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Chapter 40: Mama's Boy
Author’s Note: This chapter covers the same time period as Chapter 9.
Just because it seems like fluff, doesn’t mean it is.
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all recognizable characters, locations, and dialogue belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the various writers. Show writers and any other quoted authors have been credited in individual chapters. I'm making no money from this—it is purely in the name of fun.
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all recognizable characters, locations, and dialogue belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the various writers. Show writers and any other quoted authors have been credited in individual chapters. I'm making no money from this—it is purely in the name of fun.
Betaed by Phuriedae* and Science (who was kind enough to step in on short notice for some last minute changes).
*because Spike is English, I’ve made a rather anal retentive attempt to spell things “properly.” My beta (who IS British), has asked that I include the following disclaimer: “Any Britpicking mistakes are my beta's, because she reads too much fic written by you bloody Americans and is used to your bizarre ways by now."
Credits: This chapter contains dialogue from the episode “Shadow” written by David Fury.
Chapter 40
Mama’s Boy
15 November 2000 (2 pm)
Have I mentioned recently how very much I loathe Finn?
Went to the Slayer's earlier, knowing she'd be at the hospital with her mum. Thought maybe I could find her diary. Not that it'd do me much good, but it'd be handy to know how close she is to figuring this dream dimension thing out. If she's even trying to. If I need to worry about her breaking the rules.
Thing is, if it weren't for the hell bitch's challenge, me poking about the Slayer's room might have been for a whole different reason. No point in sniffing the chit's sweater sets when I spend every night practically drenched in her scent.
Pocketed a pair of knickers, though.
Tried the nightstand, under the mattress, dresser drawers and bookshelves without any luck. Was just about to move on to the desk when her pompous prick of a boyfriend came marching in as if he owned the joint.
"What are you doing in here?" I asked, wondering why he was hanging about her house instead of at the hospital with her. Come to think of it, where was Flavorless last night when she was getting all weepy on the back porch?
"Looking for the girl who's going to rip your arms off when she finds out you were in her bedroom," he said, folding his own across his chest like he thought he was a bleeding bouncer.
Oh, so he didn't know. Well, that was just… interesting.
"Yeah," I said. "Well… me, too."
"What have you got?" he asked, looking at the book I'd forgotten I was holding. I’d picked it up while rummaging through her shelves and hadn’t had a chance to put it back yet. I glanced at the title and shrugged.
"Pride and Prejudice. Gets bloody boring hanging about the crypt all day, if you must know. Thought I'd improve my mind. You should try it. Could get you some Dr. Seuss."
There's this bloody huge vein in his head, pops out when he's miffed and starts throbbing like a beacon. Like to slice it open, see how bad it bleeds.
"Pride and Prejudice?"
"Classical British literature. Probably too deep for you. All those big words like 'ignorant' and 'lummox'…"
"This isn't a library, Spike," he said.
"Can't exactly get a library card, can I? Besides: evil. Wasn't planning on bringing it back."
"That's it," he said, grabbing me and hauling me out of the room and down the stairs, bruising my jacket all to hell with his big clumsy paws. "Out."
Wanker. "Look," I tried to explain, "I know for a bleeding fact that the Slayer wouldn't mind me being here."
"Right, what's a little breaking and entering between sworn enemies."
Something so satisfying about wiping that smug look off his oafish face.
"Your girl in the habit of buying her enemies drinks? Cause she spent the better part of last night with me, doing just that," I said, not bothering to hide a smirk. Let him think what he wanted.
"Cause you guys are such tight pals," he said, but I could see it was getting to him.
"Yeah," I said, waiting to see how long it took before he broke. Could already see the worry in the back of his eyes, that tell-tale tick in his pulse.
"That's good. Tell me another."
I grinned. "Okay, how 'bout this one? Twice in recent memory, she's had the lover-wiccas do a deinvite on the house. Keep out specific vamps. Ever ask yourself why she's never taken my name off the guest list?"
Was chancy, bringing that up, and I knew it. He could tell Buffy about it and she'd rip the welcome mat out from under my feet right quick… but I doubted it. Hadn't yet, had she? Not even after that Initiative fiasco, or the little episode when I borrowed the doctor.
I wonder sometimes why she hasn't.
Clearly, Finn was having the same thought. He had that ponderous look, like a gorilla trying to learn Braille.
"Because you're harmless," he said.
"Oh, yeah, right. Takes one to know one," I said. Finn without his superpowers was about as dangerous as a two legged poodle. I knew the enormous lout had had a run in with Angel a few months back. Easy enough to play on his insecurities. Bet he lays awake nights, wondering if she’s thinking of Angel when she’s with him. God knows he’s practically a stand-in with a pulse. "Least I still got the attitude. What do you got? A piercing glance? Face it, White Bread, Buffy's got a type and you're not it. She likes us dangerous, rough, and occasionally bumpy in the forehead region. Not that she doesn't like you, but sorry, Charlie, you're just not dark enough."
Sometimes my mouth runs faster than my brain. Should have seen it coming, but he had the door open and had shoved me out into the indirect sunlight before I could get loose.
