“Have you talked to Buffy yet?” Tara asked.
“Not yet,” Spike told her. “I should, I know, but I haven’t got enough nerve together.” He picked up one of Tara’s cardboard boxes, balanced it on one arm, picked up another one-handed and stacked it on top of the first.
“You’re using me as a shield, aren’t you?” Tara turned gently accusing eyes on him. “I’ll be with you when we take my things over there, and then Dawn will be going with you and Buffy to meet Giles at the airport. You’ve rigged it so that you’re not going to be alone with her at all.”
“Okay, you’ve rumbled me,” Spike admitted. “Cowardly of me, I know.” He tested the balance of the boxes, nodded in satisfaction, and added a third box to the stack. “I really need to tell her before I can start going out with Tarantula with a clear conscience, but I just can’t face it.” He realised that Tara was staring at him open-mouthed, and frowned. “Look, I’m sorry, right? I’ll tell her as soon as we get there. You go upstairs and give us a few minutes, and I’ll tell her.”
“It’s n-not that,” Tara said shakily. “Two of those boxes are full of books. I could only just about lift one. I thought we might have to take some of the books out. You’re holding both of them with one arm and adding more.”
Spike looked blankly at her for a moment, and then a look of incredulous joy spread over his face as the implications sank in. “I’ve changed back,” he said softly, but then looked suddenly worried. “Still friends?” he asked her anxiously.
Tara shook her head, causing him a moment of anguish. “You’re in the sunlight, William,” she informed him. “Oh!” she went on, realising what had alarmed him. “Still friends, yes. Vampire or not. Don’t worry. But you haven’t changed back.”
“Then what is this?” he wondered, looking at the boxes he was holding with such ease. “You’re sure they’re heavy?”
“Very heavy. You’re strong. Maybe as strong as you were as a vampire,” Tara assured him.
“Let’s find out,” he said with determination. He carried the boxes out to his car, loaded them into the trunk, and then went to the side and looked for a jack point. “Don’t want to damage the bodywork,” he muttered. He took firm hold of the chassis frame and lifted. The Jaguar rose on its springs, and then a wheel came free of the ground. He took a hand away and held the car with ease, one-handed, and then let it sink back. “I could have tipped it all the way over,” he told Tara, who had followed him out holding a box of clothes. “I’m as strong as I ever was. What happened to me? Am I really human?”
At last! Alone with Spike! Buffy smiled gleefully. He’d helped Tara carry her boxed possessions upstairs to the room that she would once more share with Willow, had given Tara a significant glance, and the witch had responded by asking Dawn to join her and Willow in helping her unpack. Dawn had given Buffy a conspiratorial smile and disappeared upstairs like a shot, and Spike had descended to where Buffy waited.
She met him halfway across the room, and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into a passionate kiss. Except, passion only one way. Huh? Buffy drew back, puzzled at his lack of response.
“Slay – Buffy, we need to talk,” Spike said nervously.
“It’s okay, Spike,” she smiled up at him. “Not hiding any more. I told Tara about us weeks ago, and I told Willow last night, and Dawn’s all in favour of you and me anyway.” She raised her head to kiss him again; but he pulled back, avoiding her lips.
“So because you think I’m human you tell Willow now?” he said, sounding aggrieved.
“I’m sorry,” she apologised sincerely. “All this time I was hiding for no reason. Willow asked you to my party because she thought you’d be good for me. I could have told them all along. I’m sorry.” She lowered her eyes. “Kiss and make up?”
Spike gave a short laugh. “So I was Willow’s version of Richard?”
“Pretty much,” Buffy agreed. “Shows she’s got better taste than Xander, right?” She tried to kiss him again, and again he pulled away.
“Buffy, don’t do this,” he told her. “One day I’m the dirty little secret you have to hide from your friends and the next you’re snogging me in the living room? Doesn’t work like that. You think that I’m more convenient,” the bitterness he put into that word made her cringe and release him from her embrace, “now that I can pass for human? Tough. I’m not going to be your toy any longer.”
“I said I was sorry.” Buffy stepped slightly away from him, hurt by his attitude. She’d expected him to be delighted. “I’m not expecting you to be my toy. You’re a person.”
“So now she admits it. Suddenly I have a heartbeat and I get some consideration.”
“No, suddenly we know that you’re not going to rip our throats out and drink our blood,” Buffy pointed out. “We could never trust you while you were a vampire.”
