When Buffy left the bank, she found her feet taking her to the Magic Box instead of home.
 
Mortgage already worth more than the house. No other assets. No job. No loan.
 
The bell tinkled over her head. Anya looked up from the counter.
 
“Buffy! Why are you here? Is something wrong?”
 
“Yes.”
 
Anya stared at her, getting steadily more anxious as she imagined all of the things that could possibly be going wrong.
 
Oh! Waiting for me to talk. “Willow told me I’m broke,” she said. “And the bank says I’m a bad risk.”
 
“Well, you are,” Anya agreed, not sure where this was going.
 
“You’re … passionate … about money,” Buffy said, realising why she’d come. Anya preened. “What do you think I should do?”
 
------------------------------------------
 
Spike and Giles were sitting across from each other at the dining room table, bottle of whiskey between them.
 
“She had to dig her way out of the grave,” Spike said, rolling his empty glass between his fingers.
 
Giles inhaled sharply.
 
“An’ for a while, she … all that was left was the demon essence, the Slayer. Like an animal – all about survival. She took out a whole hellion gang.” Spike smiled proudly. “It was somethin’ else, seein’ that.”
 
“Dear Lord,” Giles whispered.
 
“But Buffy the girl was … hidin’, I guess. Too much to cope with.”
 
“A-and her … attack … on Dawn?”
 
Spike growled. “It was Dawn made her come back to herself again. Buffy thinks she was gonna kill her. She wasn’t. Almost doin’ it snapped her out of it.”
 
 “She said you stopped her.”
 
“Would’ve.” Spike stared hard at Giles, daring him to disagree. “Didn’ need to, thank fuck.”
 
“Right.” Giles paused.
 
Spike poured whiskey into his glass for the first time, and took a small sip.
 
This is not the vampire I remember. He’s so contained, controlled.
 
“Buffy said her memories weren’t….”
 
“They’re patchy. She said yesterday she only remembers the bad things.” He looked straight at Giles. “Almost glad to hear she’s forgotten about that gypsy … means the loss isn’ so specific.” Spike looked away again. “Dunno if it’s Red’s spell or the … trauma, I guess you’d call it.” Ripped out of heaven. Beyond trauma. Spike paused. “Whichever it is, she’s still going into … like a fugue state … when she feels threatened. An’ the nightmares’re bad. She’s scared of the dark now. Proper scared.”
 
“How do you know about her nightmares?” Giles asked coldly. This is Spike. Taking advantage.
 
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Spike said, suddenly exhausted. “I would never hurt her! What do I have to do to prove that to you lot?”
 
------------------------------------------
 
“I think your first step should be to start charging rent to all the people who live in your house,” Anya said firmly.
 
“Wha-huh?” Buffy said.
 
“I admit, they have some right to be there because of Dawn. Her care has value. But three adults living in your house for free while you’re dead and paying all the bills is … well it’s un-American.”
 
------------------------------------------
 
“I don’t like you, Spike. I never have, and I suspect I never will.”
 
Spike laughed and raised his glass. “I’ll drink to that.”
 
“I asked you once whether you’d ever considered that your chip might be serving a higher purpose…. Do you remember?”
 
“’Course. Was a stupid idea then, ‘s just as stupid now.”
 
Giles laughed. “And that,”he said, pointing his glass at Spike and then drinking it down, “is why nothing you do will ever be enough.”
 
Spike growled. “Why are you tryin’ to make me into my great lummox of a grandsire? We’re no more the same than you an’ whatever tweedy bugger runs the Wankers’ Council these days. So ‘Angel’ is after redemption?” Spike sneered. “Fair play to him. Don’ see why that makes him so soddin’ special. He never made peace with his demon, an’ now he pretends there’s nothing of Angelus left in him. Oh no! completely different soddin’ vampire. Well. I could tell you stories – things he’s done since gettin’ that shiny soul of his – that would make your hair curl. I’m sick and bloody tired of always bein’ compared to him. Over a hundred soddin’ years of it now! We. Are. Nothing. Alike. Never have been; never will be.”
 
“I don’t like him, either, you know,” Giles said drily.
 
