Unlife Is Worth Living



Tara sat in the kitchen of the Summers home. Or maybe now that Buffy and Joyce are gone, its the Summers/Rosenberg/Maclay/Bloody home, since all of them live there now. They all work to keep it clean and safe. All work to make it still seem like a home, even though two of the beloved residents are gone now forever.

It had been a little awkward, figuring out the logistics. And Giles and Xander had “oh no"d and “poo poo”d themselves red in the face, but the girls had gone on in spite of them. It was decided that Willow and Tara would take over Joyce’s old bedroom because firstly, there were two of them and secondly, Dawn didn’t feel right in the master bedroom even though it was technically her house.

Dawn moved into Buffy’s old room for a couple of reasons. She’d always wanted the bigger room, it’s six and a half square feet bigger than her own. She’d feel closer to Buffy if she could be in her room, in her bed. The closet is so much bigger then her own. Plus they’d never convince Spike to move in if he had to stay in Buffy’s old room. And lastly, and this reason Dawn kept to herself, was because it’s much easier to sneak out by going down the tree than trying to climb down the trellis outside of her window.

So Dawn moved into Buffy’s old room and the girls had prepared what had been Dawn’s room into the perfect bedroom for a creature of the night. He’d never said he wanted to move in, never even hinted at it. But he was spending most of his time there; grocery shopping to make sure they all ate and kept up their strength, cursing and trying to fix the aging water pipes in the basement, doing laundry when they were too depressed to remember to do it, getting Willow and Tara snockered when their despair overcame them. When Dawn had a nightmare, he was the only one who could calm her down afterward. When Dawn’s psyche led her to sleepwalking, trying in her dreams to get to Glory and kill her, Spike had taken over Dawn watching duty after Dawn had unknowingly badly beaten Tara, thinking she was the former hell goddess. And Tara unwilling to fight back.

He’d always take his leave just as the sun was rising, taking the sewers back to his crypt, only to arrive back at the Summers' house shortly after sundown, ready to help the women in whatever way they needed him.

So Willow, Tara and Dawn had decided to give Spike his own room. They’d painted the walls of Dawn's old room a deep crimson red and convinced Xander to strip and sand the hardwood floor before they stained it a deep cherry.

Tara had sewn a pair of darkly-hued tapestry drapes, lined with black corduroy to keep the sun at bay. They’d secured them to the sides of the window, so no light could leak through the edges and Tara had sewn a series of snaps down the other side so that Spike could block the sun during the day, or open them at night if he chose.

Willow had spent a large bit of her monthly allowance on a king size black iron bed. She didn’t know how she knew, but she was convinced that if given a choice, Spike would want the king size. Tara had gone to work again, sewing a duvet cover that matched the curtains and lots of big soft pillows in complimentary colors.

Dawn had done her part by stealing several sets of king size sheets, although she left out the ‘stealing’ part when she showed them to Willow and Tara. She’d also appropriated a Sex Pistols poster and put it on the closet door. Spike had been flabbergasted when he’d seen it and adamantly refused to move in, declaring it “unseemly” and “just not done” for a man to reside with three single ladies, even if two of them weren’t exactly ‘single’.

One night he’d come back after patrol beaten and bloody, being half carried, half dragged by Xander. Xander said they’d been attacked by a gang of Gnor’Flaeshka demons, intent on making Xander their supper – or date, Spike had been iffy on the translation. Spike had told Xander to run far and fast, and had taken on the entire gang himself. Xander had followed his advice and gotten half way home before his conscience got the better of him and he backtracked, stopping along the way at the sporting goods store and breaking the window to steal a bow and arrows. He’d refused to describe what the demons were doing to Spike when he returned. He used the bow with the efficiency of one who’s spent five years demon fighting and lowered their numbers enough for Spike to stand and finish them off. The girls had put Spike to rest in the room intended for him and Willow had gone to the hospital to get him some human blood so that he could heal. Xander had been Spike’s biggest fan ever since and Spike had continued thereafter to live at the Summers/Rosenberg/Maclay/Bloody house.

