Awful Dark
It got awful dark in the crypt once the sun went down. That was how Spike wanted it, which was why he’d gotten rid of the candles.
Who wanted light in a dark time like this?
Spike had barely moved since returning to what could loosely be described as his home. Not that he couldn’t – his wounds had healed nicely – but with everything going on, the vampire didn’t exactly relish the thought of being the target of another mob scene.
No … right now, merely keeping to the shadows and hoping against all hope some foolishly brave humans didn’t stumble into his crypt looking for a little piece of the vampire action was his main priority. It was one of the typical reactions following the worldwide revelation of the undead; some panicked and kept to themselves, while others decided to take a stand and fight the menace – regardless of how prepared they were.
Truth of the matter was, Spike wasn’t necessarily convinced he hadn’t deserved it. Yeah, it was sort of on the screwed up side that he was attacked by those he had saved not long before, but was it really that unjustified? People wanted to lash out against the vampires and Spike was a vampire – could he really blame them for what they did?
No, he couldn’t.
Spike was a monster. He knew that, just as he knew no amount of heroics or bonding with those who had pulses would ever change that fact. Okay, so there was some prophecy out there that claimed the vampire with a soul would play a role in the Apocalypse and be rewarded with his humanity, but Spike didn’t put much stock in it.
First of all, he wasn’t the only ensouled vampire on the block, and secondly? Prophecies, by and large, were a load of horseshit. Cooked up by some nutjob back in the day to keep the followers in line.
Like the Bible, but with more evisceration.
The mob attack had nearly the same effect the fiasco with Dana, the psycho Slayer, did years before; it made Spike step back for a second and examine what he truly was. A vampire, but more importantly, a vampire with a soul. Not entirely a monster, but not nearly human, either.
Spike was straddling both worlds without really belonging to either; in some ways, Angel was right when he called it a curse. Granted, Spike wouldn’t go evil at the slightest hint of bliss, but still – having a soul wasn’t all it was cracked up to be – particularly now.
The door creaked open, and Spike’s head shot up. He cold still see, even in the near pitch-black, but no form showed itself. The vampire sniffed, trying to catch a scent that might tell him who or what dared barge into his modest abode, but for the moment his nostrils found nothing.
Faith wasn’t exactly new to dark, seemingly-abandoned crypts, but this one bothered her more than most. She would’ve never admitted it, but she cared a great deal for Spike. Their brief physical tryst notwithstanding, they both knew the struggles of fighting for redemption – not to mention living in the shadows of an older, some might consider better, “sibling.”
Something about being second fiddle seemed to bond the vampire and the Slayer, which was why Faith took it so hard when that mob beat Spike to a pulp. And why she came to the crypt hoping to see him one last time before she left.
“Spike?” she called out hesitantly. Though Spike seemed mentally fine the night of the attack, there was no telling how time treated him since.
He was probably violent and unpredictable now, and Faith wouldn’t have blamed him if he was.
Spike was still in the crypt; Faith could feel him as she tiptoed her way through the dark. She couldn’t see him, partly because of the dark and partly because she figured he was probably hiding. Since the mob attacked him literally at his doorstep, Spike probably worried someone would bust in and finish the job – since humans and demons didn’t really need an invite to get in.
Spike heard the voice, instantly recognizing it as Faith. He let out a sigh of relief, though he didn’t rise from his crouched position in the corner. Where he was, the sun wouldn’t get him once it rose in the morning, and in the dead of night, no one was likely to see him.
An ideal hiding spot for someone who didn’t exactly have a history of hiding.
“Over here, pet,” the vampire said in a soft voice, almost a whisper.
Faith followed the direction of the voice, her eyes finally adjusting to the darkness. She found Spike huddled in the corner, shirtless. She dropped to her knees to get a closer look, seeing that his wounds had all but disappeared. Aside from the occasional bruise, Spike physically looked fine.
But the Slayer knew he was anything but fine.
“Spike,” she said with a frown. “What … how long have you been here?”
“Not sure,” Spike mused, partly to himself. “Maybe … what day is it?”
He wasn’t going crazy – well, not like he was when he returned to Sunnydale after his excursion to Africa when The First started playing with him – but Spike wasn’t exactly on top of things at the moment.
Faith’s frown deepened, as did the quirk in her eyebrows. The Slayer ran her fingers along Spike’s hair, feeling how dirty and out of place it was. She could feel the vampire shaking when she touched him, but she knew she wasn’t what Spike was afraid of. Faith shook her head, fighting the urge to find those who did this and beat them within an inch of their lives.
