Chapter 2

 

How did she get involved in such a mess?

 

Had she ever thought getting Angel and Spike together for a mission would be a *good* idea? 

 

Last night had involved an emotional discussion with Spike followed by a nice dinner and a lively discussion about the merits of reality television shows.  What had Spike said?  Oh yeah, “The wankers from Trading Spaces better never come renovate my home with their cheap bits and pieces.”  Buffy almost laughed at the memory of his expression, but she held back.

 

Now, she was about to be put under for the vampire chip surgery, Spike hadn’t arrived yet, and Angel was fussing at her about Spike’s humanity. . . like she had anything to do with what happened to him.

 

“I just don’t understand how *he* got to be human, and *I* didn’t!” Angel was rambling. . . and pacing in the tiny cubicle where they waited for Fred to come prepare her for anesthesia. 

 

“I don’t know, Angel,” she said in a placating fashion, having heard the same complaints before.  Shifting uncomfortably in her hospital-type gown, she decided that she might have to play referee the whole mission. 

 

“Me either!”  He threw up his hands.  “I mean, the prophecies all pointed to *me* becoming human.  And what do I get for all my hard work. . . for all my years of having a soul and suffering?  Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.”

 

“Wesley never figured out about whether Spike was shamp-whatever-ed?” Buffy asked, thinking that surely in three years they had an explanation for Spike turning human.

 

“That’s the shanshu prophecy, and no, he didn’t,” Angel snapped, “but I think he might have been the one the prophecy referred to instead of me.”

 

“Well, maybe there’s a separate explanation for Spike’s humanization.  Is that even a word?  And maybe yours will come later.  Until then, you have your health, your friends, and skin that will never ever wrinkle,” Buffy refuted playfully. 

 

“But what I wouldn’t do to get a wrinkle here and there!  Wrinkles give you distinction, show where you’ve been, show your life.  And Spike. . . he goes and gets a soul and a year later, *bam* he’s human!”  Angel socked his hand with his fist.  “Do you know how long I’ve had *my* soul?”

 

She already knew the answer.  “Years and years?”

 

Angel agreed adamantly, “Damn right, years and years!  And it’s so frustrating to see him happily figuring out his human body. . . learning how to, to eat real foods again to sustain himself. . . how to shave. . . how to get a tan. . . how to grow a garden. . .”

 

“Spike doesn’t look like he has much of a tan, and I *so* cannot picture Spike growing a garden,” Buffy pointed out.  “And there are things about being a vampire that have benefits. . . like the whole extra-human strength deal.”

 

“Yeah, but still!  It’s the idea that he has that option to do human things!”  Angel plopped down heavily next to her.  “It really sucks.”

 

“Angel, what’s the real reason Spike bothers you so much?” 

 

He was silent for several seconds as he studied his hands.  Then, “I guess that things just fall into his lap so easily. . . things it takes me forever to figure out.  You know what I mean?”

 

Buffy leaned her head against his shoulder.  “I think so.”

 

Taking that as a cue to keep going, Angel extended his argument further, “I mean, Dru vamps him, and immediately, he uses us, his stable vamp family, to start breaking the rules.  And Dru, she loved him for it.”

 

“Stable vamp family?”  Buffy raised her eyebrows.  “Don’t think I’ve ever heard that one before.”

 

“Well, he had three master vampires to guide him. . . and Dru’s love to sustain him for over a hundred years.  And then, then, he came to Sunnydale, saved the world, ran off with Dru. . .”

 

“I’m well aware of Spike’s history,” Buffy cut Angel short.

 

“I know.  And then, he decides he wants a soul, goes out and gets it, and just becomes this champion.”  Angel was starting to repeat himself, which he tended to do when he was upset.  He slumped forward in defeat.

