Title: No Good Turn
Author: Spike’s Heart
Setting: Beginning Tabula Rasa – Season 6
Disclaimer: If they were mine, I’d let them grow up.
Feedback: Yes, please!
Archive: Ask me, nicely.
Warning: Not a fluffy puppies fic. Character death, Character vamping.
A/N: Tab Ras set up, no Mr. Teeth w/kitten poker debts, Spike isn’t at the meeting at the Magic Box. Canon dialogue taken from Buffyworld transcripts.
Beta’d by: willshenilshe
Summary: What if Willow had never tried the mind-wipe spell and Buffy sought another course of action to end the pain of her resurrection? Dark, dark, darkity, dark, dark.
No Good Turn
Buffy couldn’t believe that Giles was going to leave. Yesterday she’d been forced to spill her deepest, darkest secret – her best friends had pulled her out of heaven, not hell – and she was miserable about being back.
“I can't do this without you,” she tried again. Surely Giles wouldn’t deny her when it was obvious that she was falling apart…?
”You can. That's why I'm going. As long as I stay you'll always turn to me if there's something comes up that you feel that you can't handle, and I'll step in because, because ...” Giles sighed, pausing momentarily. “Because I can't bear to see you suffer.”
Buffy’s voice hitched, her eyes brimming with tears. ”Me too,” she cried. “Hate suffering. Had about as much of it as I can take.”
“Believe me, I’m loathe to cause you more, but this…” It was clear that looking into his almost-daughter’s teary face was more than he could bear, but Giles forced himself to continue. “I've taught you all I can about being a slayer, and your mother taught you what you needed to know about life. You ... you're not gonna trust that until you're forced to stand alone.”
“But why now? Now that you know where I've been, what I'm going through?”
“Now more than ever. The temptation to give up is gonna be overwhelming, and I can't let-“
“So I won’t! No giving up. You can be here, and I can still be strong.” Please, Giles! Don’t do this to me… don’t leave me.
“Buffy, I’ve thought this over… and over. I believe it’s the right thing to do.”
“You’re wrong!” she yelled, and stormed out of the training room, leaving Giles sitting in stunned silence.
Quickly scanning the store, she spotted Anya and Tara thumb wrestling at the table, Dawn standing over by one of the bookcases and Willow and Xander walking in the door.
Shit! She had forgotten the whole reason for being in the Magic Box was the Scooby meeting Giles had called. Oh, God. He was gonna tell them all he was leaving. Unless… unless he changed his mind. Buffy sat down on the steps leading to the loft with her fingers crossed.
Giles walked out of the training room, polishing his glasses and avoiding eye contact with everyone.
“Let me jump to the chase,” he began, shooting Buffy a quick glance. “Um ... I'm headed back to England and I plan to stay ... indefinitely”
“Now?” Xander squawked incredulously. “Not now, I mean, not after… everything.”
“Yes, now,” Giles insisted.
“For real this time?” Anya chirped, seemingly unaware of the rising tension amongst her friends. “’Cause honest to Pete, a young shopkeeper’s heart can only take so much… I mean, not that I want you to go-“
“I can’t do this.” Buffy quickly walked past them, towards the door. “I just, I don’t think…”
“Buffy, listen,” Willow entreated, managing to stop her before she left. “I know this must be awful for you, and I, I’m sorry, I… I’m so sorry for…”
Buffy nodded, impatiently. “Sorry. Everybody’s sorry. I know that you guys are just trying to help… but it’s just, it’s too much. And, and I, I can’t take it anymore,” she sobbed, her eyes brimming with tears. “If you guys… if you guys understood how it felt… how it feels. It’s like I’m dying, it-“
Shaking her head, Buffy threw her hands up in frustration, yanked open the door and ran out, leaving her friends open mouthed with shock.
They didn’t get it. None of them. She was pathetic; a failure at both life and death at the age of twenty two, and all of it played behind her eyes in a constant stream of condemnation.