"Am I dark enough for you now?" he asked.
Takes about two seconds for direct sun to make me start smoking. Another six before I catch fire. Four more before I’ve got to worry about immolation. And not being able to fight him off meant I was in serious trouble. Under the porch roof was mostly shadowed but there was just enough light that I could feel my scalp starting to sizzle.
I swear, I'm gonna kill that boy one of these days.
"You don't know anything about Buffy, you never did. I'm the one who knows what she needs," he said. Oh, that was rich. He wouldn't know what she needed if she came with a sodding instruction manual tattooed on her tits.
"Oh yeah? That's why you're with her at the hospital right now, giving her what she needs," I said, playing one of the aces up my sleeve.
That got him to yank me back inside right quick.
"What are you talking about?" he demanded. I brushed him off.
"Don't you know? Didn't she tell you?" God, I love yanking his chains.
"You tell me," he said, trying to look threatening. Yeah. I was shaking in my boots. I get this chip out and I’ll show him what threatening really looks like… watch him piss himself before I start setting him on fire. Better yet, I know where I can get a one of those big taser guns they use on cattle.
"Mum's sickly," I told him finally. "Buffy took her to the hospital for a bit of prod n' probe… You know, it's funny, her not calling you about that. I've known since last night."
'Course he chose to shove me out the door again, once he got his information. Least he threw out the blanket so I didn't fry on my way to the sewer.
Stupid git struts round like he's Captain America. Hunting down demons for his government and turning them into lab rats, experimenting on them. Thanks to him and his unit, I’m a bloody cripple that can't eat anything but swill, and who knows how many other demons got cut up and used for body parts? And they say I'm evil. Least my victims had a quick death.
Well, usually.
Then he latches onto the Slayer, treats her like she's a bloody child in need of protection. Girl can protect herself. What she really needs? A man who can take care of himself without her having to worry about his sorry arse. One who lets her do her job and doesn't mind stepping back when she's got to step up. One who’s not so bleeding insecure about his own strength that he needs her to be all clingy and feminine so he can feel like a man.
Thing is, he's just like the rest of them. Self-righteous tosser, not afraid to spit on those he considers beneath him when he thinks no one's looking, or that he can get away with it. What makes him so much better than me?
A sodding soul?
I ever get this chip out…
Balls. Harmony's awake.
Least I've got Jane Austen for intelligent company.
***
[Note: This entry, aside from the last line, has the word "Wanker" written across it in large capitals, rendering parts of it difficult to read, and thus has been transcribed as closely as possible]
15 November 2000 (9 pm)
Last time I read this book I was alive. Was popular, even in my day, and even though it was considered poncy for a man to read it… well, William was a sodding romantic, wasn't he? 'Course, I'd forgotten most of it. Nearly a hundred and twenty-three years between readings will do that, I suppose.
Remembered that I'd liked Elizabeth. Spunky, she was. Turns out I still like Elizabeth. Reminds me a bit of Buffy. Lively, energetic. Likes to walk everywhere. Bloody beautiful dancer. Snarky, witty, and quick to judge a bloke based on her own biased perceptions. Takes care of her own. Fierce little thing. Yeah… I like Lizzie.
Darcy on the other hand… when I was William I hadn't liked him much, at first. Remember that I thought he was a right snob, and William never cared much for that. 'Course, once you find out he's all misunderstood… well, that was William's cuppa, wasn't it? Made him all bleeding sympathetic. Now I like Darcy much better. Like a man who can say what he thinks. Wish he'd have beaten that Wickham wanker to a bloody pulp, but what do you expect from a novel written by a bird in the late eighteenth century?
Mrs. Bennet… her I'd probably eat. Normally I like my meals a bit fresher, but I think I'd make an exception for Lizzie's mum. Got the brains of a goldfish and the soul of a pimp, that one. Half an hour of her squawking and I'd suck her dry.
Mr. Bennet… he can live. Bit barmy; but with that for a wife, it's understandable.
Jane's got a bit of Joyce and Tara about her. Real sweet girl. A lady. Kinda like her.
…Though I'd probably eat Bingley. Boy's got no sense. And his sisters? Couple of right bitches.
Charlotte can live. Practical girl, that one. Mr. Collins though… wouldn't bother biting him. Rip out his bloody tongue, nail it to a wall.
Lydia, Kitty and Mary… nummy little treats…
…
God, I hate this fucking chip.
***
16 November 2000
Broke my own record last night. Six fledglings, ten demons, and managed to scare the religion out of some arsehole who was beating on his bird outside the Bronze. Didn't hurt him, just flashed some fang and growled a bit. 'Course I scared the girl, too, but who cares? Felt good and she scarpered off right quick, leaving shit for brains pissing himself in the alley. Smart girl.
Gotta get my rocks off somehow, yeah?
Bloody chip.
Thing is…
Thing is I know if I were to get it out now, Buffy'd dust me. Can't chance me running loose, feeding on the populace. Even though they're practically asking for it, living atop the Hellmouth. You'd think years and years of weird doings and supernatural shite happening every day would be enough to give the humans a bloody clue, but they just write it off as "gang violence" and "swamp gas" or what have you.