Tara swirled the water in her scrying bowl again.

“That can’t be right…” she whispered very quietly to herself.

Willow, who was used to Tara’s quiet mutterings, came up behind her and ran a hand through Tara’s silky soft locks. “What’s the matter, Sweetie? Water not co-operating today?”

Tara shook her head. “No, it’s not that. It’s just…”

Her vision had been a little strange. She, Willow and Dawn had decided that they wanted to do something nice for Spike. Spike was suffering just as badly as the rest of them; mourning Buffy and a relationship that never could have been and never would be. He sat and talked to the three of them, listening as they worked through their bereavement.

But he never opened up to them; he never got the chance to work through his loss. They’d tried all the usual human things to get him to talk. They’d gotten him drunk, watched sad movies, had an intervention. Nothing worked.

When he wasn’t in their company, Spike sat in a dark corner of his room and held his sorrow inside of himself and it was slowly consuming him.

It had been Dawn’s idea to look into Spike’s history, do a little supernatural spying to see how he had worked through grief before. Maybe then they could get an idea of how to fix him.

Tara had offered to do it, but vowed to back out if her visions got too intrusive.

The next day, as soon as Dawn left for school – and they were sure Spike was asleep, Tara had pulled out her scrying bowl and done the proper incantation as Willow made them some chamomile tea.

But now Tara was confused.

“I see Spike, but he doesn’t look sad. He looks, unm, drunk.”

Willow giggled. “Drunk?” Then she thought about it. “Maybe he’s drinking because he’s sad.”

Tara continued to peer into the copper bowl. “He’s sitting in a club – the Roxy Club?” Willow shrugged, never having heard of it either.

“There’s a band, the singer’s good but the band is horrible. Spike’s nodding really emphatically along with the music.”

“That’s called ‘head-banging’, baby,” Willow explained.

“Oh. Well, he’s head-banging then. The band’s stopped playing, thank goodness. Spike’s talking to the bartender, the singer’s coming over and bumming a cigarette from Spike. They’re talking.”

Willow was excited now. “What are they saying?”

“Shh, honey, so I can hear them,” Tara admonished very nicely.

/~/~/~/~/~/Fade into the scene inside the scrying bowl/~/~/~/~/~/

“Not bad, mate,” Spike said, “but your guitar player needs to be drowned. And your drummer should be staked with his own drumsticks. They sound like they’ve been practicing about five days total.”

The blond haired singer laughed, “Matter of fact, that’s exactly how long we’ve been together. Five days. Tony and John and me been together a few months, but Derwood’s new. I used to play guitar, but…” he drifted off.

“Nah, mate, you gotta sing. Can’t keep a crowd inter'sted if you gotta play too. And you got a great stage presence, mate. You’re gonna go places, take my word. But ya gotta lose the others.” Spike held out his hand, “By the way, name’s Spike.”

“Cheers, Spike. I’m Billy. Billy Broad.”

Spike rolled his eyes. Billy laughed. “Yeah, I know, I need a new name. Working on it, got a couple I like but haven’t decided yet.”

/~/~/~/~/~/Fade out of the scene/~/~/~/~/~/

“OH! OH!” Willow was jumping up and down screaming, “That’s – That’s – OH. MY. GODDESS! Do you know who that is?!” She was slapping Tara on the arm.

Tara smiled, “Yes, honey, now sit down and let me finish, okay?”

/~/~/~/~/~/Fade into the scene inside the scrying bowl/~/~/~/~/~/

Spike and Billy are both now completely drunk and the bartender is refusing to serve them any more. Spike offers more sustenance at his place and Billy agrees, following him out into the dark night.

"Love the look, mate," Billy stammers drunkenly, eyeing Spike's platinum blond, short-cropped hair. His eyes travel down, taking in dark kohled eyes that glisten with mischievous bright blue irises. Perfectly formed cheekbones and full pink lips. A sharp chin sits above a long, graceful neck. Broad shoulders hidden under the coolest black leather trench Billy's ever seen.

