Title: The Assistant, part 66
Author: Sweetdoggie (stirling_summer@yahoo.com)
Pairing: B/G
Rating: R
Summary: Merrick didn’t die. AU
Spoilers: season 4
Disclaimer: No permission has been granted to use the characters.. They are owned by their creator, Joss Whedon, Twentieth Century Fox, UPN, WB, and Mutant Enemy. This story is non-profit and is intended solely as entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended.
Joyce and Merrick actually did go out that morning and purchase a bed for the vampire. It wasn't King-sized, but it was a water bed. They had to buy sheets and pillowcases and a down comforter as well. Joyce shook her head in sort of shocked surprise.
“I never thought I'd see the day when I bought furniture for a vampire,” she complained lightly to her husband.
“I believe I can speak for both of us when I say, nor I.” Merrick admitted dryly. “Being Buffy's Watcher has always been a challenge; sometimes it's simply weird.”
“What do you think that prophecy meant about 'humanity being restored,' Joyce asked him.
“Lord, I don't know. Perhaps that humanity will be restored to dominance on this plane? What do you think it means?”
“I'm not a professional at this, you know. I don't have generations of experience in mystical interpretations or even Prophecy 101, but I was sort of wondering if it means that Spike might be restored to being human again.” Her voice was tentative.
“Interesting. I have no idea. I'll speak to Giles about it. He's quite handy at prophetic interpretation. Or we might simply ask Buffy.”
“Ask Buffy? Why would she know?”
“Your daughter's instincts are incredibly sharp when it comes to this sort of thing.”
“Wouldn't Faith or Anna know the same thing?”
“Buffy is different. She is gifted even for a Slayer. Also, she is older than the other girls. She has had longer to come into her powers. She is quite extraordinary.”
Joyce looked teasingly at her husband. She knew how much he loved the other Slayers, but Buffy was and always would be, his favorite. “No bragging, John.”
“It isn't bragging when it's the truth.”
Joyce just shook her head.
~*~
Anna spent the morning painting the basement windows black for their vampire guest. She was fascinated by the idea of a tame vampire and spent quite a lot of time simply studying him, feeling his essence with her spidey senses, and wondering at the strange turn of events that made protecting him a top priority.
He was currently laying on a fold-out bed in the darkest corner of the room watching the youngest Slayer. “So, you're a Slayer too. Interesting, that.”
She nodded, but said nothing.
“Not very talkative, are you?”
“I talk when there is a need.”
“English isn't your first language, is it?”
“No. I am Hungarian.”
“Oh. I spent a few years in Hungary in the 'thirties' and 'forties'. Made a right good Nazi till they found out I was a vampire.”
She looked curious. “What happened?”
“They got the bright idea of locking me up for study—sort of like the Initiative but without the actual scientific knowledge to do anything useful. They were transporting me across the ocean to some secret lab when I escaped.” He sighed nostalgically. “Times were simpler then, but not half as bloody fun.”
“I have read that as vampires age, it becomes difficult for them to adapt to society. Is this true?”
“Some do, some don't. You just have to live in the world, not hover outside it like a lot of vamps end up doing. When I was a man, you could travel by train across England when just a generation earlier, you would have had to take a carriage. People still routinely rode horses for transport. Children worked sixteen hour days at jobs that would have been hard for adults. In London alone there were over 20,000 prostitutes for a population of just under four million. Times were different. Life was a lot harder for a lot more people. When vampires get turned, lots of them get stuck in the era they lived in—I could tell you stories about vampires that were turned in medieval times and have barely moved on since then. They don't know how to change, you see. I've been lucky, I suppose. I try to live in the world as it is. I listen to current music, I read the paper. I even learned how to use a computer. I watch TV. You can't let yourself be looking back at everything all the time.”
“Do you miss the life you had?” She sat on the stairs to talk to him.
“You mean, when I was alive or just the times?”
“Either, I suppose, or both.”
“I don't really miss being the man I was. William was a good enough sort, but he was weak. I loved my mum and tried to take care of her. I wanted to get married. I wanted children. I was a solicitor. That's sort of like a lawyer. It was a good, structured, middle class job. The night I got turned, I had what William would have called a severe disappointment in love. My girl not only told me I didn't have a chance with her, but that I was too common to aspire to her lofty social heights. I was beneath her. For a Victorian, that's a pretty dire situation.”
“How sad.”
“Yeah. Anyhow, Dru found me and turned me and a few nights later, I went back to 'talk' to Cecily.”
“What did you do?”
“Oh, the standard: kidnapped her, raped and tortured her, drained her. Thought I'd killed her, you know. Found out just a few years ago that she lived. Became a vengeance demon to seek revenge upon men or some such tosh.”
“Your story is sad and disturbing, Spike.”
“I suppose. For a vampire it's not all that dramatic.”
“How are others turned?”
“Oh, let's see. Drucilla was made when Angelus had finished torturing her by killing off all her kin. She was mad as a hatter by that time, of course. Angelus himself got turned in a dank alley behind a tavern when Darla decided she wanted him. Darla was a prostitute. One of her customers turned out to be a little kinkier than she had anticipated. And so it goes.”
“Have you ever heard of a Slayer being turned?” Her voice was quiet in the dim room.
“Nah. Can't happen, see. Something about being the Slayer gives you immunity. Plenty of Slayers meet their end at a pair of vampire fangs, but they just die.”
“That is good to know. I do not think I would enjoy being undead.”
“Well, it has it's moments.”
Anna shrugged. “It sounds like an awful life to me. You see all your friends and family grow old and die. Everything that you knew passes away. Things change so much in just one lifetime—to have to keep up with those changes for centuries...no, I do not wish to be a vampire.”
Spike shrugged. “Most vamps turn their family and friends right away.”
“Is that what you did?”
“I don't want to talk about it anymore. Why don't you go bother somebody else for a while?”
“Did you turn your family? Your mother?”
Spike rolled on his side away from her. He was silent for a long time before speaking. “She was dying, you know? She had TB. Coughed up blood a lot. I turned her to save her, but the demon she became was...awful. She pushed me too far and I dusted her. My own mum. She'd have been better off if I'd let the disease take her.”
“That is probably true,” Anna told him bluntly. “But you did not turn her out of blood lust, but out of love. That is extraordinary.”
“She's dead. Been dead for a hundred and twenty odd years. I still miss her.”
“Did you have a funeral for her?”
“No. I just packed the few things I wanted from the house and left it. Her ashes were on the living room floor.”
“Perhaps you should have a service. It might give you some closure.”
“Do you think so?”
“It couldn't hurt.”
“It's probably way too late for that...”
“It is never to late to say goodbye.”
“I'll think about it, OK?”
“As you wish.” Anna left the basement quietly.