Truth to Your Own Spirit

“So some lot of corporate bigwigs invented this remote mind swipe. You could just – what – switch bodies through a phone call?”

The ghost – Spike, he had said his name was Spike, and what kind of name was that? – stood with his arms wrapped tightly around his torso, gaze fixed a few inches in front of his motorcycle boots, as Jo described the Tech that had ended the world. Buffy sat on the couch, suspicious eyes trained on the ghost.

Jo removed a roll of dead mice from her pocket and plopped them into a can filled with water from her canteen. A magical fire spat beneath it. “Slayer bodies were primo real estate. You transfer your mind into a Slayer, you get super strength, not to mention a fine piece of hot ass. Even rich men wanted them, only they transferred out of the bodies when they were done beating people up and fucked the dumbshows –”

“Those are the ones who get wiped but aren’t imprinted with a new personality,” Buffy said. “They’re blanks. Like stoned, extra-impressionable children.”

She couldn’t keep her eyes off him, and not just because she was watching or any sudden, if useless, moves. Spike just looked so odd, his bleached hair and sweatshop-produced clothes out-of-time-and-place in Jo’s tiny dwelling, where three out of four walls were shaped from rubble.

The corner of Spike’s mouth lifted, though Buffy didn’t see the funny. “An army of Slayers.”

“An army of Slayer bodies,” corrected Jo. She stirred her mice. “The Tech’s not precise. Sometimes your personality isn’t erased. It just jumps into a new body. A kid or a fat middle-aged man.I was put in a girl formerly known as Nicole.”

A dark brow rose. “More than a girl, I’d say.”

“Just a girl. The remote wipes only work on humans. If you’re not human, you keep your mind. I had already lost one body, I needed to keep something.” Jo fished a mouse out of the pot by its tail. Its body, boiled pink, dripped and dangled. She swallowed it whole.

“Techno-pagans will splice you,” said Buffy. “Or doctors in the Underground, if you’re splicing with a demon immune to gangrene.”

Spike cocked his head.“That what happened to you?”

Jo choked around the mouse-sized bulge working its way down her throat.

Buffy frowned. “I’m not spliced.”

“But you said it’s 2103, and you haven’t aged.” He squinted at her. “Least not too much. See a few lines I don’t remember.”

“Gee, thanks. Just what every girl wants to hear.” Buffy sank further into the rags covering the couch. She thought she looked pretty spry for a hundred and twenty-two, even if she dressed more like a dangerous, schizophrenic street urchin than a movie star.

“Based on you not knowing me and all, I’d suss something went wrong with your gray squigglies.” Spike frowned. “Found any herbs under your pillow lately?”

He wasn’t all wrong. About the squigglies. Herbs, with the exception of hydroponic hemp, were hard to come by these days, as were pillows. Buffy felt her ire rise. “Maybe you’re just not that memorable.”

The ghost’s eyes widened, his hurt expression quickly smoothing into a sneer. “Or maybe you’ve just surpressed all the down and dirty we did. And I do mean down and dirty.”

Buffy inhaled sharply. “In your dreams. From a hundred years ago.”

“A few hours ago, for me!” His face twisted and cracked, ridges erupting across his brow.

It took her a moment to place the deep-set yellow eyes and fangs. A vampire. Huh.

“The last thing I remember was you. And fire. The crumbling of my undead bones.” Spike paced. “You’re the last one I’d expect to resurrect the dead. ‘Rest in peace,’ I said. ‘Let me see how it ends,’ I said. But I guess you need ole Spike nipping at your heels, even if you get him as a spook.”

Buffy wrinkled her nose. “You think I did this? Are you mental?”

“Guys,” said Jo. “I’m not sure this is helpful.”

“You gave me that bloody amulet!”

“So says you!” Buffy jumped to her feet, wiping suddenly-sweaty hands on her pants. “I don’t know you. I don’t trust you. You could be some big, ghosty liar guy!”

A liquid snap, and Jo’s tongue lashed across the room, the slimy muscle flicking perilously close to Buffy’s nose. The Slayer stared furiously at her companion.

Jo retracted her tongue with a noisy swallow, unperturbed. “Buffy, something sent this amulet to you. Don’t you think it makes sense to figure out why?”

“Something wanted me to have it back in 2003.” Buffy shook her head. “Though I’m pretty sure a vampire ghost never topped my wish list.”

“I don’t think he’s a ghost. Ghosts are cold,” said Jo, sniffing the air. “I can’t sense any temperature difference around him at all.” She inclined her head towards Spike. “You said Buffy gave you that amulet?”

“Her original vampire boyfriend gave it to her,” said Spike, shaking off his demon face.

“Oh,” said Buffy. “Angel.”

Spike growled. “Of course she’d remember him!”

“I don’t, actually,” Buffy said. “I just know it all went to hell when Rossum bought out Wolfram & Hart. It’s kind of legendary. Why just have evil technology, when you can also get the supernatural on your side? Magic’s running half the mind-wiping operation. Angel was CEO of Wolfram & Hart when that started.”

“Wolfram & Hart? Was always one for rules and stratagems, Angelus.” said Spike. “Didn’t see him going evil again, though, unless –” He narrowed his eyes. “Did you even let my ashes grow cold before you jumped into bed with that limey bastard?”

“I have no idea,” snapped Buffy. “But I resent the implication.”

“The box was supposed to get to Buffy in 2003,” said Jo, thoughtfully. “Angel was already working for Wolfram & Hart. Which means that either Angel or Wolfram & Hart wanted you to have your very own non-corporeal vampire.”

Spike snorted. “Angel wouldn’t have sent me to Buffy, believe you me. Didn’t like the competition. Earned my soul, didn’t I? Made him just a bit less special.”

Buffy eyed the vampire-ghost-thing warily. “Maybe someone sent Spike here to kill me.”

“Yeah. Because the best assassins are the ones that can’t so much as pull their targets’ hair.”

“Maybe you’re supposed to annoy me to death?” Buffy crossed her arms over her chest. “You did rush me when you came out of the amulet.”

Spike looked stricken. “To spin you around in my arms and kiss you senseless, you bloody bint. You left. I died. Then, you were back, and I didn’t seem any more dead than usual. Thought it a miracle ‘til I ran right through you.”

“Interesting.” Jo popped another mouse into her mouth.

Spike jabbed his thumb towards Jo. “Any particular reason you’re with Nagaini, here?”

Buffy screwed up her face. “You wanted to kiss me?”

Spike threw up his arms. “It’s official. I’m in Hell.”

Buffy and Jo exchanged a look.

“Well, duh,” said Buffy.


***