Hundred plus years and it never ceases to amaze me that most humans aren't aware that we're out here. Can sit down at a bar beside them and they'll never notice that we're not reflecting in the mirror in front of their faces. Can walk into a gas station, looking like death warmed over under the fluorescent lights, veins like a sodding roadmap across our skin, and they barely bat an eyelash. Least not till we're at their throats.
Blinkered, the lot of them.
They're lucky they've got her.
Never really thought about it, before, the life of a Slayer. I mean, yeah, I thought about it in that "grrr, gonna kill her," kind of way, same as I have since 1881. You watch them, figure out their weaknesses, their fighting styles. Never really thought about their families before. That was always Angelus' gig, to attack someone through their kin. He'd knock 'em off, one by one, like empty bottles off a fence. Save the best for last, let them watch as everyone around them died, knowing that they were the reason why.
It's what he did to Dru. Hell… it's what he did to his own, way Darla always told it.
Guess that's why most Slayers don't have families. Or if they do, before they're called, they leave 'em pretty quick. Easier that way, I expect. Not having to worry about something going after their loved ones.
Buffy's different. Keeps her loved ones close, she does. When I first set foot in Sunnydale, few years back, never expected to find a Slayer with friends and family. Biggest surprise of my unlife, fighting the Slayer, about to finish her off, only to have her mum whack me over the head with an axe.
Surprised the hell out of me a few months later to find out her mum didn't even know. Had no clue her little girl was out, every night, saving the world from the likes of me. Thought she was a bit barmy, at first, not getting how brave her daughter was. Realised when I came back, after Dru left me, that Joyce was a helluva woman.
Sat me down, let me pour my bleeding heart out to her, just like I was one of her girl's chums. Offered me cocoa—hadn't had hot chocolate in decades—real touch of class. 'Course, I probably should have fessed up and told her I wasn't exactly one of Buffy's mates, but … I liked her. Liked how she treated me like a man, not a monster, even though she knew what I was.
Still does.
It's a tragedy, seeing that bright, pretty woman so sick.
I knew when Buffy told me the other night that her mum was going in for a scan that it couldn't be good. Last night she spilled the rest: brain tumour.
Fucking cancer.
She thinks vamps are evil? I'd wager cancer's worse.
Vamps… we can show mercy. Not often, but we do, least once we're past the bloodlust stage. One of the reasons for all that St. Vigeous self-flagellation crap. We're choosy about our victims, too—although every vamp’s different. Darla wouldn't touch prostitutes, Dru couldn't be bothered with old people, Angelus was all about his "art.” To me, it’s the young, scrappy ones that taste best. And the snobby ones.
Cancer, though, takes anyone it wants. No mercy. Toys with them for years, sometimes, taunting humans with the hope of recovery. "Remission" they call it. Might as well call it "lurking in the shadows, waiting for a chance to pounce."
Of all the nasty things that might've sunk their teeth into Joyce, it had to be something like that. If it were a demon, I'd be one of the first volunteering to take it out. Don't like seeing someone like Joyce hurting so bad. Or Buffy.
She feels so small, curled up beside me and sobbing her eyes out. So fragile. I know she's not, but that somehow makes it worse—seeing someone so strong made so weak.
Girl's a warrior. She needs something to fight. Something tangible to take her frustration and pain out on.
Could be me. Spar with her, like she asked, once she's feeling up for it. Can't dust me in dreamland, right? Not sure if the chip will zap me for it, but if I’m careful, feel it out a bit… best chance I’ve had for a decent fight since the chip crippled me.
As for when she's awake… might be better to stay out of her way. Keep an eye out, though. She's got to focus on her mum right now, which means something could take advantage. Fuck, I would’ve, before… So I'll watch, but keep my distance. Doesn't need old Spike around, distracting her when she's so worried about her mom she can barely breathe.
***
19 November 2000
Stopped off at the hospital, little bit ago. Was after closing, but I know my way around. Waited till the Slayer'd gone out for a bit, then slipped in to see Joyce. Thought she was asleep, when I snuck in. Wasn't.
"Spike," she said, surprising me. Didn't jump.
"Yeah?" I said, feeling like a ponce. Figured I'd just slip in and leave her present, then go. Didn't want to make a thing of it.
"Buffy's gone out," she said, "But she'll be back in a little while."
"Wasn't looking for her," I said. William's always a little more present round Buffy's mum than normal. I let him be polite. "Brought you something."
"It's after visiting hours," she said, but her face brightened.
"Yeah, well… didn't want to bump into Buffy and get the third degree. Figured you don't need that kind of stress, yeah?"
"I'm not so fragile, William," she said, looking so much like me mum at that moment it made it hard to talk. I sat down in the chair beside the bed. Was still a bit warm, and smelled like Buffy. Better than all those harsh chemical smells hospitals use to try to cover up the stench of sickness and death. Joyce looked thinner, shadows under her eyes, cheeks a bit hollow. Had to cough, to keep from choking up.
