DISCLAIMER: The Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel characters are the property of Mutant Enemy, Joss Whedon, and Fox Studios. The story contents are the creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2001 by Djinn. This story is Rated PG-13.
Twisted
by Djinn
The house at 1630 Revello Drive was dark; the inhabitants had finally gone to
bed. Or pretended to go to bed. Every so often Buffy's silhouette fell across
her bedroom window and Spike repressed a sigh.
"She seems nervous. And what did she hang in her windows?"
Tara muttered to herself from the shadows across the street, not realizing he
was there.
Spike circled around and came
up behind her. "Garlic." His
voice made her jump.
"Garlic?"
"S'what
I said, isn't it?"
"But garlic keeps
vampires away." She looked at him
in surprise. "Oh."
"Yeah. Bloody, sodding oh."
"So
when Buffy didn't come home the other night?"
He didn't answer.
"Are you being a
gentleman?"
He laughed. It was a bitter sound. "If I were, you'd be the only one to
believe it, duck."
"You and Buffy. That actually explains a lot." She glanced at him and seemed to see his
anger. "You can't say. Or won't say.
Did you promise her you wouldn't say?" She held a hand up to stop his irritated
reply. "Never mind. Stupid question."
He shifted to get a better
view of the house. "So, you come
here often?"
"No. Well, maybe a few nights. You know, to check up on things."
He stared up at the
windows. The slayer was pacing
again. He saw her reach up to check the
garlic.
Tara was watching him. "You're in love with her."
"Yeah."
"Does she know
that?"
"Yeah." He pulled out a cigarette. "Doesn't seem to care much though."
"Can I have one?"
"One of
these?" He held out the pack,
surprised when she reached for a cigarette.
"Knock yourself out. Didn't
know you smoked."
"Only when I'm really
nervous."
"And you're really
nervous now?"
She leaned in for a light,
took a deep drag and coughed quietly.
"I am."
"Then how come you're
not stuttering?"
She smiled. "I stutter when the people I'm around
make me nervous."
"I don't make you
nervous?"
"Guess not." She pointed to the house with the
cigarette. "That situation makes me
nervous. Everything's wrong."
"You're telling
me."
"I wish I could get Dawn
out of there."
Anger filled him again. "Your girl almost killed her
tonight."
Tara turned to him in dismay.
"She's messed up with
Rack. You know him?"
Tara nodded. "I've heard things about him. Bad things.
Willow went to him?"
"Took Dawn with
her."
"Oh God."
"Crashed a car beatin'
it from some nasty that Red had conjured up.
Damn thing wanted Dawn. Buffy
barely kept him away. If your girl
hadn't snapped to and made him disappear..." He stomped out his cigarette with rather more
force than was necessary.
Tara trembled.
"I didn't know."
"Damn magic.
Trouble that's what it is. Just
trouble."
"It's not the magic," Tara whispered.
"Then what the hell is it?"
"It's something else, Spike. I use magic.
Giles did too. We're not like
Willow."
"Well that former rat is, according to
Buffy. Into the magic like a junkie in
Needle Park is into her heroin."
"But it's not the magic." Tara frowned.
"Magic isn't bad. Not when
you use it right. But Willow isn't using
it right anymore. Last year she crossed
a line. Fighting for Dawn, for me. Fighting Glory. Willow crossed a really dangerous line. And she's been crossing it ever since."
"Like when she brought Buffy back."
Tara just looked down.
"I read up on the ritual of Osiris. You know what she had to do, don't you?"
"I know now.
I didn't then."
He lost his temper with her. "Why didn't you? Why didn't any of you stop to ask yourself
what the hell you were doing? And if you
had any right to interfere in that?"
"We were caught up in the possibility. We thought we were helping Buffy."
"Well, you weren't. Should have left her where she was."
Tara frowned.
"You don't like having her back?"
He pulled his coat more tightly around him. "What do you think? It ate me up inside that I couldn't save
her." He looked up at the sky and
didn't say anything for a moment.
"But she's not right. She
didn't come back right."
"What do you mean?"
