Fan Fic and More

Title: Fighting the Good Fight: Part 1: Bruises and Apologies
Author: Shealynn88
Rating: TEEN
Spoilers: Takes place just after "Get It Done," Season 7
Disclaimer: Buffy and crew belong first and foremost to Joss Whedon
Summary: AU Season 7. So what if things went differently? What if Buffy wasn't such a snot? What if different sacrifices had to be made? Well, this is how it might have been...
THANKS: to femmenerd, who has graciously agreed to beta for me, and make your experience a bit more pleasant. All remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone.


God, it had been a long day. Two teenage boys with raging hormones trying to hit on her, three depressed girls crying on her shoulder, and one girl with far too many piercings and a tendency toward bad poetry. And that had been the fun part. In between the normal teen craziness, there’d been a stabbing in the cafeteria and three fights in the hallway. Even working together, she and Principal Wood (Robin, she reminded herself) had had a hard time breaking up the battles without hurting anyone.

Giles had said that evil called to evil, and apparently the call had gone international or inter-dimensional, or something. There was no other explanation for the sudden demonic population explosion. After the school day was over, she’d had a run in with two demons that had decided Sunnydale was an ideal place to settle down and munch human corpses. A bruised hipbone and a split lip later, Buffy had made sure that they wouldn't be feasting on anyone, but the fight had hurt. Everything the First was doing to wear her down…it was working. She was tired and sloppy, and in a constant state of annoyance.

Buffy paused a moment at her front door. The house looked so deceptively peaceful from here… She grimaced as she opened the door and the anticipated howling of over a dozen teenage girls greeted her.

"—and then he said, 'well, what are you gonna do with that?' and I—"

"—I can't believe we're out of shampoo again! We're supposed to go patrolling tonight! I have to—"

"—I staked him right there, and poof—nothing. I mean, I was what, like ten? It just comes natural…"

Buffy snuck up the stairs toward the bathroom, probing her split lip. "Ow!" she muttered, pouting. The bathroom door was closed. She knocked.

"I'm in here!" an annoyed teenage voice called.

Buffy bit back an angry retort. "How long are you going to be?"

"Oh! Buffy! Just a little while. I just got in the tub."

The tub? A teenager. Buffy rolled her eyes. "Great," she muttered. "I'll try back in a millennia."

"What was that?" the girl called.

"Nothing," Buffy called back. "Don't worry about it."

The swelling was quickly getting more impressive. Buffy headed for her room, anticipating a little peace and quiet, but when she cracked the door she found Giles was sitting on the bed talking animatedly. He motioned her away, pointing to the phone line irritably. Of course. The only space she could call her own had been co-opted for the cause. When had Giles gotten back, anyway?

Buffy headed downstairs again, wincing as the conversation got louder, and headed for the freezer.

"Buffy, do you think the color of your clothes really matters when you're on patrol? Amanda said that—"

"Rona," she replied quietly, closing her eyes. "I just got in from a long day. I'm preparing for a longer night. Please. I just need a few minutes to become human."

There was a long silence, and Buffy opened her eyes to see a haughty expression on Rona's face. "Oh," the potential finally said, raising her hands in a distancing motion. "Okay."

Buffy made it to the freezer without getting bombarded again, and was able to wrap a few pieces of crushed ice in an only slightly used napkin before the next wave hit.

"Buffy, you really should get some more food in here," Anya said. "The girls are going crazy without snack food, and you know…they're crazy enough already."

Buffy shook her head. "I'll get right on that. Right after I avert the apocalypse and reclaim my room. Not necessarily in that order." She walked out of the kitchen as Anya called after her.

"Was that sarcasm? There's no need for that, you know."

Slowly, Buffy waded through the crowd collected in her living room and made her way to the only room in the house that the potentials didn't constantly invade. The basement.

***

"Spike?" Buffy called out quietly.

"What's the matter, Pet?" he asked, his voice mocking from the darkness. "The girleys gettin' on your nerves, are they?"

Buffy smiled, and winced as her lip split further. "A little bit," she admitted, taking the stairs slowly.

He gave a little laugh. "They've been on mine since I got here. Never a moment's peace."

"Yeah, well, the coming of an apocalypse'll do that," Buffy said crossly, her voice muffled slightly as she pressed the ice to her lip. She tried to force down the irritation, knowing she'd alienated everyone enough with last night’s speech. It was a wonder they’d brought her back from the world of the shadow-men at all.

Spike chuckled again, and this time Buffy could see the wry smile that danced on his lips as he leaned back against the basement wall, his legs sprawled across the cot. "Don't get your panties all in a bunch. I was just agreeing with you, is all."