Her parents’ divorce began the reel of disaster running through her head. No matter what they said, Buffy knew it was her fault. Whatever problems Joyce and Hank had were exacerbated by her increasingly odd behavior. Their relationship had frayed around the edges during her hospitalization, and never recovered. Sneaking out to slay and burning down the gym at Hemery were the cappers.
She failed at being a good daughter. And who suffered? Dawn. Because of her, Dawn lost the chance of having a normal life with two parents. So… failed at being a sister, as well. Even if the memories weren’t real. Or the sister.
Oh, and let’s not forget how she failed at being a good Slayer. Refusing to listen to her Watcher, falling in love with a vampire, for crying out loud. Souled, yes… but still she’d managed to unleash his demon and cause death and destruction amongst her friends and the very people she was charged with protecting. Dying at sixteen – accepting her death at sixteen.
Fighting back from that had been hard, and she thought she’d succeeded. Obviously denial was a state she’d moved into long ago. And no matter what she did, or how she tried, Angel left anyway. For her own good, he’d said. Couldn’t he see there was no good in her? Even then?
And Spike? Another sign of her failure as a Slayer. He was tough, to be sure – a Master Vampire. When they’d met in battle for the first time, he’d almost killed her. He would have, if her mother hadn’t banged him upside his head with that axe. Saved from a second death at the age of seventeen by dumb luck.
Her mother. Mom. Mommy. Dead and gone from her life. Buffy felt she had failed her most of all. Disrespectful and sneaky. Judgmental as hell… never giving the woman credit for anything. They’d finally grown close in the months before she died and her loss was devastating.
In one fell swoop, Buffy became the adult in the family. Everything was her responsibility now; the house payments, food, repairs, parenthood… add that to her slaying responsibilities and the possibility of a real life of her own became nil.
Buffy brought herself up short, taking in great gulps of air while she rested against the side of a building. Failure, failure, failure still played in her head, drowning out the sound of her pounding heart.
Spike… why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? He seemed to come the closest to understanding her these days. Any day, for that matter, over the past three years. Since they’d met. Maybe because he understood failure on a personal level most others couldn’t. His love life was as spectacularly crappy as her own. That chip made him a failure as a vampire, unable to feed on his natural food source.
How did she get here… to this place where there was nothing good or right in her life, where her only comfort was found in the company of a creature she was born to destroy? Given, major points in his favor came from his not being a factor in her fall from heaven.
Then again, neither was Dawn, but being around her was painful… there was so much hope in the younger girl’s eyes, overly solicitous… when she wasn’t acting up and freaking out.
Spike, on the other hand, was quiet, as oxy-moronic as Spike and quiet in the same thought could possibly be. He didn’t want anything from her. Didn’t ask her to be cheery, or even happy to be back amongst the living. They could sit for hours and say nothing, but feel everything. He would understand.
She began to run again, pushing off the wall with purpose. Spike would get it. He would know why she couldn’t do this anymore. He would understand that Giles’ leaving would be the final straw that broke the Slayer’s back. And she could do something for him at the same time. She could offer the vampire his third Slayer on a silver platter.
Imagine the boost to his reputation amongst the demon population… offing the Slayer while still chipped. That should take care of his traitor status. He would survive, and she’d have one less thing to feel guilty about. God knows her friends wouldn’t be looking out for him.
This was good. The beginnings of a plan. She would go home, write a few farewell notes for closure, then make Spike an offer he couldn’t refuse. With a goal in mind, Buffy headed for Revello Drive.
It was near daybreak by the time Buffy slammed open the door to Spike’s crypt, almost vibrating out of her skin with agitation.
“To what do I owe the honor, Slayer?” Spike yawned, obviously more than ready for bed.
“I-I’ve got a proposition for you.”
Oh, really?” Spike drawled, toeing off his boots. “Finally come to your senses an’ want to have your wicked way with me?”
“I want you to kill me.”
Spike stopped in mid-motion, his red button-down shirt hanging halfway off his body. “What kind of game are you playin’ with me now, pet?” he asked suspiciously.