He realized what he'd said. "I mean she's having a hard time of it,
is all. And your girl and her magic
aren't making it better."
"Spike, it really isn't the magic. It's something else. Something inside Willow. And inside Amy. Making them want something more than just the
magic. Maybe the power, maybe something
else. I don't understand it."
"Yeah, well, join the club." He lit another cigarette and offered her one.
"No, I'm good." She closed her eyes for a moment. "I don't know what to do. I can feel that she's hurting. But I don't know what to do."
"Get her to stop using the magic."
"That may be impossible. For me, and for Giles, magic is a tool. It's something we use to help us. For Willow it's become her identity. She's not happy if she's not proving she's
the big, powerful witch. This has to do
with a lot more than misusing magic. It
has to do with how she feels about herself and how the magic lets her make
others afraid so that she doesn't have to be."
"What's she afraid of?"
"Being alone.
Being rejected."
"Oh great.
So you go and leave her and just rub that
in? Bloody brilliant."
She looked away for a moment. "I had to, Spike. She wasn't good for me. I wasn't good for her. And...I couldn't
trust her anymore."
He looked up at Buffy's window. "Looks like you're not the only one who
can't trust."
"It's not you she doesn't trust. It's herself."
"She hung garlic in the windows."
"But what did she do to the front
door?" Tara smiled when he realized
what she was saying. "Why don't you
go see?"
"Yeah. I
guess I could." He put out the
cigarette. Then he took a deep breath
and squared his shoulders and said, "I just want you to know that you're
all right, Tara. I mean, in case she
stakes me for this."
"Thanks.
And I have a feeling I'll be seeing you again."
He grinned.
"Hope so."
He heard her whispered, "Me too," as he
walked across the street and up the front steps. He reached for the door. It wasn't even locked. Bloody women, what the hell was wrong with the
lot of them? He opened the door quietly
and stepped inside.
Instantly, Buffy was at the top of the stairs. For a moment, he thought he saw a welcome in
her eyes, then all emotion died.
"Oh. It's you."
"Yeah.
Thought about coming through the window but decided on the more
traditional approach."
She walked down the stairs. "Give me one good reason not to kill you
right here in the living room."
"You hate to dust?" He sat down on the couch and tried not to
look too satisfied at the way she almost smiled at his joke.
"Give me another."
"Fresh out.
Think of one yourself." He
leaned back.
"If you think something's going to happen
here..."
"I don't."
He kept his voice even. No
teasing, no joking, no taunting. Just
talking.
"Then why are you here?"
"Garlic, Buffy?
Bit melodramatic, isn't it?"
"I don't think so."
He smiled at the embarrassed look on her face. "Sure you
don't."
"Spike, you're bad for me. I can't keep doing this. Someone is going to get hurt."
"You're not Willow. And I'm not magic."
"No. But
it's the same thing."
He shook his head.
"No. It's really not. Because according to an expert I know, magic
is neutral and Willow made it bad. I, on
the other hand, am bad." He smiled
up at her. "Incorrigible even. And you make me good."
She didn't move.
Looked like she was buying it for a minute. Then she shook it off. "You're not just bad, Spike. You're evil."
"Well, sure I am.
I've never claimed to be anything but evil. So?"
"So?"
"Yeah.
So?"
"You're a mass murderer."
"So are you.
Guess it depends on who you ask, eh?"
"You think because you love me that makes it all
okay?"
"I think because I love you that it makes it all
horrible. I wish I didn't love you, but
I do. And because I love you, I find
this annoying need to be good. And tell
me, Buffy, if an evil creature does good, should he get any points for
that?"
"You're only good to impress me. You're not good because you want to be. Or because you feel bad and want to
atone. You're not even sorry for what
you've done in your unlife, are you?"
"Not really.
No."
"God, Spike."
He shrugged.
"I may be evil, but I'm the one that you've turned to ever since
you came back from wherever you were.
And I'm the one that's been there for you, even when you weren't ready
to turn to anyone. I'm the one you can
count on here...and I'm evil. That's a
turn of events nobody would ever have predicted. But that's the way things are."
"You forgot to mention that I'm not right."