"You a little queer, Pet?" Spike asks with a laugh.

It must be the alcohol that makes Billy answer honestly. "Wasn't – until right now."

Spike smiles and nods his head in the direction of his current lair – an apartment on Bedford Avenue, near the British Museum. He'd appropriated it from a delicious redhead last week.

They head northeast on Hanway, turning left on Court Road. One block down, they turn right onto Bedford and Spike turns into the second building on the right, pulling out a key.

"Nice flat."

"Belongs to a friend," Spike replies with no trace of the truth in his voice.

Spike throws the keys onto a table near the front door and heads further into the flat. Billy follows, his eyes and mind pricing the art and furniture.

Spike moves into the kitchen and pulls out two glasses. He opens a cabinet and pulls out a bottle of Wild Turkey Rare Breed. "Here, Luv. Give this a try."

Billy sips at the deep reddish amber liquid while Spike gulps his down. Spike smiles when Billy coughs.

"Little stronger than the sweet Irish swill they serve down at the Roxy, innit?"

Billy doesn't say anything, just takes another sip, a little more this time.

Spike moves again and Billy follows, this time into a richly appointed bedroom. Deep burgundy walls and cream coloured drapes. A cherrywood four-post bed that looks like it had been bought from a sultan's mansion.

/~/~/~/~/~/Fade out of the scene/~/~/~/~/~/

"Will, I can't watch this anymore. Spike's about to seduce him. I can't watch Spike do… that… with… with… Billy… Billy…"

"Idol?" Willow says with a smile.

"Broad!" Tara was quick to interject. "Billy Broad! You don't know that that is…"

"Billy Idol? 'Cause it sure sounds like Billy Idol."

Tara just shrugged.

"Maybe you're getting the wrong vision," Willow suggests.

"I don' think so."

"What did you ask?"

"I asked Mari to show me Spike's history, at a time when he was grieving. I told her I wanted to help him deal through his grief and asked her to show me how."

"Maybe we're supposed to call Billy Idol?" Willow asks skeptically.

Tara raises a incredulous eyebrow at her girlfriend.

"Well, I don't know," Willow defends, "Go back in and watch some more, maybe it will tell you something."

Tara thinks about it, as Willow walks over to the counter and opens a drawer. She pulls our her Cyberpunk cd and puts 'Mother Dawn' on the cd player. "Mood music," she explains. Tara smiles and picks up her talisman, infused with alum to destroy all negativity and basil to promote tranquility, harmony and cooperation.

"Mistress Mari, impart thy wisdom. I seek to find peace for one I love. Known as William the Bloody, he wreaked chaos and cruelty throughout the world; today he is wise and kind and beloved to those who reside within this homestead. He is grieving, Mistress and I desire to help him find peace within himself. I need something specific to impact this change.

"Find me a path, show me a way,
Seek the visions of another day.
Help me ease his sorrow, heal his heartache,
Bestow the afterlife he's destined to partake.
I ask out of love, out of abiding respect,
So this change I may affect."

She once again looks into the scrying bowl and sees now that Spike and Billy are in the bed and each is bare to the waist, where the blanket covers them. She can't see Spike's face; he's lying on his stomach with his face hidden in his arms and Billy has his hand on Spike's back.

/~/~/~/~/~/Fade into the scene inside the scrying bowl/~/~/~/~/~/

"Sounds like a right bitch, Spike. You're best rid of her."

"Forget it, knew you wouldn't understand."

Billy sighs and moves in close to Spike, laying his arm across his lover's shoulders.

"I do understand, Spike. But you have an eternity to live and you shouldn't spend it worrying about what you can't control. She'll come back, she won't – you don't know. That's up to Fate. But you have Life by the balls, mate. All the time in the world to live. Get on with your life. Live, man. That's the best way to get on. The only way. Don't look for what you don't have. Open your eyes and see what's in front of you. And enjoy it. Get on with your life."

