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Title: As You Weren't Author: Miss Murchison Rating: "Chiaroscuro" is mostly R and PG. However, some content may be considered NC-17. Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc. Only the lame plots and dialogue herein are mine. Thanks: I would never have started writing this without the encouragement and beta of DorothyL. She introduced me to the concept of fanfic and discusses BtVS with me endlessly. I owe a tremendous debt to her insights. Notes: This is a sequel to “Adjustments." It represents nothing more than my annoyance with a particular episode in Season Six. I never bothered to completely fill in the narrative gaps because this fic doesn’t progress the story arc I’m working on—not even by some of the baby steps that occur in some of the longer fics. I’ve put brief plot summaries in where the narrative gaps are.
“The brunette in the red tunic,” said Spike. “No,” said Tara, and blushed. “She’s been checking you out for ten minutes,” he insisted. “I don’t think so.” Tara took a gulp from her double latte and gasped when it went down too fast and hot. They were sitting in the coffee shop on the main street in Sunnydale’s business district. The place was busy, and they had been forced to take a small table near the back wall, away from the counter. Spike would have preferred a seat at one of the tables outside, but this was a perfect location for watching the other patrons. “So is the girl in the purple halter near the counter,” he continued. Tara leaned forward so that her hair hung in front of her face and stole a backwards glance. Then her eyes roved back to the brunette Spike had first noticed. “I have to agree with you,” he said. “The bird with the halter has the more obvious attractions, but the brunette strikes me as having more, er, potential.” Tara frowned at him. “And what business is it of yours? I don’t think Buffy would appreciate you noticing these things.” “Whether she appreciates it or not doesn’t matter. I can’t help it. It’s part of my residual vamp sense. Why do you think I kept fighting for Buffy for so long? I could tell that she wanted me, even when she was kicking my ass every five minutes. Especially when she was kicking my ass. Just like I can tell you want to go over to that brunette and make a comment about the book she’s reading or accidentally spill some coffee on her and offer to pay the dry cleaning bill, or –“ “If that’s your pick-up technique, I’m beginning to see why it took you so long to get Buffy,” interrupted Tara in a dry tone. “Besides, how can you tell that those two aren’t checking you out instead of me?” “I can tell. The redhead two tables over is checking me out, though.” “Oh, really?” His smile changed, and his expression softened. “Yes. And so is the blonde who just came in.” Tara’s own expression changed from an incredulous frown to a broad grin. “Hello, Buffy,” she said. “How did you know I was here?” asked Buffy, stepping into Tara’s range of vision. “I saw Spike’s face when he saw you.” “Oh,” said Buffy. “That’s a relief. I thought you were catching Spike’s scary ‘I know where you are and what you’re feeling’ vibes.” She started to look around, and missed both Tara’s look of consternation and Spike’s gleeful expression. “There seems to be an extreme lack of empty chairs this morning,” said Buffy. “If life gives you lemons,” said Spike, pulling her on to his lap, “make lemonade.” “Is that what you’re drinking?” she asked, looking at his cup. “No, espresso. Want some?” He brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen across her cheek, examining her face. “You look as if you were fighting demons instead of getting some sleep, love—even after I left you.” She finished off what was in his cup and made a face. “Sleeping in didn’t help. I kept having the dreams. I think I need more than a sip of coffee to solve my problems.” “Tara was just deciding between a nice dark concoction and something more colorful and exotic,” said Spike, peeking past Buffy’s shoulder at the brunette and the girl in the halter, then smirking at Tara’s outraged expression. “Can I get you something hot and sweet?” “Hmm,” said Buffy, and gave him a lingering kiss. Tara noticed that the brunette seemed to have cheered up considerably since Buffy’s arrival. She accidentally caught the woman’s eye, and was both horrified and unreasonably elated when the brunette unmistakably batted her eyes. She looked away as Buffy finally raised her head. “That will do,” said the Slayer, “but I want a mocha as