“I could have ripped your throat out any time in the past couple of months,” Spike reminded her. “And you know you can trust me now I’m human exactly how? Humans never do anything evil, right? So the Nine-Eleven hijackers must have been demons. And the Interahamwe Militia, and the …” Spike stopped and took a deep breath. “I’m getting angry, and I shouldn’t. I don’t want to fight with you. Leave it for now. Get ready and we’ll go and pick up Giles.”
Buffy had been growing annoyed at his attitude, but his pause gave her the chance to pause as well, and she forced herself to calm down. She didn’t want to leave it there, but it seemed that the conversation had been going in a way that could only have led to a shouting match; calling a halt seemed a good idea. “Okay,” she agreed. She lowered her head, stuck out her lower lip, and looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Sorry. Friends?”
A warm smile spread across Spike’s face. “Friends. Of course, Buffy. I’d love to be your friend. I’ve always admired you, even back when I was trying to kill you. We’ve tried being lovers, and it just didn’t work, but we’ve never really tried being friends. I’d really like that. Okay, let’s get Dawn and head for the airport.”
Buffy’s smile froze on her face. Was she being dumped? Was that a “we can still be friends” speech? Impossible. Spike loved her absolutely. He was just feeling hurt, he’d come round soon. “Right,” she said, forcing her mouth to work, and then went to the foot of the stairs and called to Dawn.
Giles felt an unaccustomed twinge of guilt as he waited by the baggage carousel. Flying First Class had made the journey far less unpleasant than on any of his previous transatlantic crossings. He’d been in the lap of luxury from Heathrow to LAX, and it wasn’t until he transferred to the shuttle plane to Sunnydale that he’d suffered any discomfort. Well worth it; except that it had been ridiculously expensive, and he now felt that he’d taken advantage of Spike’s generosity. He tried to shrug off the feeling, but without success.
He walked out into the Arrivals hall and saw the welcome party. Buffy, Dawn, and Spike looking most unlike himself. No black jeans, no long leather coat, no bleached hair. Dark blue cargo pants and a light grey sweatshirt. Leaning against a row of seats, hands in pockets, looking uncharacteristically nervous and ill at ease.
Buffy also looked ill at ease, a frown on her face, her lips in a pout. She was wearing a quite exquisite pale blue outfit which he didn’t recall having seen before, her hair was shorter than when he had left, and her subtle daytime makeup completed the impression that she had taken far more care over her appearance than she had done at any time between her resurrection and his departure. He couldn’t imagine it being for his benefit; there must be a new boyfriend in her life, and her sulky expression might stem from her being dragged away from him. A hopeful sign that she might be recovering from her post-resurrection depression.
Dawn stood between them, glancing from one to the other with an air of irritated superiority. Her body language conveyed her thoughts as plainly as if she was speaking them aloud: “Get over it already, why don’t you just kiss and make up?” Oh dear. Giles realised that the ‘new boyfriend’ for whom Buffy was dressed up must be Spike. A horrible thought, even if the vampire had somehow become human. They looked up and saw him. Buffy gave him a beaming smile, which faltered as she saw the expression on his face. Spike just looked even more nervous. Giles realised that he must be showing his disapproval, and forced himself to smile. The smile became more natural as Dawn bounced across and greeted him with a hug, followed a moment later by a rather less exuberant Buffy.
Once released by the girls Giles moved on to where Spike was waiting. “Thanks for coming, Rupert,” the former vampire said almost shyly. He extended his hand for a handshake. Giles was slow to react, and Spike slowly withdrew his hand, an expression of resignation coming over his face and his shoulders sagging. Hastily Giles released his suitcase and grasped the other man’s hand. He might be suspicious of Spike, and he disapproved of any relationship between his surrogate daughter and the ex-vampire, but that was no excuse for bad manners.
Spike’s hand was warm, human, and his grip was firm. “Thanks,” he said again, smiling, and Giles knew that the thanks this time were for the handshake. “Did you have a good trip?”
“Yes, thank you,” Giles responded automatically. “I even managed to get some sleep.” They discussed the flight as the four headed for Spike’s car, and Giles felt the guilt returning. “It was rather extravagant of me to fly First Class. Premium Economy would have been perfectly adequate, and I feel I have taken advantage of you. You must let me pay you back the difference.”