“I can’t do this anymore, Spike. I can’t keep faking ‘cheery Buffy’ for the masses.” Buffy sobbed, knees buckling as she sat down hard on the ground. “Giles is leaving me… he’s going back to England for good.”
Buffy agreed with the expression of incredulity on the vampire’s face. “See? Even you know it’s a sucky idea for him to leave now. Spike, I begged him not to go. I–I don’t… I can’t… it’s too much for me. I can’t be a mother, a h-home owner, a-a wage earner and a Slayer.”
Approaching Buffy slowly, Spike sank to his knees at her side. “Do you want me to talk some sense into Watcher boy? I can set a pack of Gjorah demons after him, Make him change his mind, right quick.”
“It’s no good. He doesn’t want to stay. I’m not enough to make him stay,” Buffy cried. “I’m not enough to make anyone stay.”
“I’m not killin’ you, pet,” Spike insisted raggedly. “I-I can’t take you from this world again.”
“Listen to me, Spike.” Buffy looked up at him, oddly calm for the moment… and in that moment, scarier than ever. “I’ve made up my mind. I’ve left notes for Giles and Dawn where they’ll be found in the next day or so. I thought for sure you would understand I can’t be here anymore. If you’re not willing to help me…”
“Of course I’ll help you,” Spike grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking in his intensity. “Been telling you that for months already. Anything you need, I’ll do.”
“I want you to kill me,” she repeated, calmly and without emotion. “If you don’t, I can always slip up on patrol and let some whatever have it’s one good day… or…” She pulled a small sword from the sheath between her shoulder blades. “I can slit my throat and bleed out all over your floor. Your choice to let all my Slayer’s blood go to waste or not. One way or the other, Spike… this is my last day on earth.”
The finality of the situation finally hit him: She’s really goin’ to off herself! and there was nothing he could do to change her mind. The thought of her death at the hands of some unknown demon, or even at her own hand, was unbearable.
Spike hugged the unresisting girl to his body, tighter than could possibly have been comfortable, and gave in.
“If there’s no chance of changin’ your mind, luv, I’ll do it,” he shuddered. “I’ll drain you.”
Buffy looked into his eyes with gratitude. “I figured I owed it to you, in a way. You were the only vampire to ever really challenge me. We were good together, weren’t we?”
“Fightin’ against each other, an’ with,” Spike agreed.
They sat on the floor for several minutes, just holding onto each other before the vampire made his move.
Shifting slightly, Spike gathered the now quiet Slayer into his lap and brushed the hair from her neck. “Are you sure, Buffy?” he tried one last time, desperately hoping against all odds that she would change her mind. “Can’t change your mind in the middle, luv.”
“J-just get on with it.” She twisted in his lap, looking at him with flat, dull eyes, as if all life had already been drained from them. “I-I’m through, Spike. Finished. Just… no more pain,” Buffy whispered as she bared her throat for the last time.
Losing his human mask, Spike licked a broad stripe up the length of Buffy’s exposed neck. No reaction whatsoever. Not even a tremor. Her heartbeat was slow and steady… just waiting. He bent his head, placing a kiss over her pulsing jugular vein, and sunk his teeth gently into her unresisting flesh. Mouthful after mouthful of the sweetest blood ever to pass his lips slid down his throat.
Tearing himself from the sound of Buffy’s slowing heartbeat, Spike stopped. Just a little bit more and she would be gone. He looked into her face and saw nothing but acceptance… and couldn’t go through with it. In a last ditch measure, even knowing she would hate the idea, Spike ripped open a gash in his wrist and held it to Buffy’s lips, praying that it wasn’t too late.
The blood dripped into her lax mouth, threatening to spill over when she didn’t swallow. Slowly stroking her throat to force the motion, Spike’s tears fell silently. The whole situation was wrong. The bitch! She knew in the end he’d be unable to refuse her anything. Using him to commit suicide.
Buffy stirred in his arms, opening her eyes and catching his. “I hate you, Spike,” she gasped with her last breath.
“Hate you too, pet,” he managed to choke out, as she died in his arms.
