A/N: Beta'd by the lovely dawnofme and Mabel Marsters.

And to you wonderful readers, I'll update more as soon as I get it beta'd. I wanted to update more on Sunday, but I'm flying (on a plane) then... we'll see if there's internet connection at the new flat where I'm renting a room. I hope so!




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Chapter 40


“I found something…” Tara said and her eyes flickered across the pages of a thick book perched open on her lap. “Here’s something. It t-talks about breathing humanity into the dead. Well, dead but walking, which I think means vampires. The ritual is complex. I don’t think I wield that kind of power. And it’s probably not even what you’re l-looking for.”


Spike pushed the book he was reading away with a heavy sigh. “Better than anything I’ve found so far. So, what does it say?”


She scanned the paragraph. “I’m not sure. It talks about anima, which means a soul but the way it’s written is all… vague, I guess? It says anima forces the darkness to retreat and allows the true heart to shine through.” She went a bit pale and pushed the book away. “T-there are pictures.”


Spike reached over and took it from her hands, his gaze sweeping over the hand-drawn images depicting a man on his knees, seemingly being ripped apart by invisible forces, face twisted in a silent scream.


“Well… these aren’t all that vague,” he said dryly. Funny thing was, he’d do it. If it meant Buffy didn’t have to worry about his straying fangs, he’d go to the pit of hell and back to make sure he deserved the trust she’d so inadvertently put in him. The night they made love was… that night she gave him her heart, body and soul. What did he have to give her in return? What if his love didn’t prove to be enough? She deserved more than what he could give her now. She deserved a man, not a monster.


“You think it might be real?” he asked Tara, the memory of Darla talking about her Childe stalking his thoughts. He got cursed with a soul, didn’t he? But Spike wasn’t him. This was a choice he was willing to make, not a punishment for his wretched acts. Even if God knew he deserved to be punished for all the things he’d done.


“I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t think there’s anything impossible in our world,” she said and fell silent for a few seconds. “So… umm… do you mind me asking… why are you looking for the spell to control your demon?” Her eyes flickered from the dusty pages to meet his gaze.


“Not too big on sharing, pet. ’S personal.”


“S-sorry.”


The minute her eyes dropped back to her hands folded in her lap, he regretted being so terse. He really didn’t know the bird well enough to disclose his insecurities, and shutting her off came on instinct. It always had. For some strange reason though, he felt as if he could trust Tara. Maybe he could. It wasn’t like he had anybody to tell this to. The circle of his friends came down to Buffy and she probably wouldn’t like what he was doing.


“It’s about my girl,” he said, and Tara glanced up at him, apparently surprised he was talking. She wasn’t the only one. “Don’t wanna hurt her. She trusts me, and I don’t want to bugger it up, but you see… being a vamp doesn’t exactly help a bloke to act with a steady head. It’s sodding hard sometimes, to control the bloodlust. Maybe if I had something to help me… to have a firmer grip over my instincts-”


“But you do. Control yourself, I mean. You’re not…”


Spike watched her fumble with thoughts in her head, instinctively sympathizing with her. In a way, she and William had so much in common. But he knew Tara had the inner strength to her as well, if only she could believe in herself.


“You’re not just a demon.”


“Because I haven’t killed you yet? Might though. Maybe you’re still alive only because I need something from you. Ever thought of that?”


She held his gaze square on. “No. I don’t believe that,” she said with conviction.


He blinked and looked away from her too perceptive gaze. “It’s a wonder you’re still alive then. You’re way too trusting for your own good.”


“I’m good at judging people.”


“I don’t think I qualify as one of those anymore.”


“You’re acting more human than most men do,” she said in a whisper, her eyes troubled with whatever memories forced her to mature past her age. He’d never really thought of the reason her and her mother were on their lonesome. Lots of single mothers these days but perhaps there was more behind it. Wasn’t there always?


He must have been staring at her because she suddenly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and glanced away.


“You’d do anything for her, wouldn’t you?” she asked after a while.


“Yeah. I would.”


*******


Buffy wiped sweat off her brow and tossed the stake into the weapon chest beside her vanity table. Demons were not only hell on her wardrobe but also on her weapons, it seemed. The big burly thing she’d killed had managed to snap her favourite axe in half before she did the same to its neck.


She really liked that ax too.


A knock on her door snapped her out of the funk, and she swiveled on her feet.


“Hey, B. How did the patrol go?”


It felt so good to have Faith home, alive and well. Despite her insistence, the doctor had released her four days after the visit.


“Same old, same old. I’ve got demon blood on my jeans… again.”


Faith grinned as she spotted a big dark green spot on Buffy’s jeans. “At least it wasn’t acidic.”


“Always such an optimist,” Buffy said and rolled the stained jeans down her legs, her nose scrunching in disgust. “Eww.”


Faith walked into the room and fidgeted with little knick knacks on Buffy’s table while she pulled on sweatpants and changed into a clean tank top. Even she wasn’t that blind she wouldn’t notice something was bothering Faith.


