Haunted Hearts

"And then he left a dent in a filing cabinet!"

Egon sighed, rubbing his neck as Roland filled him in on how their latest bust had gone. "Well, that doesn't necessarily mean he's not keeping his charm on him, Roland; it could be under his shirt. Most filing cabinets aren't exactly made of the sturdiest of materials." He glanced ruefully at his own filing cabinet, which had certainly seen its day.

"That may be true, but don't you think we should make sure? With his temper, and the fights he and Kylie have been having, we could all be in danger if he's not using it anymore!"

"Can wolfsbane, I dunno, dry up or something?" Garret offered. "Maybe its effectiveness has worn off and he doesn't know."

Egon shook his head. "I don't believe so -- after all, it was dried to begin with. No, I think what needs addressing here is Eduardo and Kylie's relationship, not his state of wolfishness."

"Well, maybe you and I should talk to them," Janine suggested.

Not feeling entirely enthusiastic about the prospect, Egon nevertheless nodded his agreement.

Meanwhile, the pair in question found themselves alone in the kitchen. Well, alone as they could be when Slimer was a well-nigh constant presence there. At least Garrett wasn't there, with his appetite second only to the green ghost. They were having a hard enough time ignoring each other.

"Hey! Get your drool away from my food, freak!" Eduardo snapped at Slimer.

The ghoul fled to seek shelter behind Kylie, who turned on her lover, hands on hips. "Don't take your anger at me out on poor Slimer. If you have something to say to me, say it!"

"I said it already, back at the offices!" Eduardo shot back. "I save your butt, and all you can do is yell at me! What should I do, let you get hurt?"

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself! Like I told you back there, before you got your powers, I was saving your butt!"

At the hurt look on his face, she instantly wished she could take those words back. He turned away from her and started aggressively preparing their dinner. "You know, I don't get you -- any of you. When I was just 'Eduardo', none of you could stop ripping on me, calling me a slacker, a coward, making me feel useless to this team! So now I have something that makes me useful --" he spun back to face her, eyes shining with unshed tears, "-- and none of you will let me use it! I thought you said you accepted what I am now, Kylie!"

Kylie was speechless a moment. Then, "Edua --"

"Save it!" He grabbed his coat and stormed out of the kitchen, almost running into Garrett.

"Eduardo!" Kylie called after him, but Garrett blocked her from chasing after him.

"Let him cool off, Ky. We don't know what will happen if he loses control."

She stared at the redhead, incredulous. "Loses control?? Garrett, we've been over this! Being a werewolf doesn't make a man evil! He's angry, but he would never hurt any of us!"

Egon came into the room just then. "Being a werewolf doesn't make him evil, you're right, but it does make him dangerous. It's like putting a nuclear weapon under the control of an angry five-year-old; he doesn't realise how much power he has, and might hurt someone without meaning too." He put a hand on Roland's shoulder. "Which means we should go find him now. Come on."

Kylie moved to follow, but Janine took her by the shoulders. "Let the boys bring him home, Kylie; if he sees you, he might just run off again. We'll finish getting dinner ready."

Kylie looked like she was going to argue, but thought better of it, resigning herself to KP duty with a sigh.

Gunn, from his position on the rooftop, could do nothing to save Fred, but he did send a crossbow bolt into the eye of the beast that had knocked her off the roof, killing it.

Wes scrambled to catch her, but had no chance of reaching her. Even Angel's preternatural speed wasn't fast enough to reach Fred in time, though of course he tried. But Spike's was.

He "dematerialized" and reappeared directly under his falling friend. He didn't even have time to tell himself to focus in order to touch things, as he usually did before picking up a mug or a pencil. When Fred landed, it was in a solid pair of arms.

Well, temporarily.

"Take her! Take her, take hertakeher!" Spike urged Angel through clenched teeth, uncertain how much longer he could keep the "solid" act -- and with it, Fred -- up.

Angel did as Spike asked, and then carefully laid Fred down on the ground. Wes took his coat off and made a pillow of it for her. He checked her pulse and pupils, which seemed fine, then used a handkerchief to stem the bloodflow from a nasty scrape on her forehead.

"She'll be all right," he told the hovering Angel and Spike with a sigh of relief.

Gun came running up to them just then, having climbed down from his rooftop on the fire escape. "Is she --"

"Yeah, she'll be all right," Spike told him.

Gunn gave him a friendly punch to the shoulder -- which, of course, went straight through Spike's ghostly arm. "Man, that was awesome! I'll never call you useless again, blondie-bear!" And then he knelt over Fred.

Spike scowled at Gunn, smiling wryly. The man had taken a bit of his buzz away with such a backhanded comment. Why did he hang out with such losers? Oh, that was right, because he was stuck to them, thanks to the amulet he had used to save the world. Last time he did any bloody saving, when no one was ever apprecia--

"Spike saved me?" Fred asked weakly from the ground as she opened her eyes. "I knew you would get the hang of focusing your ectoplasmic residue!" She struggled to sit up, her voice getting more animated. "I bet with enough practice you could even become somewhat corporeal full-time!"

