopped himself down on the bed.  Eyeing the smoke detector and sprinkler system, he growled, knowing it would be a blue haze in here once he finished the pack.  Hopping up and he warily opened the window, not appreciating even the ambient north light.

Back on the bed, he piled the pillows up and sat back with a sigh.  Lighting up his fag, he took a long drag, holding it in to get the maximum nicotine effect.  He tried not to think about how if Dru hadn't left him he had be in Brazil blissfully planning Miss Edith's night with her.  They would go dancing then drain some nicely caffeinated locals.  Blissful was the word, actually even blissfully unaware would be bliss.  He knew Dru had been right, not so much about the Slayer, but about the spark being gone from their relationship.  He blamed Angelus for taking away that spark, certainly more so than the Slayer.  He had been fixated on slayers practically since his death.  There wasn't that much difference between hate and love, they were equally pure and powerful. If I feel hate, mustn't I be able to love?   Even Angelus had felt a form of love for Buffy without his soul.  He'd never forget that night he found his grand-sire scrubbing himself raw in the garden fountain at the mansion, because he felt tainted by it.  He never did find out what had happened.

He still didn't really get how Buffy could enjoy the intimacy of the fights they'd had, coming to him repeatedly to lay her fists on him and not see how much she enjoyed that dance. I mean the silly bint doesn't know I can smell the pleasure she takes from it?  Good and riled she could get to, and then just leave me there to suffer alone.  He used to think she was just cruel, now he realized she wouldn't or couldn't see it in herself.  She hadn't been by in weeks to take even that pleasure in him.  It really wasn't his fault that his love for her had come out.  He had hoped she would see it in herself first.   Realize that they had chemistry, Damn it!  Oh, it's no bloody use.  He knew he couldn't win this.

He needed to go home and clear his head. As soon as the sun goes down.
 
 
 

After the sunset, he had intended to go home directly, but something had led his feet down Main Street to the front of Joyce's gallery.  He understood why he had come here.  Joyce had always listened to his love problems.  He didn't expect that kindness now, not when every one else had become so hostile.  He sighed and entered the shop.

He tried to approach her as unthreateningly as possible. A hard thing to do for a being who had spent his unlife trying to look as threatening as possible.

"Spike!"  She stepped back when she saw him.  She'll probably never know how much that hurt.

"Hello, Joyce.  Sorry to bother you if you're busy."  There were no patrons in the store as it was closing time.  "Please don't tell Buffy I came to see you.  I just wanted to talk."

He sat on the edge of her desk at the back, not getting any closer to her than twenty feet.  She seemed to relax, then nodded to him.  He continued, "I know everybody is still upset about what happened a couple of weeks ago-"

"Spike, you chained up my daughter and threatened her with your ex-girlfriend!" She rubbed her hands together and looked toward the door.  "How can you expect us to be reasonable?"

"I would never have let Dru hurt her.  And, yes, I chained her up good!  How else was I supposed to get her to stand still long enough for her to hear me out?  It all happened so fast.  I'd been shocked to see Dru again.  I was also shocked at how little my heart still yearned for her.  Before, I'd have professed myself still truly in love with her, but being faced with her . . . I realized our love had faded.  It had been irreparably broken by my alliance with the Slayer and Angelus' return.  It had never recovered.  I had always blamed Dru, but I know now it was me."  He fidgeted wanting a smoke.

She brought a chair over to sit by him.  "Why all these feelings now?" She prompted.

"You know Joyce, if my mother had been like you, I wouldn't have found Dru's offer so tempting.  My mother could never have listened to this conversation.  She had spent her time smothering her only child."  He shook his head not knowing how that had slipped out.  "Its amazing how you can make me feel like the boy I look like."

She shifted, a bit uncomfortable at this statement.  "I keep being told not to be fooled by the face of a vampire, no matter how charming that face is.  They only look that way or so I'm told.  I don't get fooled very often any more.  Buffy has shown me what to look for.  So, I can spot a vampire now at fifty paces."  She laughed.  "But you have always been different.  I will never forget that awkward silence we sat in the first time you came to see Buffy.  The look on your face when you told me I had hit you on the head with an axe.  Of course, my look must have been precious as well.  I have always trusted my instincts.  Not to say they haven't lead me astray before.  I still can't look at a Bram Stoker novel.  That aside, I've always believed there was something different about you.  Not that I really want you for a son-in-law, but I can believe your feelings for my daughter are real.  No-one who has fed you hot chocolate and listened to you talk about Drusilla could believe any different."

