Spoilers:
Story started just prior to As You Were and runs through
to the end of Hells Bells. From there on the story goes
AU, so Normal Again, Entropy etc haven't happened and won't.
For purposes of Angel characters, assumed Cordelia and Groo
still on holiday and Connor is still living with Angel at
the Hyperion, just because it makes my life simpler.
Disclaimer:
(Spike appears. He seems
to be reading something. When he notices Buffy, he quickly
hides it.)
Spike: Hello,
pet. You know I was just thinking about the two of us.
Buffy: And? (Taps
foot impatiently, hands on hips)
Spike: Well,
I was wondering, was there a specific point where the sexual
thing became inevitable, You know where it sort of changed
from "I'm going to kill 'er but it's a pity 'cos she's not
exactly a pain to look at," to "I want to shag that woman."
Can you think of anything on your part?
Buffy: I still
want to kill you.
Spike: Yeah,
but you want to do other things more. See for me I think
it was probably a combination of two things. I think obviously,
the chip cut down dramatically on my homicidal tendencies.
More than that though I reckon it was that show you put
on that night in the Bronze.
Buffy: Big deal.
We kissed. Get over it. Lots of people kiss each other without.
"shaggin'," as you put it.
Spike: No, not
the night after Red's little magical mass amnesia. The other
night at the Bronze. Way back, not that long after I got
the chip. Round about the time you became all unpopular
with the toy soldiers and they tried to bump you off, not
that it stopped you seein' Mr Personality.
Buffy: Well,
it may have been significant to you, but I don't even remember.
Spike: Always
the innocent, eh pet? You'll be telling me next that Warren
made the Buffy 'bot years ago and it was her not you. I
mean, Slayer, (he gives her a knowing wink) how do you forget
backing a man up against the wall and pinning him there.
Hands all over him. All smellin' of yer mum's bubble bath.
Talkin' dirty fit to give any man in earshot a hard-on for
a week. 'Course it wasn't you.
Buffy: (indignant)
I don't kno. (The penny drops, quieter) Oh, what did I say?
Spike: Still
got amnesia, pet? Funny, you were a bit like that then as
well. Walk off after you bump right into us as if you hadn't
ever met me before, and then you were all, (puts on breathy,
girlie voice) "You're a vampire?" as if you hadn't known
for years, but I reckon it was all part of the act. The
things you said. (Casts eyes heavenward as if to help remember
and continues in an almost awed tone) "I could have anything.
Anyone. Even you, Spike. I could ride you at a gallop until
your legs buckled and your eyes rolled up." Can we try that
one sometime, Slayer? And that was just the start of your
little speech."
Buffy: Look,
this isn't funny. That wasn't me. It- it was someone. -
(Stops, having managed to wind her up, Spike is having obvious
difficulty not laughing) Really, it was Faith, in my body.
She-
Spike: (Removes
letter from pocket and tosses it to Buffy) I know, pet.
I just wanted to see your reaction. I didn't think I'd met
that Faith, turns out when she wrote back to me about that
Joss bloke and him being the one who made us all up and
owns us all and everything, that we had met after all.
Buffy: But you're
saying, that you only got to where you wanted to sleep with
me 'cos she got you all excited, so you'd still be trying
to kill me if she hadn't.
Spike: Pfft!
She might have emphasised some points I'd already managed
to work out for myself, thank you very much, all about being
the slayer mind, not about being Buffy. Thing was, maybe
I didn't realise it at the time but the real point where
I was totally and completely stuffed was round about when
you were running round wiping your mouth and going, "Spike
lips. Lips of Spike." Did you never notice for all my lightning
reactions, I was way slower than you at making with the
retching noises?
Buffy: Oh! (Sort
of sexy) That's all right then I suppose, but you better
tell me about the rest of this speech. Wouldn't like to
think I'd been making promises and not keeping them.
Spike: (Spike
raises a scarred eyebrow.) No, couldn't have that, could
we love?
Dedication: I
kept getting error messages half way through uploading last
chapter, and not being able to log-in to some of the pages
and stuff, so I stuck around online to try to make sure
it had loaded okay. So this chapter is for Bwit and Darlene
D 'cos they managed (somehow) to review chapter 11 before
the story was even coming up on the main menu. How's that
for fast reviews. And to Nos because I finally worked in
that request of his.
A/N: The little
bit at the end of the chapter is totally gratuitous, has
nothing to do with the plot and is just my way of cheering
myself up after watching Entropy last night. If you don't
like it (as I'm sure a few of you won't) then just ignore
it, it doesn't affect the plot in the slightest. For the
rest of you hope it cheers you up a bit as well. After entropy
almost wanted to rewrite this since Buffy is such a bitch
she just doesn't deserve our lovely Spike, but I decided
that my Buffy is far nicer than TV Buffy so it's okay if
she keeps him.
