Summary: Spike loses his memory – Set in Season 6
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy
A huge thank you to Jane Davitt and moosesal for beta reading this. Hugs to both of you.
“You want me to what?” the one called Buffy hissed disbelievingly, in reaction to what the man had said.
“Take care of him. After all, it’s Dawn’s fault he got hurt.”
“It so is not,” denied the young girl, Dawn. She looked at the floor for a moment, and then mumbled, “Okay. Maybe it was my fault…a little.”
“Why can’t you take care of him, Xander? You’ve got that nice apartment.”
“Yes, that nice one bedroom apartment. With one bed in it. One bed that Anya and I share.”
“Wouldn’t mind a threesome,” the eavesdropper said loudly. The group turned as one and glared at him, then moved a few more feet away to try to get out of range. Yeah, like that would do it.
“Come on, Buffy. Willow’s gone on that two-week retreat to try to stop using magic. He can use her room,” Dawn urged.
"It'll probably just be for a day or so," Xander added.
“And what if it’s not?”
“Then we’ll think of something else,” said Xander.
The man on the couch watched as the blonde sighed as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders and nodded yes.
“Fine. Though I’ll probably regret this.”
Buffy turned and walked towards him and despite his piercing headache, the figure stood up as she neared.
“You can stay. But as soon as you get your memory back, Spike, you’re out of here.”
Spike nodded in agreement. He was just getting used to hearing his name. Whatever had happened earlier in the evening had wiped his memory clean. He didn’t know who he was, and to hear the lot of them talk, he didn’t know what he was, either. In fact, he only knew one thing about himself. Luckily it was a very important thing.
He had a really cool coat.
* * *
Spike was shocked when Buffy told him that he was a vampire. He didn’t even believe in vampires. At least he didn’t think he did. Exasperated at his continued accusations that she was a barmy bint, Buffy dragged him into the bathroom and showed him his lack of reflection. It fascinated him. He could see her. He could see everything behind him, but he couldn’t see himself. He stared and stared at the emptiness in the mirror. He wondered if he was handsome, so he asked her.
“Am I handsome?”
“Oh.” How disappointing, he thought.
Again he stared into the mirror. In its surface, he saw Buffy look toward him and swallow. Spike felt a hand tentatively placed on his arm.
“You’re not ugly or anything, though.”
“Really?” he asked, a bit more hopeful.
“Well, your hair is bleached, which is kind of stupid looking, and you’re really pale, but...but you’re eyes are sort of a nice shade of blue.”
I have nice blue eyes, he thought and the thought cheered him up enough to cause him to smile.
“Also,” continued Buffy, “even though you’re not very tall, you’re lean and you do have an extremely nice...”
When her voice halted, Spike turned to look at her. Buffy’s eyes, he noted, were drifting over him and her mouth was slightly open. She must be having a hard time coming up with words that wouldn’t hurt his feelings too much, he thought.
“Buffy?” he said, when she kept staring out him. “Buffy?” he said louder.
“What?” asked Buffy as she tried to surreptitiously wipe a bit of drool from her mouth.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to make stuff up to make me feel better. I’ll have to resign myself to being a homely looking vampire.”
“Oh...right...homely.” Her eyes sharpened. “But you do believe that you’re a vampire now, don’t you?”
“Not seeing is believing.”
“Good.” Buffy nodded her head with some degree of finality, glad that obstacle was out of the way.
“I just have one question, though.”
“What is it?”
“Where’s my coffin for me to sleep in?”
* * *
“This is disgusting!”
“Shut up and eat it.”
“It’s gross. I won’t.”
“Then don’t eat it. Starve.”
Spike looked at Buffy, who was angry, but determined not to give in. Dawn, seated on the other side of the table, was also furious, her arms crossed in front of her, her bottom lip stuck out in a serious teenage pout. Spike glanced at the mess congealing on Dawn’s dinner plate and gave a little shudder.
Thank God he was drinking blood, he thought.
* * *
Buffy was out, doing who knew what, and Spike was stuck at home with Dawn.
“Teach me how to cheat at cards,” she whined.
“I told you, I don’t remember.”
