DEDICATION: To Wyrd with love and thanks for all her help.
Chapter 9
“Could this night
get any worse?” Spike wondered to
himself. It had started off so well. Simply, entwined in the arms of his
lover. Where he belonged, where he
wanted, no needed to be. Right
now. Not trying to convince said lover,
that murder was not on his mind, and certainly not debating human dregs like
the Viscotti brothers.
“Yeah, you got me
Viscotti. So now just fuck off.”
“You have a bad mouth
and a bad attitude.”
“I'm a
VAMPIRE! Has no one remembered
that? Let me remind you.” He put his game face on.
“We are aware of
that Mr. Spike. We did not come
unprepared, but it would be impolite to simply stake a defenceless man.”
“‘Sides which,
you’d ‘ave to catch me first.”
“Oh yes, how
foolish of me, let me take a little security.
Something to keep you around.”
Suddenly, Dawn and Tara were caught in the arms of the hoods, with guns
at their temples. Willow began an
incantation but was shot in the leg before she finished. “Just a warning, Ms.
Rosenberg. See we know who you are
also.”
Xander was
horrified. He whispered in Spike’s ear,
“You played ‘make a deal’ with these assholes?!”
Spike knew he'd
mess up. This was going to cost him. Maybe everything. He looked from man to man.
Of the five, two were tied up with the girls, Tony Viscotti was furthest
from him, with the large frame of Lincoln to his right and Martin to his
left. A plan formed itself in the
vampire’s mind. The Viscotti’s were
classicists and no one was packing anything greater than a single-shot
handgun. He was a vampire, but was he
Superman? There was only one way to
find out.
He launched
himself at Danny, who was holding Dawn and, with vampire speed and agility, he
turned the gun hand so that, as the trigger fired, the bullet hit Ray, who was
holding Tara. She screamed and ducked
as the contents of the gangster’s head erupted onto her shoulder. “That was good,” thought Spike, no time to
worry about niceties, “No pain, keep the geezer spinning.”
Spike next
directed him at Martin Viscotti. This
time he had to pull the trigger himself, which hurt like hell. He tumbled back, clutching his skull, and
did a complete backward roll, to end up slamming into Lincoln. Lincoln Viscotti couldn't stop himself as
the momentum kept him turning. He went
reeling into Tony just as his finger pulled the trigger. Both guns went off at once and there was a
pained, surprised look on each man’s face as they sunk together, dead to the
ground. Only Danny Viscotti remained
alive. He looked at Spike, still in
full vamp mode, threw Dawn aside and ran.
Spike didn't turn
round. He walked along the dockside and
back to the car. Reversing it up the
quay, he said to Giles, “Put Willow in the back and I’ll take her to the ER.”
“What will you do
after that?”
“Don’t question
me, Watcher. Not right now.” He knew in his heart of hearts that he
wasn’t going to fix this. As he started
the engine he said, “I wouldn't have seen any of you harmed you know? I just wanted this bloody thing gone.”
Giles sighed,
“You'd better get going.” He said
simply.
It was the early
hours of the morning when Xander opened the door and stepped into the
basement. He could hear the shower
running and see Spike’s discarded clothing.
He was cold, tired and ached in places he didn’t know he had. But the feeling of weariness transcended any
of these and it wasn’t just physical.
The emotional roller coaster, he’d been riding since Glory’s defeat, had
cork screwed tonight. “You had to wake
up sometime, Harris.” He thought, “For
God’s sake he’s a he, he’s an undead he and he’s a Spike shaped he. But he’s a he that loves me, that saved my
life. Can you say messed in the head?”
Spike emerged
from the shower and began to towel his water-darkened hair. Xander passed him without making eye contact
and went in. They didn’t speak.
The vampire sat
on the edge of the bed and stared, unseeing, at the rumpled covers. The smell of their lovemaking was enough to
make him want to weep, “If he can say he loves you after this then stay.” He thought.
“But if not…” He knew he’d screwed up.
It didn’t seem to matter what motivated him, the demon twisted and
warped everything.
Xander came out
of the shower and they both dressed in silence. It was as if both knew that they weren’t going to bed. Spike was the first to break the hush. “Well thanks for the vote of confidence back
there, China.”
“I tried!” Spike’s apparent
hostile attitude, after everything that had happened, made Xander’s temper
flare. “You made a deal with the
mob! We could all have been killed, and
okay, so that’s a daily occurrence, but I really did think you had more sense than
to add to the mind numbing danger. Is
anything you say true? You said you’d
protect Dawn. She had a gun to her head
tonight and, guess what? Your
fault. What were you thinking trying to
have the chip removed anyway? Isn’t
that the little piece of technology that keeps you, and ergo us, safe?”