"And to think I came down here for quiet," Buffy said under her breath. There I go again, she thought.

"Did you, now?" Spike asked. "Well, you might as well have a seat,” he said, moving his legs to give her room. “You'll have to put up with me, I'm afraid, at least until the sun goes down, but at my loudest…or should I say, whineyest?…I don't sound like that." He gestured at the ceiling as someone took offense at something in an exceptionally shrill voice.

Buffy winced. "Ouch on both counts," she said, lowering the ice pack and perching on the proffered end of Spike's cot. "Look, I'm sorry about last night. Things got…a little out of hand. I may have come on a little strong—"

Spike chuckled. "A little strong? Is that what you call it? You told everyone they were useless! Now me, I'm a big boy. I can take it. But the girleys are fragile, even bein' little Slayers, and I'm not sure you helped 'em out by telling 'em they're just a bunch of dead weight."

Buffy sighed, her shoulders falling. "I know. I just…I don't know what to do! Everywhere we turn, the First has been there already. Everything we know, it knows! It's so frustrating, and I can't tell anyone I don't know where to go next, because they're all looking to me for direction." She looked up, meeting Spike's eyes. "Look, I know what I said…about you fighting…I know it wasn't fair…"

He raised an eyebrow and waited. "Yeah?"

Buffy glared at him. "This isn't easy for me, you know!"

"Well, that rousing speech last night wasn't exactly fuzzy bunnies, either," he countered. "Unless you're Anya…"

Buffy shook her head furiously and took a deep breath. "Fine. I know I was difficult. I'm sorry. Okay?"

"Thanks, Pet. Glad we had this little chat." Spike pulled out a smashed pack of Marlboro's from the shirt lying next to the bed and lit one, ignoring Buffy.

Her first instinct was to storm up the stairs and leave him in his little hovel with his disgusting addiction and smug smile…maybe she'd even throw the ice pack at him for good measure! But she couldn't do it. She had been wrong. And she needed everyone for this fight. Knowing Spike, he'd fight for her, even furious, but she didn't want it that way.

Buffy took a deep breath. "Spike," she said quietly. "Please don't be this way."

"I thought you liked me like this, Pet. Bad to the bone!" he said with forced joviality.

Buffy was silent for a long moment, staring at her hands, feeling her world tearing like gauze under her clumsy attempts at bringing it together. "Spike, I'm scared," she whispered.

His angry laughter lashed out at her, but faded when he looked over at her. "There, there, Pet," he said awkwardly, patting her shoulder. "We'll get through."

She looked up. "Will we? Really? I keep telling everyone that, but I don't believe it. The worst thing is, I can't talk to anyone! Because I'm supposed to be the strong one. The Slayer. They're supposed to look to me for answers, but I don't have any! I don't know what to do!"

Spike tossed his cigarette on the stone floor of the basement and ground it under his foot as he moved closer to Buffy. She leaned into him slightly, waiting to be rejected, but he just put a gentle arm around her. "I wish I had answers," he said softly. "I really do. But it's just one fight after another, until one of you wins. But the good guys have something over the bad guys, here," he said. "Each other. Ultimately, evil is out for itself. You have each other. Stick together, you'll see it through."

"We," she murmured.

"What was that, Pet?"

She wiped her face hastily and sat up. "We'll see it through," she corrected him. "We have each other. You're one of us, Spike. One of the good guys. And I…" she trailed off, looking at her hands again. Then she looked at him unflinchingly. "Every day, I'm glad you're here. Glad that you didn't decide to leave because I drive you crazy and treat you badly, and have a tendency to get you beaten to a bloody pulp. You're the only one here I can really trust. The only one I can talk to when I'm scared. The only one I don't have to coddle. The only one who will tell me the truth about myself. I know I don't show it. It's war, Spike. I don't have time. But I do appreciate it. And you."

She got up before he could say anything and headed up the cellar stairs, leaving the speechless vampire alone in the dark with his thoughts.

Nice little "fil in the blanks" story. Seems like S7 is really prominent in your consciousness right now, eh? I like your smooth, easy style. It has a good flavor of the Joss-voice.

Thanks! Glad you like it. It's actually the very tip of the iceburg. If all goes well (no guarantees), it'll be a complete reworking of season 7 and beyond. I have grand plans, but not a whole lot of time. In any case, another installment should be up this weekend. If people like it, I'll just keep going.