 

Buffy hugged his arm close to her body.  The touch was easy and familiar, and she was grateful that no matter how much time had passed, things would never be awkward between them.  “So you’re upset that Spike seems to get things too easily?  Trust me, he hasn’t had it easy.  You weren’t there to see him struggle with his soul.  I saw it all.  And you’ve seen him struggle with being human.  And, and you should be proud of him.  He’s your childe in a sense, and he’s done quite well for himself.  Shouldn’t you feel good that he’s learned from his predecessors?”

 

Taking more time to respond, Angel’s expression slowly went from one of self-pity to determination.  “You’re right.  You’re right.”  His voice grew steadier on the repeat.  “I am proud of Spike.”

 

The door opened at that moment, and Spike stood before them dressed in a hospital gown that mirrored Buffy’s.  Buffy couldn’t read his body language.

 

“Never thought I’d hear you say that,” Spike said quietly, and Buffy became very aware that she was touching Angel with affection.

 

Angel had a quick comeback, “Don’t believe everything you hear, Spike.” 

 

Slowly, gently, she pulled away from Angel as if she was trying to avoid a scene between the two.  Addressing Spike, she asked, “You ready to be chipped?”

 

Spike shrugged.  “Not looking forward to my brain becoming a science experiment again, but yeah.  Gotta get my strength back, so I can help on this mission.  Feels almost like I’m regressing.  And I never thought I’d say that.”

 

Long dark hair in bouncing curls, Fred poked her head around the corner, “Now that you’re both here.  Let’s get you ready to go under.  Now remember, you’re going to wake up feeling very different.  And it’s really a very safe procedure.  I’ve never done it before, but I’ve read the books.” 

 

At the young scientist’s words, Buffy’s eyes grew round, and Fred’s brow wrinkled in worry.

 

Angel intervened, “Fred is the most brilliant scientist here. . . probably in L.A.  She’s taught herself medicine in the last three years, and I would trust her with my life.”

 

Fred flashed him a grateful smile.  “W-well, I don’t know about th. . .”

 

“I *do*.  We all do,” Angel reassured her.

 

Spike and Buffy weren’t completely convinced, and they walked side by side as they followed Fred through the empty halls of her science lab.  Angel lumbered along behind them, no doubt sullen with apprehension. 

 

They entered a small, extremely sterile room furnished with two hospital surgery tables.  Spike and Buffy climbed onto them, sharing a nervous grin.  They were going under the knife together. 

 

* * *

 

            The world came seeping back into her mind like a rushing river.  She’d dreamed of something, but she couldn’t remember what it was.  Keeping her eyes tightly shut, she explored her other senses.

 

Her arms and legs moved of their own accord beneath the sheets, and she was struck by how different her muscles felt. . . almost as if they were humming with energy.  She was used to her Slayer strength. . . it felt like home to her, but this. . .this was completely different.  The desire to leap up and find something to pummel was stronger than she ever expected. 

 

A low growl escaped from the back of her throat. 

 

And her ears sprang to life.  Immediately everything sounded louder than normal.  She heard the steady beep of the heart monitor hooked up to her chest and the whoosh of the air conditioner.  She could even hear the drip of the IV that was fed into her arm. 

 

Was this what vampire hearing was like? 

 

Her hand flew to the place where her heart should be, and she felt nothing. . . no steady thrum touched her fingertips. 

 

But the sound from the heart monitor? 

 

She was confused, and another growl sprang forth involuntarily.

 

Then, she heard a snicker. 

 

Her eyelids popped open, and her world was awash with brilliant color and heightened awareness of motion.  Her eyes darted from the machines to her left to the clock on the wall to the unlit lamp beside her bed to the man. . . er, pseudo-vampire, sitting up across from her. 

 

Abruptly, Buffy righted herself, aware that her muscles were still tingling.  “Spike!” 

 

“Yeah, pet?”  Spike, who was still wearing his hospital gown, was watching her with an amused expression.

 

“You giggled at me.”  She pouted and crossed her arms. 

 

“I did not. . . I *do not* giggle,” he insisted, jutting his chin out.

