Title: GOOD ENOUGH FOR BUFFY (1/2)
Author: Bonnie
Email: bondav40@yahoo.com
Rating: PG13
Summary: Sequel to "Playing House." Spike goes on a quest for humanity. This was written before season 6 finale.
Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss and UPN.
"So then the brunette has spent almost all her money buying the bull and has to send a telegram to her sister asking her to come and pick it up with a trailer."
"The blond, right?"
"Well, yeah. Stick with me here," Spike gave Buffy a little pinch on the ass, and continued the story. "She goes to the telegraph office and dictates: "Come and meet me at the station with the trailer. I've got the new bull." The telegraph operator says it'll cost $5.00 to send the message, and you know she only has...."
"$1.00 left after buying the bull, uh-huh. Does this joke ever get to the punch line?"
She could imagine Spike scowling above her, as she pressed her smile against his chest. "Patience! You're always in a rush. Now do you want to hear this or not?"
"Well actually...."
"Shut up. So anyway, the brunette - you remember they're sisters, right?"
"Does that have anything to do with the point of the story?"
(Silence) "Well, anyway she has to cut down the message," he continued in a rush. "So she tells the operator to just write one word 'comfortable.'" Spike paused and waited for a reaction. "Get it? Comfortable!" He chuckled.
"Um, I think you missed a line or something."
"No I......Oh wait, yeah I did. The telegraph man asks, 'Comfortable?' What does that mean?' and the brunette answers, 'My sister reads real slow!' Funny, eh?" Spike tickled her side to get her laughing.
Buffy wiggled and slapped his hand away. "Just a minute. Something's still not right, here."
He sighed in frustration, "Say it out loud real slow. Com-for-da-bull. Now do you get it?"
Buffy was silent another moment then said, "That is the lamest dumb blond joke you've told me yet! Where do you get these?"
"Off the internet."
"Well, stop going online then. And, sweetheart, if you have to tell me goofy jokes, why are they always blond jokes? You and I are both blond....or at least I am."
"Cause they're funny." He began poking through her hair, checking out the roots.
"That's debatable." She squirmed out of his arms, pulling his hand out of her hair and pinning it above him. Climbing on top of his hard, nude body, she put an end to the joke-telling with a deeply satisfying kiss. Before she got him too aroused (which didn't take much for Spike), Buffy slithered back down beside him again.
Nestling her head on his chest she murmured endearingly, "Jackass."
"Bitch," he replied with affection.
One of Spike's arms was wrapped around the Slayer, pulling her close to him, his hand resting on the swell of her hip. He reached his other hand over and began rubbing her back, up and down in long slow strokes. Buffy felt like purring with contentment. Her eyelids began to droop and her thoughts to unfocus, when her lover's quiet voice startled her awake.
"Times like this I almost feel good enough."
"Hm?" she asked, sleepily. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Good enough for you. It almost seems like this is.....right," he remarked off-handedly.
Buffy's eyes flew open and she pushed up onto an elbow to give Spike her patented Buffy-glare. "What are you doing? Fishing for trouble? Don't you dare start that self-effacing bullshit. You are more than 'good enough' for me, and our being together is just fine, or it will be if you'd shut up and let me get some sleep!"
Spike smiled and wrapped a curl of her golden hair around his finger. "Excuse me if I'm a little confused," he teased. "I'm just 'an evil, soulless thing' and don't know any better. Maybe you can explain. Have the rules changed now? Am I not 'beneath you' any more?"
"You're never going to let it go are you?" Buffy grabbed his throat with both hands as if to squeeze the non-existent breath out of him.
"Never," he answered cheerfully, then babbled on, "Don't get me wrong, I like being beneath you, but I like being on top of you, too. And inside goes without saying."
"Seriously, Spike," Buffy ran her hands up from his throat to cradle his face, tracing the finely cut bone structure with her thumbs, "Please don't joke about it anymore. I've apologized 'til I'm blue in the face and it kills me every time you bring it up that I could have actually said such cruel things to you."
"But they're true." He gave a surprised little laugh. "You know they're true. I AM an evil soulless thing and I am beneath you. You're like an avenging angel of good and I'm a demon. You can camouflage it all you like, but facts are facts, luv."
The blond girl shook her head in denial and began to protest, but he put a finger to her lips.
"Listen, pet, I didn't mean to get you all stirred up. I was just saying is all. Just commenting on how grateful I am to be here in your bed instead of laying on a slab in a cold crypt somewhere. Saying I'm happy....with you."