Shealynn

Very nice! I loved this part especially:

"Every day, I'm glad you're here. Glad that you didn't decide to leave because I drive you crazy and treat you badly, and have a tendency to get you beaten to a bloody pulp. You're the only one here I can really trust. The only one I can talk to when I'm scared. The only one I don't have to coddle. The only one who will tell me the truth about myself.

It goes right to the heart of the matter. :D


Gerry

Title: Fighting the Good Fight: Part 2: Overheard
THANKS to femmenerd, who has graciously agreed to beta me, and a lovely job she's doing, too. All mistakes that remain are mine.

Disclaimer: I own NOTHING!


Spike sat silent and still for a long moment, stunned and thrilled by Buffy’s most recent speech. He wasn’t kidding himself, of course. Tomorrow she’d be lashing out again. Maybe he’d bear the brunt of it and maybe he wouldn’t, but it didn’t matter. These were the moments he lived for; her gentle words, all the more precious for their rarity, ringing in his ears like music; the smell of her blood and perfume clinging to him like cologne. There was no promise, there, he was clear on that. But just knowing that she wasn’t ready for him not to be there, that she was glad to have him by her side, was something. These were the words that fed his soul, that helped it grow from the tiny spark he’d tried to cut out into a flame that warmed him.

As the sun set the demon inside him awoke, and the hunger with it. He’d known it would be worse again, after he’d given his demon free reign the night before, but it had been what the Slayer wanted. Strange, wasn’t it, that after all this time despising the demon inside him, she wanted it back? He smiled painfully as he pulled on his trademark black duster and headed upstairs to the kitchen. That had always been her way, hadn’t it? She was a contradiction, the Slayer. Just one more reason he loved her.

Rona and Molly slid past him on their way to the living room and Molly looked up at him for a long moment, giggling nervously. There was a decided lack of fear in both of them. Spike felt a flash of irritation, but he pushed it away quickly. He was a good guy. They had every reason to trust him. They hadn’t known him…before.

The vampire turned into the kitchen, heading for the refrigerator and his prepackaged meal. Ah, yes. Modern living at its best. He sighed. His undead existence stretched before him for a long moment, filled with the bland taste of pig’s blood.

Spike felt eyes burning into him from the kitchen table. There was no need to look over and confirm who it was. There was only one person in this house who felt that kind of sustained, burning hatred for him. Whenever he began to feel somewhat comfortable with what he was or with his new status as sidekick…whenever he began to think that he wasn’t pretending, that he really was a good guy…all he had to do was look at Xander Harris. The utter loathing and distrust in that boy’s eyes would forever remind Spike of the things he’d done.

The phone rang and Spike just barely stopped himself from dropping the bag of pig’s blood. Wouldn’t do to jump out of his skin under that burning gaze. Would pretty much ruin his rep as a scary vampire, now, wouldn’t it? And who knew what might happen then? Xander might try to stake him in his sleep, the useless sod. That would be a story to go down in the history books. William the Bloody, scourge of five continents, staked by a wet-behind-the-ears construction worker in a friendly fire incident.

Andrew poked his head into the kitchen as Spike set the microwave on low and heated his mug of blood. He hated when it got too warm and formed that nasty skin on the top. That was when you really knew you were eating reheated food. Well, that and the ceramic mug with dancing coffee beans on it.

“Have you guys seen Willow?” Andrew asked. “There’s a call for her. Some Fred guy?”

“Haven’t seen her, mate,” Spike said when Xander didn’t answer. “Been downstairs all day, remember?”

Andrew shook his head, looking put upon. “Fine. I’ll find her myself.”

“I think she’s upstairs,” Xander finally said. “Hang on, I’ll go with you. It’s starting to stink in here,” he said with a pointed look at the microwave.

“Good riddance,” Spike muttered as the whelp left the room. He debated returning to the basement with his nuked essence de pig, but finally decided against it. If the boy didn’t like it, he could stay in another room. Wasn’t like Spike would stay in the house long anyhow, what with the screeching of little girls grating on his undead ears. He’d have his dinner in the kitchen, and then go out and get soddin’ drunk.

With that decided, Spike sat down at the table, looking forward to a good shot of whiskey or ten to help take the edge off. He contemplated inviting Anya, and then decided against it. The ex-demon had a way of putting a man on edge…and not in a good way. If she wasn’t coming on to him, she was going off on Xander, and neither was conducive to a good night of drunken oblivion. No, he decided, he’d definitely be better off alone. The only person he could think of who needed a drink more than he did was Buffy, and he knew well enough that that would be a wasted invitation. More’s the pity.

