Beta'd by Slackerace

Chapter Seventeen

Two expectant pairs of eyes stared at Buffy, eagerly awaiting her revelation. Buffy backpedalled.

"Not everything," she qualified hastily. "I have no idea what's wrong with you, Spike, or how you've exchanged three years, or why-"

"Maybe you could cut to what you do know," interrupted Dawn, of course, impatiently. "'Cause all the stuff you don't know could fill an encyclopaedia."

Spike was just waiting quietly, gazed fixed on her, but Buffy could see his every muscle was tensed. And she could see every muscle, the T-shirt she'd ripped earlier now just a couple of twisty ribbons of cotton that concealed none of the half healed wounds that peppered his torso. Combined with his fight or flight body language, it gave Spike the air of a well toned street urchin and Buffy had to resist the urge to reach out and touch, to reassure. Instead she took a deep breath and launched into explanation.

"It was what you said about Angel's ghosts," she said to Dawn. "Only they weren't ghosts, it was this thing, it called itself the First Evil. And it had all these scabby minions that killed all the Christmas trees - that's what those demons were! Bingers or Bringers or something. The ones that stabbed you," she added to Spike. He carried on staring, fixed and unreadable. "So if its groupies are out in force, then all our ghosts must be this First Evil, right? It was like a ghost, it couldn't touch stuff, could walk through walls, that sort of thing. Only it could look like any dead person, so maybe the Spike in your room wasn't Spike at all. Did he touch anything?"

"I don't think so," Dawn answered doubtfully. "It was kind of leaning... But Spike's not dead he's, y'know, undead. And why would some big First Evil waste its time trying to make me pee myself?"

Buffy shrugged easily. She had to admit the list of things she didn't know was still by far the longest. But her what-she-did-know list had acquired an item that wasn't directly contradicted by something else she knew and that was worth a Eureka, Buffy thought.

"Do I look like an evil mastermind?" she said aloud. "I don't know what it wants, that's Giles's department. And it can do vampires. Angel said it was people he'd turned, and even himself."

"But Spike's ghost was you, right? You're not even undead. Could it do you?"

"Well if it did, then it must be able to. And I refer you again to Giles."

"But it talked like Spike. How did it know everything that-"

"Dawn! I don't know, okay? I don't know anything else, so stop asking questions. You're totally ruining my Eureka moment."

"But you know Spike's not evil?"

Buffy glanced at Spike. His blue gaze was still levelled at her, so unmoving Buffy was tempted to click her fingers, make sure he was still there with them. "Spike's a vampire," she answered her sister when Spike didn't speak for himself.

"But apart from that? He's not you're-about-to-stake-him evil?"

"No," Buffy answered firmly, hoping it was true. Only Spike could say for sure just how evil he was, but he seemed to be waiting her answer as eagerly as Dawn. They could all do with some reassurance on the staking issue, Buffy not least of all. "No, he's not. So I think it's time you were getting back to bed, Missy."

"And there's going to be no more fighting? Because I don't want to start a new semester with bags under my eyes."

"No fighting," Buffy promised rashly. "Goodnight Dawn."

"Night Buffy." The teen put her empty cocoa mug in the sink and paused by Spike, who was still leaning against the kitchen counter. He straightened nervously and flinched when she flung her arms out, but if Dawn noticed she went right ahead and hugged him anyway. "Goodnight Spike. I'm glad you're not evil."

It was a sweet little scene, from Dawn's hasty exit to the stunned expression she left on Spike's face, and Buffy couldn't help but smile. Leave it to her little sister to always do the most unpredictable thing. "Are you okay?" she asked softly, when she thought Spike had been gaping long enough. Hadn't said a word, in fact, since he told Dawn they'd be better off if he was dust. At the sound of her voice Spike snapped his mouth shut and turned back to her.

"I think so," he answered slowly. "Was kinda nice, actually. Haven't been hugged in... Well. Not ever."

Buffy laughed. "I was going for a broader overview, but... One moment at a time, that's fine."

Spike almost returned her grin. "I'm okay. Confused. Do you mean to say it wasn't you that said... That told me to go? You left that key by accident?"

"Yes and yes. Only we're going to pretend that last part never happened, because I could never be that monumentally stupid."