"Here," I said, handing her the box. "Not stolen, just so you know. Bought 'em at that little gourmet place in town."
"Oh! Chocolates!" She got a sly look on her face. "I don't think I'm supposed to have these."
"Not much for rules, here," I said, grinning back. "Figured you could use something that doesn't taste like hospital food. Seen the kind of stuff they feed people in here. Prisoners of war get better meals."
She laughed. "Thank you, Spike. That's very sweet of you."
I frowned. "Don't tell the Slayer, alright? She'll probably assume I poisoned them or something and pitch 'em out."
"Did you?" she asked curiously.
"No! 'Course not," I said.
"I'm just teasing," she said. "I know you wouldn't do that." Sweet woman, but a bit naive, Joyce. Still, hadn’t even crossed my mind, so maybe she was right. She opened the box and sampled one. "Mmmmm. Definitely better than lime jello and mystery meat. These must have cost quite a bit."
"Yeah, well… got paid quite a bit the other night for forking over some information. Blood and smokes don't cost much. Better spending it on you than gambling, right?" I fidgeted a bit, uncomfortable.
Didn't want her to know that the information I gave up was how I killed a couple of slayers… or that her daughter tossed it at me after kicking me to the curb. Didn't feel much like spending it in the first place. At least spending it on Joyce didn’t make me want to go kill something. "I should go," I said, standing. "Don't want the Slayer to catch me in here, lurking round her sick mum. Might get the wrong idea."
"Don't be silly," she said. "Buffy knows you wouldn't hurt me."
Not so sure of that, but I didn't want to argue. "You're killing my reputation here, Joyce," I said. "'Sides, got demons to beat up before bedtime and all. You should get some rest."
"I will," she said. "Thank you, William. This was very thoughtful."
"Welcome," I said, and beat a quick retreat. Not exactly Big Bad behaviour, checking up on the Slayer's mum, but I … sort of care.
***
20 November 2000
Kitten wanted to play last night.
Don't know what Rupert's been teaching her but, take away her sight and she's a right mess. Funny though, when she goes sprawling on her arse, all pouty and put out. Could have told her that all those high kicks she favours in a fight are no use when you can't see—that is, if I were allowed to open my bloody mouth.
Bloody chip never even fired. I was right about it not working there. Not sure why, but I'm not gonna argue about having my balls handed back, even if it is only for a few hours every night. There was a dicey moment, first time I hit her. I pulled it a bit, like I had with Tara a few weeks back, half-expecting to get zapped. When it didn’t come, I vamped for a minute. Couldn’t help it. I’ve wanted to be free of the chip for so fucking long…
But I don’t want her dead. And biting her there would be bloody stupid. She sort of trusts me in dreamland, and biting her would make her more likely to try to turn the lights on. So I wrestled the demon back under control.
Had to pull a Dread Pirate Roberts on her, though, and fight as if I were right-handed, not left. Girl knows my fighting style by now. Didn't want to slip up and give the game away. Didn't matter. Knocked her arse over tea-kettle three times without even trying.
Felt damned good, too.
When she finally asked what she was doing wrong, I wasn't sure if she'd let me show her. She did, though. Let me put her in position, let me guide her through some defensive blocks and jabs. Picked up a few of tricks when I was wandering round South America decades ago. I don't exactly run into many situations where it's difficult for me to see, but you never know what might be handy.
Girl catches on quick. It's a change from her usual flashy style, but she's got to learn that, when at a disadvantage, not to play with her kills. Defend, dust, move on to the next. Needs to learn to trust her instincts.
It's… sort of fun, training a Slayer.
Almost better than killing one.
Thing is… I train her up, and nobody but me will ever be able to even touch her. There's a certain amount of satisfaction in that.
***
[Note: the following is undated, and on its own dog-eared page. The different types of pen inks and variations in the writing suggest that it was completed over time, and returned to now and then when the author thought of something else]
Ways I never tried to kill the Slayer or the Scoobies (even with the bloody chip):
1. never burnt down her house while she was sleeping
2. never cut the brake lines on her mum's car, Rupert's car, or Harris'
3. never hired minions to take her out
4. never mixed gunpowder in with Red's "magic sand"
5. never set fire to the Magic Box after blockading them inside
6. never lied and sent any of the Scoobies stumbling into a vamp nest on their own
7. never rigged up a booby trap for anyone kicking in my crypt door
8. never summoned any demons, of any sort, and set them loose on the Slayer
9. never piped carbon monoxide into Harris' basement
10. never poisoned or drugged any of their food
11. never replaced any of Red's spells with dangerous ones
12. never set poisonous snakes, spiders, or demons loose in their houses
13. never left town to find another doctor to get the chip out—and made Harmony actually watch
14. never crumbled glass into the Boy Wonder's Wheaties
15. never electrocuted them in the bath
16. never kidnapped her mum or the Scoobies and sold them to the highest demon bidder
17. didn't kill Rupes when he got turned into a Fyral demon
18. never reinstated Dru's contract with the Order of Taraka
19.