A heavy tread entering the kitchen interrupted Spike’s thoughts. “Oh, Spike,” Giles said absently, heading for the coffee pot. Spike sipped his blood silently as Giles poured. Spike heard an intake of breath as though Giles was going to say something, but apparently the Watcher thought better of it. Again, as Spike listened to the rhythmic hiss of coffee being stirred, Giles took a breath, this time getting as far as, “I—“ before stopping again.

Spike turned in his chair to look at the Watcher. “Were we going to have a conversation here, or were you preppin’ for an epileptic fit?”

Giles glared at him for a moment, then sighed. “Quite right. I did want to talk to you.” He moved around the counter so that he was in Spike’s line of sight, but didn’t sit down. “I—I don’t know quite how to say this…” he said, trailing off.

Spike waited what he felt was an appropriate number of seconds. “Spit it out then,” he finally said.

“I’m concerned.” Giles finally said.

Spike leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, you and me both. In fact, I think you may have summed up the feelings of pretty much everyone in this boat.”

Giles waved at him in irritation. “No, no. I’m concerned about you, Spike.”

Spike intentionally misread the statement, knowing he wasn’t going to like where this was headed. “Aw, that’s sweet of you, old man, but I’m gettin’ by.” He took another sip of blood to disguise his misgivings.

Giles grimaced. “Don’t be obtuse,” he chided. “You know very well what I mean. You shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe for Buffy to be distracted at a time like this. She needs to be able to concentrate on the battle at hand, not her checkered past with you.”

Spike clenched his jaw as anger flared furiously in his chest at the Watcher’s words.

“I have enough to worry about without thinking about how you’re affecting Buffy and the other girls. These little games the two of you play…it’s no good,” Giles said.

Spike stood, nearly overturning his chair. “Little games?” he asked softly. “These are no games I’m playin’. I’m right in this with you, protecting your little potentials, taking my lumps in the fray! I---AAARG!” He spun away, pacing the kitchen and clenching his hands. “It’s no use even talking - you’ve already made up your mind!” He shook his head, stopping face to face with Giles. “I know you don’t trust me. What I don’t know is why.” He smacked his fist into his palm, and Giles stepped back. Spike lowered his hands with an effort, speaking urgently. “I have a soul! You of all people should know what that means. You know Angel. Bit of a sap, yeah, big on the melodrama, but he knew what side he was on. Because of the soul. Now I’ve got one, and it’s still all warnings and snide remarks from you.” He started pacing again. “Now, Angel, he had a loophole. Moment of happiness and all that. I don’t! If anything, I’m more trustworthy than that poof, not less! Not that I’m likely to get my jollies with the Slayer anyway,” he mused. Giles turned a strange shade of pink and hastily removed his glasses, polishing them furiously as Spike continued. “You missed the whole verbal evisceration bit. Lucky you. I’m thinking the latest incoming apocalypse is hitting our gal a bit harder than…” he trailed off as he stopped pacing to find Giles still single-mindedly cleaning his glasses. “Are you even listening to me?” Spike asked.

“Hmm?” Giles murmured, perching his glasses back on his nose. “What? Oh, right. Difficult apocalypse.” He looked back at Spike. “Well, you know, she has every right to be a little uptight. This is the most difficult opponent she’s ever faced. We don’t know how to kill it, or even if it’s…ah, destructible at all.”

“All the more reason to have me here, right? Can’t have too many good guys, isn’t that what they say? I’ve got Buffy’s best interests at heart, just like you. So why you fightin’ me every inch? Thought we were all on the same side, here. You know...I fight the big bad, you fight the big bad, Buffy fights the big bad…?”

Giles shook his head. “It’s not that simple! I know you think you have her best interests at heart, but her feelings for you are only confusing her, dividing her attention at a time when she needs to be thinking about battle, about being the Slayer! It’s—“

“Now wait just a minute! We talkin’ about relationships here, or war? What exactly are you saying?”

Giles sighed and set down his coffee cup. “Let me speak plainly—“

“Please do,” Spike said dangerously.