“Don’t be daft, Rupert,” Spike told him, smiling. “You’ve come five and a half thousand miles for me. Paying for it is the least I can do. If you really want to make it up to me, stay for the wedding.”
“I was going to do that anyway,” Giles revealed. He had been unwilling to return to Sunnydale specifically for the wedding, for a number of reasons including the fact that he had been becoming increasingly attracted to the bride-to-be before his departure, but now that he was here he would stay and see it through.
“Fantastic. Anya will be so pleased,” Spike grinned.
“And so will Xander,” Buffy added.
Once at the car Spike invited Giles to sit in the front passenger seat, and spent the drive into town enthusiastically talking about semi-automatic gearboxes, superchargers, alloy wheels, the 10-CD auto-changer, and how fast it would be able to go if it wasn’t electronically limited to 155 miles per hour. Giles listened avidly, fascinated not so much by the content but by the way the former vampire was behaving in exactly the same way as would any other man who had just acquired a high-performance luxury car.
The two girls sat in the back and took little part in the conversation. Dawn fiddled with the controls for the electric windows, tried to work out what the ski flap in the rear seats could possibly be for, and listened to Linkin Park on the CD player. Buffy just sulked, miffed at being virtually ignored.
Spike returned to normal once they arrived at his apartment. ‘Guy talking Cars’ mode shut down, and he deposited Giles’ cases in a bedroom, enquired about his jetlag, and then disappeared into the kitchen to prepare a meal, leaving the Watcher with the two girls.
“Incredible,” Giles commented. “Not just that a vampire should be restored to humanity, but all the material possessions as well, and I gather that he has been provided with all the documentation necessary for a legitimate lifestyle. The power involved must have been immense.” He gave Buffy a probing look. “The only person I can think of with that sort of power is Willow.”
“I think it’s way out of Willow’s league,” Buffy stated, “and come on, Giles, if Will had done it something would have gone way wrong. You know that.”
“Willow was just as wigged as any of us when we found out,” Dawn pointed out. “If she’d done it she’d have been all with the ‘hey, see how clever I am’, no way would she have kept quiet about it.”
“You’re right,” Giles admitted. “It’s just that it occurred to me on the way here that the changes go beyond the obvious. His whole manner seems to have changed. Had I met him for the first time tonight I would have thought ‘what a remarkably pleasant young man’.” He gave Buffy another penetrating look. “In fact, I would have thought ‘at last Buffy has found someone worthy of her’.”
Buffy went bright red, confirming his suspicions. Dawn grinned all the way across her face. “Yeah, isn’t it cool? He is so hot.”
“Dawn!” Buffy protested. “Stop talking like that. There isn’t anything between us.”
“Oh sure,” Dawn scoffed. “Like you’d spend an hour getting ready just ‘cause you were going to the airport to meet Giles.” An evil glint came to her eyes. “But if there really isn’t anything going on, then you won’t mind if Spike spends tonight helping me with my homework.”
“That’s up to him,” Buffy replied, shifting awkwardly in her seat. “Remember, you’ve got all weekend to do it, doesn’t have to be tonight.”
Giles raised an eyebrow, but made no comment.
Spike emerged from the kitchen carrying dishes of fragrant food. “None for you, I’m afraid, Rupert,” he said, eyes twinkling. “We’ll have to chain you up in the bath and put it just out of reach,” he went on, referring back to the time when he had been a reluctant house guest cum prisoner of the Watcher.
Giles laughed. “At least I won’t be demanding to watch ‘Passions’,” he replied, harking back to that same period.
Spike frowned as he began to dish out the food. “Strange,” he remarked. “I haven’t thought about the soaps at all the past couple of days. Only thing I’ve watched during the day is the documentary channels.” He didn’t dwell on the thought, and went on with serving up the meals.
Despite his intense curiosity, Giles did not plunge into the matter of Spike’s transformation straight away. Conversation during the meal was about less taxing subjects such as Buffy’s impending return to College. The closest they came to discussing the subject was when Buffy asked how Spike’s job interview had gone.
“They offered me it right off, subject to my qualifications checking out, and my action plan passing muster,” he told her proudly. “Money’s not that much, fourteen thousand dollars a year plus health insurance and fees, but I’ve got plenty and I don’t have to worry about a car or anywhere to live.”