Spike stood a little taller, ego reinflated by the damsel's kind words. Okay, so there was someone who appreciated him.

"We can discuss it later, Fred," Wes chided her gently, as he helped her stand. "For now, lets get you back home." No, Fred already had someone vying for her attention. Two, if one counted her assistant, Knox. And both men were at least alive.

I love you ... The last words from another thankful damsel haunted his ears, mocking him. Fred was a sweet girl, and if he wasn't already in love (and dead), he might have had a go with her. But his undead heart belonged to Buffy, even if she hadn't meant those last words.

As Wes put his arm around his ladylove and guided her back to the car, Spike found himself wishing he could mail his amulet to Buffy.

Spike wouldn't let himself acknowledge the little surge of pride he felt at being praised by his grandsire. After all, it wouldn't do to let on he didn't hate the big poof as much as he pretended to, now would it? Then tormenting the man wouldn't be as fun, and then what would Spike do with his afterlife?

Buffy slowly packed a bag, unaware of the misery of her former bedmate and friend. She was undergoing her own misery, though, and it involved him. It aggravated her that none of her friends seemed to care about the sacrifice he had made. He had fought alongside them for many long months, risked his unlife on more than one occasion, watched out for Dawn while Buffy herself was dead, and none of them mourned his loss. If anything, they all seemed relieved that he was gone.

And the thing was, she couldn't really be mad at them for being ungrateful to him, or for it simply not having occurred to them to feel any sense of loss. She couldn't blame them for being honest with their hearts. But dammit, she thought - no, she knew -- that they were better people than that! Didn't they fight for the future of humanity? A humanity full of robbers and rapists, of abusers and killers? Why did they fight so hard if they couldn't believe the worst among them could change?

Yes, he had been a killer -- hello, vampire! She herself didn't feel regret when she ate a burger, so could she really expect a vampir4 to feel loss over killing their own food? She had come to realise that her own vampire slaying wasn't some grand lofty good vs. evil thing -- it was nothing more than a struggle for survival. Demons did what they needed to protect and feed themselves and their families, and so did she. So she could hardly hold his past against Spike, particularly when he had inevitably turned against his own "family" to join hers, and protected them accordingly.

And yes, he'd almost raped her, but he was delusional at the time, and she had certainly set a precedent for violence in their relationship. She had kept saying "no" and then jumped his bones - how could she have expected him to understand that she wasn't going to do the same thing that time? Hadn't she, in essence, raped him first, repeatedly? Yes, he was usually game for their couplings, but she was using him. And he had even protested a few times, but she had just kept going, and he had given in. She had taken, and taken, and taken from him, it only stood to reason her karma would bite her in the ass by having him decide it was about time he got to do the taking for a change. And he had stopped when he realised what was happening. But Dawn, his staunchest supporter pre-rape, refused to forgive him even though Buffy herself had.

Did the fact that he had stayed with them, and protected Dawn, even when Buffy was no longer alive to impress, count for nothing? Or the fact that, rather than having had a soul hoisted on him, the way Angel had, he actually sought his out? Suffered to get it? Suffered with the guilt of his crimes after he got it -- a guilt he had been incapable of feeling before then, through no fault of his own?

And were they all so guiltless? Xander had left Anya at the altar (while Buffy applauded his reasons, he really could have handled it differently). And with Willow's help, he had resurrected Buffy against her will! Hell, Willow had become addicted to magic and tried to kill them all! And they couldn't blame that on some demon, either! Giles had betrayed Buffy, worked against her in tandem with the Watcher's council and later stood against her before the final battle on the Hellmouth. And yet they all forgave each other.

Granted, that was partly because they had had a strong bond of love that transcended their personal darknesses, but that bond had been forged over time, had it not? For all the time he had stood by them, couldn't they have come to see the good in Spike, too, come to call him friend as she had? Of course they couldn't, because he had started off on such a bad foot with them to begin with. She knew that, and yet it was so hard to reconcile that knowledge with what she had come to know of him.

And that was partly her own fault. She hadn't exactly seen him as "worthy" right away either, not entirely. She had cast a shadow over their pre-sex days as friends by seeing her time with him as just an outlet for her depression, as wel as a way to stick it to her friends. He had been perfectly normal then; she had been projecting her own personal demons onto him, seeing him as a symbol of all she felt was evil and dirty about herself, but he really wasn't those things. He was just a man who desired her, and was willing to let her do anything to him in order to be with her (okay, so he want a little crazy; understandable when one had an evil demon inside that balked at all the "good" he was doing.)

Everybody was so busy looking at his past that they refused to see the future he had fought so hard for, how far he had come on his road to redemption. And Buffy hadn't exactly done anything to help them see that -- she had hidden him from them, kept them separated even when they were in the same room. So now, because of her, no one mourned his loss, or honoured his sacrifice -- or even just missed him -- but her.

"Buff, are you almost ready?" came Xander's muffled voice through the door.

Buffy wiped the tears from her eyes, and put back on the brave smile she had worn around her friends since the battle. "In a minute!" she answered, with faux cheer.