“Okay, fess up.”


“What?”


“You’re all mopey, which… understandable with the whole… you know. But… Talk to me. God knows, you made me talk to you when I felt all miserable.”


Faith sighed. “I’m not miserable. Just feeling kinda itchy.”


“If you say you need a one night stand, I’m so kicking your butt.”


Faith seemed to think about for a moment. “Well, that too. But not that kind of itchy. More like.” She popped her knuckles. “Kicking ass kind.”


“Oh. Well, I’m not sure you’re ready to-”


“I am!” She bounced on her feet and stepped closer. “Buffy, I think you should know something.”


“What’s with the seriousness? Should I be worried?”


“Something happened to me while I was out for the count.”


“Like what?”


Faith’s gaze darted around and walked over to pick a sword Buffy had left leaning against a wall because it needed sharpening. Then she clasped it in her hands and… bent it.


“Uh…” Buffy’s jaw dropped open.


“Yeah.”


“How…”


Faith shrugged and dropped the useless sword. “No idea. Just woke up and… this feeling went through me. Strength.”


“Are you a… are you a slayer.” How could that have happened?


“No clue. I think I am, but it makes no sense. I got all these dreams and visions of… past slayers I guess. And I feel powerful. But… I don’t get it. You’re the Slayer. Chosen One. Nothing saying there’s something as lame as Chosen Two.”


Buffy dropped down on the bed, feeling heavy and numb. “We should tell Giles.”


Faith walked over and sat down next to her. “You don’t sound all that happy.”


Didn’t she get it? What it meant? “I’m sorry.”


“Why?” she asked warily.


Buffy heaved a sigh and turned her head to look at Faith. “I’m not jealous if that’s what you think. It’s just not fair it had to happen to you. I know it sounds kind of nifty to have all that power but the truth is… the truth is you’ve just become a demon beacon.”


“Is that what you feel like?”


“It’s what I am, isn’t it? I… We… don’t have a choice. Maybe we never have. I won’t lie, I like being the Slayer. That doesn’t mean I don’t realize that’s all I’ll ever be. I can’t quit or hide, and one day I’ll slip up and be some demon’s trophy. Probably sooner rather than later.”


“It doesn’t have to be that way, you know. If I really am a slayer then… there’s two of us against the world. You don’t have to be alone anymore. We’ll have each other’s backs. And I’d rather die in a fight than in a hospital somewhere. At least this way you make a difference.”


Buffy nodded reluctantly. Maybe Faith was right. There were far worse demons out there than those she could actually fight. And for the first time it occurred to her that with Faith and Spike on her side, she might live long enough to see her first wrinkle after all.


*******


The lock clicked behind him as Tara closed the door. Wind rushed against his face as he strode down the streets. She’d promised him to research the ritual and everything there was to know about its consequences. Spike knew that it was her way to push it back in hopes of him changing his mind. Thought it was dangerous and volatile, she did.


Spike snorted.


Maybe he really was stupid for even contemplating this. He had it all, didn’t he? Finally had Buffy, her love. It was all that mattered. It should have been. Except, doubt gnawed at him, telling him he’d do something to cock it up eventually and lose her forever. There was only so much of his wrong doings she could forgive and forget.


His stomach cramped in sudden hunger and he quickened his step, his fangs threatening to drop. He hated how the hunger overcame him out of nowhere. No initial discomfort, just plain bloodlust slamming into him without warning. Maybe it happened to all young vampires. He’d never thought to ask.


The hospital was just a few blocks away, and it would have to do this time. Despite Buffy allowing him to feed off human criminals, it wasn’t as easy as she thought to stumble upon one here.


Not enough to quench the thirst.


He headed towards hospital and soon he was slipping unnoticed inside the blood bank, his trembling hands grasping at the bags of plasma that had only recently gone bad. The cold substance slid down his throat as he tore it open with his fangs and gulped it down greedily, slumping to the floor. He drank three of them before his mind cleared and the pangs of hunger dwindled down.


The bad news was the three bags he’d fed off were the only ones expired. His mind swirled with indecision because he knew he needed more, needed to take some with him to have as a reserve, but doubted it was the right thing to do to take any bags someone might need for transfusion. God, why was this so difficult?


“Fuck,” he mumbled and banged his head against the white wall. With gritted teeth, he stood up and swept his gaze over the packets. His looked into the refrigerator like boxes where the blood was held and took one with the most common blood type then spun on his heel and headed home.


The soul, whatever the hell it was supposed to do, would help him understand the line between right and wrong. Wouldn’t it? He’d still be himself, only complete. A man with a demon inside, not the other way around. And as much as this was all about Buffy, it had also a lot to do with the way he’d felt since he’d been turned.


He’d never felt as though he was a true vampire. Unlike Darla and Dru, he was unable to turn off just… feeling. He was more than just a vampire, but less than a human being.


For once in his existence, he wanted to belong.


TBC