“Surely you could do much better than that,” Giles commented. His first thought was that the former vampire, unfamiliar with the modern world, was taking the first job he’d seen. That sort of wage level implied something akin to the fast food world from which Buffy had only recently escaped. Buffy’s frown showed that she was thinking similar thoughts.
“Yeah, well, there are a few fringe benefits,” Spike pointed out. “Like, over the summer they’ll be sending me on two expenses-paid trips to the Mediterranean. Then come October I’ll be starting work towards a doctorate, and once I’ve finished that there’s an Assistant Professorship that’ll be vacant and it’ll be mine if I’ve been a good boy. That starts at fifty-four thousand, going up to sixty-six within three years.”
“What?” gasped Buffy. “Professor? This job is at the College?”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot you weren’t at the Magic Box when I was talking about it. Graduate Research Assistant, Faculty of Classical Studies. Tracking down and acquiring source books, exhibits, references, and materials.” He grinned. “Sort of like a cross between Indiana Jones and you,” he told Giles.
“You can do that?” Giles asked, stunned. He would never have believed Spike could not only believe himself capable of such work, but be positively enthusiastic at the prospect.
“No problem, mate,” Spike assured him, briefly sounding more like his old self. “I tracked down the Du Lac cross, and the Judge, and the Gem of Amara, didn’t I? This’ll just involve less fighting and more filling in forms.”
“You’re looking forward to filling in forms?” Buffy asked incredulously.
“Not really,” Spike admitted, “but me being more or less human now pretty much rules out getting them the Elgin Marbles by waltzing into the British Museum and eating the curator. I’ll have to learn to play by human rules.”
“Is that really what you want to do?” Buffy asked. She sounded, Giles thought, oddly disappointed.
“Maybe,” Spike replied. “I was thinking I’d have to do things like that. I wouldn’t be much use to the Scooby Gang without my vampire strength, except for research.” He chewed his lower lip nervously for a moment and then went on. “Except, I noticed something weird earlier when I was helping Tara move. I seem to be about as strong as I ever was. I’m not so sure I’m human after all.”
Giles chose not to go to bed early, knowing that if he went too soon he would wake up at four a.m., feeling as if he had slept until midday. Although Spike pointed out that if he did he could watch the Man United/Aston Villa match, live on cable, the idea didn’t appeal to the Watcher. Instead he went for a walk to stretch his legs, taking Buffy along with him, and leaving Dawn with Spike while he helped her with her homework.
“A truly remarkable transformation,” he commented as they walked. “The ramifications are baffling. The changes appear to go back into time. Records rewritten, a background constructed, a winning lottery ticket purchased. Awe-inspiring in its thoroughness. It reminds me very much of what happened with Dawn.”
“Our memories haven’t been changed,” Buffy pointed out. “Unless they have. Like, suppose Spike really is this normal guy, and we just think he was a vampire?” She sounded as if she was grasping at straws.
Giles frowned. “Possible, I suppose, but why? No, I can’t believe that. It would be so pointless. No, the power required to transform Spike may be hard to believe, but it is more logical than altering memories in such a strange fashion would have been. He has transformed, and been given great rewards, and – ah!”
“What?” Buffy asked anxiously.
“Rewards. I remember hearing of a prophecy that a vampire will fight on the side of good in the apocalypse, and be rewarded with the gift of humanity. The Shanshu prophecy. My recollection of it is that it said something about the vampire having a soul, and it has been assumed that it was about Angel. However pre-technological ancients would not have understood microchips and could easily have interpreted the chip as being a soul.”
“Angel’s supposed to turn human? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s not a clear prophecy. There are various interpretations. Anyway, I didn’t feel it my place to tell you. Angel is well aware of the prophecy himself as far as I know. The world expert on the Shanshu is, in fact, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. I must phone him and ask him more. It may be that it was never about Angel. I have theorised for a long time that Spike has been an unknowing, even unwilling, agent of some higher power. He may have fulfilled that power’s tasks and been duly rewarded, or have yet more tasks ahead of him. He has played a role in averting apocalypse in the past. Not the prime role, perhaps, but enough that we may not have accomplished it without him.”
“So Angel knew he had a chance of getting to be human and he never said anything,” Buffy said bitterly. “Just as well I’ve moved on, huh?”
“Have you moved on?” Giles asked her.
“Yes,” Buffy admitted. “Giles – you might think this is crazy, but I – I’ve fallen for Spike. Not just since he changed. I was falling for him anyway. I kept fighting it. Couldn’t let myself love him, pushed him away, hurt him, but I was falling. Now he’s human there’s no reason to fight it any more.”