“But you trust him, don’t you?” Spike laughed bitterly. “More’n you do me, anyway.” He downed the rest of his whiskey and poured himself another. “He leaves – ‘cause his blessed path of redemption trumps everyone else’s needs – an’ this makes him noble or some such rot, while I get punished for havin’ the temerity to stick around in whatever mess he’s left behind. Dunno why I bloody bother.”
 
“Why do you bother?” Giles asked, genuinely curious.
 
Spike groaned. “For a smart man, you aren’t half bloody thick. For love! For them. Dru. Joyce. Buffy. Niblet. My family. Don’ care about any o’ the other shite. ‘Spect I never will.”
 
“But don’t you see? Without that ‘other shite’, there’s nothing to hold you to your so-called family.” Giles took a swallow of whiskey. “You can never fully understand what family is, what love is, without a conscience.”
 
Spike laughed again. “Bloody hell, Rupert.” He put his head in his hands. “Well, my chip is certainly no conscience. I’ll drink to that.” He raised his glass and drank. “I’ll grant you it was a wake-up call. Made me start lookin’ ‘round to see what else there was to livin’ – to me – that I didn’ learn from Angelus or Dru.” He looked at Giles thoughtfully. “Do you know what happened to the other vamps they chipped?”
 
Giles shook his head and emptied his glass.
 
“They died within days. Some didn’ even last hours – couldn’t stop themselves from attackin’.” Spike looked into his whiskey, and took a sip. “That chip in my head isn’t some soul-substitute. It didn’t change me. Buffy changed me – treated me like a man ‘til I wanted to be one. For her. Dawn changed me more. Needed so badly to be someone’s – anyone’s – first priority that I wanted to do it. For her. Fucks me right off to hear you tryin’ to give the credit to some piece of metal lodged in my brain when it was them. Beautiful, strong, smart women, who saw what I could be, if they only asked. The chip means nothing.”
 
“You never chose to be good.”
 
“You sayin’ I had goodness ‘thrust upon me’?” Spike laughed, refilling both their glasses.
 
“You’ll never achieve goodness, either, Spike. Not without a soul.”
 
Spike sighed. “I’m not stupid, Rupert. I know that I’ve never been good enough for any of the women in my life. Not a one of them.”
 
“I’ll drink to that,” Giles said, raising his glass.
 
“But I also know there isn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for them, no matter the cost. These last four months, lookin’ after Dawn…. Maybe you’re right, an’ I didn’t understand love or family before. But now … she’s my first priority, before everything. I know every way to cook a vegetable that’ll get her eatin’ seconds, ‘cause I know she’d live off of something awful like marshmallow and pickle sandwiches if I let her. I know everythin’ she’s doin’ in school ‘cause if I don’t keep on top of it, she bloody skips and if she screws up this year, they won’t let her do summer school again an’ she’ll have to repeat.”
 
Giles downed his glass. “My god, you’re … you sound like you think you’re her father!”
 
Spike refilled Giles’ glass. “Maybe I do. You lot were all so busy pretendin’ you didn’t blame her for Buffy’s death you never noticed she was blamin’ herself more’n you ever could and she desperately needed you to tell her it wasn’t her fault. Every day she needed to hear that and no one but me was sayin’ it.” Spike emptied his glass. “Did you know they sedated her to get her to stop cryin’?”
 
Giles shook his head slowly, and refilled Spike’s glass. “I knew she’d been to see a doctor, but I’m afraid I wasn’t really paying attention.”
 
“Exactly! Too busy dealin’ with your own grief to deal with hers. Dawn lost her mum an’ then her sister, an’ she couldn’t talk to anyone ‘cept us. You left, Rupes. An’ none of the rest of them were ready or willin’ to make sacrifices for her. Who did she have left?” Spike downed his drink. “And you say I’m the one with no soddin’ conscience.”
 
“I’m not sure I would have been any good for her if I’d stayed,” Giles said quietly, refilling both their glasses.
 
“Have you forgiven her yet?” Spike asked.
 
“I – I hope so.”
 
“I’m not sure you’re good enough for them, either.”
 
“I’ll drink to that.”
 
They clinked glasses and drank.
 
“We’re out of whiskey, Watcher.”
 
“I bought a bottle of Glenfiddich in the duty free.”
 
“I still don’ like you,” Spike said, pointing his finger.
 
“And I loathe you,” Giles sighed.
 