Spike opens his eyes and sees what's in front of him. A beautiful man child with a killer smile and dancing eyes and knows that he has a point.

"Enjoy what's right in front of me, eh?" Spike asks with a leer.

Billy lies back against the midnight blue pillows and smiles.

"Come 'ere."

Spike rises up on his elbows and moves over Billy, the words rushing through his mind.

Move on with life.

Enjoy what's in front of you.

Live for today.

Hazel eyes watch Spike's mouth descend and then the world and all it's problems are lost as they focus only on each other, taking the words to heart.

Spike kisses him softly at first, letting their lips barely touch. Teasing this sweet boy whose body is balm to his peace of mind. Billy's hands don't remain idle, traveling over Spike's smooth, soft skin; exploring his back, pulling him closer.

When their mouths finally open and search each other, Spike drops onto Billy, their bodies molding together. Hard chest to hard chest, pounding heart beating against an unmoving one, bringing new life into the dead body it inhabits.

/~/~/~/~/~/Fade out of the scene/~/~/~/~/~/

Tara silently watches, unable to look away as they move together.

/~/~/~/~/~/Fade into the scene inside the scrying bowl/~/~/~/~/~/

Billy gently turns them over, so that he can move over Spike and move down his long lithe body; exploring and adventuring, learning what touches and sounds make this wonderful creature shudder with pleasure.

He's never touched a man before, no one other than himself. Hell, he's spent way too much time dancing with himself and he wants to enjoy this for however long it will last. Vampires, he has learned, are transitory beings, and this new delight is sure to end as soon as Spike feels restless.

He doesn't want that to happen anytime soon.

For the first time in his short life, he opens his mouth to taste another man's cock and the sensation is one of pure enchantment. Velvety soft skin moving over hard steel. Spike responds immediately, body tensing and back arching and Billy finds almost orgasmic pleasure in the power he feels.

Spike's fingers curl in Billy's hair as Billy takes him deeper, but Spike warns with a harsh growl, "Not too deep. You're not used to it. Will – will – ch – choke you."

Billy just chuckles and the vibrations make Spike emit a low rumbling purr that warms Billy's heart. He hums a tune he's been working on around Spike's pulsing shaft. Spike starts to thrust and then stops, pulling himself free of the heat wrapped around him.

"Need inside you," he says, and Billy moves to turn onto his hands and knees, but Spike stops him.

"Want to – need to – see you," Spike admits, clearly embarrassed, but Billy just flushes with pleasure. Spike settles him on the bed and grabs the lotion they'd been using for lubrication. It's rose-scented, but it's all the dead bird had in the flat.

He uses more than strictly necessary, but the first time had hurt and even though the consecutive times were better, once Billy learned to relax, he has an undeniable urge to alleviate as much pain as possible this time. Billy moans as Spike prepares him, making sure to go deep and hit the spot that will bring the most gratification as he stretches him.

He eases Billy's legs up so that they rest on his shoulders and slides in slowly, watching as this new position and new sensations make the young, inexperienced boy writhe in unadulterated lust.

When he's buried deep, he starts moving again, in and out with practiced ease and the amazement in Billy's eyes is likely to send him over quicker than he'd like.

Without leaving the heat of Billy's body, Spike eases up onto his knees and glides just the tip in and out and he takes Billy's hard cock in his hand and works him from bottom to top, taking the time to taste the savory fluid leaking from the tip.

"Come for me, Luv," he whispers and pushes in fully one more time as they both orgasm; Billy in Spike's hand as Spike sends his own cum shooting into Billy's body.

/~/~/~/~/~/Fade out of the scene/~/~/~/~/~/

"What?" Willow asks, seeing the look in her girlfriend's eyes.

Tara's panting and flushed and unable to speak for a few minutes. When she finally gets her thoughts under control, she says, "We have to make Spike see that he has to forget the past and live for today. That life – or unlife – is worth living. He has to open up his eyes and see what's right in front of him."

Willow looks skeptical. "What's right in front of him?"

Tara smiles. "We are."

The End