“I thought as much.” Giles shook his head. “You might think this is crazy, but I think I approve. He loves you, he has done a lot of good,” he told her, unconsciously echoing Tara’s comments of a few weeks before, “and now that he is human I can’t think of a single reason to oppose the relationship. Even as a vampire I have to admit you could have done worse.”
Giles rose the next morning to find Spike already up and tucking in to a bowl of Shredded Wheat while watching Liverpool versus Everton. “Good morning, Spike,” he greeted his host.
“Morning, Rupert,” Spike replied. “Breakfast? I’ve got Weetabix.”
Giles helped himself to cereal and joined the other man in front of the television. They had shared moments like this more often than he cared to remember during that period two years before when they had lived together. Spike had always acted exactly like a human when it came to things like football, and had been surprisingly good company at such times. The only difference now was that he was eating his cereal with milk and honey rather than blood.
“Not a bad result,” Spike observed at the end of the match. “We won one-nil against Villa so Liverpool have dropped two points on us. Shame about Anelka’s equaliser, but it was a class move; I suppose they deserve to get a point out of it.”
“Owen and Heskey were working well together,” Giles responded, “which is an encouraging sign for the World Cup. Although Owen’s shooting was, well, crap.”
“Heskey never plays well for England, you know that,” Spike reminded him. “Bet we end up going out by losing on penalties to Germany.”
“You’re confident we’ll get through the Group of Death then?” Giles asked. Something about what Spike had said jarred, and he screwed up his forehead as he tried to pin it down.
“Course we will, Rupert. We’ll knock out Argentina, and everyone will be thinking we’re going to do really well, and then it’ll all go wrong. Always does. X number of years of hurt.”
“We’ve been doomed since they wrote that song.” Giles realised what the jarring note had been. He’d never before heard Spike say simply ‘Germany’ or ‘Argentina’ in a football context. They had always been prefixed by ‘sodding’, or ‘bloody’, or something a lot worse. Spike’s entire vocabulary appeared to have been bowdlerised. Surely the Powers that Be wouldn’t have incorporated censorship of colourful language into their changes? This must be a sign of the resurgence of the human personality, William as distinct from Spike, who appeared to have really been a very different person to the picture previously drawn by the brash and swaggering vampire. Rupert rather than Ripper. Had Spike done exactly the reverse of what he had done?
Stepping back into the Magic Box brought memories flooding back to Giles. So many days spent there, researching ways to stop an apocalypse, watching Anya sell people things they had had no idea that they wanted, or simply hanging out and gossiping. This was to be a mixture of all those, except that no apocalypse was imminent as far as he knew, and the research would be about the less cataclysmic matter of Spike’s return to humanity.
Anya was already there, of course, and the rest of the Scooby Gang drifted in during the course of the morning. When he’d last seen them they had been damaged, the bonds of friendship cracking under the strain of Willow’s reckless use of magic and Buffy’s deep depression, but things seemed to have improved a lot since then. Willow and Tara were together again, Dawn was confident and cheerful instead of being apparently headed for self-destruction, Buffy was smiling, Anya glowed, and Xander went the entire morning without eating anything unhealthy. Spike seemed embarrassed at being the centre of attention; but otherwise appeared to be delighted to be considered part of the gang at last.
“Does your chip still work?” Xander asked after a while.
“Haven’t got the foggiest idea,” Spike admitted. “I haven’t had any cause to hit anyone since this happened. Why? You’re not worried, are you?”
“Hell, no,” Xander told him. “But if we have to do any actual fighting against the nerd trio it helps to know if you can clobber them without having your head explode. Want to have a shot at me? You probably owe me one.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Xander,” Spike said uncertainly. “Remember I seem to be pretty much as strong as I was as a vampire. I don’t recollect you doing anything I need to hit you for. Any payback you’ve got coming I’ll give you at the pool table.”
“Perhaps it would be safest to test it out on Buffy,” Giles suggested. “If you don’t mind, Buffy, that is.”
Buffy went rigid and her smile froze in place. “Spike’s chip hasn’t worked on me since I came back,” she said reluctantly. “I don’t seem to have come back quite right.”