“Tha’s alright then.” Spike smirked as Giles got up to fetch the second bottle.
 
 ------------------------------------------
 
“What do you know about art?” Anya asked.
 
“Um… I know mom had a gallery full of it?” Buffy said, wincing.
 
“Right. Nothing. Why am I not surprised?”
 
“I’ve been busy! With … other things! Like slaying!” Buffy said, annoyed.
 
“I admit, your life was very distracting before you died ... and you’re still very young.” Buffy was starting to move past annoyed and into irate. “But back to money,” Anya said hurriedly. “Before Joyce got sick and started ignoring the gallery, her annual turnover was somewhere around two hundred thousand dollars.”
 
“Okay. Is that good?”
 
“It’s not amazing, but given she wasn’t trading with demons or the magical community, it’s pretty good for Sunnydale.”
 
“Go mom. Who knew?”
 
“I did; I’m sure Giles did—”
 
“Not what I meant,” Buffy said, holding up her hands.
 
“Oh,” Anya said. “Anyway, since Joyce only rented her gallery space, all her stock got packed up and put into storage when she died. I’d imagine you’re paying a lot of money in fees every month right now, so getting rid of some of the stock will make your life cheaper, even if you only go down one room-size. But more importantly,” Anya grinned. “You have assets you can exchange for money.”
 
“Assets are good.” Buffy was trying her best to keep her eyes from glazing over. I wish conversations were just a little bit easier. “Where does the no-longer-broke-Buffy come in?”
 
“Well, there are several options, and for each one there’s a trade-off between how much money you can make, and how long it’ll take to get it.”
 
Buffy took a deep breath. In, out, breathe. “What’s the way that means I’m not broke anymore?”
 
“Well the quickest way would be to find another gallery owner with a similar set-up, and just sell everything as a job lot. It’s almost no work for you, and you might even be able to do it in a few days. Certainly less than a month.”
 
“Which means what in money?”
 
“Well, I haven’t looked it over, but I would guess somewhere in the range of ten to seventy-five thousand, depending on the pieces and how honest the buyer is.”
 
Buffy sat down. “Wow. That’s … a big range … but still a lot of money. Isn’t it? I can’t even imagine ten thousand dollars.”
 
Anya sighed despairingly. “You have no idea how much it costs you to just live every month, do you?”
 
Buffy shrugged. “Mom always took care of that stuff.”
 
“Okay. You look awful,” Buffy flinched. “Which I guess makes sense because you were dead two days ago and you’ve mostly just been killing things ever since. And I’m still not convinced you’re back to normal – I don’t care what Willow says.”
 
“Was there a point, Anya?”
 
“Oh. Yes.” Anya grinned at her again. “I’ve decided I’m going to help you. When I close tonight, I’m going to come to your house and look at your bills, and work out what can be cut and how much money you actually need every month. Then I’m going to calculate an amount for Willow and Tara and Spike to pay you if they want to keep living in your house.”
 
Buffy felt her lungs expanding and oxygen flooding her system for the first time in what felt like years.
 
------------------------------------------
 
“So do any of them know you killed Glory’s human host, Rupes?” Spike asked.
 
“How do you know I—”
 
“Saw you. Heard you.”
 
“I have no idea if they know.” Giles rubbed his forehead. “We’ve never spoken of it.”
 
“It changes you. Murder.”
 
“Yes.” Giles refilled their glasses. “Yes it does.”
 
“So you admit it was murder? I am surprised.”
 
“I have never deluded myself that I am a good man.”
 
“The inference bein’ that I do?” Spike laughed. “I’m a monster. Nothin’ I can do to change that. All I can change is the future. ‘S all any of us can change.”
 
“‘All I can change is the future’,” Giles scoffed. “You’re impossible! You’ve constructed a romantic fairy tale out of an empty, soulless existence – your love and family. You don’t know what sacrifice is.”
 
“I was tortured! I thought I was gonna die. That isn’t sacrifice?”
 
“Withstanding physical pain? The Slayer of Slayers? Pure ego,” Giles said venomously. “And dying for ‘the woman you love’ is just more of your romanticism. It was impressive, Spike, I’ll grant you that. But it wasn’t sacrifice. Your sense of self remained intact, and ultimately? All you did was buy time.”
 
“Tell us how you really feel, why don’t you?” Spike growled.
 