“But you said it came natural to you. Like...like not breathing.”
“Then I guess I lied.”
“Yeah, you did, you nondead, evil, lying thing.”
“Don’t remember being evil. Don’t remember cheating, either.”
Spike tried to concentrate on the show in front of him. Dawn said it was like a million years old, but he didn’t remember it. It seemed to be some sort of story about survival and courage in the face of all odds.
“So,” said Dawn hesitantly, “if you were evil, would you remember how to cheat then?”
He was still watching the television, wondering how in the world the scheme the characters had come up with would save them, when he felt a sharp pain in his leg.
“Ow! You kicked me!” Spike yelled.
“Uh-huh. Did it work? Are you feeling evil now?”
“Oh,” Dawn said, disappointed.
A commercial came on extolling the virtues of grease and fat in the American diet when Spike felt the toe of Dawn’s shoe once more forcefully hit his shin. He turned to glare at the teenager.
“Now are you feeling evil?”
“Now are you evil?”
“How about now?”
With an exasperated scowl, Spike stood, turned off the television, and headed for his room before his legs became one massive set of bruises. It was too bad, though. Now he’d never know how Gilligan and his friends made it off that bloody island.
* * *
Once again, Buffy was out for the night. This time, fortunately, Dawn was spending the night with a friend, so Spike was left alone.
It was weird, living with people he didn’t remember. He’d sussed out that Buffy was working at a fast food place to support herself and her sis, all those burgers she brought home being big clues. However, he still didn’t know much about either of them. Deciding that the fact that they seemed to know him so well, while he knew nothing about them wasn’t fair, he decided to even it out a bit and snoop around.
The drawers in the kitchen didn’t yield anything interesting. The only thing the stuff in the drawers in the desk in the dining room told him was that Buffy was severely behind on several bills. As he entered the living room, he spied the wooden chest along the wall. That had to be full of all sorts of memorabilia.
Slowly he lifted up the lid and looked inside, then closed it with a thunk.
What the hell? he thought. Wild-eyed, he glanced around the room before lifting the lid again.
The trunk was full of weapons. There were axes, swords, and crossbows. There were daggers and pointed sticks. There were even little bottles, filled with clear liquid which, he figured, had to be poison. Some of the items still had tiny bits of gore clinging to them, as if they hadn’t been cleaned properly before being put away. Spike felt as if he were going to be sick.
Now he knew why they were friends with a vampire. Vampires killed people to drink their blood. These people must just like to kill.
“Spike, what’s going on?”
Spike let out a surprised shriek, then whirled around to see Buffy standing near the door. He’d been too overwhelmed at the horror before him to hear her enter. She came closer, before stopping and staring at the open trunk next to him.
“Were you looking at my stuff?” she asked, her voice filling with anger.
“No! I was just...I didn’t see anything. Really I didn’t,” Spike said desperately.
“You’re not supposed to be touching my things,” she said harshly.
Standing up, Spike backed away, edging toward the kitchen as Buffy came nearer.
“I didn’t touch anything. I swear. I swear.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
Spike was pressed up against the entryway to the kitchen as Buffy reached the trunk. When she leaned down to pick up a sword that was still stained with blood, Spike did the only thing he could think of.
He screamed and ran away.
* * *
Please be home, please be home, please be home, Spike thought repeatedly. His prayers were answered when the door opened and Xander, wearing a robe, appeared on the threshold.
“Spike! What are you doing here?”
Trying to push past Xander to rush into the apartment, Spike met a barrier so unyielding that when he hit it, it sent him hurtling back to sprawl onto the floor of the hallway. Xander stood for a moment, looking at him, before coming to his aid. Holding a hand out, he helped Spike off the floor.
“Oops. Sorry about that. You’ve never been here, so I need to invite you in.”
Spike raised an eyebrow at Xander.
“It’s vampire lore.” Xander said, shrugging. “You’re invited in, Spike.”
This time, Spike approached the door much slower and more cautiously and breathed a sigh of relief when he managed to enter the apartment without further mishap.
“So...I’ve never been here before?” Spike asked.
“Nope. How’d you find your way here tonight?”