"So you'll be wanting to chain me up again," said Spike. "I'll-"

"No," Buffy cut in. "And I didn't want to. It was just a precaution. Well, a waste of time, seeing as I left the key behind, but you know what I mean. Besides, I think we should have a conversation. If you're not too tired."

Inviting Spike to sit down and have a chat. Top of the list of things Buffy never expected to do, especially with the subject matter she had in mind. But it had to be done. Buffy hadn't lied when she said she had no idea what the First Evil wanted, but she could see what it had achieved - Spike skewered by a bunch of minions and very nearly staked by Buffy's own hand. So safe to say, whatever its nefarious plans, Spike figured somewhere in the mix. Which made the obvious first step, research-wise, was to find out what it had said to Spike. And judging by the things he'd been saying, she needed to know for other reasons too. That didn't make it a subject she was eager to broach.

"And I think you should have some more blood. That cut will heal faster."

He didn't actively protest, so Buffy took a bag out of the fridge and heated it up. He didn't say anything at all, in fact, except a muttered thanks when she put the mug on the counter beside him. Buffy sat herself at the island and wondered where to start, but her brain wouldn't wander far from the sight of Spike in front of her and his myriad of wounds. In the end, she decided this conversation would never get started while she could see so much of Spike and went to get him a new T-shirt from the bag in the basement.

"You were distracting me," she explained as he looked at the shirt she'd thrown him. "That cut," she added hastily, "not your... chest." Spike blinked, gave her a slightly doubtful look, but he put the T-shirt on. Buffy decided it was really time to get to business.

"So do you want to start? I know you can talk more than you've been letting on."

"I'm sorry," said the vampire instantly. "Shoutin' at you and... 'M sorry."

"Don't even. It's been messing with your head, like it's trying to make us fight. That's why I need to know what it's said to you. If it's spoken to you before."

The vampire smiled humourlessly. "Has someone who looks like you spoken to me before? Plenty. I tended to assume it was you."

"Yeah," Buffy agreed. "This could turn out to be quite the headache. When I chained you up, earlier, we were both real then, right? Well you said, um... about that thing in the bathroom... that I told you, but I didn't. So we should start there."

Jump in at the deep end, get the worst over with. Spike flinched and looked away, but it was too late to take it back.

"Not something I want to talk about either, buddy. When did I... It. When did it tell you that?"

"First morning. When I took a shower."

Spike wrapped his arms tightly round his half bare torso as Buffy waited for him to go on. "And?" she prompted. "What did it say?"

"Just that. Just told me what I did. And I'm so sorry Slayer... Buffy-"

"Don't!" The word came out so loud and sharp it startled even Buffy. She held up her hands in a gesture half apology, half defence. "You don't know that. You don't know you're sorry, you don't even know who you are. You're fake. It's got nothing to do with you." So much for detached demon research. She wanted to explain but didn't know herself why his apology grated on her nerves. Buffy took a deep breath and fought to sound calm and detached, though she couldn't feel it.

"I don't want to talk about that, okay? It's not important... I mean... relevant. It's not relevant. I just want to know what it said, then we can work out what it's up to and then we can go stomp on all its evil toys. It's talked to you most. It must have said something."

Spike gave her a long, measuring look and for a moment Buffy thought he was going to argue, couldn't decide if that was good or bad. Then he nodded, conceding. His effort at detached and businesslike was better than Buffy's.

"I don't know if I can remember its exact words. Should have known something was off, really, you - it - just appeared. I was... um... taking a shower and you - it... What are we calling this thing?"

"The First Evil. Or maybe it was Primordial Evil. 'It' will do."

"Well, it... It made some crack about my dick. Then it said something about not feeding me, that you shouldn't have fed me, I looked better skinny. And that it was going to chain me up. That you should chain me up. It was just being... Well, mean, really."

"Meaner than me?" It was halfway to an apology for snapping, but Spike didn't take it.

"Yes," he said blandly. "Then it told me how I raped you. How I deserve what happened to me. And then-"

"Whoa. Rewind. That never happened."

"It didn't?"

"No. Not... Is that what it actually said?"

"Yes. No. I... I think it said violated. I violated you. That you were injured, I held you down and... Is it not true?"

