Chapter Seven

The loneliness of his crypt seemed overwhelming by the evening of his first day back.  He had sat in his ratty upholstered chair staring at the telly screen since he had arrived.  Your brain will fry if you don't go out and do something, mate.  He forced himself to his feet.

He had walked two cemeteries with not a whisper of evil afoot.  He decided Weatherly Park cemetery was the next on his list.

Within a half an hour, he found himself standing in the looking up at Titia's window. What are you doing, Spike?  He gave his head a quick shake to snap it back to reality and then headed to the far end of the park.

Nothing.  Is there some evil convention that I haven't heard about?  He turned towards town again.  Wilkins Memorial was the next on the list.

He heard the sounds of fighting before he left the sidewalk.  Keeping to the shadows shed by trees lit from the streetlights, he scouted the area at a lope.   He studied the battle from behind the statue of the city's first mayor.

The Slayer and the Scoobies had circled a group of maybe twelve clawed orange demons.  The Scoobies had isolated one and were subduing it in a team effort.  Two had broken off and were giving Titia a pelting.  Buffy was easily handling the three that were concentrating on her.  The six unoccupied demons seemed uncertain as to where to place their resources.  They seemed divided between the Slayer and Titia.  Titia certainly couldn't handle more and the Slayer couldn't handle much more.  He decided that the best option was to distract the rest, giving the two women time to finish with their attackers.  Without further thought, he dove into the fray.

His body moved with instinct and experience.  He was soon covered with the blood of his opponents.  By the time he had downed two, he saw that Buffy was finishing her third and that Titia was still holding her own against her second.  He swung at his next demon, connecting with it in the jaw.  He followed through with kick to its leg then snapped its neck.  He looked around for the next when he was grabbed from behind.  He heard the crack of his skull hitting stone before he lost consciousness.
 
 
 

It was sort of like Purgatory.  At least the way he imagined it.  His head was held by warm hands.  One rested against his cheek and the other gently stroked his brow.  The rest of him hurt like hell.

He knew he must be dreaming.  The hurt part wanted to push forward into consciousness.  The heaven part didn't want this to end.  He dreamed his head was on Buffy's lap, her slim hands running through his hair.  Her wild red curls brushed his face.

Voices came unbidden into heaven.

"He always gets knocked out."

"I'm not surprised -  he ran into the middle of six of them.  Of course, if he hadn't I might not be having this conversation." His head throbbed to Titia's words.

"Yah, Buffy, he may get knocked out lots but he nearly got the best of you before.  Several times I might add."  Damn right.

"Maybe.   But I'm standing here and he's laying there."

"I think he's coming around." Rumble.

"How can you tell?  He looks just as dead as he did before.  What am I saying?  He is dead."  Git.

"This eyebrow twitched."  A finger traced the curve of his scarred brow.  "He does that when he's dreaming."  Mmm.

"I'm thinking there's a line here and you knowing what he does in his sleep, is over on the ick side."

"Well, he didn't get to sleep much."  Umm.

"Way over on the ick side."  Wanker.

"Well, you know vampires, just another word for virility."  Titia's voice seemed to come from in and out of his head.  "Don't give me that look, Buffy.  You've had one.  And once you've had one . . .well, I don't think there's ever any going back."

"Hey!  She was only with Deadboy once."

"Xander.  Let's not talk the Buffy in the middle of the graveyard."

"Sorry Buff.  You said you'd given up on the whole creature-of-the-night-boyfriend thing."

"It looks like I've given up the whole boyfriend thing.  I've been fifth wheel Buffy for a while."

"But Buffy, you're the one you cancelled your 'coffee' with Ben.  He's really cute and you know what he does for a living.  No surprises there."

"I know, Will.  I'm stopping the feel-sorry-for-myself thing.  See.   Done."

"Good.  And no more dead guys."

"Xander!"

"Xander.  What bothers you so much?   Is it because you think she's sleeping with the enemy or because they make you feel inadequate?"

"Xander's not inadequate!" No, he's pathetic.

"Thanks, Ahn."

"I don't mean personally.  I meant as a human male.  I admit there are definite benefits to a warm body on a Montreal winter night.  And I can smell you from here. I don't doubt you're virile, for a human."

"Darn right."

"Ah, Anya.  You can smell me?  In that way?  That wigs me nearly as much as when Buffy could hear my thoughts."

"Yes, I can smell you in that way.  I can smell everyone here.  Can't you Buffy?"

"Buffy!"

"Don't worry Xander.  My slayer sense spared me that kind of . . . experience."

"Ah.  That explains some things." Titia's voice rumbled disconcertingly.  He tried to focus on the hands, wishing they were stroking other parts of him.  He had a flash of a red haired vixen astride him.  Trying to shake his head to clear the vision woke him.

"Oh.  There's our boy."  He lifted his head.  The pain that had been centered in his body in his dream came rushing to his head.  He pulled free of Titia's hands to sit up, and take in the group around him.  His eyes found Buffy sitting across their little circle perched on a head stone. Why couldn't it have been you?  He rubbed his head and turned to Titia, "Thanks, love."

"Thank you, William."  He tried to discern what was written on her face.  Maybe I shouldn't know.  But you want to.  No, I don't.  I want things to be simple.  Spike, old bean, what sodding heap of conflicting emotions you've become.