“Buffy believed it was a sacrifice. I suppose that’s what you wanted. Dawn too.”
 
“That’s not why I did it.” Spike downed his glass.
 
“You didn’t have your presumptions of fatherhood towards Dawn then. You had – have – a disgusting obsession with Buffy that you’ve convinced yourself is love. Do you really expect me to believe that there could have been any honour in your actions? In you?”
 
“I stayed, Rupert. You left. You tellin’ me your actions were more honourable than mine?”
 
“You don’t deny the disgusting obsession?”
 
“You’re talkin’ about the bot.”
 
“That’s part of it.”
 
“That was a mistake. I knew it then, as I was doin’ it. I thought … I’d run out of hope.” He scrubbed his hands through his hair. “She hated me. Hated everything about me. Never saw what I was givin’ up, how I was tryin’ to change. I thought, if I can never have the real thing, an imitation might just keep me from greetin’ the sunrise.”
 
“Bloody romantic nonsense. Don’t you dare try to tell me the bot was the only thing keeping you from suicide.” Now Giles downed his drink, and refilled both their glasses. “And what do you mean, what you gave up? What did you ever give up?”
 
“How bloody thick are you? I stopped killin’ humans, didn’ I? Been baggin’ it for more’n two years now. No minions, no thralls. No poison or magic. I’ve been a vampire for over a hundred years. I’m a soddin’ Aurelian, an’ I have a fuck of a lot of power.” Spike glared at Giles. “Most of which you’ve never seen – an pro’ly never will – because I would far rather have an honest fistfight than faff about with gypsy tricks an’ bloody fright tactics.”
 
“My point exactly! Your sense of romance demands these choices. You don’t care about honesty, about fairness.”
 
“I keep my word.”
 
“You and Drusilla and your medieval courtliness. That’s just as bad! It was a mockery of love.”
 
“It bloody was not!” Spike was really angry now.
 
“You say you loved Drusilla for a hundred years. What happened then? You woke up one day and stopped? Surely someone who cares as much about love and family as you claim you do, you don’t simply stop loving someone. Yet you offered to kill her, for Buffy, whom you also claim to love.”
 
“Did you kill that doctor because it was the right thing to do? Or did you do it for her. For Buffy. To save her pain, to save her from havin’ to live with his blood on her hands?”
 
Giles stopped. “I – I did it for her.”
 
“You ever gonna tell her?”
 
“I haven’t ever thought about it. I … didn’t need to.”
 
“Where’s the honour, Rupert? You murdered him because you love her and you couldn’t stand to see her hurtin’. No more no less. Same as me.”
 
Giles sagged in the chair. “Think what you like, Spike. Whatever your reasons, you are here, living in this house.” He laughed. “We’re stuck with you now.”
 
“Fuck you! You don’t get to go all fatalistic on me just because you’re losin’ the argument. All the evil done in this world by humans full to bursting with souls—”
 
“If you’re going to mention Hitler, I’ll just stake you right now.”
 
“I’d help you! Bloody weak-minded, that is.”
 
They clinked glasses and drank. They sat in silence for a few moments, staring into their glasses.
 
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to control bloodlust?” Spike asked, finally.
 
“Some.”
 
“Some! he says. Because you’ve got the mark of soddin’ Eyghon? Because you murdered someone by holding your hands over his mouth? You know nothing, Watcher. The control it takes to just to stand still in a room full of bleeding, dying humans….”
 
“Happy meals on legs?”
 
“If you like to put it crudely.” Spike grinned. Giles smiled back.
 
They clinked glasses and drank. Giles refilled their glasses.
 
“To be surrounded by all that, when you’re injured and hungry, and you know that just a little taste will make everything better. There’s a reason a vampire’s demon comes with bloodlust. Needs something to overcome the natural reluctance to kill. I remember the Great War. I remember how hard they had to work just to get those sods to kill each other. And they still missed as often as they could. An’ played bloody football at Christmas.” Spike sat, lost in memories for a moment.
 
“Romantic!” Giles wagged his finger.
 
“Sod off. Bloodlust is so strong you lose yourself in it. Lose everything you are or were until there’s nothing left but hunger and rage and hate for everything that isn’t you. That’s why the other vamps couldn’t live with a chip. My demon does not control me. Never has. We made our peace with each other a long time ago.”
 