Just because it seems like fluff, doesn’t mean it is.
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all recognizable characters, locations, and dialogue belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the various writers. Show writers and any other quoted authors have been credited in individual chapters. I'm making no money from this—it is purely in the name of fun.
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all recognizable characters, locations, and dialogue belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the various writers. Show writers and any other quoted authors have been credited in individual chapters. I'm making no money from this—it is purely in the name of fun.
Betaed by Phuriedae* and Science (who was kind enough to step in on short notice for some last minute changes).
*because Spike is English, I’ve made a rather anal retentive attempt to spell things “properly.” My beta (who IS British), has asked that I include the following disclaimer: “Any Britpicking mistakes are my beta's, because she reads too much fic written by you bloody Americans and is used to your bizarre ways by now."
Credits: This chapter contains dialogue from the episode “Shadow” written by David Fury.
Chapter 40
Mama’s Boy
15 November 2000 (2 pm)
Have I mentioned recently how very much I loathe Finn?
Went to the Slayer's earlier, knowing she'd be at the hospital with her mum. Thought maybe I could find her diary. Not that it'd do me much good, but it'd be handy to know how close she is to figuring this dream dimension thing out. If she's even trying to. If I need to worry about her breaking the rules.
Thing is, if it weren't for the hell bitch's challenge, me poking about the Slayer's room might have been for a whole different reason. No point in sniffing the chit's sweater sets when I spend every night practically drenched in her scent.
Pocketed a pair of knickers, though.
Tried the nightstand, under the mattress, dresser drawers and bookshelves without any luck. Was just about to move on to the desk when her pompous prick of a boyfriend came marching in as if he owned the joint.
"What are you doing in here?" I asked, wondering why he was hanging about her house instead of at the hospital with her. Come to think of it, where was Flavorless last night when she was getting all weepy on the back porch?
"Looking for the girl who's going to rip your arms off when she finds out you were in her bedroom," he said, folding his own across his chest like he thought he was a bleeding bouncer.
Oh, so he didn't know. Well, that was just… interesting.
"Yeah," I said. "Well… me, too."
"What have you got?" he asked, looking at the book I'd forgotten I was holding. I’d picked it up while rummaging through her shelves and hadn’t had a chance to put it back yet. I glanced at the title and shrugged.
"Pride and Prejudice. Gets bloody boring hanging about the crypt all day, if you must know. Thought I'd improve my mind. You should try it. Could get you some Dr. Seuss."
There's this bloody huge vein in his head, pops out when he's miffed and starts throbbing like a beacon. Like to slice it open, see how bad it bleeds.
"Pride and Prejudice?"
"Classical British literature. Probably too deep for you. All those big words like 'ignorant' and 'lummox'…"
"This isn't a library, Spike," he said.
"Can't exactly get a library card, can I? Besides: evil. Wasn't planning on bringing it back."
"That's it," he said, grabbing me and hauling me out of the room and down the stairs, bruising my jacket all to hell with his big clumsy paws. "Out."
Wanker. "Look," I tried to explain, "I know for a bleeding fact that the Slayer wouldn't mind me being here."
"Right, what's a little breaking and entering between sworn enemies."
Something so satisfying about wiping that smug look off his oafish face.
"Your girl in the habit of buying her enemies drinks? Cause she spent the better part of last night with me, doing just that," I said, not bothering to hide a smirk. Let him think what he wanted.
"Cause you guys are such tight pals," he said, but I could see it was getting to him.
"Yeah," I said, waiting to see how long it took before he broke. Could already see the worry in the back of his eyes, that tell-tale tick in his pulse.
"That's good. Tell me another."
I grinned. "Okay, how 'bout this one? Twice in recent memory, she's had the lover-wiccas do a deinvite on the house. Keep out specific vamps. Ever ask yourself why she's never taken my name off the guest list?"
Was chancy, bringing that up, and I knew it. He could tell Buffy about it and she'd rip the welcome mat out from under my feet right quick… but I doubted it. Hadn't yet, had she? Not even after that Initiative fiasco, or the little episode when I borrowed the doctor.
I wonder sometimes why she hasn't.
Clearly, Finn was having the same thought. He had that ponderous look, like a gorilla trying to learn Braille.
"Because you're harmless," he said.
"Oh, yeah, right. Takes one to know one," I said. Finn without his superpowers was about as dangerous as a two legged poodle. I knew the enormous lout had had a run in with Angel a few months back. Easy enough to play on his insecurities. Bet he lays awake nights, wondering if she’s thinking of Angel when she’s with him. God knows he’s practically a stand-in with a pulse. "Least I still got the attitude. What do you got? A piercing glance? Face it, White Bread, Buffy's got a type and you're not it. She likes us dangerous, rough, and occasionally bumpy in the forehead region. Not that she doesn't like you, but sorry, Charlie, you're just not dark enough."
Sometimes my mouth runs faster than my brain. Should have seen it coming, but he had the door open and had shoved me out into the indirect sunlight before I could get loose.