"No!" Spike looked so hopeful that Buffy was tempted to stop there, but the words kept coming. "Not really," she amended. "I mean strictly speaking, I suppose it is. The holding down part. That is... You tried. I kicked you into the wall."

"Well good for you." But the vampire slumped a little, the hopeful look vanishing. His eyes were darting around the kitchen again, anywhere but on her, finally focusing on the pack of cigarettes still sitting on the counter. "Do you mind if I..."

Buffy followed his gaze, finishing the question for herself. "Outside," she answered. "We can talk outside."

Spike swept up the pack and headed for the back door without looking at Buffy. She paused before following, glad of the break. This could almost be hell, and the only thing stopping her from throwing in the towel was the thought of how much worse it must be for Spike, able only to guess at what Buffy was consciously avoiding. He was leaned against the porch railing, sucking so hard on a newly lit cigarette his cheeks hollowed.

"Do you think its whole evil plan is to just 'make me talk about stuff I don't want to talk about'?" Buffy asked flippantly as she settled against the wall opposite Spike. "Because, if so? Evil's really gone downhill since your day."

"I'd say there's probably a bigger agenda," Spike responded morosely. He tilted his head back and blew a stream of smoke up into the air. "Couldn't say what though."

"No. Me either. I like to think you would have stopped."

Spike flicked an eyebrow in her direction at this non-sequitur. His eyes bored into Buffy as if he was translating all she wasn't saying directly from her brainwaves; then the corner of his mouth twitched into a sardonic smile. "Then you're deluded, love. Raped and murdered my way across four continents and I didn't ever stop. You should know better."

"Maybe I do know better." Perverse though it was to be defending old Spike to the new, he'd hit another of Buffy's buttons with his patronising tone. "I was there, you know. All you know about it is what that thing told you, and I don't think It had the purest of motives. So I know better than you. And it wasn't like you're thinking. It wasn't... Well I guess only Spike knows what was actually going on in his head but I think... if you could've got it into your stupid head that I really didn't want you then you'd have stopped."

He chuckled. A bitter sound. "I am Spike. Been in my head more'n a century. Might have forgotten a thing or two but I remember what I am."

"You don't. You changed."

"Vampires don't change."

"No," Buffy scoffed. "Of course not. You're just exactly the same as the day you first rolled into Sunnydale. That's... that's just.... Bollocks!"

"Bollocks?" Spike took a last drag of his cigarette then tossed it across the back lawn. "Did you just say bollocks?"

"That's what I said. Jeez, look at you, Spike. Are you seriously trying to tell me you're the same vampire you were five years ago? Because I remember a little less apologising and a little more trying to kill me."

"Well I'm grateful-"

"That's bollocks too! We saved you from the Initiative last time and do you know how grateful you were? Not one bit. But after you fell... since then you changed. The Spike from five years ago wouldn't care what he'd done, and I can see that you do. And that's good, I suppose, I hope you feel really bad about it when you remember what happened. But right now, it's pointless, and annoying, you shouldn't even know about it. And we have bigger things to worry about. I'm not deluded. I know you're evil, I know you can't stop being evil, I know you can't be human but you are different. It doesn't- Are you laughing at me?"

Spike shook his head. Pulled a second cigarette from his pack and struck a match. "Little bit," he answered finally. "Not at you. Mostly. Just the part where you're completely cracked." Buffy's ire must have shown on her face because Spike waved a hand hastily and shook his head. "You're right," he corrected. "I don't even want to kill you and that's pretty different. But come on, Slayer. Tell me this isn't a bizarre and hilarious world where we can be standing here having this conversation?"

"Bizarre, I'll give you." But Spike hadn't quite succeeded in wiping off that infectious grin and it drained the tension out of the air. Unconsciously, Buffy relaxed against the wall of her house. "I worry about you sometimes," she said, smiling. Spike nodded seriously.

"I'd noticed. It's the damnedest thing. So tell me, what the hell did I do to ever deserve you? Because I only remember being evil."

"I'm not yours," Buffy answered snippily. But it felt like a cease fire and, bizarre though it may have been, the Slayer felt more normal than she had all summer. Maybe there was something to be said for talking. Spike looked like Spike again, finally, and only now that he'd relaxed could Buffy feel how much his nervous tension had been affecting her. "And is there any chance we could stay on topic? Just for five minutes?"