Spike refused to bury her. Been there, done that… it had ripped out his unbeating heart to cover her with dirt. After barring the crypt’s entrance with one of the stone sarcophagi, he carried Buffy downstairs and sat in the middle of his bed, settling her into his lap to wait for her to rise.
With any luck at all, Buffy would be at ease with her soulless state. Nothing pressing on her mind, no cares or worries other than her first meal… and he’d be her source for that. They could leave Sunnyhell far behind and… and… that was the $64,000 question, wasn’t it?
He’d never made a childe before. Hoped like hell he’d done it right; drained her enough, fed her enough to make her other than a mindless fledgling. The worst was not knowing how long until she rose. Angel’s last childe hadn’t taken more than a couple of hours on that submarine, but as he’d often said… he was no Angel.
So he sat back against the headboard, propped up by pillows, and watched as the color leached out of his once golden girl and her body temperature dropped. Hours passed with no sign of movement. Just two corpses in repose.
An indeterminable amount of time later, Buffy gave her first signs of coming to unlife. Her true face emerged along with a sub vocal growl emanating from her chest. Spike braced himself for a vicious attack. In no way was he prepared for her actual reaction.
“You poor bastard…” Buffy said, waking. “I should have known you’d have a problem killing me,” she whispered softly around her fangs. “I’m sorry I dragged you into my mess.”
“Slayer, do you realize what’s happened?” he asked, wonder in his eyes as he held her gaze.
Buffy raised her hands to her face, feeling the brow ridges and fangs of her new unlife. “Sorta figured you’d turned me when I woke up. I don’t feel much different, though.” Shaking her head, her human mask returned, as beautiful as ever if slightly paler than before.
“And it doesn’t change things, Spike. I’m tired. Deep down bone tired,” she sighed. “This won’t work for me – an eternity of depression and longing for death.”
Spike hung his head in sorrow. “Seems I can’t do nothin’ right where you’re concerned, pet.”
With her fingertips, Buffy raised Spike’s chin until they were face to face. “I know you meant well, and I’m not angry, just disappointed…” Her thoughts were interrupted by her stomach gurgling. “… and it seems I’m hungry, too.”
“Any urge to go out and stalk your old friends? Chow down on the Watcher, or make a feast out of droopy boy?” The almost hopeful look on Spike’s face was enough to drag a reluctant giggle from his childe.
“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m more than happy to steer clear of my friends.” Sliding her hands from his face to his neck, Buffy pulled him closer, running her tongue up the side of his neck. “I am feeling a strong pull to someone a lot closer,” she purred, wiggling slightly on his lap.
Spike cocked his head to the side, baring his neck to give her easier access and hardened against the buttons of his fly as the little fledgling sunk her fangs into his neck for the first time. Each pull of blood from his veins roused him further, causing him to buck up into her bottom.
Buffy drank slowly, pressing herself down against Spike’s answering hardness. The taste of her Sire’s blood was intoxicating, rendering her barely capable of focusing on anything else but her need. Easing Buffy’s fangs from his neck left her whimpering as she licked the wounds closed. Frantically rubbing herself up and down his denim-clad length, she lapped up every last droplet.
With well-practiced hands, Spike eased her leather pants and thong over her backside and down her thighs, knocking her strappy sandals off as the material cleared her feet. Her shirt and bra swiftly followed.
Buffy’s hands hadn’t been idle. She stroked the growing bulge in Spike’s jeans until he moaned, fumbling with the buttons until frustration got the better of her and she ripped the fly open – sending the buttons in several different directions.
As Spike’s erection sprang free of its denim prison, Buffy kneeled up, straddling her Sire’s hips. With one hand around Spike’s neck for support, she reached back, guiding him to her welcoming folds. In one swift move she impaled herself, moaning as her body stretched to accommodate him.
It was all that Spike ever wanted… to be surrounded by his goddess, and less. Her quim was cool where there should have been blazing warmth. There should have been passion where he felt desperation, but it didn’t stop him from thrusting up into Buffy’s slick channel.