"Am I dark enough for you now?" he asked.
Takes about two seconds for direct sun to make me start smoking. Another six before I catch fire. Four more before I’ve got to worry about immolation. And not being able to fight him off meant I was in serious trouble. Under the porch roof was mostly shadowed but there was just enough light that I could feel my scalp starting to sizzle.
I swear, I'm gonna kill that boy one of these days.
"You don't know anything about Buffy, you never did. I'm the one who knows what she needs," he said. Oh, that was rich. He wouldn't know what she needed if she came with a sodding instruction manual tattooed on her tits.
"Oh yeah? That's why you're with her at the hospital right now, giving her what she needs," I said, playing one of the aces up my sleeve.
That got him to yank me back inside right quick.
"What are you talking about?" he demanded. I brushed him off.
"Don't you know? Didn't she tell you?" God, I love yanking his chains.
"You tell me," he said, trying to look threatening. Yeah. I was shaking in my boots. I get this chip out and I’ll show him what threatening really looks like… watch him piss himself before I start setting him on fire. Better yet, I know where I can get a one of those big taser guns they use on cattle.
"Mum's sickly," I told him finally. "Buffy took her to the hospital for a bit of prod n' probe… You know, it's funny, her not calling you about that. I've known since last night."
'Course he chose to shove me out the door again, once he got his information. Least he threw out the blanket so I didn't fry on my way to the sewer.
Stupid git struts round like he's Captain America. Hunting down demons for his government and turning them into lab rats, experimenting on them. Thanks to him and his unit, I’m a bloody cripple that can't eat anything but swill, and who knows how many other demons got cut up and used for body parts? And they say I'm evil. Least my victims had a quick death.
Well, usually.
Then he latches onto the Slayer, treats her like she's a bloody child in need of protection. Girl can protect herself. What she really needs? A man who can take care of himself without her having to worry about his sorry arse. One who lets her do her job and doesn't mind stepping back when she's got to step up. One who’s not so bleeding insecure about his own strength that he needs her to be all clingy and feminine so he can feel like a man.
Thing is, he's just like the rest of them. Self-righteous tosser, not afraid to spit on those he considers beneath him when he thinks no one's looking, or that he can get away with it. What makes him so much better than me?
A sodding soul?
I ever get this chip out…
Balls. Harmony's awake.
Least I've got Jane Austen for intelligent company.
[Note: This entry, aside from the last line, has the word "Wanker" written across it in large capitals, rendering parts of it difficult to read, and thus has been transcribed as closely as possible]
15 November 2000 (9 pm)
Last time I read this book I was alive. Was popular, even in my day, and even though it was considered poncy for a man to read it… well, William was a sodding romantic, wasn't he? 'Course, I'd forgotten most of it. Nearly a hundred and twenty-three years between readings will do that, I suppose.
Remembered that I'd liked Elizabeth. Spunky, she was. Turns out I still like Elizabeth. Reminds me a bit of Buffy. Lively, energetic. Likes to walk everywhere. Bloody beautiful dancer. Snarky, witty, and quick to judge a bloke based on her own biased perceptions. Takes care of her own. Fierce little thing. Yeah… I like Lizzie.
Darcy on the other hand… when I was William I hadn't liked him much, at first. Remember that I thought he was a right snob, and William never cared much for that. 'Course, once you find out he's all misunderstood… well, that was William's cuppa, wasn't it? Made him all bleeding sympathetic. Now I like Darcy much better. Like a man who can say what he thinks. Wish he'd have beaten that Wickham wanker to a bloody pulp, but what do you expect from a novel written by a bird in the late eighteenth century?
Mrs. Bennet… her I'd probably eat. Normally I like my meals a bit fresher, but I think I'd make an exception for Lizzie's mum. Got the brains of a goldfish and the soul of a pimp, that one. Half an hour of her squawking and I'd suck her dry.
Mr. Bennet… he can live. Bit barmy; but with that for a wife, it's understandable.
Jane's got a bit of Joyce and Tara about her. Real sweet girl. A lady. Kinda like her.
…Though I'd probably eat Bingley. Boy's got no sense. And his sisters? Couple of right bitches.
Charlotte can live. Practical girl, that one. Mr. Collins though… wouldn't bother biting him. Rip out his bloody tongue, nail it to a wall.
Lydia, Kitty and Mary… nummy little treats…
…
God, I hate this fucking chip.
16 November 2000
Broke my own record last night. Six fledglings, ten demons, and managed to scare the religion out of some arsehole who was beating on his bird outside the Bronze. Didn't hurt him, just flashed some fang and growled a bit. 'Course I scared the girl, too, but who cares? Felt good and she scarpered off right quick, leaving shit for brains pissing himself in the alley. Smart girl.
Gotta get my rocks off somehow, yeah?
Bloody chip.
Thing is…
Thing is I know if I were to get it out now, Buffy'd dust me. Can't chance me running loose, feeding on the populace. Even though they're practically asking for it, living atop the Hellmouth. You'd think years and years of weird doings and supernatural shite happening every day would be enough to give the humans a bloody clue, but they just write it off as "gang violence" and "swamp gas" or what have you.