“I’m sorry I said that,” Spike told her sincerely. He looked around the group. “I put it worse,” he admitted. “I said she came back wrong. I wanted to hurt her. Wanted to drag her down to my level. Couldn’t happen, but I tried. So sorry.” Tears welled up in his eyes. “It was vindictive and evil of me. You should hate me.” Tears began streaming down his cheeks.
“It’s okay,” Buffy said awkwardly, embarrassed by the sight of Spike crying. “Not like I never said anything nasty to you. We agreed to let it go, remember? Friends, right?”
Spike sniffed loudly, pulled a tissue from his pocket, and blew his nose. “God, I’ve turned soft now I’m human,” he moaned. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Hormones,” Giles declared. A ring of faces turned uncomprehending looks on him, and he elaborated. “As a vampire Spike didn’t have functioning glands. No hormones. The demon had emotions, but they were felt through the intellect; there was no momentum behind them. If the stimulus was removed the emotion changed straight away. With humans the hormones stay in the bloodstream, intensifying the emotion, keeping it going. We’re all used to it, we’ve lived with it all our lives, but it’s all new to Spike. Or long forgotten, rather. Don’t worry, you’ll adjust.”
“Of course!” Anya agreed. “I was the same when I became human. I’d almost forgotten. After a while I became a marvellously well adjusted and stable human being; and so will you, William.”
“Good to know,” Spike sniffled, dabbing his eyes.
“So what’s this about Buffy not coming back right?” Willow asked, stricken with guilt.
“It’s just a tiny difference,” Tara spoke up. “I checked out the spell. Only a slight change in her aura. Like a molecular sunburn. Just enough to confuse the chip.”
“Nuts!” Xander put in. “No way is the chip that sophisticated. It can’t be bigger than a dime; what kind of sensors do you think it has? No, there’s a much simpler explanation. Buffy didn’t come back wrong at all. Spike could hit the Bot, right? So when Buffy came back, he was used to hitting a Buffy-shaped thing without the chip going off. So it didn’t.”
“By Jove! I think he’s got it,” Giles exclaimed. “Xander, that is quite brilliant. I’m sure you’re right.”
“So I didn’t come back wrong?” Buffy said slowly. A smile crept over her face. “I didn’t come back wrong! I’m okay! Thank you, Xander.” She grabbed her friend and gave him a big hug.
“Hey, maybe I should try having good ideas more often,” Xander grinned.
“Now I have a good idea,” Anya announced, giving Buffy a medium hard stare. “It’s nearly lunchtime, and we’ve just had a weepy moment, so I propose we do something cheerful. I know it’s a few days late, Giles, but you weren’t here then, so,” she reached under the counter and produced a decorated cake, “Happy Birthday.”
Giles finished the last of his cake and sat back. “That was exceedingly good of you all,” he thanked the Scoobies. There had been cards, and presents from all the gang including Spike, and the traditional singing of ‘Happy Birthday’. “I think perhaps we should get back to business now, however.”
“I don’t know,” Buffy objected. “Spike’s human, still got vampire strength, right, but it’s all of the good. Why not just leave it be? Be grateful for what we got, not look a gift horse in the mouth, okay?”
“I want to know, Slayer,” Spike told her. “For one thing, I have to know if it’s permanent. If I was to change back on the beach it could be not only embarrassing but fatal.”
“Oh, okay,” she grumbled. “Hey! You’re calling me ‘Slayer’ again. I thought you were going to stop that.”
“You’re still calling me ‘Spike’,” he pointed out. She stuck her tongue out at him, not realising that he was being serious.
“We never did check out if William’s chip is still functional,” Tara reminded everyone. “I think he should hit me to try it out. It’s sort of traditional.”
“Not on your life, pet. Not going to risk hurting you.”
“You don’t have to punch my nose,” she pointed out, smiling at him with lowered eyes. “You could smack my bottom.”
The idea seemed to appeal to Spike, earning him a death glare from Willow and from Buffy.
“Better idea, you could not smack her bottom,” Willow said coldly. “Just punch Xander on the shoulder already.”
“Sure, I don’t mind,” Xander offered.
Spike hesitated. The thought of spanking Tara had had a dramatic effect on his lower anatomy and he was reluctant to stand up and put it on display. “Okay, come here,” he said. Xander came round the table and Spike punched him on the shoulder from a sitting position.
“Jeez, man, that little tap wouldn’t set anything off,” Xander complained. “Don’t hold back so much.”