Spike was hurt and that made him angry, he spat back, “I can’t protect
you with this in here. Any human filth
could top me off. We were set on not
four nights ago. The Viscotti’s could
have done it. Not every evil out there
is demonic. This fucking piece of Army
shit’s not saving your life, it could get both you and me brown bloody bread!”
“Oh, like you’d care. Don’t I
have enough grief in my life without vampire mind games.”
“Mind games? You think you’re
the victim of mind games? I am
impotent. Do you know that, do you know
how that feels? Vampires hunt, that’s
what we do. I’m chipped, broken,
spoilt, adulterated. Shitting fuck
Xander, I was medically raped!!!”
Xander watched Spike for a while, as he moved about the room. He tried a more conciliatory tone, “It’s not
easy for me either you know. Those are
my friends back there. We’ve been
through a lot of pain together and, might I remind you, some of which was at
your hands. I have to adjust to the
biggest lifestyle choice of my existence here but I am trying. And, you know, undead guy, I made a great
deal of fuss about vamps and how much I don’t like them. I’m going through a lot here, so credits
please.”
“Credits! You’ll be wanting
gold stars for effort next! Not playing
Xander. Now you listen to me and listen
good,” He stopped his methodical actions and walked right up to his lover. Close enough to feel hot breath on his cool
face. “I asked you once and I will ask
you once more with feeling. There is a
thing here, it’s large and it’s ugly and it’s right here.” He held up his hands to embrace an invisible
shape. “Is this a gay thing, a vampire
thing or a Spike thing?”
Xander gulped and looked away.
“Christ, I can’t even look Wil’ in the eye. Time to be honest,” He thought.
There was no invisible barrier, nothing in the way of them. “There’s no thing here!” He answered.
Spike turned away with his trademark shrug and continued with what he
was doing.
“What was he doing?” Xander
asked himself. Oh yeah, packing. Packing?
Packing! PACKING!! “Spike stop. I mean, why? OK, I know
why but I mean you don’t have to….
You’ve never…why…?”
The last was so pathetic, so utterly lame.
“You’ve already answered that, Sunshine. You still have trouble with the gay label. Forget that we make each other feel so good
it aches, that we enjoy each other’s company, that we, dare I say it, love each
other. That don’t matter one iota cos,
hey, Xander’s friends might think he’s gay.
Well, shock, horror, probe, Sun headline - tit for brains - you are gay
and if your friends condemn you for it, which until now I thought highly
unlikely, then guess what, they’re not your friends. You have a problem with my race.
It’s understandable we’re the enemy but I thought I’d proved, beyond all
reasonable doubt, that I was your friend.
Shit on a stick, it didn’t take Buffy this long to understand that, and
I wasn’t letting her arse fuck me every night, and finally you can’t stand to
think that the creature you love is Spike.
That’s who I am Xander. William
is dead. Only Spike here now.” The time had come time to ask the question,
“Do you love me?”
Xander didn’t answer. He
couldn’t. How had it come to this? This was not how it should end. “Rewind, be kind.” He thought, “Could we
start again please?”
Spike picked up his bags and started up the stairs. Without looking back, he opened the door,
and set off into the night. “He’s
leaving. Xander, you prick, he’s
leaving!” Xander raced up the stairs
and out into the street. He heard the
DeSoto’s engine and the crunch of gears as Spike headed for the intersection
and the freeway. “Spike!” Xander
screamed, the yell grazing his throat.
“Spike, I love you. There, see,
I said it, in front of the house and in full view of the neighbors. I love you.
I love you, Wil’. I love
you. I love you.” He collapsed to his knees, tears dropping
like large heat spots, in the dirt.
Spike swung the DeSoto out towards route 17 and south. He didn’t look back until he was on the
freeway, the Clash hammering out of the stereo. Mick Jones asking the question he’d already answered. He put his foot down on the gas and thrashed
the engine faster. He couldn’t get away
rapidly enough. Sunnydale receded into
the distance. The lights of the other
cars tinted his view with a rosy hue.
He wiped his face with the back of his hand. He had never felt this bad.
All hope gone now. He blinked,
being dazzled by rear lights, but maybe just maybe, the colour in his vision
was the hint of blood stained tears.
THE END.
Spike will return in: ‘Lateral Thinking’
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