Author’s Note: This chapter covers the same time period as Chapter 13. We’re going to be speeding up after this. This is the last chapter that matches only one chapter in Part I. From here on out, if you’re rereading Part I, you’ll be rereading two, sometimes three, four, or five chapters of Buffy’s POV to match up with one of Spike’s. Not that I don’t love him, but he just doesn’t have as much to do—unless you really want me to have him chronicle all the time he spends in front of the TV or tossing off?

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
*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."

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Credits: This chapter contains dialogue from the episode “Into the Woods” by Marti Noxon.

Chapter 43

The Wretched

2 December 2000 (5 pm)

Bloody buggering fuck.

God, this hurts.

Know I have a heart now, cause some enormous arsehole decided to drive a bloody hole through it.

Was sitting in my crypt, having a drink and minding my own business when Jarhead decided to pay me a visit. Knew he'd be by eventually. Figured we'd have it out, he'd threaten me, maybe beat the hell out of me, and go off and boo-hoo over his lost honey. Be worth it, almost.

Wasn't expecting him to pick me up out of my chair, slam me against a pillar and shove a goddamn PLASTIC STAKE through my bleeding heart. Looked real? Hell, it felt real enough till I realised I wasn't dusting. Bastard had clearly lost it.

Ain't souls grand? You cock up your own life, get caught cheating and doing something stupidly dangerous besides, and then get to torture the poor bloke who did your girl a bloody favour by doing nothing more than taking her for a little walk?

How the hell is that fair?

And, for the record, let me just say: getting staked in the heart without dusting? Torture. I've suffered some nasty things in my century plus, and that ranks right up there at the top of the list. Right after having your brains boiled for trying to eat, and having some icy hellbitch stick an icicle into your chest.

Come to think of it, I'm getting a little too familiar with being used as a fucking pincushion.

"Don't think I don't know what's going on with you, Spike," he said, doing his best raving psycho impersonation. Gotta say, he’d gotten better at it. Pity for him I know what raving psychopaths are really like. "Stay away from her, or we'll do this for real next time."

Yeah right. Might have the guts to stake me with plastic when he knows I can't fight back, but he enjoys kicking me around too much to dust me. Bastard. Won't be a next time. He even looks at me funny again, I'll find a way to kill him. He thinks he knows what it’s like to get bit? I’ll show him the not so nice side. Maybe do a few experiments on him, see how long he can live without being able to eat. Take off a limb or two, put them back on backwards or something. Know a few demons who’d like to pay him back for what the Initiative did—wouldn’t be hard at all.

Had to laugh at him, though. Was so bloody obvious what his real problem with me is. He's worried that she might turn to me. Knows now, he does, the way vampires love. Or he thinks he does.

Besides, couldn't let him think he'd somehow actually scared me. I learned to deal with arseholes like him more than a century ago. Try as he might, he’ll never be Angelus.

"Oh, man," I said, chuckling through the pain. "You really are under it, aren't you?"

"What?" he said, still miffed. Oh, he knew.

"Look at you. All afraid I'm hot for your honey."

"Because you are," he said.

Wasn't going to bother lying to the git. "Well… yeah. But that's not your problem. Even if I wasn't in the picture, you're never gonna be able to hold her."

That got me a couple of fingers shoved into my gaping chest wound.

Better yet, maybe I’ll go down to the rail station, find myself a nice, rusty railroad spike. Show him how I got my name. Pain from the chip would be worth it, just to watch him squirm like a bug on a pin. Chip just means I’d have to take my time. Migraines stop eventually, but missing limbs are forever.

"Maybe I didn't almost kill you enough," he said, trying to look scary. But I could see it in his face. Yeah… he's worried he’s losing her. Right to be. He's not the one for her. Never was.

"Come on, you're not the long haul guy and you know it," I said, gritting my teeth and trying to ignore the pain splintering through my chest. Fuck that hurt. Bastard even wiggled his fingers around a bit.

"Shut up," he said. Yeah, when have I ever listened to that phrase?

"You know it. Or else you wouldn't be getting suck jobs from two-bit vampire trulls."

Backed off then, giving me a chance to breathe. Not that I need to, but it helps, a bit, with the pain. Gives me something else to focus on.

"The girl needs some monster in her man, and that's not in your nature," I said, heading for my chair. "No matter how low you try to go."

This little farce was a good imitation, though. I'd give him that. Bastard liked beating on me almost as much as Angelus ever had. Doesn't matter, though. When it comes to her, he's far too white bread. Last night's little dance was proof enough.

Maybe that's what his game was. Maybe he wants to get turned. Probably figures she'd like him better with fangs. Maybe she would… in about twenty-five years when the bloodlust wore off and he'd gotten a hold on his demon. Course, once he was turned he wouldn't want her anymore, except to kill. Definition of perfect irony?

"You actually think you've got a shot at her?" he asked, pacing. Grabbed the nearest liquor bottle I could find and twisted out the cork.

"No, I don't," I told him. Know the Slayer better than that, don't I? Maybe if I had a bloody soul, like Angel, she'd want me. But then I wouldn't be any better than Finn-head, with his bleeding death wish. Once I had a soul, I might realise why I shouldn't have her. Be too busy moping over past wrongs to get the balls to court the girl. Not gonna fool myself here. Slayer and I might have something, if she could bring herself to see past the demon thing.