 

“*Some* kind of laughing noise came from your side of the room.” 

 

“Never heard you growl before,” he returned.  “It was cute.”

 

“I didn’t growl!  Did I?”  She paused.  “Why is everything so bright?  And, and my body feels like. . .”

 

“Like you might burst unless you go out and get into a nasty scuffle?”  He balanced his hands on his thighs and leaned forward, smiling at her.

 

Buffy’s eyes shone.  “Yeah.  That’s it exactly.  It’s like I’m. . .”  She trailed off as she glanced down at her bare arms.  “Oh my g. . .”

 

Spike was concerned.  “What’s wrong now?” 

 

“Where did my tan go?” she lamented, holding her thin, pale arms up as if they weren’t part of her.

 

“The appearance is pretty perfect, isn’t it?  Science girl did an amazing job on our disguises.  I haven’t felt this good physically in. . .”  He cocked his head to one side.  “Well, I guess it’s been three years.”  He knew exactly how long it’d been but wouldn’t admit that to her.

 

Buffy didn’t seem to comprehend what Spike was saying.  “It sucks,” she sulked, drawling out the second word.  “I worked hard on that tan.  Hours and hours in the sun.”

 

“Your disguise wouldn’t go over too well in Vampville if you looked as if you’d been sunbathing, pet.”

 

“I know,” she said resignedly.  Then, her mind switched gears.  “I just thought of something!” 

 

Spike marveled at her excitement and said with nostalgia in his tone, “I remember the moment I first discovered all these little things.  Dru was with me, and she kept spinning in circles and singing to me about how wonderful it was that she had made me.”

 

Buffy studiously ignored him.  Mindful of the IV line in her arm, she climbed out of the bed and scanned the room.  “If I were a mirror, where oh where would I be?”

 

“I don’t think there’s one in here.”  Spike spied the tall reflective glass doors of the cabinet above the small sink and nodded to them.  “Check over there.”

 

Dragging her IV stand with her, she hurried over to peer at herself and found that she didn’t have a reflection.  “Damn it.  I wanted to see if I could make bumpies.”

 

“No mirror image, love.  Part of the vampire package.”

 

“Oh, yeah.  I knew that.”

 

He patted the bed beside him.  “Come here.  I’ll show you.”

 

Buffy faltered for a moment but then perched on the edge of the bed next to Spike.  “Tell me how to make my bumpies.”

 

When he was certain that he had Buffy’s full attention, he began, “Okay.  Close your eyes.”

 

“I have to close my eyes every time I want to get ridged?”

 

Spike laughed lightly.  “No.  Just trust me.  Do you trust me?”

 

With her eyes squeezed tightly shut, reminding Spike of a little kid trying too hard, Buffy nodded. 

 

“Okay.  Now think of something that really pisses you off and focus on that urge you have to fight.”

 

She frowned.  “Something that pisses me off?”

 

Spike thought a moment.  Then, “You know, pet, this is actually one of my oldest fantasies.”

 

“What is?”

 

Spike licked his lips in anticipation as he bent toward her ear, turned on his gravelly, evil tone, and whispered an assortment of fragmented, suggestive statements, “. . . having you by my side. . . turned to the forces of darkness. . . having you vamped so that I can have you any way I want you. . .”

 

With a roar, Buffy’s eyes flew open, and rage shot through her system as Spike’s tone triggered some dark memories from long ago that she had thought were long forgotten.  She leapt at the man sitting next to her, tackling him to the ground and yanking out her IV line and his as well. 

 

Before she could pin him down, he used her awkwardness and inertia to send her over his head to the ground behind him.  As soon as she contacted the hard surface, she sprang to her feet, breathing hard at the shock to her body. 

 

Blood flowed from the jagged cuts on each of their arms, filling the air with a coppery smell of which she had never been aware in the past.  The smell was intoxicating, and she held up her arm, fascinated by the scarlet streak swimming down her fair skin. 