Additional Note:
When I originally wrote this I couldn't find anything in
either the episodes themselves or the transcripts to say
what the female watcher in Checkpoint was called, so I made
a name up. Since then I've found out she was called Lydia
Chalmers, but just pretend you didn't know that.
Chapter 12
Spike waited impatiently. It seemed as
if his whole existence hinged on the next hour or so. He
was chain-smoking, giving a fair impersonation of a dry
ice machine and the waiting room where he alternately sat
and paced was starting to have a distinct atmosphere. It
had been fifteen minutes since he'd left the consulting
room where the visiting neurologist had taken x-rays of
his head from different angles. He'd been primed to wait
another three-quarters of an hour or so before there would
be any news. If he'd been human there would have been cat-scans
and all sorts of tests making the most of modern technology.
Since he was a vampire, he was in an animal hospital, and
he had his head x-rayed against lead plates that smelled
strongly of disinfectant and to his acute senses slightly
of animal urine.
Waiting seemed to be all he had done for
the last week. Days spent cooped up in hotels and motels.
Nights on the road. Vegas to Salt Lake, Salt Lake to San
Francisco, San Francisco to Portland, Portland to Seattle,
Seattle to Eugene, Eugene to Reno and finally Reno to LA.
Cheap motels to mid range hotels, but all were basically
boxes where he was penned for the daylight hours. The one
exception had been that inclement weather had allowed him
some time to go "sight-seeing" in Seattle. Strange because
he found himself along with not a few tourists, back in
another graveyard. Like the rest of them he paid his respects
at a pair of graves, father and son. Both had died young,
on the verge of promising film careers. Bruce Lee and his
son Brandon. As far as the Space Needle went he could take
it or leave it.
For Spike the week had been torture. It
seemed as if his physical remoteness from Buffy made him
think of her even more, and the task he faced seemed to
stretch away indefinitely into the future, while the spectres
of his past tried to catch up with him. All to be resolved
before he could see her again. Spike had debated whether
to ask Angel if he could hire enough people to defend the
facility if it were attacked. He felt at his most vulnerable,
that if he were to be traced, this doctor seemed to be the
perfect way, at least if his pursuers had the least idea
of his plans. Eventually he settled for making sure the
doctor and himself were boarded separately and well away
from the Hyperion. He also arranged for Lorne to do a reading
on the doctor. Once Lorne had assured him that the doctor
was on the level, he'd dispensed with the idea of body guards
at least for the initial consultation.
The minute hand on the waiting room clock
finally crawled through another two hundred and seventy
degrees and the doctor emerged from the treatment area,
to beckon Spike back into the consulting room. He placed
the x-ray plates in front of the wall mounted light-box
in the treatment room. Spike got a feeling that this wasn't
going to be as simple as he'd hoped.
"I've had a look at the x-rays here. As
you can see the chip appears to be closest to the surface
of the skull where the original skull section was made.
If you decide to proceed, I will try to follow the original
cutting lines, although really they should be healed up
by now. The problem lies in the way that your brain has
adjusted to the chip's presence. You have developed neural
pathways which connect between the chip and the rest of
your brain. To gain access to the area where the chip is,
and to remove the chip those pathways will have to be cut.
This could result in some unpredictable side effects; your
impulse control might be affected, you may suffer memory
lapses or be unable to distinguish between memories and
dreams. This damage may heal correctly on its own over a
matter of days once the chip is removed, or the pathways
may not regrow or may regrow incorrectly. In addition there
may be complications due to swelling of the tissue around
the area we're operating on.
It's my professional opinion that given
the quality of life you seem to be capable of at present,
I wouldn't recommend surgery unless it were to become necessary
due to deterioration of the chip."
"So, Doc, what sort of odds are
we talking about here?"
"Better than even, say thirty: seventy,
but that's still nearly a one in three chance that you'll
suffer some sort of permanent ill effect. I really have
to advise you against going ahead."
"I hear what you're saying, but doing nothing
isn't an option. What's the worst we can expect?"
"I have to say that this is all speculation.
I don't know the extent to which vampires can repair brain
tissue and if we assume that vampirism is a form of demonification,
then does the "human" brain control the demon? I don't have
a clue what is happening inside our skulls when we decide
to vamp out, or when the demon tries to respond to outside
stimuli and we rein it in. There's a good chance you won't
suffer any effects at all, or you might vamp out and not
be able to come back. There's even a chance it may make
it easier to control the demon. As I've already said you
may have memory lapses. If these are sufficient to affect
your self-image this again could affect your control of
the demon not to mention the potential for disorientation.