Hundred plus years and it never ceases to amaze me that most humans aren't aware that we're out here. Can sit down at a bar beside them and they'll never notice that we're not reflecting in the mirror in front of their faces. Can walk into a gas station, looking like death warmed over under the fluorescent lights, veins like a sodding roadmap across our skin, and they barely bat an eyelash. Least not till we're at their throats.
Blinkered, the lot of them.
They're lucky they've got her.
Never really thought about it, before, the life of a Slayer. I mean, yeah, I thought about it in that "grrr, gonna kill her," kind of way, same as I have since 1881. You watch them, figure out their weaknesses, their fighting styles. Never really thought about their families before. That was always Angelus' gig, to attack someone through their kin. He'd knock 'em off, one by one, like empty bottles off a fence. Save the best for last, let them watch as everyone around them died, knowing that they were the reason why.
It's what he did to Dru. Hell… it's what he did to his own, way Darla always told it.
Guess that's why most Slayers don't have families. Or if they do, before they're called, they leave 'em pretty quick. Easier that way, I expect. Not having to worry about something going after their loved ones.
Buffy's different. Keeps her loved ones close, she does. When I first set foot in Sunnydale, few years back, never expected to find a Slayer with friends and family. Biggest surprise of my unlife, fighting the Slayer, about to finish her off, only to have her mum whack me over the head with an axe.
Surprised the hell out of me a few months later to find out her mum didn't even know. Had no clue her little girl was out, every night, saving the world from the likes of me. Thought she was a bit barmy, at first, not getting how brave her daughter was. Realised when I came back, after Dru left me, that Joyce was a helluva woman.
Sat me down, let me pour my bleeding heart out to her, just like I was one of her girl's chums. Offered me cocoa—hadn't had hot chocolate in decades—real touch of class. 'Course, I probably should have fessed up and told her I wasn't exactly one of Buffy's mates, but … I liked her. Liked how she treated me like a man, not a monster, even though she knew what I was.
Still does.
It's a tragedy, seeing that bright, pretty woman so sick.
I knew when Buffy told me the other night that her mum was going in for a scan that it couldn't be good. Last night she spilled the rest: brain tumour.
Fucking cancer.
She thinks vamps are evil? I'd wager cancer's worse.
Vamps… we can show mercy. Not often, but we do, least once we're past the bloodlust stage. One of the reasons for all that St. Vigeous self-flagellation crap. We're choosy about our victims, too—although every vamp’s different. Darla wouldn't touch prostitutes, Dru couldn't be bothered with old people, Angelus was all about his "art.” To me, it’s the young, scrappy ones that taste best. And the snobby ones.
Cancer, though, takes anyone it wants. No mercy. Toys with them for years, sometimes, taunting humans with the hope of recovery. "Remission" they call it. Might as well call it "lurking in the shadows, waiting for a chance to pounce."
Of all the nasty things that might've sunk their teeth into Joyce, it had to be something like that. If it were a demon, I'd be one of the first volunteering to take it out. Don't like seeing someone like Joyce hurting so bad. Or Buffy.
She feels so small, curled up beside me and sobbing her eyes out. So fragile. I know she's not, but that somehow makes it worse—seeing someone so strong made so weak.
Girl's a warrior. She needs something to fight. Something tangible to take her frustration and pain out on.
Could be me. Spar with her, like she asked, once she's feeling up for it. Can't dust me in dreamland, right? Not sure if the chip will zap me for it, but if I’m careful, feel it out a bit… best chance I’ve had for a decent fight since the chip crippled me.
As for when she's awake… might be better to stay out of her way. Keep an eye out, though. She's got to focus on her mum right now, which means something could take advantage. Fuck, I would’ve, before… So I'll watch, but keep my distance. Doesn't need old Spike around, distracting her when she's so worried about her mom she can barely breathe.
19 November 2000
Stopped off at the hospital, little bit ago. Was after closing, but I know my way around. Waited till the Slayer'd gone out for a bit, then slipped in to see Joyce. Thought she was asleep, when I snuck in. Wasn't.
"Spike," she said, surprising me. Didn't jump.
"Yeah?" I said, feeling like a ponce. Figured I'd just slip in and leave her present, then go. Didn't want to make a thing of it.
"Buffy's gone out," she said, "But she'll be back in a little while."
"Wasn't looking for her," I said. William's always a little more present round Buffy's mum than normal. I let him be polite. "Brought you something."
"It's after visiting hours," she said, but her face brightened.
"Yeah, well… didn't want to bump into Buffy and get the third degree. Figured you don't need that kind of stress, yeah?"
"I'm not so fragile, William," she said, looking so much like me mum at that moment it made it hard to talk. I sat down in the chair beside the bed. Was still a bit warm, and smelled like Buffy. Better than all those harsh chemical smells hospitals use to try to cover up the stench of sickness and death. Joyce looked thinner, shadows under her eyes, cheeks a bit hollow. Had to cough, to keep from choking up.