 

Ignoring the brief fracas that had served its purpose, Spike smiled and distracted Buffy from her trance, “Buffy, love.  Your forehead.”

 

She stared at him with something feral and wild in her eyes before she realized what he was saying.  Touching her now bumpy forehead tentatively, she broke into a toothy grin, flashing long, pointed canines at him.  “Wow!”  She ran her tongue over her teeth, drawing blood when they pierced her flesh.  “And wow!”

 

“You’ll just have to practice, and then, you’ll be able to do it anytime you want.  Just draw on your anger,” he informed.  He couldn’t help but be amazed by the excellent combination of magick and technology that Fred had put into their transformation.

 

“I’m pretty sure I can do that.”  She was still feeling her forehead.  Then, she seemed to regain her uncertainty, and she asked, “How come I can’t feel my heartbeat, but it still shows up on the monitor?  And how come I am attracted to the blood on my arm, but I have absolutely no desire to drink it?” 

 

Buffy’s eyes shone at him with a light that he hadn’t seen since she was in high school and her freshman year of college.  Spike enjoyed being the expert in the matter of vampire experience, and he opened his mouth to reply.

 

However, before he could give an explanation, a happy Fred lit into the room, still wearing her white coat and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses.  Propping her clipboard on her hip, she enlightened Buffy, “You’re still human, so you have a heartbeat; it’s just disguised from others’ senses, but the technology like heart monitors can still detect it.  And you’re attracted to the blood because you’ll need to be to survive in the vampire society.  But, you can’t get nutrients from the blood.  You’ll have to eat human food.  Human flesh can’t survive solely on the blood.”

 

“Oh.”  Buffy slid back into her human visage without realizing it. 

 

“And I gave you guys heightened senses, so you’ll respond like a normal vampire, and if you happen to get into a fight, you,” here she nodded to Spike, “will have the strength to survive.”

 

“Sounds like you covered all the bases,” Angel said as he appeared in the doorway, surveying Buffy and Spike’s rumpled hospital gowns and broken IV’s with a funny expression.

 

“I think I did,” Fred said, adding, “I hope I did.”

 

“You did quite well, pet,” Spike acknowledged.  “I haven’t been a vampire in a while, but I remember, and it feels exactly right. . . except for the not craving blood part.”

 

Fred colored slightly.  “Thanks.”

 

“Spike,” Angel intoned a bit grimly.  “We need to finish getting ready for the mission.”

 

“Right.  Give a fellow a few to put some proper clothes on.”  Spike wondered why Angel seemed so serious.

 

Angel turned to Buffy as if he was dreading revealing what he had to say next.  “And Buffy?”

 

“Yeah?” 

 

He held up a cordless phone, and Buffy’s heart sank as what he was about to say dawned on her.  “You have a phone call from Cleveland.”  His brown eyes bore into hers.  “From your boyfriend.”

 

Buffy ducked her head and accepted the phone as if it were a snake. . . as if she didn’t want to touch it.  “Thanks,” she mumbled.

 

She expected the neutral, quiet disappointment on Angel’s face.  He was used to her having new significant others.  She cast a quick glance at Spike. . . the one she was most concerned about.  Apparently, none of Fred’s technology and magick could change how openly Spike displayed his feelings.  The hurt was raw and pure in his eyes. . . etched into his features as if permanently imprinted.

 

She hadn’t meant to hurt him, and his hurting meant she hurt, too.  Even though she half-expected it, she was surprised just how much his feelings still had the ability to affect her.  With a heavy heart, she watched him follow Angel and Fred out of the room to give her some privacy. 

 

She fervently wished that she could reach out to him and tell him that she wasn’t serious about the guy on the other end of the phone. . . that they’d only been dating two weeks. . . that the guy was completely ignorant of who she really was.

 

But she didn’t. 

 

She was afraid he would turn away.

 

With reluctance, she clicked on the phone.  “Hello?” she whispered hoarsely into the receiver.

 

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