Summary: Answer to a challenge: What would happen if Spike somehow lost his soul?
Rating: R
"I'd sell my soul for a cig right now" Spike exclaimed, as he sat in the Bronze which had recently established a "no-smoking" policy. Usually Spike was not one to follow rules but the last thing he needed was to be picked up by one of the few remaining Sunnydale cops and thrown in a cell with eastern exposure. Come morning he would resemble the remnants of a cigarette more closely than his current self. And he knew that the slayer and her gang actually needed him on their side for once (ok, more than once) but this time was different somehow. This big bad was more like a super-sized bad. "If it weren't for this bloody Scooby meeting I could be outside enjoying a nice fag right now" he thought to himself. But because it sounded gayer than he had intended and because deep down he really didn't mind the fact that he was in the company of Buffy and her crew, Spike kept this thought on the inside, where thoughts belong but seldom stay-especially in his case.
Just then, Spike heard an evil laugh, faint at first but growing steadily louder. The laugh became a voice, booming and seeming to come from every direction at once. "As you wish!" the voice bellowed, sending vibrations of sound that were enough to knock Spike off his barstool and hurl him clear across the club. He hit the wall with a thud and slid down to the ground, suddenly in agonizing pain. Not from the fall however. This was a pain of the sort Spike had only experienced once in his unlife: the time his soul was returned. And it seemed to him that the only thing equivalent must be the pain of one's soul being snatched away again. Lying on the dirty Bronze floor, screaming his lungs out, and clenching the part of his chest where a heart should be, Spike unleashed a long string of British profanities.
By this time his companions, specifically Buffy, Giles, Xander, Anya, and Willow, were huddled around him, trying to figure out what was wrong. The potentials, Dawn, and Andrew stood farther back: concerned but cautious. It was apparent that none besides Spike had heard the voice. "Spike! Spike, wake up! Can you hear me?" Buffy asked with the now-common tone of concern she had developed for Spike since his soulful return. She snapped her fingers around his head. His eyes were open but showed no signs of responding to the light or movement around him.
"Ok, what the hell just happened?" Xander asked, "Am I the only one who just saw Spike fly across the room?"
"Very strange indeed" Giles remarked. "Although, no stranger than much of what happens around here.it does seem, however, that Spike has been the target of a great many unusual happenings as of late."
The hustle and bustle of the Bronze continued around them. Though Sunnydale was mostly evacuated, the clubbers were so used to bizarre occurrences that they hardly gave a second glance to people being tossed across rooms or turning into dust, or anything else for that matter.
"Does this mean the meeting is adjourned?" Andrew whined "Cause the SciFi channel is doing an X Files marathon and if I could leave now I might not miss."
"Andrew, Shut up. Take Dawn and the potentials home. And watch your stupid show for all I care, just shut up." Buffy knew she was being harsh to speak to Andrew like that. He was not being any more annoying than usual. But her concern for the still catatonic Spike was not allowing her much patience.
"Xander, Giles, help me get him back to the car." Buffy commanded.
* * *
"Bloody hell! Did you hear that? Did you see that?" Spike exclaimed as he came to. "And what the.? Where am I?" He asked, all of a sudden realizing that he was no longer on the floor of the Bronze. Spike examined his surroundings. Soft sheets on top of him, pillows behind him, everyone from Buffy to Giles, Xander, the Little Bit, and all the wanabees looking down at him as if he were the 8th world wonder. "What're ya bloody starin' at?" He demanded? "And not to sound daft, but what in Christ's name is going on?"
"We were hoping you could tell us." Buffy explained. "One minute we were sitting in Bronze discussing battle strategies and the next you were flying across the room, howling on the floor, and then dead to the world. And that was." Buffy looks down at her watch, "6 hours ago."
"We were worried." Willow put in. "But you sound like your old self again, no harm done right?" As usual, Giles was all business: "We should concentrate on figuring out what happened. It could have been some trick of the First, although its ability to physically move you is a new development if that's who it was."
Buffy tried to appear calmer than she felt. If it really had been the First, it not only worried her that it could use physical force now, but that it could completely incapacitate Spike, her strongest warrior, for hours at a time. Not good news when the final battle is drawing nearer by the day.
"What's the last thing you remember?" Giles asked.
"You've got to be kidding! You mean you all didn't bleeding hear that?" The others' looks of bewilderment was answer enough. "One minute I was craving a sodding ciggy and the next.well, I don't really remember much." That wasn't completely true but it felt best not to mention the voice to the Scoobies since they already thought him quite mad. What Spike did remember was the feeling of his insides being torn apart and that voice. What the fuck was that all about? What had it said? As you wish? He hadn't wished anything, had he?
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! The cigarette! The fucking hyperbole! Spike started laughing maniacally as he realized what must have happened though hell if he understood how. "Bloody-fucking-hell! After all that! After Africa, the trials, bleeding pain and torture, burning on the cross like Jesus bloody Christ!" He went on, but Buffy had already started sending the potentials, and everyone else, out of the room. Thinking hard, back to Spike's last words before the incident, she had just put two and two together and she needed to talk with him alone.