well.” Spike grinned at her. “We’ll get you out of those post-nightmare doldrums, pet.” “I wasn’t actually counting on the coffee and sugar for that. What I really need to do is kick some demon ass. Any horned monster that invades my dream space is going to get just what it deserves.” “That’s my girl,” he said approvingly. “Is that what you are now?” asked another masculine voice. “His girl?” Buffy looked up and up at the man standing by the table. “Riley?” she said incredulously. She would have stood up, but Spike, his expression barely changed, tightened his arms around her. As if on second thought, Buffy subsided into his embrace and stared at her old boyfriend. Spike gave a small, victorious smirk and leaned back in his chair, pulling Buffy closer. “If it isn’t the steadfast tin soldier himself back from the wars,” he said. “Looking for some action while on leave? You may be disappointed to hear that the old vampire brothel you used to frequent has closed up shop.” Riley grimaced but gave no other sign that he had heard Spike. He addressed himself exclusively to Buffy. “I thought when I was here last time that you were just going through a bad patch, that you’d soon come to your senses and get your life together. Now I see that you’re not even bothering to hide that you’re with this idiot.” “Tsk, tsk,” said Spike. “Name calling. Didn’t your mama ever tell you that if you can’t say anything nice, you should—” “Shut up, Spike,” said Buffy without anger. It was hard to tell if she was trying not to laugh or worrying that Riley was about to become violent. Spike went on blithely, “Although, come to think of it, didn’t you go and get yourself hitched? Where is the missus, then? I don’t believe I ever had the pleasure.” “And you won’t!” said Riley between clenched teeth, finally goaded into responding to Spike. “Left you, has she?” said Spike, smirking again with absolute assurance. Riley leaned over and grabbed Buffy by the arm. “I need to talk to you,” he said urgently. She pulled her arm away, but stood up and followed him as he walked out of the café. He stopped in the middle of the street and turned around, obviously convinced that he had removed Spike from the scene, at least temporarily. Then his expression froze into horror as Spike strolled out into the sunlight behind Buffy. Tara trailed behind, her expression a combination of curiosity and concern. Spike stopped a few feet away from Buffy and rocked back and forth on his heels, his expression so gleeful that only Riley’s utter astonishment kept him from striking the former vampire. Riley finally turned to Buffy and cried, “He’s not on fire! Why isn’t he on fire?” “You know,” said Spike earnestly, “everyone keeps asking me that. I think I need to have some of those little cards made up. You know, like the ones people with that funny disease where they say all kinds of bad words—“ “Tourette’s” said Tara helpfully. “Yeah, Tourette’s. Yeah, like the cards they pass out to explain they’re sorry for offending you and they don’t bloody mean it. Mine could say something like, ‘I apologize for the inconvenience, but there will be no spontaneous combustion this afternoon.” Tara got into the spirit of this. “I think you should put something like, ‘I no longer suffer from photophobia and the heartbreak of excessive flammability—’” “Tara!” said Buffy, who was keeping one eye on Riley and the other on some curious onlookers. Tara stopped, biting her lip. “You two are so hanging out together too much,” said Buffy firmly, glancing from Spike to Tara. She turned to Riley. “Let’s go to the Magic Box. We can talk there.” She stalked off, with Riley close behind. Spike and Tara followed more slowly. Riley couldn’t wait until they reached the shop. “He’s human?” he demanded. “Spike is human?” “Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say—“ began Spike, but stopped as Buffy turned and directed a prohibitive frown at him. “He’s as human as I am,” she said to Riley and entered the Magic Box. “Can he hurt humans now?” said Riley. “Want a demonstration?” asked Spike.
It turns out that Riley is looking for the same demon that Buffy has been dreaming about and which Buffy and Spike have been tracking for days. The military is interested because of a poison that resides in the demon’s horns. (Okay, this symbolism is pretty obvious and lame, even for me, but I am REALLY annoyed at Riley.) The military wants to create a vaccine from the poison. Riley goes off to check on whatever sources he still has in Sunnydale, and eventually returns to the Magic Box.