The urge passed though, mostly because Faith realized if she did that, ultimately she would be no better than the ignorant masses who attacked Spike in the first place.
“It’s Tuesday,” Faith answered. “It’s been two weeks.”
Spike frowned before finally meeting Faith’s stare. He saw a look in her eyes he’d never seen before, a surprising vulnerability. The Slayer practically built her life on being tough and unflappable, trying to convince everyone she was “five by five.” But Spike saw nothing but raw concern at the moment, wondering just how often Faith let her guard down.
“I’ve … two weeks?”
Faith gave a somber nod, glancing over her shoulder. They were alone – for that much, the Slayer was glad. Her attention back on Spike, Faith let out a deep sigh, wondering if this was just the initial panic of the world changing, or if Spike and his kind were to spend the rest of their days running from the masses.
It was an odd role reversal; in the span of a few weeks, the vampires had gone from the hunters to the hunted. It seemed no one was safe anymore, regardless of who they were or what they did.
“You haven’t left at all?”
Spike shook his head, still trembling. He was calmer than moments before, but still on-edge. “No hunting, no feeding,” he whispered. “No hunting, no feeding, no mobs … no mobs, no torches! Get me away from the bloody torches!”
Faith crawled the few feet left between her and Spike, wrapping her arms around his head. Stroking his mangled hair with her fingers, the Slayer shook her head and rest her chin on the top of his head. She looked out into the night sky, admittedly frightened by what she saw. This was a side of Spike she’d never heard about, let alone seen, and it unnerved her more than any demon she ever killed.
“They’re gone,” she said, slowly rocking the vampire back and forth. “They’re all gone.”
God, this felt wrong. Faith had never been conditioned to be the comforting sort. If anything, someone should’ve been comforting her all these years. Who was Faith to be sitting here, arms wrapped around someone in their time of weakness, trying to offer them strength? This wasn’t the Slayer, and she knew it – but right now, she didn’t really have much of a choice.
And Spike needed this – as awkward and uncomfortable as it was.
To see Spike this way was a shock; the only thing Faith got from him the night of the attack was that he was pissed. Beyond pissed, actually; if circumstances had been different, Spike might’ve been able to hurt someone – and he probably would’ve been well within his rights to do so.
But never did Faith imagine two weeks later the Champion would be huddled up in a dark corner, afraid of the slightest sound from outside. Faith empathized, though, even if part of her found his weakness pathetic.
Fact was, this was the world everyone lived in now. Vampires were real, and everyone knew it. Some of the normal people even knew where to look, had learned the signs to watch out for. Most of the regular people of the world were smart, staying indoors, minding government-mandated curfews and not inviting strangers into their homes.
But a small few had grown bold, deciding the light-up-torches-and-run-them-out-of-town approach was best. As if vampires and demons were the Frankenstein monster of lore – Spike didn’t fight back, but Faith already heard countless tales of creatures who did, and the results were the furthest thing from pleasant.
Humans and demons weren’t meant to willingly co-exist. It was a shame Agent Markowitz didn’t see that. Now, it was up to people like Faith to pick up the pieces, to look after the innocent victims in all this.
Spike was one of those victims.
“You’re safe,” Faith whispered to the vampire. “No more mobs. You didn’t deserve that.”
“Yes, I did.”
Spike’s voice was so soft now, Faith wasn’t so sure she heard it. She glanced down at Spike, struck again by how vulnerable he looked. He wasn’t shaking anymore, and there was a sad resignation in his eyes – a look not unlike the one Angel used to have.
Faith released her hold on the vampire, allowing him to sit up. The Slayer didn’t know the first thing to say, so she just sat quietly beside Spike, lighting up a cigarette before handing him the pack and her lighter. This was probably one of those times where it was best to let Spike say whatever he needed.
“I’m a monster,” he explained, lighting a smoke of his own. “You know it, I know it. No soul or world-saving’s gonna sodding change anything. Yeah, I got me a soul, but I still got fangs and an unhealthy blood addiction.
“Face it, pet, I’m still big bad Spike.”
“No, you’re not,” Faith countered, flicking burnt cigarette ash to the ground. “Right now, you sound more like Angel.”