He could feel his eyes tear at her speech.  With the emotional roller coaster he'd been on these last few weeks, understanding was almost more than he could bear.  He took a deep reflexive breath to push back the tears.  "Thanks.  You have no idea how much that helps."  He shifted, "And also how it doesn't help," he muttered.  He didn't know if he should broach the subject of Titia.

His face must have given something away, for she gave him an out-with-it look.  "What else is on your mind, Spike?"

"I . . . had been doubting my ability to love.  After . . . some things that happened over the last few days.  This worried me.  I have never doubted that it was love, real love that had bound me to Dru for over a hundred years and kept me from killing your daughter, all those times I could have.  At least not until recently.  Have you ever been in love with someone and then found yourself unreasonably attracted to someone else?"  He tried to keep the hope from his face.

"Well," Joyce stood, she switched off the main lights and turned off the open sign, but didn't lock the door he noticed.  Just because she couldn't stop herself from liking him, didn't mean she shouldn't have a survival instinct.  He admired her.  "I'd say yes, but I'm not sure that my feelings for my husband, Hank, was still love at the time.  I think, I still cared, I do still care.  Anyway, I met a client one day, he came to buy a triptych painted by one of my discoveries, and we just hit it off.  We had similar feelings and reactions to things.  We were in the same 'head space', my daughters would say.  We seemed to think the same way.  I think if I had been divorced by then, I would have taken up on a second 'business' lunch."  She smiled at the memory.

"Has Buffy mentioned the woman, who came to pick up some contaminated crystals and a cursed knife?"

"Ah yes.  She's 'weird and abrasive' if I remember correctly.  Oh, and 'hot', if I remember Xander correctly."

"I think all three might fit.  Her name is Latitia Gordon.  I just. . ."  He didn't know how to proceed. "I've always believed if you love someone you wouldn't have feelings for anyone else.  Even if those feelings couldn't be readily attributed to love."

"Spike, I know you're what a hundred and twenty- seven . . .eight?  But did you date at all when you were . . . alive, before Dru?"

He studied his hands, not knowing if he should answer this question.  He sighed, knowing that his secret was safe with her.  "There was Cecily.  In my day, a proper gentleman did not do much more than see a lady a few times at a party or a dance, and rarely alone.  I . . ."  He faced her, "I found out the night I died that she did not return my love.  I was rather insulated from life by my mother and position.  I had aesthetic tastes, had I been more boorish I may not have welcomed Dru's embrace so happily that night.  I wasn't even that frightened when she showed me her true face.  She was the first woman who ever wanted me and I welcomed her with open arms.  She may have killed me, but I've felt more alive in my unlife than I ever did when this heart beat."  He tapped his chest.  He noticed that Joyce had tears in her eyes.  "Hey now, don't do that.  I made up for my useless life with some sweet times since."  He pulled out a fag and put it between his lips but did not light it.

"Please don't take offence at this, I may not even be the best one to talk to about this, given I married Hank right out of college.  Even so, I have dated, at various levels, more than a handful of men in my time, and . . . I think that, despite the years you have on me, that I may have a bit more experience in the field of love.  That said, I think you need to rethink your feelings for my daughter maybe you should try seeing other . . . people.  There are plenty of vampires around this town, surely there must be one worth dating."  He nodded, understanding what she said.

"I've tried.  Harmony is the only one who would have me without my bite, not that I've looked too hard.  And she nearly drove me around the bend.  Buffy is the only woman I've felt drawn to since Dru.  Except maybe . . ." He raised his hands in defeat.

"This Latitia woman?  I think you are overreacting.  You are not even dating Buffy! You can't be seen, in this day and age, as cheating.  That's what this is all about isn't it?  Don't worry, at least for humans, feelings of attraction are natural.  You have no ties.  Be free, Spike."

He wasn't sure if he could accept that.  But, he thought she was right about having a better understanding of relationships between conscious beings than he did.  Even though he had experiences that reached back over a century, his interaction with equals had been slim.  Outside of the terrible foursome of Dru, Darla, Angelus and himself, he had experienced no real relationships other than master/minion and predator/prey.  Now that he had been forced into such a close relationship with humans, and cast adrift from the only companions he had ever known, he didn't know his place in the world.  He had defined himself solely in relation to Buffy because there was nothing else.  He needed to go home to his comfy crypt and ruminate. What a sodding life his unlife had become.

"Thanks Joyce.  Even without the hot chocolate, you were a great help.  You won't mention to Buffy or anyone else that I came to see you?"  He rubbed his thumbnail across his drawn brow.

"Don't worry.  I was happy to help.  I'm always dealing with girl problems, it's interesting to deal with the other perspective."

He gestured to the door.  "Can I walk you to your car?"

"Thanks, yes."  She picked up her purse and briefcase and locked the door after them.  "It's this way."