"Didn't forget.
Chose not to."
"Why?"
"Don't really feel like hurting you."
"Well, that's a first."
"No, it's not.
And the day you realize that will be a red-letter day on my crypt
calendar."
"Whatever.
Well, let's get it out there. You
think I came back wrong. Maybe a demon,
huh? That'd be swell, wouldn't it,
Spike? You're very own Buffy
demon."
"I never said you were a demon. Just said you came back wrong."
"Well what's more wrong than a demon on
earth?"
"Maybe something good. Something meant to be where you were. Wrong doesn't have to mean evil."
She just stared at him.
"Last night, while you were sleeping...I
wasn't. I was watching you sleep. And you did sleep, Buffy. All through the night. Have you done that since you've been
back?" He waited for her to answer,
finally continued when it was clear she wasn't going to. "I watched you and I thought about
things. Well and I did a lot of
reliving." He gave her an evil smirk, then turned it down to something more gentle. "I
thought about how you came back, and where you might have been, and what you
really are. The chip doesn't lie about
you not being human. But I know evil
when I see it. And you're not it."
Her voice was so soft he barely heard her when she
said, "If I'm not evil, why are you the only one I want to be with? Why am I so drawn to you?"
He shrugged.
"Dunno.
Why am I so drawn to you when you're everything I should hate? It's not just the slayer thing for me. And for you, it's not just that vampires get
you hot."
"But you said..."
"I know what I said. And now I'm saying something different. I don't know what you are. And I don't know why I should want to be with
you. To help you. To protect you. I'm evil.
I haven't been anything but evil for over a hundred years. I can't explain why I'd give my life to keep
you safe. Or Dawn. But I would.
It's a big joke on us, Buffy.
Only we can't see who's doing the laughing."
"Do you believe in the devil?"
"No.
People got enough evil in them without adding a big bad devil to the
mix." He got up slowly. "Do you believe in God?"
She looked at him in surprise.
"If there is a God, Buffy. He—or she—let you be yanked out of
heaven. Not very fair, is it?"
She looked stricken.
"Don't look so glum. I'm sure we'll understand this
eventually. Higher purpose and
everything. In the meantime, I'll be off
to my crypt and you can go back to your garlic-infested room and try to get
some sleep."
"I may sleep down here. The smell's kind of strong."
"You know it doesn't work, right?"
"It doesn't?"
He shook his head.
"Then why didn't you crawl through the
window?"
"Why didn't you hang any on the door?"
She glared at him.
He glared back then headed for the door.
As he opened it, he turned back to Buffy and warned,
"You'd better watch Willow. This
isn't just about magic. It's about
fear. She could be a real danger to
herself and to Dawn."
She nodded.
"I'm going to call Giles in the morning. See if he has any ideas."
"Sort of a magical detox?"
"Something like that." She looked down. "Maybe he'll have one for me too."
He laughed.
"This addiction is a bit different.
You'll be back. It's attraction,
Buffy. Yeah, it may seem wrong. Hell, it may even be wrong. But if it's really wrong, why does it feel
right?"
She didn't have an answer for him
"Take care of Dawn."
She nodded.
"Thank you. For helping with
her."
"You know I'd do anything for her. Or for you."
"Anything except leave me alone."
"Anything but that." Their eyes met and held
for a long moment. Then he smiled and
turned to go. "Dream of me."
"Nightmares are more like it."
"You wish," he said with a laugh as he
closed the door behind him. He gave Tara
a jaunty wave as he walked down the steps and headed to his crypt. His thoughts were chaotic but happy. He and Buffy were total opposites. They made no sense. Yet he loved her. She thought she despised him, but he knew
something had happened when they'd been together. Something momentous. Something real. It was just going to take her a bit longer to
catch up. A lot longer probably, knowing
how stubborn she was. But that would
just make the victory sweeter.
He started to whistle an old tune he had always used
after a particularly good night of hunting.
The irony was not lost on him.
Nor, he suspected, would it be lost on her. Total opposites and two of a kind—in a
twisted, Sunnydale kind of way. He found
he was perfectly comfortable with that.
FIN