Un-bloody-likely.

But still…

"Fella's got to try, though. Gotta do what he can," I said, meaning it. Wasn't gonna chain her up and force her to admit she wanted me or anything. I'm not so far gone desperate as that, yet. But I could be there, be a… friend, if she'd let me. Try to help. Be her bloody Mr. Gordo, if that's what she needs.

"If you touched her," Finn said, "you know I'd kill you for real."

Good thing I couldn't tell him about my little bout with the Slayer last night, then, yeah? Wasn't exactly the kind of touching he had in mind, but I'm sure he'd piss himself if he knew we'd sparred all out, and ended up with me pinning her to the floor, my dick hard against her hips and my lips kissing her throat.

Yeah.

Good thing.

"I had this chip outta my head, I'd a killed you long ago," I told him instead. Would've, too. Been a long time since I hated a human the way I hate this particular berk. Got so many reasons to want him dead, it’s hard to pick a favourite. Still, chip’s the only thing that keeps her from dusting me… "Ain't love grand?"

We're both a bit pathetic, aren't we? Twisted up over some slip of a girl who could put us both in the bloody ground, if she wanted. Him easier than me, of course, but that’s not really the point. He’s not what she needs, and for all he fools himself, she’s not what he really wants. He wants what she’ll never be, and he’ll never understand that she’s so much more. And me… I just want her. As is. Even though it’s fucking wrong. Even though she’s not meant for the likes of me.

Tossed him the bottle. Figured he could use a drink. Slayer was going to be raking his arse over the coals sooner or later.

"Sometimes," I said, surprising myself, "I envy you so much it chokes me. And sometimes I think I got the better deal. To be that close to her and not have her. To be all alone, even when you're holding her…" She'd let me hold her, when she cried, though. That was something, even if I couldn't hold her the way I wanted. Could pound on her with my fists, let her hit me back… wasn't the same as having her under me. Wasn’t the same as her knowing it’s me, and wanting me. "Feeling her, feeling her beneath you. Surrounding you. The scent…"

God, her scent. Drives me crazy some nights, smelling her there, so close and so far away. Not mine. Not really. Not mine to touch, or mine to hold. Slayer’s never gonna look up at me the way she looks at Finn, her eyes all shiny and bright and happy. Looking at him like he was her bleeding' hero, her whole world. All that light and love and joy, even passionless as it was for him…

"No," I said, deciding. "You got the better deal."

His stupid fault for giving it up, instead of fighting for it. For not realising what he had and holding onto it with both fists.

He looked at the bottle, bitter and cold. "I'm the lucky guy," he said. "Yeah… I'm the guy."

Yeah… he is.

Just too stupid to realise it.

Wonder if it's a height thing? Must not be enough air up there to sustain their tiny, fragile brain cells. Angel and Finn are both utter gits. I ever get the chance she gave them, I’m not giving up. Not for anything. Be her sodding slave forever, if that’s what it takes.

"I didn't get it before," Finn said. "Starting to now. She never really needed me, did she?"

Slanted him a look, trying not to move too much and stretch the hole in my chest. "She's the Slayer, mate," I said. "Been with her now almost a year and you don't even know what that means, do you?"

He snorted.

We finished the bottle without having to get anymore Oprah. Don't know how much more of being chummy with the git I could stomach.

After he left, I had myself a couple of bags of blood, and a couple of bottles of JD. Can feel the wound starting to knit up, but I'm not going to be in sparring form tonight. Not to mention trying to explain to her without words why pounding her little fist against my heart's going to make me roar in pain. Maybe she'll be too tired to spar.

That close to being dusted.

Bloody hell.

***

3 December 2000

Always knew Finn was a coward at heart. Just like Angelus. Things get rough, can't get what he wants from her, the wanker runs for the bloody hills.

And does his best to crush her beneath his boot before he goes. Never enough just to leave, they’ve got to demolish whatever’s left behind, hurt her, tear her to shreds and leave her to patch the pieces back together best she can.

I ever get a chance, I won't leave. Even if all she ever gives me are bloody crumbs, it's worth it to be by her side. Yeah, I know, I'm a romantic old sod. Can't help it, though. Never quite felt like this.

Came close, with Dru. Licked her boots like a good dog, ate whatever scraps she flung. I wasn't always happy with my lot, but it felt like it was worth it.

It's different, with Buffy, though. I know, it's wrong, but she makes me want more. Good thing I've always been a rebel. At night, when she talks to me… she doesn't talk to me like I'm a demon. Like I'm something to be loathed.

She talks to me like I'm a man.

Makes me want to be one, for her.

Been so long since I was just a man, I've nearly forgotten how. But William hasn’t. Not quite. I thought I’d buried him deep. Thought I’d lost him, really. But he’s still there. I’m still there. Being round Buffy brings him out of me. And the ponce is full of helpful suggestions lately.

And when I'm with her… the demon in me isn't so restless. It's… curious, and a little possessive, like it recognises something in her as compatible. Kindred. We’re both predators at heart, after all.