"Here," I said, handing her the box. "Not stolen, just so you know. Bought 'em at that little gourmet place in town."
"Oh! Chocolates!" She got a sly look on her face. "I don't think I'm supposed to have these."
"Not much for rules, here," I said, grinning back. "Figured you could use something that doesn't taste like hospital food. Seen the kind of stuff they feed people in here. Prisoners of war get better meals."
She laughed. "Thank you, Spike. That's very sweet of you."
I frowned. "Don't tell the Slayer, alright? She'll probably assume I poisoned them or something and pitch 'em out."
"Did you?" she asked curiously.
"No! 'Course not," I said.
"I'm just teasing," she said. "I know you wouldn't do that." Sweet woman, but a bit naive, Joyce. Still, hadn’t even crossed my mind, so maybe she was right. She opened the box and sampled one. "Mmmmm. Definitely better than lime jello and mystery meat. These must have cost quite a bit."
"Yeah, well… got paid quite a bit the other night for forking over some information. Blood and smokes don't cost much. Better spending it on you than gambling, right?" I fidgeted a bit, uncomfortable.
Didn't want her to know that the information I gave up was how I killed a couple of slayers… or that her daughter tossed it at me after kicking me to the curb. Didn't feel much like spending it in the first place. At least spending it on Joyce didn’t make me want to go kill something. "I should go," I said, standing. "Don't want the Slayer to catch me in here, lurking round her sick mum. Might get the wrong idea."
"Don't be silly," she said. "Buffy knows you wouldn't hurt me."
Not so sure of that, but I didn't want to argue. "You're killing my reputation here, Joyce," I said. "'Sides, got demons to beat up before bedtime and all. You should get some rest."
"I will," she said. "Thank you, William. This was very thoughtful."
"Welcome," I said, and beat a quick retreat. Not exactly Big Bad behaviour, checking up on the Slayer's mum, but I … sort of care.
20 November 2000
Kitten wanted to play last night.
Don't know what Rupert's been teaching her but, take away her sight and she's a right mess. Funny though, when she goes sprawling on her arse, all pouty and put out. Could have told her that all those high kicks she favours in a fight are no use when you can't see—that is, if I were allowed to open my bloody mouth.
Bloody chip never even fired. I was right about it not working there. Not sure why, but I'm not gonna argue about having my balls handed back, even if it is only for a few hours every night. There was a dicey moment, first time I hit her. I pulled it a bit, like I had with Tara a few weeks back, half-expecting to get zapped. When it didn’t come, I vamped for a minute. Couldn’t help it. I’ve wanted to be free of the chip for so fucking long…
But I don’t want her dead. And biting her there would be bloody stupid. She sort of trusts me in dreamland, and biting her would make her more likely to try to turn the lights on. So I wrestled the demon back under control.
Had to pull a Dread Pirate Roberts on her, though, and fight as if I were right-handed, not left. Girl knows my fighting style by now. Didn't want to slip up and give the game away. Didn't matter. Knocked her arse over tea-kettle three times without even trying.
Felt damned good, too.
When she finally asked what she was doing wrong, I wasn't sure if she'd let me show her. She did, though. Let me put her in position, let me guide her through some defensive blocks and jabs. Picked up a few of tricks when I was wandering round South America decades ago. I don't exactly run into many situations where it's difficult for me to see, but you never know what might be handy.
Girl catches on quick. It's a change from her usual flashy style, but she's got to learn that, when at a disadvantage, not to play with her kills. Defend, dust, move on to the next. Needs to learn to trust her instincts.
It's… sort of fun, training a Slayer.
Almost better than killing one.
Thing is… I train her up, and nobody but me will ever be able to even touch her. There's a certain amount of satisfaction in that.
[Note: the following is undated, and on its own dog-eared page. The different types of pen inks and variations in the writing suggest that it was completed over time, and returned to now and then when the author thought of something else]
Ways I never tried to kill the Slayer or the Scoobies (even with the bloody chip):
1. never burnt down her house while she was sleeping
2. never cut the brake lines on her mum's car, Rupert's car, or Harris'
3. never hired minions to take her out
4. never mixed gunpowder in with Red's "magic sand"
5. never set fire to the Magic Box after blockading them inside
6. never lied and sent any of the Scoobies stumbling into a vamp nest on their own
7. never rigged up a booby trap for anyone kicking in my crypt door
8. never summoned any demons, of any sort, and set them loose on the Slayer
9. never piped carbon monoxide into Harris' basement
10. never poisoned or drugged any of their food
11. never replaced any of Red's spells with dangerous ones
12. never set poisonous snakes, spiders, or demons loose in their houses
13. never left town to find another doctor to get the chip out—and made Harmony actually watch
14. never crumbled glass into the Boy Wonder's Wheaties
15. never electrocuted them in the bath
16. never kidnapped her mum or the Scoobies and sold them to the highest demon bidder
17. didn't kill Rupes when he got turned into a Fyral demon
18. never reinstated Dru's contract with the Order of Taraka
19.
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