"Was you wandering off on that tangent, kitten."

"Kitten!" Buffy glared and Spike neither flinched nor apologised. Definitely moving towards normal. Except for the part where, inexplicably, Buffy didn't want to punch him for the stupid pet names.

"Fine. Buffy. Where were we?"

"First Evil. What It wants. Odds on any impending apocali."

"Right. Well it didn't tell me to go blow stuff up, nothing like that. Didn't seem to want anything at all, 'cept make me feel a bit shittier."

"And this isn't a grudge thing? You haven't been going around calling the First Evil a nonce or a nance or one of those weird British names?"

"Not that I recall," said Spike dryly. "Though what I recall has a three year hole in it."

"So It didn't say what It wanted. What did It achieve?"

"Just made me more wary of you, really. Was starting to think you were a bit bananas."

"Maybe that was what It wanted. What It said to Dawn sure made me more wary of you. Do you think there have been any other times?"

"Just tonight, I think. And that was just more of the same. With a side order of 'I'll dust you if you're still here come morning.' It wanted me out of here."

"And outside its minions are waiting. So did It want you dead or alive?"

Spike shook his head. "They jumped me, I fought, they stabbed. Couldn't say if they were going for a kill or a capture. Didn't see a stake, though."

"Me neither." Buffy huffed softly and tapped the back of her head against the brickwork in frustration. "Stupid First Evil. Why can't It just raise an army and end the world like a regular villain? My brain isn't used to all this thinking."

"Sorry."

"Did you summon It? No? Shut up then."

He grinned slightly. "Reckon I've given you a heap of headaches one way or another, Slayer. I can be sorry if I want."

"Last week my sister was missing. For two days. I'd take a poxy little headache every time." Buffy shuddered despite herself. The last three days had been too busy for dwelling but the growing panic as she'd searched for Dawn and found nothing but blind alleys wasn't a feeling Buffy would be forgetting any time soon. "It just doesn't make any sense. Why's It coming after you? There are vampires everywhere. There were scores of vampires at that place. What makes you so special?"

"I'm here," offered Spike. "You got any other vampires living in your house?"

"No. So you think It just has a philosophical objection to vampires and Slayers working together? Its mission is to keep the species separated, like a white supremacist?"

"That must keep it busy. Once a millennium."

"I guess not. Well I hope Willow didn't fry any brain cells with all that black magic. She's really going to need her thinking cap when she gets here. Maybe I should warn Angel too. It went after him the last time it was here."

"Angel? You mean... Angel's not dust?"

"Not three days ago. Not unless it was The First answering his telephone, and it can't touch stuff. Do you remember him being dust?"

"Yes. No. That is, I don't remember him dusting, I don't remember how... But I was sure he was gone. So... Dru?"

The question was studiedly casual, but Buffy suspected Spike knew he wasn't fooling anyone. "I haven't exactly kept tabs on your ex, Spike. But she was in Sunnydale a couple of years ago. Maybe a year and a half. And she left intact as far as I know."

He exhaled softly. "I remember her dusting. She was there when I got took. I don't know why, it didn't... She was just there, and then she was dust."

Condolence was almost automatic but Buffy quashed it. Had bigger things to worry about than his evil ex. "So it wasn't The First that told you that?"

Spike shook his head. "I'm pretty sure that's only spoken to me the two times. I think I'd've noticed, with hindsight It wasn't very subtle. Not so much like you at all."

"Enough like me to fool you twice. And It might come back, with added subtlety, so if I pop up and give you any strange orders, you should touch me."

Spike raised an eyebrow at this instruction and Buffy blushed, though she hated herself for doing so. Spike smiled at her embarrassment and when Buffy glared at him he started to laugh, wincing as the movement tugged at his new wound.

"You know what I mean," she snapped. "And if your stomach falls out I'm not patching you back together."

"Sorry Slayer," he answered, uncontrite.

"Well then. I should go and call Angel. And Giles. He researched this thing last time around, maybe he'll have more to go on. And... Is there any way of telling you to go to bed that you're not going to turn into an innuendo?"

"Probably not."

Buffy shrugged. "Then I guess we're officially back to normal. Go to bed. Long day tomorrow."

TBC...