“How is any of that an argument?”
 
“Because every time I have changed, it was always by choice. When Dru made me, I chose that life. I embraced it and I made it mine. And when Angelus wanted to destroy the world, I chose again, switched sides. When I couldn’t kill humans anymore, I chose to start fighting with you soddin’ white hats. Chose to throw my lot in with yours. You think Angelus ever wanted this redemption lark?”
 
“You realise you can’t keep complaining about being compared to him when you’re the one who keeps bringing him up?”
 
“You’re the one keeps saying I need a soddin’ soul! You know any other souled vamps I can talk about, I’ll gladly leave him out entirely.”
 
“Fair enough,” Giles grumbled.
 
“Stupid git tried for months to keep on bein’ the Scourge of Europe. Was only Darla kickin’ him to the curb made him stop tryin’. And then he spent the best part of a hundred years eatin’ rats and brooding, far’s I can tell. Does that strike you as dedication to the cause of good?”
 
“I dislike Angel intensely. While I accept that the Powers That Be desire his continued existence, I would struggle to mourn his passing.”
 
They stared at each other for a moment, clinked glasses, and drank.
 
“I chose to switch sides,” Spike insisted, refilling the glasses. “I chose.”
 
“After betraying us to Adam.”
 
“I hated you! Still do!” Spike took a long drink. “I never claimed to make the right choices. But I tried! He didn’t! Angelus was pulled kicking and screaming into this do-gooder bollocks. And don’t you dare tell me he would’ve gone along with it if he hadn’t wanted Buffy. One look at her an’ he was chompin’ at the bloody bit. And I’m so much worse’n him because I had to get to know her first?”
 
“In that respect, we are in total agreement. Angel is a prize-winning pillock who was never good enough for Buffy. May he get boils on his arse and suffer from impotence for the rest of his days.”
 
“Good. Well. Cheers.” They clinked glasses and drank.
 
“You understand, don’t you,” Giles added, “that I will wish the same on you if you ever, ever touch her?”
 
Spike groaned. “How is it that nothing I do counts for anything, but everything he does seems to count double?”
 
“He has a soul, a conscience. He can tell right from wrong.”
 
“You think I can’t?”
 
“Do you really want me to answer that?”
 
“Probably not.” Spike sighed, refilling their glasses again. “It hurts. It hurts that no matter what I do, all I ever get is suspicion.” Spike turned thoughtful. His eyes narrowed. “But not with Dawn…. None of you lot have ever seemed to have a problem with that relationship. Why’s that then?”
 
“She’s an ancient green ball of energy.”
 
“She is a fifteen year old girl who eats and sleeps and cries and loves and laughs. You gonna tell me she doesn’t have a soul either? We deserve each other or somethin’?”
 
“The monks said she was human, so I assume she has a soul.”
 
“What’s the difference, Rupes? We’re both murderers, you and I. There are things in my past that still haunt me, even if I don’t regret every kill.”
 
“You just said it! You don’t regret every kill!”
 
“If you had to do it over, would you have killed him again?”
 
“Yes.” No hesitation.
 
“If you’d known a week earlier, would you have done it then? In cold blood?”
 
“Yes.” No hesitation. To save her pain? Yes, a thousand times yes.
 
“We’re no different. You can tell yourself all you want that you serve a higher power an' I’m just a hopeless romantic. I say it’s love, real love, for the both of us. An’ love’s the only motivation that should matter worth a damn. Whatever you wanna call that part of me, it’s never changed, no matter what choices I’ve made. You need to make a choice yourself, Watcher. You tell Buffy to kick me out on my ear, she will. No contest. I’m only here on sufferance because they all know someone needs to for Dawn and they don' want it to be them. Now Buffy’s back, they’ll be howling for me to go soon enough. So. You gonna start trustin’ me?”
 
“I honestly don’t know. You are a very … unusual … vampire.”
 
“Don’t think you’ve ever gone this long without telling me to shut up before.”
 
“Shut up, Spike.”
 
Spike laughed. “And all is right with the world again.”
 
“You know, I think I might actually prefer you to Angel.”
 
“Don’t go overboard with the praise, Rupes. I’ll get all big-headed.”
 
“Oh sod off.”
 
They clinked glasses and drank.