Riley came in through the main street entrance, and was slightly cheered to see Xander seated at the round table in the middle of the room. Xander stood up and greeted him reasonably happily, but there was a layer of reserve that had not been there the last time they met. “I was sorry to hear about you and Anya breaking up,” said Riley. “It must have been tough.” “Yeah, it has been,” admitted Xander. “But fortunately, she didn’t turn me into a troll or make me wear my intestines on the outside. But on to happier subjects. Where’s Sam? Not with you this trip?” “No,” said Riley, not meeting his eyes. “She’s on another assignment right now.” His gaze continued to sidle around the shop. “Is Buffy here?” “Yeah, she’s in the back working out. Give it about a half hour.” “I’ll go back there,” said Riley, stalking to the door to the training room and opening it before Xander could utter a warning. As Riley stepped into the training room, a figure dressed in black hurtled through the air and struck the wall a few feet away from him. Fortunately, the entire wall had been covered with thick exercise pads, and Spike bounced off it and onto his feet. His expression was cheerful, if not downright ecstatic. “I see you’ve finally gotten some snap in that snap kick,” he said. “Try out the tornado in this one.” He ran several steps and hurtled through the air with tremendous force. Buffy knocked his leg aside and countered with a blow to his midsection that just barely missed knocking him into another wall. “Very funny. Say you’re doing one kick and try another. That will help in a real fight.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she rained blows on him. He blocked each one, and then took the offensive, landing a kick that made her reel. “At least I don’t start falling into a pattern when I get tired, love. Find a vamp that can count, and he’ll get under your guard like this.” Another kick tossed her across the room. Riley jumped forward and caught her from behind before she could hit the wall. She struggled out of his grasp without embarrassment, and spared him only a quick glance. “Hi, Riley,” she said, staring at Spike, who was circling around the room toward her. “Be with you in a minute. Spike, that was a lucky kick and you know it.” “I’ve gotten lucky a time or two lately, but that wasn’t one of them. You were sloppy, love.” “Sloppy, am I? Well, you should be careful I don’t clean up my act and wipe the floor with you.” It was over quickly then, with Spike trying to find another pattern in her kicks, only to realize too late that she had lured him into a trap. He was tossed several feet into the air and landed hard on his right shoulder. “Ow,” he said plaintively. “That one hurt.” “Only that one hurt?” said Riley, who had been astonished by the ferocity of their sparring. “Oh, don’t be a baby,” said Buffy, holding out her hand to Spike. He grasped it, but when she started to pull him to his feet, he gave an involuntary yelp. He released her hand and struggled upright. His right arm hung at an odd angle. “Dislocated shoulder, I think,” he said. “I can drive him to the hospital,” said Riley, stepping forward. But Buffy and Spike ignored him. Face intent, Buffy grasped Spike’s arm and held it. “Ready?” she asked. Riley closed his eyes involuntarily as the bone popped back into the socket. Spike gave a sigh of relief, and tucked his right hand into the front of his shirt. “Do you want me to drive him to the hospital?” asked Riley again, with less urgency. Buffy looked at him blankly. Spike raised one eyebrow. “No thanks, mate.” He wandered off to the back of the room to help himself to a drink from the water cooler. Buffy saw that he was awkwardly trying to work the spigot with one hand and went over to help him. Then she came back to Riley and said, “He’ll be fine.” “How? You threw him around like he was a rag doll. No normal human could take that beating. And he threw you across the room like---What is he? He isn’t really human, is he?” “You know, Riley, this habit you have of talking about Spike like he’s not in the room is getting on my nerves. I told you. He’s as human as I am.” “How did this happen? Why won’t you tell me?” “Not won’t, Riley. Can’t.” “You mean you don’t know?” “I mean that I couldn’t put it into words that would make any sense to you. The entire thing gave new meaning to the phrase, ‘You had to be there.’ So what brings you back to the shop so soon?” “I found out some information,” he said, reluctantly accepting the change of subject. “About the demon?” she said eagerly. “No, about some other things that are being bought and sold around town,” he said, glancing at Spike. “Sounds like the tin soldier is losing his focus,” said Spike. The pain had faded from his face and he was standing straighter. “Sounds like you’re still buying up some dangerous items,” said Riley. “The word I got is that you’re in the market for a lot of things, including mandrake root.” “Yeah,” said Spike, looking attentive. “Did you find out where I can get some?” “Mandrake root is extremely dangerous!” said Riley. “Yeah,” agreed Spike again. “Only a really powerful witch can handle the bloody stuff without resorting to black magic.” “Let me guess,” said Buffy in a resigned voice. “Sage or Ginger?” Riley looked confused at this apparent mention of cooking supplies. “Saffron,” said Spike. “She’s creating some kind of protection spell that requires a guardian, like a bodyguard. She doesn’t want to trap some poor sod into the job, so she needs a mandrake root. She asked me to get it last week and I told her I’d make a special effort.” Buffy said nothing but raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “What?” said Spike, in an injured tone. “She’s one of the magic shop’s best customers. I’m just helping with a special order.” “Why don’t the ladies from the land of the herbs and spices ever come to Tara with their special orders? She’s supposed to be the one running the shop.” “You’re getting paranoid, Slayer. Besides, Saffron is old enough to be, well she’s as old as my mother was when I died the first time.” “The first time?” asked Riley, trying desperately to keep up. “Is it paranoia that Sage, and Laurel, and even Lavender always manage to drop by when you’re in the shop? And if that’s not enough, they’re always raising grandma Rosemary’s ghost, and I know she had a crush on you.” “It is ridiculous to assume that every witch in that family has a crush on me,” said Spike. “Why restrict it to the witches? I know there aren’t that many warlocks, but I have my suspicions about Valerian’s preferences. And don’t give me that naïve look, because when it comes to knowing who’s hot for who, you are the least naïve person on the planet.” “Buffy!” shouted Riley. They turned toward him, as if surprised he was in the room. “What are you talking about?” Buffy looked away uneasily. “Oh, nothing,” she said. “Just some problem customers. But not evil. Just problems.” She threw a venomous look in Spike’s direction. He responded with a stare of outraged innocence.