The demon wanted Finn's blood something fierce, when she said he'd told her it was her fault. Good thing he left, else I'd have figured out a way to kill him, chip be damned. She didn't deserve that, not from an idiot who can't tell the bleedin' difference between hunger and passion.

As if some tarty little fledge could even be compared to her.

Between Sir Sulksalot and Wonder Bread, girl's getting a complex. Thinks it's her fault they leave. Not denying that she's got baggage. Afraid to love because she's afraid to lose. Afraid of being left, of being hurt. Afraid to let anyone close in case they turn on her. Not surprising, with what she's been through. She's built walls ten feet thick.

Lucky for me I'm bull-headed, yeah? and thanks to her I've got an idea of how to weasel my way in, if being stubborn doesn't work. All this time, her opening up to Mr. G… yeah, give me half a chance and I’ll find my way in.

And I've got all the time in the world.

Or at least, I will… once I get out of this bloody challenge. In the meantime, I'll just be grateful that when she's dreaming… she lets down her walls a bit.

Enough to let me see that the girl inside is worth fighting for.

She about broke my heart last night, just before she fell asleep, though. She murmured into my soggy t-shirt, "I'm glad you're not real, Mr. Gordo. If you were real… I'd probably have to hate you… or kill you… and, I don't want to. Don't be real. Or… if you are, please don't ever do anything that would make me have to kill you. Please."

Don't want her to hate me. Or dust me.

Can't change the past.

Guess I've got my work cut out. 'Cause someday she's gonna find out that Mr. Gordo isn't as imaginary as she'd like, and I don't want to break her heart when she susses out that she's been talking to me this whole time.

Got a few days before I'm healed up enough to be of much use. Gives me time to make some decisions… and plans. Got to find a way to make her like and trust me when I'm awake, too.

It'll take a bloody miracle, that.

***

7 December 2000

Ways I never want to wake up again:

10. In a coffin, six-feet underground, starving and confused as hell.

9. To the sight of a bare-arsed Angelus shagging my girl while I'm sleeping in bed beside her.

8. On a bloody riverbank, stuck through with arrows, with the sun threatening on the horizon and a mob carrying my girl off.

7. To Dru painting my face so I look like one of her dollies and insisting we're gonna have a tea party. Wearing dresses.

6. Paralysed from the waist down.

5. In the sunlight, drunk as hell, with my soddin' hand on fire.

4. To the incredibly disgusting sight of Dru shagging a fungus demon on top of the bloody bureau.

3. In an electrified cage after a major brain operation renders me fangless.

2. To an icy bitch goddess floating over my bed and threatening to turn me into her vampire shaped sex toy.

and the number one way I never want to wake up again?

To the sight of Harmony in a Christmas teddy with bloody mistletoe pinned just between her enormous tits, kneeling over my face and calling me her sweet sugar plum fairy, while "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" plays in the bleeding background.

She's lucky I only tossed her across the cave. Came this close to hauling her up the stairs and out into the damned sunshine.

'Course, then she started whinging. "You're always so grumpy, Spikey." "You're never in the mood anymore, Spikey." "I want to go to parties, Spikey." "I was only trying to cheer you up, Spikey." "You're so sensitive, Spikey." Blah blah blah fucking blah…

Wasn't till she started nattering on about the Slayer that I paid her any real mind.

"…it's stupid Buffy that's got you so upset. You know what, Blondie Bear? Maybe I'll make that your Christmas present, huh? Kill the Slayer for you? I could put her head in a box and wrap it up real pretty. Would you like that? I've got a really good plan this ti—-urp!"

That noise she makes when you slam her against a wall by the throat is so fucking satisfying.

"We're done, Harm," I told her. "Pack your stuff, and get the hell out of my crypt. In fact, get out of my bloody town. You even attempt to think with one of your tiny little brain cells about going after the Slayer on your own… and you'll be the next demon I hunt down for kicks. I'll pop your head off like the empty-headed Barbie Doll you are, and hope it sticks round long enough before it dusts that I can punt it about like a balloon. Got it, you stupid bint?"

There were tears. Accusations. Soddin' theatrics accompanied by high pitched sobs that sent all the bats at the far end of the cave spiralling out in order to save their hearing.

I wasn't so lucky.

In the end, of course, she left. I'll need a new stereo and some new clothes, since she took everything she ever "bought" me… but at least that's done. Should have done it months ago.

Gave her Angel's address, before she left. Told her to look him up. Might've hinted that he had connections with some TV blokes. 'Least she left happy.

Merry Xmas, you enormous wanker.

All my loathing,

Spike.

***

13 December 2000

Figured I'd drop back by the vamp nest, see if she'd cleared them out yet. My chest's knit up again—slower going with soddin' pigs blood—and I could have done with some rough and tumble. Course when I got there, building's all crispy and black.

Looks like the Slayer had herself a good day after all.

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Author’s Postscript: If you were wondering whatever happened to Harmony… now you know. She just wandered off a little early.

Also, I’ve posted a song playlist based off the chapter titles for Part II over on my livejournal (which ought to be linked from my profile)… in case anyone is interested.