She didn’t mean to be a bitch about it, but Faith had a point to make – and she knew how Spike got whenever anyone tried comparing him to Angel. It was pretty much how Faith got whenever someone tried to compare her to Buffy.
In short, it usually wasn’t pretty.
“You do!” Faith added when Spike shot her an annoyed glare. “Lurking about in the shadows being all woe-is-me. Muttering about how you’ll always be a monster, even when you’ve saved the world about a billion times.
“You’re a hero, Spike. Don’t let a bunch of torch-bearing retards make you forget that.”
Spike really didn’t want to admit it – he actually would’ve rather shoved his lit cigarette into his eyeball – but Faith was right. This was rather Angel-like of him. All he needed to complete the transformation now was some nancy-boy hair gel and a certain Slayer’s everlasting devotion.
But seeing as how neither of those was likely to ever happen, Spike figured it best to stop acting like the grandsire he so loved to loathe.
“Still a vampire,” he argued, puffing thoughtlessly on his smoke.
“Yeah,” Faith replied, “and I’m still a murderer. Your point?”
Faith sat up a little straighter, snuffing out the rest of her cigarette against the toe of her boot. She turned to look Spike dead in the face, once again reminded of how unnatural these pep talk things were to her. She was used to getting them – mostly from Angel – but give them?
Yeah, this was definitely uncharted territory for her.
“Things are fucked up right now,” he said. “Everyone’s panicking. Markowitz opened Pandora’s Box when he went public, and we’re paying the price.”
Spike gave the Slayer a sideways glance. “People like you and me, pet? We pay the price every day.”
Faith frowned. “Well, yeah, but … you know what I meant.”
Spike actually chuckled, in spite of himself. Faith giving a pep talk; that was about as natural as Anya having a pet bunny. Even if the execution left something to be desired, Spike appreciated the effort. He knew he had a lot in common with the Slayer, and was glad that even after their physical relationship ended that they were still able to be friends and allies.
Such allegiances were few and far between, and in this day and age, beings like Spike and Faith needed all they could get.
“You decided what you’re doing yet?” Spike asked, finally finishing off his smoke.
Faith shrugged, glancing out at nothing in particular for a moment. “Heading back east,” she said. “See where I’m needed. Cleveland, Hellmouth – Chicago’s a bit on the weird side too.
“What about you?”
Faith examined Spike for a moment, still seeing a slumped posture and a bit of uncertainty in his body language. These were uncertain times, so if Spike wasn’t sure what his post-government life entailed, Faith wouldn’t hold it against him.
“Dunno,” the vampire sighed. “Haven’t thought of it, what with the pummeling and the guilt.”
Where would Spike go? There were the Hellmouths of the world to consider, as well as other places that just seemed to be demon magnets. His services would likely prove useful there. And who knew? Maybe Spike would relocate somewhere, meet up with a couple like-minded warriors and spend his nights simultaneously fighting the good fight and dodging the media.
But it was clear Las Vegas and Searchlight were no longer where Spike needed to be. He’d been here long enough, and the Champion still wasn’t sure what he was supposed to have accomplished in the Nevada desert. But rather than stew over it, Spike simply wanted to move on to the next chapter in his unlife.
Ideally, one without an Apocalypse. But Spike knew that was too much to ask.
“When you leaving?”
“Tomorrow,” Faith answered. “Middle of the day, safest time to go. Wanted to come by tonight and give you my ‘see ya.’”
Because goodbyes never sat well with Faith. They were far too permanent. By saying “see ya,” Faith was not only not allowing for that permanence to set in, but she was also showing in her unique way that she gave a damn.
Mostly because the Slayer wasn’t the sort to get wishy-washy about it and truly open up. That Corbett saw her cry and heard her say she loved him was miracle enough. Lightning was unlikely to strike again.
“Well, glad you stopped by,” Spike said with a small grin, sucking in his cheeks. Now that was closer to the Spike Faith knew and tolerated.
“Do me a favor?” Spike asked, giving another sideways glance. “Stay? Least ‘til the sun’s up.”
Faith gave a soft, warm smile before resting her head against Spike’s shoulder. She forgot how cool his skin was, and momentarily flinched. But once her own flesh got used to the sensation, the Slayer settled right in, deciding it was a good idea to stay the night. Not just because Spike needed the company, but because it was safer.
Faith might’ve been a Slayer, but walking about in the middle of the night with the demons and the military out and about? She didn’t want to test her survival skills against all that.