"Everyone out. NOW!" They all seemed a bit confused but her tone didn't leave room for question. Soon it was just Buffy and Spike alone in the bedroom, and Spike was still flowing with expletives and crazy laughter, but as Buffy sat down next to him on the bed his mood shifted; the cursing stopped; and the laughter became choked-back sobs. Neither Buffy nor Spike said a word for a good 5 minutes. Buffy put her arm around his shoulder and patted him consolingly. Finally, Spike broke the silence. "It was a figure of speech, you know. That soul.I wouldn't have traded it for anything. Not even after I knew how much harder it made everything, how much I'd have to feel and hurt for everything I did in the past. After all I had to do to buy it back.and it's gone. Bleeding gone! Now I am nothing. I am exactly what I was before, a demon without a soul, and now without even a sodding chip. I am restored, I am Spike, William-the-fucking-Bloody, and I should be happy, right? It makes things easier. I'm just your average joe-pire now, nothing holding me back from feeding, nothing pushing me towards the light. But I'm not. Not happy."
Buffy suddenly felt worse for Spike than she ever had before. This was worse than when she watched him burn in the church, worse than when she had to chain him in her basement while his chip misfired and caused him to scream and thrash in misery-all of which she had to hear as she tried to sleep at night. Worse than the feelings after she beat him on many occasions, mostly for reasons that had nothing to do with him, and worse than knowing that he let her do this because he really did love her enough to know that she wasn't strong enough to face the real reasons for why she did it. This was worse than all of that because they were just getting to a point where he wasn't soul-insane, the chip was gone, and she felt he might soon forgive her-and she, herself-for the abusive relationship. Things were looking up, it was true. And now, to lose it? To go back to square one? Buffy didn't think that she could survive if she allowed it to end that way. No! Too much has happened to go back. She knew what she had to do, and it went against everything she thought she believed. But now what she believed, or thought she did, was not important anymore: what mattered was what Spike believed.
"Spike" Buffy started. He looked away, averting his gaze so he wouldn't have to meet her eyes. He figured she was about to tell him that he'd better get out of town and never come back, and be thankful she wasn't going to stake him right then and there.
"No. Spike." Buffy took his hand in hers and used her other one to turn his face back towards her. She held it there, forcing their eyes to meet. "Listen to me. You are not 'nothing'. You are an incredible thing, not an evil thing, not a dead thing, not a soul-less thing. You are a precious thing. And you want to know why? You loved me before you had a soul, which I never believed possible until you went and got one, and you made choices to do the right thing, and you changed. You have become a better man. And it's not the soul that did it, Spike. It was you. William." She used his human name as she so rarely did in order to punctuate her meaning. When she said William, what she was really saying was "You are a person, not a monster."
`"But, the chip.maybe we should?"
"No. You are not an animal to be kept on a leash. Not anymore. Maybe you once were. Maybe you once were bad. Maybe you once were an evil, soul-less, dead, thing, that needed to be put down."
"Real comforting, thanks."
"No, let me finish. Maybe you were, ok? But maybe you weren't. At least maybe you haven't been for a long time. Maybe you were a creature trying to move towards goodness who was doing all he could under the circumstances but maybe the one person who should have been encouraging you was so convinced that you couldn't change that she never saw the transformation. Bottom line: the soul only made it official. You never needed it to be who you became, who you are."
Buffy looked at Spike, who looked uncertain, unconvinced. She knew it would take a little more, but she was determined to make her point. She thought back to her "Psych 101" days and decided that she had to make herself vulnerable; give something of herself to make him see the truth. All this talk was fine, but actions speak louder than words, and she needed a way to prove to Spike once and for all that she believed in him. She knew this moment was critical because if he didn't cement this mentality right here and now it would only make it harder for him in the coming days, weeks, centuries, during which she knew he wanted to make something of himself, but would not if he didn't believe that it was possible.
"Remember when you used to ask me if I trusted you?" Buffy asked. A slight smile slipped out of Spike despite himself. Ah yes, he remembered quite well. He remembered the answer quite clearly too: "Never."
Buffy reached over into her nightstand drawer and produced a pair of handcuffs. Spike gave her a curious look. "Don't ask, ok?" She said quickly.
Eyeing the cuffs, Spike set into a somewhat dejected sounding ramble: "Look Slayer, thanks for the pep talk and all, but um.well. you're right, I really should be kept in lockdown for a little while, at least till we see how I take to the.uh.new circumstances, and I don't want to be any bother, so maybe I should just go down to the basement where everything is already set up.and.you know, warm bed, good for the soul but makes no difference when you got none, so.I'll be fine.really."
He had turned away from Buffy again. Apparently unable to contain himself if he had to look at her. "Spike." She said gently, "These aren't for you." He turned towards her once more and cocked his head in that curious way he does when he is trying to process something that seems too unreal to be comprehendible.