"And I'm happy with you." Buffy felt her lower lip begin to tremble and eyes well with tears. She blinked hard and lowered her head back to Spike's shoulder to hide her emotional state. He listened to her sniff and gulp a little and wondered what he had said to upset her so. After 100 plus years of existence, women were still an enigma at times.
He reconsidered bringing up the topic he'd intended. If this interchange had bothered her, his half-formulated plan was going to send her over the edge.
"'Night, Slayer." He kissed the top of her head and smoothed back the hair from her forehead. God, he loved playing with its softness.
"Goodnight," she replied in a whisper. "Love you."
Now there was a miracle. Buffy saying she loved him. It made Moses parting the Red Sea look kind of insignificant.
Spike lay perfectly still, listening to her breathing slow and deepen until it turned into that familiar little rasping snore. What a love! She never would believe him when he told her about it. When he was sure she was sound asleep, he pulled his arm out from under her and crept silently from the warmth of their bed.
Downstairs and to the laundry room he moved stealthily. From the top cupboard and under some folded rags he drew an ancient, leather-bound book. The title, in gilt letters, was scratched and faded and in some long-dead language. Bits of the pages crumbled at Spike's touch, as he perched on the edge of the dryer and opened the moldy volume to continue his research.
Silent hours passed. Nothing disturbed the night but quiet house-sounds and the turning of pages. After a bit, the vampire pulled a crumpled pack of smokes from the shelf behind the fabric softener sheets and lit one up. There was no need to give up all one's vices for the sake of love. As long as he kept the second-hand smoke away from Dawn and Buffy, they conveniently overlooked the faint tang of tobacco that often permeated the laundry room.
"Bloody Etruscan dialects," Spike complained as he deciphered a complex passage dealing with reanimation of corpses. "Where's the Watcher when you need him."
The rare text was one Spike had lifted from Giles' collection many months ago, before the wanker had returned to England. The bespectacled librarian had been in a frenzy when he began packing and found this book and several others missing, but finally had to give up the search and leave for home without them. For a long time the books had remained hidden in Spike's crypt, almost forgotten, but recently he had finally begun the long delayed task of plowing through the difficult tomes. The mental whip that drove him on was, "There has to be a way."
Over a month ago, Angel had turned up here in his newly human state, trying to win Buffy back. And, although the girl had convinced Spike that her love was all for him now and he should stay with her, he hadn't forgotten the very excellent points his sire had made about their future together. Long-term, this romance was hopeless. Something had to change, and that something was Spike. If he couldn't bring himself to leave her, he would have to find a way to become what she needed.
Spike had begun his nightly campaign of searching for any reference to restoring vampires to their mortal state. He hadn't enlisted the aid of any of the gang because he didn't want to share his quest with Buffy until he had some concrete information to offer. The stubborn woman was as blind to his lack of humanity now as she had been quick to bring it up before. Tonight he had come close to sharing his thoughts, but her denial that there was any problem to be overcome had stilled his tongue. Wrapped in new love, she refused to face facts.
But Spike was determined to face them for her. He would do whatever needed to be done, try what had to be tried, to correct his soulless state. Restoring the soul would not be enough, however. Human life would have to accompany it. That was the only thing that would make him good enough for Buffy. Kids and someone to grow old with, isn't that what all these humans wanted?
Suddenly the vamp's eyes were riveted to the page. He read the passage that had caught his attention through, breaking it apart piece by piece to make sure he had translated correctly. He read it through once more. This could be.....no, it couldn't be that simple! Spike devoured the information yet again.
"What are you doing?" Dawn spoke through a yawn from the doorway. He dropped the book and jumped off the dryer at the sound.
"Christ in a sidecar, what the hell are you doing? You bloody nearly gave me a heart attack."
Dawn opened the door the rest of the way and came padding into the room, stopping to pick up the book he had dropped. "What are you reading? Hey, isn't this one of the books Giles was looking for?"
"No! Give me that. What are you doing up, anyway? You should be in bed."
"Can't sleep. Hungry. Is there any of that chocolate mousse left from dinner?"
"Why don't you go and see," Spike said, snatching the book from her hands.
Dawn put her hands on her hips and slightly cocked her head in a stance that mirrored her older sister. "You should know by now you can't hide anything from me. I invented sneaky. What's up?"
The blond vampire glowered at her, set the book down on the appliance behind him, and crossed his arms.
"Come on. You tell me or I tell Buffy. Spill!" she demanded.