You may not be capable of looking after yourself. You might
think you've fed when you haven't. You could do things which
would endanger yourself without realising. You could as
I said become confused between dreams and reality, so that
you would expect those around you to react the same way
they do in your dreams or your nightmares.
You could experience all or none of this,
and it could all be temporary and repair itself or you could
be like that for the rest of your existence. My guess would
be that in all likelihood you will experience at least some
mild temporary effects of some sort. The chip's embedded
deep into your cerebral cortex. If you go ahead with the
procedure I'd have to advise that you be physically restrained
for a period afterward until we can confirm that you're
totally lucid, and it's probably a good idea if you have
constant care, someone who can ground you if you are delusional
or if you do have memory lapses."
Of course Spike immediately thought of
Buffy, but he ruled her out equally quickly because she
had to look after Dawn. He considered Tara. She was strong
and gentle, a natural carer and he was genuinely fond of
her. This was part of the problem, though. Out of Buffy's
circle of friends Tara was possibly nicest to him, but he
didn't know how much of this was because he'd already been
chipped and well on his way to being Buffy's pet when she
first met him. He knew that she must have heard about his
past exploits from the others, but she'd never come face
to face with the demon within. He knew he didn't want her
to. Under the circumstances she would probably understand,
but he didn't want to risk any change in their relationship.
Giles was quickly discarded, partly because of logistics
but mostly because of his council ties. Angel was too obvious
a connection and had Connor to consider. Lorne. Lorne.
"How long a period are we talking about?"
"I'd say around a week, give or take, if
you stay symptom free for seventy two hours then I think
that's probably a fair sign of recovery."
"Fair, but not conclusive." Spike gave
a half smile at the Doctor's nod. "So, say I come out of
this a raving basket case and I don't improve within the
first week, how long before we know it's a lost cause?"
"That would vary depending on your age
and bloodline."
In view of his present situation Spike
decided it was best to remain as anonymous as possible,
barring the chip of course but then he couldn't be the only
one they had done. "Take a guess."
"Three weeks. If there was no sign of improvement
after three weeks I think it would be unlikely, but it's
possible it could take as long as a few months to fully
recover."
"How soon could we go ahead?"
It had been arranged after some calls backwards
and forwards that the procedure would go ahead the following
night. The equipment had all been found already, and Lorne
had agreed to "baby-sit" someone slightly larger than normal.
In return Spike would cover the bulk of the costs for having
Caritas refitted. If all went well Spike would become a
silent minority partner in the business. He thought it was
one use of some of the money Buffy couldn't complain about.
After all didn't Lorne's gift come from the Powers? So getting
the bar up and running helped them. Even if Lorne made no
distinction between the motives of his clients before he
set them on their path. Spike had managed to rent an isolated
property about fifteen miles outside of LA so that no neighbours
would hear any noise and making it difficult for any assassins
to trace him. This was where he planned to recuperate. The
operation was to be carried out in the basement of the property,
and the doctor had agreed to travel blindfold so that he
wouldn't know the location of the house.
All the necessary preparations were in
place and once again he waited.
Day 1
Lorne watched the figure chained spread-eagle
and face downward on the bed. It had been an hour since
the doctor had left and already Spike was showing the first
signs of returning to consciousness. He stirred in his sleep,
pulling against the chains Angel had assured him would be
strong enough to hold an enraged vampire. He was in
game face, but the doctor had warned Lorne to expect this
the first few times he awoke; that the pain caused by the
operation would provoke an automatic feeding response.
Lorne went upstairs to the kitchen, taking
one of the half dozen bags of human blood they had managed
to procure, he emptied its contents into a mug and put it
in the microwave. When it was warmed he added a straw, stirred
in some powdered painkillers the doctor had supplied and
carried it back to the basement. The smell seemed to have
wakened Spike. He pulled at his chains and twisted his body
trying to see where the smell was coming from. Lorne walked
round to stand at the top of the bed and held the mug so
that the straw poked through the bars of the iron bedstead
next to the patient's pillow.
Spike's mouth found the straw and sucked
hungrily at it. He was a quarter of the way down the mug
when he noticed that the blood had been tampered with, but
his body and his demon demanded that he finish every drop
of the rich sustaining liquid. Minutes after the mug was
empty his body returned to a healing sleep and as the painkillers
took effect his face relaxed into human form. This cycle
was repeated several times over the first day, except that
after the second bag Lorne mixed in an increasing amount
of pig's blood into each mug.
Spike never gave any indication of having
recognised Lorne. In fact he never gave any indication that
he was aware of anything except the blood.