There were no words of love offered, just grunts and groans as they slammed into each other, holding on for dear unlife. They needed each other with the intensity of having no one else to turn to. Buffy’s sobs grew louder the closer she got to her release, shuddering as she rode her pain away.
Spike held onto her hips as her rhythm began to falter, gently nipping at the pale rose of her nipples as her breasts bounced before him. Each jounce and ripple brought home the fact that this was just an interlude… the one and only joining of a Sire and childe. He knew – with the certainty of the damned – that it wouldn’t end well.
It only drove him on, making his thrusts a little more forceful. Buffy would know he was here with her… for her… as best he could be. In the only ways left to them.
She tightened and fluttered her inner muscles around his shaft, driving him higher and harder. Before long, that low down burn in his belly indicating imminent completion made itself known, drawing his balls up tight to his body.
As her body seized and clamped around him in the throes of her orgasm, Spike dropped his human mask, and with a roar, sank his fangs into his mark and came, spasming with the force of his own release.
They held each other tightly, riding the little aftershocks that coursed through their bodies. With a little careful maneuvering, Spike eased his way out of Buffy’s body, and spooned up against her back. Sleep claimed them both, putting off that final, inevitable discussion.
Buffy awoke first. She was hungry, but she resisted the urge to take Spike in his sleep, and the thought of bagged blood just felt like too much trouble. Looking over at her sleeping Sire, Buffy hoped he’d let her go.
Amazingly enough she wasn’t upset that Spike had turned her, considering he’d made no secret of his love. Now she understood that it was possible for monsters to love. A shame that knowledge came too late to do either of them any good.
She placed a kiss on his forehead before leaving the bed to find her clothing, determined to take control of the last hours of her life with as little fanfare as possible. She left no note for Spike, knowing he’d be able to find her if he so chose.
Sure enough, he found her several hours later at her mother’s gravesite.
“No way I can talk you out of this, luv?” he begged, his heart obviously breaking just a little bit more at her determination to end her existence. “We could make it work together. However you want it. We don’t have to follow the archaic Lore of Sire and childe.”
Buffy reached out to stroke her Sire’s face and smiled. It amazed her the ease in which that word took on such significance. She was sorely tempted to give over the reigns and be a follower for a change, but she knew it wouldn’t be fair in the end… to either of them.
“I’m sorry, Spike. Really I am, but there’s no way I can continue, much less start something new. You know me… it’s my way or the highway.”
“And this is how you choose to end it? It’ll be far from painless.”
She nodded, looking into his amber eyes with her own. “Mom will watch out for me.”
“So will I,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her narrow shoulders. “Won’t leave you, Buffy. I could do with a bit of rest, m’self.”
There were no arguments. Spike was a Master Vampire with over a hundred and twenty five years of unlife under his belt. If he wanted to be her guide into hell, she wouldn’t stop him.
Hours passed and luck was with them… the cemetery was quiet for a change. No new fledglings rose, and no patrolling Scoobies to explain things to. They talked to each other until there was nothing left to say.
And when the sun rose, it took mere seconds before their combined ashes scattered over Joyce Summers’ grave.
Three days passed before Giles found the pale pink envelope stuck in-between his bills. The contents of Buffy’s letter ripped a cry of anguish from the man’s very soul, before he ran to Revello Drive, hoping to reach Dawn before she found any such letter of her own.
He heard her scream from two houses away. Too late.
Forging on, his feet slowing with every step he took, Giles pushed open the door, finding Willow and Tara trying to restrain a flailing Dawn, a pale pink page crumpled in her hand.
“Murderer!” she shrieked, launching herself at her sister’s one-time mentor. “You killed my sister!”
Giles stood there, allowing the girl to pound her grief into his chest. Eventually he wrapped his arms around Dawn’s shoulders, both of them sinking to the floor as shock set in. The witches gathered around, all murmuring their sympathies.
Buffy’s words echoed in their hearts: “The hardest thing to do in this world is to live in it.”
Nothing else they could do but try to go on.