He rolled his eyes and sighed exaggeratedly. "Oh, bollocks!" He clenched and unclenched his jaw a couple of times, then asked, "Can you keep a secret?"
"Of course! I haven't told anyone that Janice went all the way with Brad Stiller."
"Well, you just told me didn't you?"
"You don't count. I mean I haven't told anyone at school. Jeez Spike, what could be such a big deal....just tell me already."
"I'm....I'm looking for a way to become human." It sounded lame saying it out loud, but Dawn didn't doubt the possibility for a second. Her eyes grew huge and she jumped at him to pull him into a bear hug.
"Oh my God! I can't believe it. This is.....this is friggin' unbelievable!"
He smiled as he extricated himself from her grip. "Yeah, well, it's not done yet. Don't know if it even can be done."
"Angel...." Dawn began.
Spike snorted, "He's a 'special' case. Marked by God or some such rot. Prophecies and all that. The normal rules don't apply to him. It's going to be a little harder for me."
"Well, did you find anything?" Dawn asked, starting to leaf through the disintegrating pages of the book.
"Actually, I might have." He stood next to her and turned to the page he had been studying. "Right here, it says.... 'One whose breath has ceased to flow, who is....er....has not the mark of Yaweh,' that's God, 'untouched by time and barren of life, moving through eternity in bloodlust. To such as this a....a....favor?....no, blessing be shown. A blessing be shown. A casting out and a drawing in. May this newly pure vessel be filled again with the Spirit showered out over all.' That's it. That's all I've got so far."
"Wow. That's......cryptic. What do you think it means?"
"When a vampire is made, a demon enters and the human soul is expelled. But the soul still exists somewhere....floating around in limbo, I guess. So - reverse it. Cast out the demon and summon back the soul."
"But, Spike....." Dawn said hesitantly. "Will you still be you? Or will you be who you were before? What happens to your personality?"
"I don't know," he shrugged. "I still have all the memories of William and some character traits. I guess the demon part of me is all mixed up with the human that lived in this body before. Hell, I don't know how it works, but I've got to do something!"
"Well," Dawn said soothingly. "It sounds possible. But who do you think could do it? Maybe a priest or shaman? There's St. Mary's over on Fifth Street. We should talk to the priest there."
"Bit, 'we' shouldn't do anything. Whatever I decide to do, I'll do alone, and I don't know what my plan is yet."
"Oh come on! You're just like the rest of them. You think I can't be useful at all! Well, believe me if I've learned one thing from hanging out with the Scoobies it's how to do research. Oh, I know! I'll go to Father Whoever at the Catholic church and say I'm doing a report on possession and exorcism for school. If I sound all scholarly about it, I can milk all sorts of information out of him. What do you think?"
Her young face was alive with excitement, and Spike had to smile back. There was no way he was going to burst her bubble as the rest of the 'team' had so often done. Surely there'd be no harm and maybe even some help in letting her ask questions on his behalf. He took the book from her hand, and gave her a curt little nod.
"Sure, sweetness. I'd appreciate the leg-work. Just remember….."
"I know how to keep my mouth shut, Spike. Don't even say it." She gave him a quick hug. "This is so exciting! There's no way I'm getting back to sleep tonight."
"As long as I don't hear you complain about getting up for school in the morning, I don't care how long you stay awake. Move along, girl."
"'Night, Spike." She padded out of the room again. He waited until she'd left to secret the book in its hiding place, smiling affectionately at her youthful enthusiasm. That Dawn was a little firecracker when she wasn't whining.
He lit another cigarette and stepped out the back door into the energy of night to savor it. A breeze stirred his rumpled hair and he lifted his nose into the air to scent out the many kinds of prey that roamed the night. His blood began to rise at the thought of the chase and kill. How he missed tearing into a jugular and feeling the rich, ripe blood flooding his mouth and filling his senses. Just the thought set him panting and the smooth human features shimmered into the ridges of his true demon self. Ah, this was no good. There could be no relief for him tonight or any night. Shaking his head, he forced the demon down. He went back inside the house, which suddenly felt like a cage, to pour a mug of cold animal blood and chug it down with a grimace.
Carefully rinsing all traces of blood down the drain (the girls hated to see it), he set the mug in the sink and returned to the cozy love nest he shared with Buffy. He stood beside the bed for a moment, watching her sleep and remembering why it was worth it to be neutered. Then he slipped into the warmth beside her, pressing her precious soft flesh against him; holding her tightly the night through as he lay wide awake watching the quality of light in the room slowly shade toward morning.
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