Day 2
The first half of the second day followed
much the same pattern as the first, but gradually Lorne
noticed that he was spending less time in demon form indicating
that the pain had abated slightly. Unfortunately, he still
didn't seem to recognise Lorne, and he stopped drinking.
He offered no violence. In fact Lorne still doubted that
he was aware that he was there, but whenever the cup was
placed next to him, he would turn his head away. When first
he refused to feed, he seemed quite calm, although he had
yet to regain consciousness in human form. Successive attempts
to feed him resulted in him becoming more agitated then
finally when his behaviour had become almost feral he fed
again.
'. Don't drink it. It's drugged. I'm
a lab rat. They starve you. You drink. you're gone. they
do experiments.Spike could tell from the pain in his head
that the experiments had already begun, but he could smell
the drugs in the blood and he wouldn't give them the satisfaction.
Not as long as he was in control of his body.
. Hungry. need blood. blood will ease
the pain. drugged.you drink. you're gone. hungry. pain.you
drink. experiments.
. Need blood. hungry. blood. blood to
ease the pain.'
Lorne decided to ring Angel, even though
it had been agreed that contact between the house and the
office be kept to a minimum.
"Angel-cakes, we got a problem, our boy
won't drink his medicine, at least not till he's starving."
"You've got him on a mix, haven't you?"
"Yeah, about two to one."
"Try giving him the straight good stuff
again. If that works try the mix again but without the meds.
If he'll drink it without the meds in it he'll still keep
healing, he'll just be in pain while he does it."
Day 3
Lorne followed Angel's advice and found
that his patient responded by drinking again. As long as
the blood wasn't drugged he drank it, even when Lorne ran
out of human blood to mix in with the pig's blood. For the
first time since the operation Spike spoke. Lorne had been
grabbing an hour or two's sleep when he was woken by Spike's
voice, which was gradually increasing in decibels.
"Dru? Kitten? Where are you, pet? Dru!
It's time to let your boy loose now!"
"Spike. It's Lorne." The green demon walked
round to the top end of the bed so that Spike would be able
to see him.
Spike watched him as he came into view.
"Dru, come on. If you let me out of these, then I'll use
them on you if you want, we can make them nice and tight.
You know you like it better when you're the one tied up."
Spike's pleading tone changed to an almost inaudible mutter.
"Don't know who's more nuts, her or me for letting someone
with the attention span of a fruit fly chain me up." Finally,
in desperation Spike tried forcefulness. "Dru! If you don't
get your boney ass over here now and undo these chains you
are never going to get to play with them again, and when
I get out of them I'm going to take Miss Edith away."
"Spike, Listen. Dru isn't here. You haven't
seen Dru since she visited you in Sunnydale. It's Lorne.
Remember, Lorne."
For the first time, Spike's eyes seemed
to focus on Lorne's face. "Jesus, Lorne." Spike seemed to
pause and look around his surroundings. "I thought you were
Dru there for a minute. I don't suppose you're going to
let me out of these things either?"
Lorne shook his head. "Not just yet, at
any rate. I can get you some more blood if you want it."
"Ta, mate. I don't suppose we've got some
bourbon as well. I feel like I've got a killer hangover
that's in need of the hair of the dog."
"No bourbon, but I do happen to have all
the makings of a killer sea-breeze. though I'm not sure
you should be drinking alcohol yet."
"Line of Aurelius. some of the fastest
healing sons of bitches in the vampire world. And, yeah,
I'll try one, but if you ever mention it in front of anybody
I'll deny ever havin' touched such a poofy soundin' concoction."
Spike treated Lorne to a trademark smirk. "How long was
I out of it anyway?"
The figure strode towards the crypt, stake
in hand, eager to finish the job in hand. The sooner it
was done, the sooner he could be out of town and he wanted
to be out of town before he ran into the slayer. He would
have preferred the cover of darkness, but he'd been able
to find out that Buffy was working an early shift today,
and there was a better chance of catching his prey at home
during the day. Buffy may have said she didn't want him
dead, but she'd be better off if he was. Besides he'd promised
him a year ago that if he ever laid a finger on Buffy, he
would come back and stake him for real, and his dad had
always told him that if a man makes a promise, he should
keep it. It meant he could close off the file on "The Doctor"
once and for all.
Just as he had two weeks previously, he
marched up to the door of the crypt and slammed the door
back on its hinges. When the door reached the point where
it was at right angles to the wall it hit the trip on the
bomb planted by one of the Tarakans. The shaped charge had
been designed to take out whoever opened the door. It performed
its job efficiently with just a little overkill. Riley Finn
was identified by the dog-tag attached to one of his two
smoking boots.
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