"Can we go now?  I want to take Xander home to-"

"Ahn!"  Xander took Anya's hand and stood.

"Are you ready?"  Titia's russet-brown eyes observed him as she helped him stand.  "We will drop you at your place on the way to the car."

They waved to Anya and Xander as they headed off.  And the rest headed to Sunnydale Rest cemetery and Titia's car.
 
 
 
 

At sundown the next day, Spike was up and out a second later.  He needed to talk to the Slayer and hoped to catch her on her way home from her daily workout at the Magic Box.  When he arrived at her house, he couldn't see her through any of the windows.  Bugger that de-invitation spell.  He perched on the back bumper of Joyce's Cherokee and light up a fag.  He smiled at the memory of when Joyce pulled in the driveway here with that jeep years ago and was so worried that he had been the cause of her daughter's errant ways.  That was the night she found out that her daughter had a sacred duty and he had made the pact that had cost him Dru.

He didn't have long to wait.  He soon saw her blonde head bobbing toward him.  When she reached the end of the driveway and saw him, she stopped and folded her arms.  "Spike. What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk.  No.  I need to talk."  He patted the bumper beside him, and then shrugged when she didn't budge.  "Titia wants me to go with her to Montreal.  I'm thinking of taking her up on the offer.  She says she may be able to get this bloody chip out of my skull."

"And this affects me how?"

"It leaves you without anyone who is able to back you up in a fight."

"You always get knocked out."

He grit his teeth.  How can she be so daft and blind?  "If I hadn't distracted those demons last night, you might not be standing here arguing with me.   I don't have a sacred duty, Sunshine.   Yet, I'm constantly helping you.  And you never even say 'thank you'.  And yet, here I am ever the bloody idiot, asking you for a reason to stay."  He tried to draw her into his eyes, willing her to see.  "Is there a reason?"

"Spike.  I told you before there can't be anything between us.  Even if I liked you, you're a vampire and I'm a slayer.  It hasn't worked and it can't work.  Now go away."  She turned and stumped off to the house.

"Titia's right, isn't she?  You're still in love with Peaches."  She stopped, but didn't turn.  "She is right in many things you know.  You can't have a normal life."  He got up from the Jeep and stalked toward her.  She stiffened as he drew up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist.

"You should take pleasure where it's offered.  From those who are strong enough to give it."  He breathed her scent and the smell of her hair, allowing it to pass over his tongue and through his nose.  It was sweet, not with the spicy edge that Titia's had.  How can you think of her when Buffy's in your arms?  She trembled.

"No.  Spike."  She drew a ragged breath and ripped herself free.  "Even if its true,  I would rather go without.  I won't go back."  Her face was so fierce it had an inhuman quality.  She ran for the door.  She left him heated and alone, again.

No one else had the power to make him feel so small or so angry.  He stalked back toward home.  Stopping only briefly to take his frustrations out on a fuchsia Suzuki X90 parked with two wheels on the sidewalk.  Pansy ass little car.  After his steel-toed boots made satisfactory dents in the fenders, he tipped it over and kicked into a spin.  That's better.

With a little stream vented, his journey home became more contemplative.  Why stay and live with this abuse?  Spike, are you too scared to take on the outside world again?  Where could I go?  I've never been alone in the world for very long.  And I didn't enjoy it when I was.  The hunt was always better when you had someone to share it with.  Not that I can hunt any more.  I should take Titia's offer up for the chance she might be able to get the chip removed.  I could take the job.  If it didn't work out, well I could leave.   He dug out a fag and lit it.   Maybe take a few minions with me.

He was nearly to the Sunnydale Rest's gate when he had talked himself into taking the position.  He thought he had come up with good, solid reasoning for doing so.  He felt almost confident as he plunked himself down in his chair and turned on the telly.  He lit up a smoke, trying to focus on the news playing before him.  He put some of his agitation into bouncing his knee.  He growled to himself and grabbed for another fag, when he realized the inner rhythm his knee moved to was 'My Way.'  The lyrics came to him in Sid Vicious' brutalized rendition:

I´ll state my case, of which I´m certain
I´ve lived a life that´s full
And each and every highway
And yet, much more than this
I did it my way

He shook the packet of smokes.  None left.  He lifted his arse from the chair and dug into his pockets.  He still had a twenty left from the fifty Titia had given him at the Bronze.

His mind was flooded with amazing memories of that night.  He couldn't get even to sleep this morning because of them.  He had been dreaming of Buffy hot in his arms, but every time they peaked it was Titia's face before him.  It had been Titia whose teeth released each climax.  He had to beat himself off to get back to sleep.

I wander if Titia's ever shagged at the top of the Eiffel Tower.  There's something I have never done.  He leaped from the chair and headed to the convenience store down the street.  The only one in town he didn't rob.  He kept it open for actual purchases.

Once he bought his smokes, he kept on walking.  He knew he would just pace if he went home.  And you'll be doing enough of that tomorrow.  He just walked.  His eyes on the ground, his nose and ears alert.  His mind churning over his thoughts and actions of the last month.

When his feet stepped over a little decorative hedge, he stopped and looked around.  He was entering the patio of the Weatherly Park Hotel.  He nodded to himself and headed to the door.

I am an anarchist
Don't know what I want
But I know how to get it!

I hear you, Johnny.