"I trust you." Three little words. As she said them she knew they were true, although God knows why. She had never trusted him before the soul, not even with the chip. And even with the soul it was still hard to trust someone whom was constantly being made the bitch of the First Evil.
"I don't understand." He replied. "What am I supposed to do?"
"Anything you want. That's the point Spike. I trust you. I don't care if you don't have a soul, or a chip, or a heartbeat. So I want you to take these handcuffs and make your wildest fantasies come true, and know that I'm not afraid because I trust you. There were those 3 little words again. Not the usual ones people refer to, but somehow in this case more meaningful than those others, which Spike had spoken to her so many times (though she had yet to return.) These seemed more precious and rare.
"Ok, love." Spike answered, taking the cuffs from Buffy. "Close your eyes." And she did without a second thought. Spike gently snapped the cuffs around Buffy's wrists and then moved her from her propped, sitting position until she was lying down on her back. He moved her arms until they were over her head, put her hands within reach of the bedrails and said, "Grab on here, and keep your eyes closed." Buffy suddenly wondered if she had been wise to offer Spike this chance, but felt immediately guilty for the thought. She did trust him. Still there was something just a little dangerous about being tied up with Spike now when she had never let him before, with chip or soul. Still, she told herself again that he had changed and she had to make him believe that she believed it or else.well she wasn't going to think about that part.
Buffy kept her eyes shut and clutched tightly onto the bedrail, bracing herself for God-only-knows what kind of kinky fantasy was in store. She felt Spike's weight shift as he moved around the bed, and then she felt his presence over her. Spike hovered over Buffy, careful not to put too much of his weight on her (a seldom-practiced skill since she had insisted on being on top for most of their encounters-the ones that even occurred in a bed, that is.) And finally finding himself in the most ideal position, he leaned down and began to kiss Buffy as if she were the only thing left in the world worth touching. Buffy was surprised that Spike's first action was a passionate kiss. She would have guessed he would start with something.lower down.if she had to bet. But the kiss was warm and beautiful and passionate, and it spoke volumes to her. Spike did not let up. Their kiss lasted minutes, which was no problem for him because he didn't actually require oxygen, but it left Buffy breathless. When he realized that she needed air he stopped. Buffy's eyes were still closed as he had commanded, although it really never was a command, but rather a polite request. They didn't speak, and he began to kiss her again when her breathing had returned to normal. After so long without contact from anyone, he had forgotten how warm a human was, and how much he loved kissing Buffy. He had always loved kissing her but she rarely let him because for her the relationship (if you could call it that at all) was about screwing him and beating him up and then beating herself up for doing so, and then doing so all over again. This might as well have been their first kiss.well their second now. Buffy was so enthralled with the feeling of Spike's lips and tongue that she didn't even realize he had pulled the handcuff key from his pocket where he'd placed it and unlocked them. She was still grasping the bedrail when Spike settled down beside her, lying on his back. He turned to her and whispered in her ear, "open your eyes." She did so, and only then did she notice that though her hands were still clasped, there was nothing keeping them there. This time it was Buffy's turn to give a confused glance at Spike.
"It's late." He smiled at her. "Better be getting to sleep. Need our rest for the apocalypse and all."
"Um.yeah." Was all she could manage. It truly shocked her that Spike, given the chance to do anything, anything at all to her while she lie handcuffed to the bed, a willing slave, to use his own words, wanted no more than to kiss her.
Just as Spike was about to exit the room, Buffy couldn't hold it back any longer. "I love you." She said. The words made him stop in his tracks and turn around. "I mean it." She added. "I love you too" he said in return, "but you already knew that, didn't you?"
* * *
Back at Xander's place, Spike stepped into his "closet" of a room. The rest of the gang had long since gone home or to bed, still confused about the night's events but assuming that all would be made clear in the morning. They also figured from the way she looked and sounded as she kicked them out that Buffy would be tending to Spike all night (or killing him, one or the other) and expecting he would be satisfied to let her (do either).
After what happened, Buffy probably would have let Spike spend the night in her own bed, but he refused to offer her the chance. He had learned that real things take time. Kind of like me, he thought. It had taken more than a hundred years, but for the first time in his life (un-or otherwise) he felt "real". He knew that to allow Buffy to get carried away and overly zealous about the new status of their relationship would be dangerous. And somehow, even without a chip and without a soul, he had no trouble whatsoever walking out the door of the Summers' house and back into his shared bachelor pad.
As he undressed and got into bed, something on his bedside table caught Spike's eye. It was a single cigarette. Odd, he thought, since Xander didn't let him smoke in the house anyway, and he always carried his smokes around in packs. Then he noticed something even stranger: a piece of paper, apparently a note, sitting next to the cigarette. Spike picked it up and read:
I hope it was worth it.
Make it count.
As Spike drifted off to sleep, he once again laughed. "Bought my soul back in blood and sold it for a bloody cigarette!"
Strangely, he didn't feel as though he'd been cheated at all.
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