Take This Chip And Shove It (The Playthings Remix)
Spike had a list.
It was a bloody nice list, really, with a start and a finish and everything, and a nice scratchy underline under a couple of names and an authoritative 'NO' next to another. Crumpled piece of shit paper, really, but Spike liked its whole plannish feeling. He had a list. The bloody chip had a list, really, which was what was important. Because either the chip was going to bloody well buy it, or he was.
And first on the list was Giles. Giles was depressed, and unemployed, and not nearly as smart as he liked to pretend. Besides, Giles had a bottle of 25 year old Macallan, and he hated drinking alone.
"You want what?" Giles leaned over the table, the scotch dribbling a bit onto his sleeve. Giles looked at it mournfully a moment, half bringing it to his lips before dropping it under Spike's watchful eyes.
"I want you to take this damn chip out of my head."
"Oh, right. I'll just pop it right out of your head with one of my shrimp forks."
"Oh, come off it. I'm sure you know dozens of initiativey magicky gents."
"And what do I get out of this?"
"You could kill me!"
Giles blinked heavily, took off his glasses. "You want me to hire some magicky magick so I can KILL you?"
"Well, yeah. I mean, if you wanted. Like Buffy'd let you now in my kittenish state."
"So I'm supposed to unleash you on the world?"
"More Mac?"
"Oh, yes." Spike poured the last of the bottle gleefully into Giles' cup, sucked out the last of it and slipped his tongue around the rim before turning to Giles thoughtfully.
"Do you want a little blood in it?"
"Do you honestly expect an answer to that?"
"Well don't get all hoity toity now. Some people like to try new things."
Giles screwed up his eyes tightly at Spike, who smiled complacently at him, one hand still strumming the now empty bottle.
"I'm not that drunk," Giles said.
He hadn't really expected Giles to go for it.
Buffy, on the other hand, might just be annoyed with him enough.
"Come on, Buffy," he grumbled, nearly tripping over a headstone. "You know you want to kill me. And your precious little goodnevil innards won't let you unless I'm all evil again. It's a win-win situation!" He smiled gamely.
"Spike."
"Yes?"
"If you don't go away and let me kill the other vampires, I'm going to stake you instead."
"Oh. Well then."
He crossed off the second name.
Xander crossed the room anxiously, hands flittering through piles of papers.
"I know all about you. I mean. Of course I know all about you. But I know about Buffy knows about you and...yeah. I'm not helping you!"
"Wonderful. So you're just going to sit around and let me sneak her away from you?"
"What?!" Xander squeaked, then, lower, "What?"
"Well, what else am I going to do? Got sod-all to do. Getting drunk with Giles and eating buffalo wings aren't exactly the stuff of unlife, you know."
"So you're going to win Buffy's eternal love in your spare time? She hates you!"
"Well I do seem to fit the profile. Let's see, gorgeous, leather coat, dead..."
"And if I get the chip out of your head you'll kill all of us."
"And if you don't I'll get Buffy."
"You're...that's...you're very wrong and bad!"
"Right. So are you going to help me?"
"No!"
Spike laughed. "Oh, I know you can't help me. I just came by to get my cigs."
"What?"
"I just couldn't help myself. You're very cute when you're flustered."
Spike walked out, smile large and satisfied.
When he was outside, he crossed off the third name.
Willow, on the other hand, wouldn't stop talking.
"I mean, I have pain. And do they want to hear it? Noooo, it's the great big buffet of Willow pain and all they want are the cheap free crackers in those little plastic packages that come with the tea, you know those? No, we can't talk about Oz, 'cause that would be self involved, oh yes indeed. Instead let's talk about Anya and Adam and Apocalypses and other A things."
"Dreadful. And here your world is all crumbling down, and they have to have crackers."
"Right. No. Wait. Why are you agreeing with me?"
"You know, when Drusilla left, it was like my heart just fell right out of my chest. Slop. Right on the floor."
"Oh, I...I forgot. You two were together for a long time, right?"
"Forever." He patted her arm affectionately. "Give it a bit of time. You're too hard on yourself. Now, if I didn't have this chip in my head, I'd hunt him down for you."
"Oh. Really?"
"In a heartbeat. If I had one."
"That's so...and the others, they won't even take a little time out from world saveage! I mean, Buffy didn't even remember the tissues last time!"
Spike held out one.
"Thanks," she mumbled, embarrassed, blowing her nose to the side. "You know, I'm not usually this emotional. I mean, it's just been a rough couple of weeks. As soon as Oz gets back - "
"So if I had this chip out..."
"And what was he thinking, anyhow, running away? You know he can't remember his socks without me, you think he's going to survive China?"
"I'm sure he's beating himself up over it even now. About that chip -"
"And really," Willow hiccoughed, "none of this would have happened if it hadn't been for that little she-bitch -"
"Oh, sod it all," Spike grumbled, and bent Willow over into a kiss that had spent a hundred years in the making.
He had to shut her up somehow, after all.
Three weeks later and he still couldn't finish a sentence. Could barely finish up on her, really, before she started yammering away about true love and filling her pain hole up, which he thought he'd done just fine, but she would have none of it, had to talk about her spiritual state. Really, he was about to give up on the whole thing.
"I just don't understand why you can't just help me out a little here," Spike growled, pulling the sheets back onto the makeshift bed. "I mean, really, I work very hard. And you can't do just a teensy little spell to make this little chip go kerplooey?"
"What, so you could go snacking on me? Looking for some entertainment? Or maybe go bite Buffy, or Oz? What about when Oz comes back and what if you can't let go?"
"Baby," Spike cooed, pulling Willow back towards him, "you know I'd never hurt you. Or your friends. And Oz, well, if he's man enough to come back -"
"He is!"
"Right, yes, I just...what if you couldn't do magic? It's part of me. I just...need a bite now and again. Only the ones you okayed. You know I'd never want to upset you."
"Well, I don't know, it's just...it's all very confusing..." Willow wandered off, lecturing sternly to the walls as she roamed the crypt, her bare feet plodding loudly on the stone. Spike rolled his eyes and reached for a cig. The speech always lasted at least two.
"...and to top it off, I don't know what your feelings are."
"You don't know - bloody hell woman! I just want a little help here!"
"So do I," laughed Drusilla.
The temperature dropped what felt a hundred degrees or so: Willow, a moment before so impossible to silence, now stood mute in front of Dru, whose dark lace flowed softly around her, the moonlight streaming in through the crypt door around her in a gentle, cupping gesture. Spike was deeply thankful.
"Drusilla," he whispered. "My precious, lightless creature. You've come back."
Drusilla slid across the room, eyes piercing, hands floating, pausing a moment in front of Willow with an intimate smile, and a soft, hushed, "stay there, poppet," before she glided on to Spike.
"I didn't mean to leave you," she whispered.
"I knew you didn't, Drusilla, darling, nothing could keep us apart for long. We only need this girl to -" and Spike blinked, the wooden stake slipping through his chest. He looked up, eyes blank, hands shaking.
"-alive," Drusilla finished. And Spike fell to dust.
Drusilla smiled and turned to Willow. "Now. Pretty girl. We have so many things to teach each other. So many games to play. Come with me, pretty girl." And then, so gently it felt almost like nothing at all, she slid across the room and into Willow, blood flowing quietly in the dark, and Willow, eyes still transfixed in the distance, watched the walls fade and the moon grow brighter still.