Spike's Heart (spikes_heart) wrote,
Spike's Heart

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My Bad, It's Late, But It's Still Monday - New Chapter of Pieces of Me

It's nearing the witching hour on Monday night, so I'm sneaking
this chapter in under the wire.

Only two more chapters stockpiled. Am hoping to gently coax the
muse into getting her ass in gear to finish this one sometime in
the near future.


Samantha Finn strode in to the Nevada United States Army Recruiting Command, 6th Medical Battalion, with steely determination in her blue eyes. The Initiative was officially no longer in existence, but – since the majority of its records had been kept offsite and had therefore survived the destruction of the Sunnydale base, most of the information relating to its activities remained intact.

She smoothed the skirt of her dress uniform, adjusted the strap of her Specialist ID tag, and headed towards the Security desk.

“Morning, Agent Finn,” the Sergeant said, handing back her ID badge. “What can we do for you today?”

“I need access to the Initiative medical files,” she said, keeping her gaze steady and her voice calm.

“Do you have authorization?”

“I don’t need it,” she insisted, once again brandishing her badge. “I was assigned to the Initiative and I have questions regarding a case that had never been closed out. It’s imperative I have access. Immediately, soldier!”

Looking equally confused and cowed, the Sergeant pointed to a bank of elevators behind him. “Take the last car on the left to the fourth floor. Good luck with your research, Ma’am,” he called before looking back down at the bank of monitors in front of him.

The sound of her heels clacked loudly in the empty hallway. She stopped in front of room 415; stenciled on the door was ‘Files and Records’. No time like the present, she thought as she crossed the threshold.

Now, the thing about the army was, they believed in redundancy in everything. Not only were there records on the computer, there were also actual paper files. Rows and rows of metal filing cabinets gathering dust.

She headed straight for the cabinets - no way to track which files she looked at if she stuck to the paper.

The cabinets were diligently labeled by year. Sam did a quick scan and opened the drawer for 2000 – Daniel’s birth year. She fanned through the files – Hostile Sub Terrestrial 1, Hostile Sub Terrestrial 3, Hostile Sub Terrestrial 9… all with red dots next to their names. Hostile Sub Terrestrial 17, however, had a green dot next to his. Spike’s file. Two other files were binder-clipped to it: Sub Terrestrial 1 and Hostile Sub Terrestrial 1701.

Glancing at the contents, her fingers turned nerveless, and she dropped the files to the floor. No, no, no! It can’t be this simple. It can’t be true! Her mind raced with the implications of the possible evidence before her. She quickly gathered the files and stuffed them into her attaché case. This required privacy and a stiff drink, neither of which she would get on base.

Carefully re-shuffling the folders to eliminate the gap and disguise the missing files, Sam closed the cabinet drawer and left the room, heading swiftly to the main floor and exiting without a backwards glance. She was going back to Sunnydale – but not to her husband – or even to her son, who she was loath to admit was in good hands.

The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. She’d been used. And (to Riley) Daniel was nothing more than a damned pawn in his sick games. Even if she wasn’t Daniel’s biological mother, she knew the little boy deserved better than Riley as a father. How could she have been so blind? How had he managed to pull the wool over her eyes so easily?

The only thing that made Sam’s gut roil more than her own marital status was Daniel’s actual parentage, now that she knew Spike and Buffy were probably his biological parents. She promised herself that she would pore over the files in her possession with a fine tooth comb and make damned sure of their authenticity before making any more life altering decisions.


Riley Finn was not a happy camper. He was in his family’s hotel room – alone. No sign of Sam or Daniel. She’d been so angry at him. ‘Betrayed’ she’d said. ‘Liar’ she called him. The perfect jilted wife.

It shouldn’t bother him – it wasn’t like Sam was the love of his life. And as for Daniel? He was simply a weapon to wield, an instrument with which to hurt the vampire. He’d only been waiting for the perfect opportunity to make Hostile 17 pay for everything: for uncovering his vampire bite fetish, for making Buffy mad enough to burn down the vampires’ building, for dodging the Slayer’s stake and her censure time and time again.

Buffy’s refusal to dust the menace after he’d first been chipped was nonsensical. The fact that he couldn’t kill humans didn’t eradicate his past – hundreds, if not thousands, had perished under his fangs. That alone should have been enough to assure his dusting.

But no, Buffy insisted that it wasn’t morally right to kill a ‘defenseless creature’. Ha! Riley couldn’t contain the laugh that bubbled out of him at that. There was absolutely nothing morally right about Spike. No soul, no sense of right or wrong; just negative base emotions and the delusion that he was in love with the girl who should have been his mortal enemy.

It just didn’t make sense! None of it. The army had taught him to take any available advantage over the enemy. If an enemy was weakened, that was the proper time to destroy it. Yet Buffy made it sound like dusting Spike was the equivalent of killing a disabled puppy.

Yeah, right – like a disabled puppy who could plot to kill and destroy. Hostile 17 was in no way helpless. He did, however, use his chip as an excuse to hide behind the Slayer’s skirts.

Riley had been hoping Buffy would pine for him once he’d left Sunnydale. And he had hoped that the vampire would take heed of his warning (via plastic stake) to stay away from the girl. To see the two of them naked together – knowing they were screwing each other – made him physically sick. It had taken all his willpower not to vomit right then and there.

Any thoughts of possibly reconnecting with Buffy flew out the window. Taking a demon’s sloppy seconds was unacceptable. The thought of vampire jizz corrupting the body of a symbol of goodness and right was revolting.

Yeah, he knew he was being hypocritical. He fully agreed with the Initiative’s genetic breeding program. That was different – it was clinical. All done with gloved hands and metal instruments and glass beakers, not actual sexual contact.

Daniel was the first success in their breeding program and their crowning achievement. The Initiative’s doctors, now operating under the auspices of the regular army (since the Initiative was ‘disbanded’), would soon require the child be brought in for testing again. They needed to check and see if he displayed any tendencies towards super strength or healing.

Sam wouldn’t be pleased. He couldn’t fathom how the woman could have grown to love the boy so deeply after only a handful of months. Riley could hardly bear to look at him. Acting the part of loving father was a tour de force acting job.

“Whatever,” he said aloud, shrugging his shoulders. There was nothing he could do until Sam decided to come back. And she would, he was sure of it. He knew Sam loved him. Right now she was disappointed, but that would pass. Plus, Daniel’s clothes and toys were here. The kid couldn’t survive on one outfit for long.

Throwing his hands in the air, Riley muttered ‘fuck it!’ and opened the mini-bar. Frankly, he was just about ready to be done with all of this. Nothing went as planned regarding Buffy. She hadn’t been hurt by or jealous of his ‘perfect life’ or ‘perfect family’. And she was currently fucking the object of his hatred.

Sam had obviously cottoned on to his real intentions behind the Suvolte mess. The bitch turned out to be smarter than he gave her credit for. As for Daniel, he was no longer a means to an end, and if he never saw the boy (or half-demon) again, that would be just fine.

Maybe instead of waiting for Sam to get over herself, he should just leave – go back to Belize – where the weather was hot, the water was cool, and the women were… easily pleased.


Please note that I tried matching Daniel’s conception and birth dates up with aired Buffy episodes, but I ended up nearly tearing my hair out. Not being a geneticist, I’m just gonna say the scientists diddled with Spike’s jizz, Buffy’s DNA and a stripped ovum from some other poor, unsuspecting human, and voila! Daniel is now two years old! Please just go with this.
Tags: fic, pieces of me
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