“Was out. Smelled you. Followed your scent.”
“As much as that squicks me out, and it really, really does, I’m even more curious why you’re here.”
That question brought forth Spike’s original reason for running out of Buffy’s house.
“Got to warn you. Got to warn everyone. That girl, Buffy, she’s dangerous.”
“Yeah, she is.”
“No, you don’t understand, mate. She has a trunkful of swords and axes. And...” Spike looked around, before continuing at a whisper, “they’ve been used.”
“Is that what this is about? Spike, she needs that for her job.”
“Ha, bloody ha. May not have my memory, but I’m not stupid. Fast food industry’s not that competitive.”
“No, she needs it for her other job. Being a Slayer.”
“What’s a Slayer?”
“A Slayer kills vampires,” explained Xander.
“Not making me feel much better. Vampire here.”
“She wouldn’t kill you, Spike.”
“Why not? Does she like me?”
“No, she hates you.”
“Then why not?” asked Spike, puzzled.
“First of all, you can’t kill anyone anymore. You have an electronic chip in your head that prevents you from hurting people.”
“So am I good, then?”
“Nope, you’re still evil,” replied Xander.
“Really? What evil things have I done?”
Spike watched as Xander tried to come up with reasons why he was still considered to be evil.
“You call us names, British names, like prat and git.”
“Oooh, I must be evil,” said Spike unimpressed.
“You...you made a robot of Buffy and had sex with it,” continued Xander.
“I did? Was it any good?”
“I don’t know, but it sure looked like you were having a great time.”
“You watched me have sex with a robot Buffy?” Spike asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No! Actually yes, but....Can we change the subject?”
“Don’t see how having sex with a robot Buffy while you watched makes me evil. Makes me kinky, though. Makes you kinky, too.”
“I did not watch you have sex with...oh, never mind.” Frustrated, Xander thought for a moment. “You betrayed us to Adam! Ha! You are evil! You are so evil!”
“Who’s Adam?” said Spike, interrupting the victory dance that Xander was currently doing around his living room.
“Adam was created by the government. He was really smart and wanted to use an army to take over the world.”
“Oh.” Spike thought for a moment. “Like that git on television. Rumsfield.”
“No, not like Rumsfield.”
“Wait, you said he was government. Maybe I’m not evil. Maybe I’m patriotic,” Spike said.
“You’re not patriotic, you’re evil. Besides, you’re British.”
“Right. Forgot about that.”
Spike looked at Xander, who was grinning, still thrilled that he’d managed to come up with a good reason as to why Spike was evil.
“So, you’re saying that even though I’m evil and a vampire, Buffy won’t kill me?”
When Xander nodded his head, Spike continued.
“Well,” said Xander after a moment’s thought, “You help us. Like the other night, you saved Dawn’s life before you got hit in the head and lost your memory. And I guess you’re sort of our friend.”
Before Spike could say anything, a woman stalked out of Xander’s bedroom.
“Xander, why are you out here talking to Spike? You’re supposed to be in bed, giving me lots of orgasms.”
Spike stared at the woman. Then he turned and stared at Xander, who blushed under his gaze.
“Umm...this is Anya, my girlfriend.”
Anya stuck out her hand to shake Spike’s.
“We know each other, but since you don’t remember, nice to meet you again. But it wasn’t really nice to meet you before. Anyway, it’s late and you have to leave now.”
Xander gently pulled Anya away, and turned her towards the bedroom.
“Honey, I’ll just say good-night to Spike. You go get back in bed.” After Anya had closed the bedroom door, Xander looked sheepishly at Spike. “Sorry about that.”
“That’s okay. Should probably be getting back, myself, now that you’ve convinced me that Buffy isn’t a psycho killer.”
“I never said that.”
Smiling, Xander opened the door and Spike went into the hallway.
“Thanks, Xander, for all your help. You are my friend, aren’t you?” Spike said.
It took Xander a minute to reply. When he did, it seemed as if he had just discovered something that he’d never even known existed before.
“Yes, Spike. We are friends.”
Spike turned to leave and Xander began to close the door when he heard Spike ask “Hey, is Rumsfield evil?”
Continued in Part 2