They hear from the military that the demon has been tracked to the caves and tunnels underneath Sunnydale. They fight it, but as they are about to capture it, Buffy realizes the meaning of her dreams about the creature. Certain that the military will use it to create a weapon, not a vaccine or antidote, she kills the creature and tosses its corpse down a chasm. Riley is annoyed, but seems to accept her explanation that capturing the demon was not possible. They return to the Magic Box so that he can say farewell to her friends before leaving town.
“Wait, Riley.” Buffy had followed him out of the magic shop. He turned and looked down at her with an expression she suddenly remembered very well. It was the look that said he wasn’t quite going to believe anything she told him. “What is it, Buffy?” “I need to talk with you about a couple of things. Spike, for one.” “Yeah, well, I’m not sure I want to know any more about your relationship with Spike than I already do.” “I wasn’t going to discuss my relationship with him, but, since you bring it up, what makes you think you know anything about it anyway?” “I know it’s crazy. Even setting aside the fact that he used to be a murdering demon, you two – well, it’s none of my business. Maybe it’s just as well I’m leaving. The two of you don’t seem to be getting along too well with me here.” She looked honestly puzzled. “What do you mean?” “What do I mean? All the arguments, the constant bickering, the way you threaten each other when you’re sparring—“ He stopped and stared at her in sudden understanding. “That all has nothing do to with me. It’s like that between you two all the time.” “Well, yes. But you know that’s just part of being in a relationship, Riley.” She stopped, struck by something. “You and I didn’t argue much, did we?” “No,” he said. “We didn’t. Not until that last time.” She frowned deeply. “Don’t you and Sam argue?” “Not until—“ He looked away. She looked almost ill. “You broke up.” “We had a really bad argument. I left when it started getting really crazy, just to cool off. But when I came back, she had already left on an assignment. I went into the jungle for a few weeks, and when I came back, she was gone again. Then I saw the name Sunnydale on our hot jobs list, and I asked for this assignment.” “So you don’t know that it’s over. You just had an argument.” “It wasn’t just an argument. It was so extreme. We’d never been like that with each other. We’d always tried to work together like a team, like we were best friends as well as husband and wife.” Buffy shook her head. “Riley, a really wise idiot once told me something about love. He said something about lovers being able to fight, and shag, and even hate each other until they quiver, but the one thing they could never do was be just friends.” Riley grimaced and looked away. It was clear that these words of wisdom had come from Spike, and it was equally clear he had no intention of accepting advice from that source. “What did you come to tell me?” he asked finally. Her voice was gentler than she had intended when she started the conversation. “It’s about this trip. When you go back, they’ll debrief you or whatever, won’t they?” “Standard operating procedure.” “And you’ll tell them what you learned? Not just about the demon I killed, but also all the news that’s not fit to print. You’ll tell them that the Slayer’s boyfriend used to be a vampire but isn’t any more. You’ll also tell them that he’s super strong and not very breakable.” “So?” She sighed. “Riley, I know you. You’re a good person. But that makes you naïve. Think about this. What will happen if you go back and innocently prattle about the possibility of creating superheroes out of demons? Does that remind you of anything?” “Maggie Walsh. I know, but they learned their lesson, Buffy. That won’t happen again.” “Who learned their lesson? Maybe the people involved in the Adam fiasco won’t get ideas, but there’s bound to be some new guy eventually who’s going to think he can beat the odds and build the monster he can control.” “Like you control Spike?” “That’s just the point, Riley. I don’t control Spike. Spike controls Spike. He does what he does because he chooses to. When there’s a big fight going on, he usually chooses to do what I say, but that’s because he knows you have to have someone in charge in a battle. But if one of your guys in uniform gets ideas, he may start wanting to make more like Spike. The problem is, there aren’t any more like Spike and there can’t be. Trust me on that. So they’ll experiment and they’ll fail. But the failures could be dangerous. And they might even get curious enough to want to experiment on Spike.” “They wouldn’t.” “Oh, wouldn’t they? Look at you, Riley Finn. Even a good man like you can’t bring himself to see Spike as a person. The only ones who do are some people who don’t know what he used to be and some crazy Sunnydale misfits who happen to be his friends. Are you telling me that none of your military guys would be attracted to the notion of taking him apart and finding out what makes him tick?” Riley was silent. “I thought so. So this is what I came out here to say, Riley. You don’t tell your bosses who Spike is, or rather, who he used to be. I’m asking you that as a favor. And if that doesn’t work, I’m telling you not to do it because if you do, and if anything happens to him, you will find out just what the