“Okay,” the former vampire agreed, extending a knuckle in one of the karate hand formations and punching Xander again quite a lot harder. “Hard enough for you?”
“Shit! Ow. Yeah, that was hard enough. Damn right it was hard enough,” the young man confirmed, rubbing his painful shoulder as he returned to his seat. “You feel anything?”
“Feel a bit guilty about punching you, but that’s all,” Spike confirmed. “Not a twinge. The chip’s out, or deactivated. The Big Bad is back. Only without the bad.”
Giles remembered the Shanshu prophecy. “By the way, William, have you saved the world lately?”
“Killed two of the Sisterhood of Jhe the other night,” Spike replied. “Don’t know if they had anything special planned, but those creepy bints always have the end of the world on their ‘to do’ list, one way or another.”
“Ah, that is interesting,” Giles told him. He went on to explain the Shanshu prophecy to the ex-vampire, who was interested but did not agree that it could refer to him. The detailed work involved, the identity documents, the job interview; it all seemed far too thorough on a mundane level for the Powers that Be. Restoring his humanity, granting him enhanced strength, yes; but getting a car dealer to believe that a 1958 DeSoto was a fair swap for a 2002 Jaguar? Also, Spike had always been hostile to the idea that he was a tool of any higher power.
“I hate the idea of anything taking away my free will,” he complained. “I can’t stand the idea of being anyone’s puppet. That’s why I wouldn’t listen to you when you first came up with that notion.”
“How much free will did you have as a vampire before the chip?” Giles asked.
“Plenty. Chose to team up with the Slayer to stop Angelus sucking the world into Hell, didn’t I? Chose not to eat Joyce and the Nibblet when I had the chance. Although,” he conceded, “there was always a little voice in my head going ‘eat them, eat them’, and I had to make a conscious effort to ignore it. I had to learn to stop listening to it once I got the chip. By last summer it had shut up altogether, or I’d got so good at ignoring it that I’d just totally tuned it out and couldn’t hear it any more.”
“So the chip gave you the chance to exercise your free will without that constant influence,” Giles pointed out triumphantly. “The Powers might indeed be taking an interest in you, but you’re not their puppet; they just gave you a level playing field.”
“Well, when you put it that way, it doesn’t sound so bad,” Spike conceded. “So what exactly does this prophecy say, then?”
“I’ll phone Wesley and see if he has a text,” Giles decided.
Buffy sat listening to this exchange feeling acute pangs of guilt. She hadn’t expected the gang to devote such effort to investigating Spike’s transformation. In fact she had hardly considered that aspect at all. She had been thinking so much about how the gang would react to the human Spike that the thought of how they would account for the transformation had hardly crossed her mind. Now it seemed that she had interfered with a prophecy about Angel. If he was striving for a prophesised reward, and suddenly found out that the reward had gone to someone else, would that cause him to lose heart and jeopardise his own redemption? Then again perhaps her wish to Halfrek was what the prophecy had been referring to all along. Still, best not to mention it to Angel, at least for the time being. “Giles, tell him not to tell Angel,” she said. “It would only upset him.”
“Good thinking,” Giles agreed. “It would indeed upset him, or even anger him, if he thinks Spike has gained a reward that should rightfully have been his. I will suggest that Wesley not mention it for the moment.”
Wesley put down the phone and walked back into the room where the others were gathered. His heart was heavy. Angel had been acting so oddly lately. Hyperactive, full of an uncharacteristic lust for combat, drinking blood almost constantly. The prophecy that ‘The Father will kill the Son” was preying on Wesley’s mind. Now it seemed that the Shanshu prophecy might not be about Angel at all. His redemption could not be counted on. Wes made his decision. He would go to Holtz, listen to what the vampire hunter had to say, and maybe he would come up with a way to save baby Connor from both of them.
The Bronze. Dawn and Spike sat together, both drinking Diet Coke, arguing over who would take which vocal part as they sang along with Linkin Park’s “One Step Closer”. “C’mon, Spike, you should definitely be Chester,” Dawn insisted. “You so look like him and everything.
“I do not!” Spike protested. “And no way do you look like Mike, so there. And you can sing, but you can’t rap.”
“Like anybody English could rap anyway,” Dawn retorted.
“Oh, give it up, you two,” Buffy said wearily. “The song’s nearly over, anyway.”