“You and Buffy don’t belong together.” He shook his head. “I see how you look at her. I understand that you think you have a chance, but you don’t. Not really. It’s time—“

Spike cut him off again. “Hold on, now! We talkin’ about the vampire thing? Is this the ‘vampire bad’ conversation? ‘Buffy’s better off with someone normal?’ Cause I hate to burst your bubble, Watcher, but Buffy’s not normal. Never has been, never will be. And the last thing she needs is someone who’ll use her and leave her, or get such an inferiority complex ‘cause she’s the Slayer, that he goes off and gets himself sucked on by lady vamps. Somehow I don’t see how ‘normal’ has ever worked for the Slayer. Do you?” Spike leaned toward Giles and his soft voice was urgent. “I know what she is, and that’s why I’m here. Why I’m helping. I understand her because I’ve fought against her. I’ve fought with her. I’ve been there for her on both sides, and I know she can take care of herself. I know that if she tried to leave behind that part of her that’s the Slayer, it would kill her, and I know that the mission comes first. Tell me ‘normal’ can beat that!” He held up his hand to forestall whatever Giles might say next. “Not sayin’ we’re meant to be. I’m here for the battle, Watcher, not to court the Slayer. But I do want her to be happy, and I’m tellin’ you, she won’t be. Not with whatever button-up mystery man you got dreamed up for her.”

Giles looked up, meeting Spike’s eyes. “When this is all over, if it ever is, I will be glad to go into relationship semantics with you, Spike. In the meantime, there is the small matter of the trigger the First put in your head. You may have conveniently forgotten about it, but I haven’t…and I can assure you, the First hasn’t either. As long as it has the ability to control you, you pose a threat to Buffy…to all of us. Buffy is blinded to the dangers you pose because of her feelings for you. If you really had her best interests at heart, you’d leave now,” Giles said matter of factly.

Spike cocked his head, unsure where the conversation was headed. Suddenly his eyes narrowed with understanding. “Like Angel did?” he asked darkly.

“Well, yes.” The glasses came off again. “Like Angel. He knew what was best, even if Buffy didn’t, and—“

“What absolute crap,” Spike said flatly. “You and Angel decided what you thought was best. Me, I have enough respect for the Slayer to believe that she knows what’s best for her. I leave when the Slayer says I leave. As long as she needs me, I’ll be here.”

“Even if it kills her?” Giles asked pointedly. “Even knowing that you’re a danger?”

Spike’s shoulders fell, and his anger drained away. “I’ve told her all this, you know. Tried to get her to send me away. But she won’t, and I won’t leave if she says she needs me. So, I guess we all have to trust each other, yeah?

“She trusts me not to kill anyone. I trust her to kill me if it comes to that. And the trigger? Well, you’re the research guy, right? I trust you to find a way to get rid of this thing.”

Giles opened his mouth to respond, but Willow interrupted them. “Hey,” she said, poking her head into the room. She nodded quickly at Spike and then turned to Giles. “Can I talk to you a sec?” she asked. He nodded slowly, aiming a stern look at Spike before leaving the room.

Spike sat down again, intent on finishing his mug of blood before going out for the night. Booze helped with the emotions, but didn’t do much for the hunger. Unfortunately, he had to feed that here, in the war-zone. He snorted. A vamp could get a complex, livin’ in this house. Too many speeches…it was bad for the soul.

Spike had gotten good at ignoring the conversations that went on in the house, despite his sensitive hearing. It was just another coping mechanism. But he tuned in suddenly to the hushed conversation in the hallway when a few snippets made it to his ears.

“…LA. Shouldn’t…Angelus…“

As Spike concentrated, the conversation got clearer, and he caught the rest of what Giles was whispering.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“I have to go, Giles. They need Angel back, and I can do it. I can restore his soul. I’ll be back in a few days, I promise. Just…don’t tell Buffy, okay? She has enough to worry about.”

There was a heavy sigh. “All right. Hurry back. You’ve got everything you need?”

“Don’t be such a worry-wart! I can do this. I’ll be back soon.”

So, Angelus was out and about, again. Spike had never liked Angel much, but Angelus…Angelus he hated with every fiber of his being. If the witch wasn’t successful, well, Spike might be heading to L.A. soon. A fight like that might do him some good, he decided. Time would tell.

Great beginning to this story! I love it! The part of Giles/Spike and their feelings for Buffy was very good, very moving. I could picture the scene and I felt for Spike, for his feelings for Buffy. Great job!!!

P.S. I did add your disclaimer in this chapter for you. So it covers the chapter.

And what a lovely job <i>you're</i> doing writing it. LOL

Everybody can't wait to find out what she's got in store...

P.S. I'm sure it can't hurt but I didn't realize that it was necessary to have a disclaimer on every chapter if you've got it at the beginning of the story. If so, I've been posting improperly everywhere....forever. Oy.

This is just a rule I do to protect the author and the story. Anytime I put a chapter up I put a disclaimer with it so if I see a story and it doesn't have it, I add it. But that is just me. I'm not sure if Tracie follows the same credo. The thing to do would be to ask her. But I was glad to do it! And you are the one writing your story and it is very good!