Slayer really is. And I’m not a nice guy like you, Riley. Not deep down.” Her eyes glinted amber under the streetlights. He looked into those eyes and took a step backward. After a long moment, he said, “I’ll tell them that your current boyfriend is a martial arts expert from England turned demon hunter. Will that do?” “Is that a promise? “Yes.” “Thank you.” She turned to go back into the magic shop, but then stopped. “Riley?” “Yes,” he said, his eyes averted. “Just a word of advice. From someone who’s just a good friend. Go find Sam and finish that argument. See it all the way through to the end. You may be surprised where it takes you.” She left him standing there and went inside. Tara and Dawn were arguing sleepily over a miniscule discrepancy in the cash register receipts. “Where’s Spike?” asked Buffy. “In the cellar. Clem came by with some really nasty looking roots or something and he wanted to put them down there because they need to be in a dark, cool place.” Buffy opened the cellar door and went down the stairs. There was a single light on over a wooden table. Spike sat on top of it. He wasn’t checking over the merchandise, however. He was taking a long drag from his battered silver flask. He put the cap on the flask and grimaced. “Toy soldier all gone?” he asked. “Yes. He just left.” “So, did you straighten him out first?” “I don’t know what you mean.” “Oh, so you didn’t tell him to keep his mouth shut or you’d make him good and sorry?” She put her hands on her hips. “Do you have any idea how annoying that is? “What is, love?” “The way you always know what I’m thinking. Lately, trying to keep a secret from you is like trying to get through an episode of Charmed without making fun of the clothes.” She stepped up to the table to stare directly into his eyes. “When you’re not telling me what I think before I can tell you what I think, you’re telling me what I think before I know I’m thinking it.” He grinned. “I don’t think I caught all that, Slayer. Can you say it again?” “There is no way I can ever remember all that and you know it! The point is, I’m tired of you invading my head without permission.” “I thought women liked perceptive men. That they didn’t want a bunch of bloody Martians only interested in shagging. That you Venusians liked it when a man wants to know what’s going on in your heads.” “That speech would be a lot more effective if you didn’t have your hand up my skirt right now.” “I said I wasn’t only interested in shagging. I didn’t say I’d taken a vow of celibacy.” He hopped off the table, grabbed her around the waist and lifted her up so that she was sitting where he had been. “That’s fortunate, because you’re the least likely candidate for a monastery that I know.” She leaned forward to grasp him by the shoulders and her mouth came down hard on his. His hand had reached up under her skirt again and encountered the thin fabric of her panties. He twisted his fingers and shredded the fabric. His lips moved from her mouth to her ear. “You’re not exactly the kind of girl I’d expect to find in a convent either, love.” She tugged impatiently at the zipper on his jeans and slid to the edge of the table, thrusting her hips against his and guiding him inside her. Then she touched his cheek and turned his mouth back to hers. A familiar dizzying sensation overwhelmed her, and she felt reality shift dangerously around them. “And you know something else, Slayer,” he muttered between her kisses. “Ow!” “Ow?” “You know bloody well you just bit my tongue!” “The only way I can stop you from talking,” she murmured, then gave up all attempt at speech as the taste of his blood in her mouth hit the pleasure receptors in her brain. She felt his excitement mount with her own and gave herself up into that dark place that she would enter only with him, because only he could show her the way back when their strange mating was done. Even with him, lovemaking did not always reach this primal level, but when it did, she could feel reality give way under the force of their emotions. The demons they usually held so tightly leashed would slip their bonds for a moment, restrained from escaping only by the force of their attraction to one another. Then, sated and exhausted, the wilder halves of their natures would be content to slink back into their cages, satisfied to obey their human masters as long as they were promised these occasional moments of wild ecstasy. Buffy’s head sank onto Spike’s shoulder as they both came back to the reality of the dark cellar. She began to tremble slightly as her human half began to notice that the room was cold and her body was tired from the stress of the day. She felt him sag against her and knew that he too had begun to be aware of similar mundane feelings. “Let’s go home to our nice warm bed, love,” he murmured. “Oh, do you need to rest up before a rematch?” she teased. “Just giving you a chance to regroup, pet.” Still bickering, they climbed the stairs. Nothing in this world was forever, but as much as she could be sure of anything, Buffy knew that as long as she was with him there would always be a rematch, always another argument, always another battle to be fought at his side, and always another moment of intense physical and psychic connection to remind her of who and what she truly was.
Please send feedback to: missmurchison@mchsi.com
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