“’Cause I’m one step closer to the edge, and I’m about to – BREAK!” Dawn and Spike chanted together, and then burst into laughter.
Buffy glared at them. She was feeling left out of things. Giles hadn’t come to the Bronze, of course; he was back at Spike’s apartment, going through some mouldy old tomes, researching some dumb demon that Angel had phoned to ask about. Angel hadn’t asked to speak to her, hadn’t even asked Giles to pass on a message. Willow was all over Tara; Xander and Anya were glued together as usual; and Dawn was virtually monopolising Spike, except when there were odd outbreaks of flirting between Spike and Tara. Willow seemed to have decided it was all innocent fun, and wasn’t objecting in the slightest, but Buffy wasn’t so sure. Spike was hers, dammit, and she was sick of sharing him with her sister and a lesbian.
“Dance with me, Spike,” she demanded, as the opening chords of Jimmy Eat World’s “In the Middle” came over the sound system.
“I’d rather not, Slayer,” he replied. “I’m perfectly content talking to the Nibblet.”
“Go on, Spike, dance with her already,” Dawn urged him. “I’ll be okay by myself for a while. Anyway, Willow and Tara are coming back.”
Reluctantly the former vampire allowed himself to be led out onto the dance floor. Only days ago it would have been the culmination of all his dreams; dancing with his Slayer, in public, her acknowledging him in front of all her friends; now it was only mildly entertaining. He’d rather have been with Tarantula; he’d managed to have coffee with her that afternoon, but still hadn’t been out on a date with her, and he was beginning to think that he’d miss his chance. He’d only agreed to come with the gang to the Bronze tonight because the Bit had pleaded with him. As soon as the song ended he headed back to their seats, Buffy trailing behind him looking exasperated.
Xander and Anya also left the dance floor at that point and they all arrived together. “Have you seen the video for that song?” Anya asked, referring to the underwear party featured in the video. “It would be a wonderful idea for a party some time.”
“Yeah,” Xander drooled, and then changed his mind. “Maybe I should start working out. I’ve put on a bit of weight lately. I’d look like that guy with the beard who opens the beer bottle. Think I’ll cut down on the snacking, too.”
“You could stand to lose a few pounds,” Anya agreed, “but you’re gorgeous anyway and I love you.”
Buffy ignored the interplay between the two lovebirds. “What’s wrong, Spike?” she asked.
Spike frowned at her. “What do you mean, Slayer?”
“Stop calling me ‘Slayer’!” Buffy snapped.
“Then stop calling me ‘Spike’,” Spike riposted.
Buffy glared at him. This wasn’t working out like it was supposed to at all. Why wasn’t he all over her? “All right, William, what’s with quitting after just one dance? What’s wrong with you? Why does it look like you’d rather be with Dawn than me?”
“Perhaps because I would. I’m not your slave, Buffy. Stop ordering me around.”
Dawn watched the bickering couple with an air of amused superiority. “Jeez, guys, why don’t you just go off somewhere and make out?” she advised.
“Sorry, Bit, that’s not exactly what I have in mind.” Spike turned to Xander, who was temporarily free as Anya was pretending to be deep in conversation with the two witches; really she was watching the sparks flying between the Slayer and the ex-vampire. “Fancy a game of pool, mate?” he suggested.
“Sure thing,” Xander accepted with a grin. “Prepare to get your ass kicked.”
“In your dreams, Xander,” Spike grinned back, and the two men headed towards the pool table, leaving Buffy gazing after Spike looking somewhat forlorn, and Dawn watching them with her own grin fading away and a frown spreading over her brows in its place.
The girl lowered her binoculars and frowned. Wesley was leaving the Hyperion Hotel and none of the others were with him. Her chance to catch one of the Angel Investigations team alone. She’d have preferred it to be Cordelia, or the Host, but Wesley would do. She didn’t want to try Gunn, she didn’t know anything about the skinny girl, and no way was she going to go for Angel. This looked like a good opportunity.
Except that a bunch of guys were heading for the hotel and they didn’t look friendly. It looked like an attack on Angel’s team. Which way should she go? She thought for a moment, and then came to a decision. If she went to the Hyperion she might end up having to fight against both sides. Wesley was alone, and who could say when she would get another opportunity if she let this one pass? And what was that strange thing Wesley was carrying? Looked almost like a crib.
She slipped the binoculars into her bag, shook off her game face, and then hurried off after Wesley.