Pairing: None Rating: PG-13 for vampcurses, gleeful vamptorture, mention of George Hamilton Spoilers: Through Grave Summary: Spike asks a boon, but must prove he deserves it Date Written: 6/10/02 Warning: Fans of fluffy!Spike would do well to turn back now. I have done my best to return the character to his roots. He is also very cruelly tortured in this one, in case you haven't read the rest of the notes... in which case, why are you reading this one? Author's Notes: This fic came out of the disgruntled conversation my Twisted Sister, Fabrisse, and I had the day after Grave aired. We both felt that Spike hadn't gone through anything like real tests of his worthiness to have his wish granted. (Let's face it, beating up demons is what he does for fun on a Friday night and anyone who lives in a crypt has had to cope with a few creepy-crawlies crawling creepily over them once in a while) We came up with a few ideas. Unfortunately, there wasn't room for all of them in this fic... but I did my best to make what I did use count. Dedication: To my Twistie, Fabrisse. Many happy returns and I still owe you a honey-drenched Giles and Wesley. And to THE Collie. I hope this cheers you up in the face of what Joss and Marti have done to your beloved Spike. "I want to be like I was, so I can give the Slayer what she deserves." (Yeah) Spike thought to himself (a right, bloody good killing. That'll teach the bitch.). "First, you must prove yourself worthy," the demon's voice boomed through the cave. "Rest now, and prepare. The test begins tomorrow at nightfall." "Oh come on!" Spike called after the retreating figure in the shadows. "I'm ready now! I don't wanna wait! Bugger!" When he realized the demon was not going to return, he kicked a boulder in frustration. He swore at the pain shooting from his toe and well up his leg. "Sodding ponce. Doesn't he know how much I need to kill that bint and everyone who keeps her from me?" For some time, the vampire paced the confines of the small cave. His anger and boredom grew with every passing minute. At last, though, he found himself too weary to continue his pacing. Perhaps it would be best, after all, if he took a bit of a kip. The tests he had to face might be pretty grueling. Best not to face them in an exhausted state. * * * * * The first sensation he became aware of was a clawed toe nudging him in the naked ribs. "Leave off!" he muttered angrily in his sleep. His hand slapped ineffectually at the tree-trunk-sized leg at his side. At last, he opened his eyes and sat up. He frankly gawked up at the huge beast. "So," he said at last, "I'm meant to fight you, am I? Right, well, let's go to it." He stood and flexed his muscles, taking up a fighting stance. The creature shook his head. "I will not fight you," it boomed out. Spike stood still for a moment, blinking. At last he shrugged and curled his fists. "Fair enough. Just makes it easier for me to kill you. Not much of a test, though, is it?"" "This is not your test, Spike." "It's not?" "No." "Then what is?" Spike asked as he leaned back against the stony wall. He wished he had a cigarette. It was so much easier to come off as nonchalant when he had a ciggie to use as a prop. "This," said the demon. He moved aside to reveal a room Spike hadn't seen before. It was a courtroom. "Take the stand," the demon ordered. Spike stared. "What the hell is this?" he spat. "Your first test. Take the stand." Spike began to giggle. "Some test, mate. Yeah, all right. I'll do it. And here I thought this was gonna be something difficult." The vampire headed jauntily to the witness stand and went to sit. He was stopped by the demon. "Stay standing for the oath," the demon barked. "The what?!" A bailiff came to the fore. She carried a thick tome in her hand. "Place your right hand on the Bible and repeat after me," she said. "You've got to be joking." The bailiff pulled a gun with her free hand. She aimed it at Spike's chest and ordered him again to take the oath. "That won't kill me, you know." The bailiff grinned. "No, but it'll hurt a whole lot while it's not killing you." The click of the hammer convinced Spike to try taking the oath. He took a deep, unneeded breath and gingerly placed his hand on the black-bound book. His hand began to sizzle. The bailiff replaced her gun in its holster. "Repeat after me: I swear the evidence I am about to give shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God," she intoned slowly as Spike did his best not to squirm too much from the pain. "I swear (bugger) the evidence I'm about to give'll be the truth the wholetruthandnothingbutthetruth, sohelpmeGodammit!" Spike pulled his badly fried hand back as quickly as he could. He sucked his fingers, willing his ready tears of pain not to fall. When he looked again, the courtroom was gone and the demon looked at him with something bordering on respect. "You have passed your first ordeal," the creature pronounced. "You call that an ordeal?" Spike laughed shakily. "Sodding walk in the park at Midnight, that was. So, where do I go to pick up my wish? Go on. Make with the boogedy-boogedy." "I said you passed the FIRST ordeal. There are two more to go." "Oi! You said a test, mate. A test as in one as in single as in only one! You never said nothing about three tests!" "I said you would be tested. Three is the standard contract. If you want an exception, you should have contacted our planning department in advance." "Well how long does that take?" The demon shrugged his massive shoulders. "Six months? Two years? Could be anything in that general time frame - unless the case needs special consideration. Vampires requesting rule changes generally need special consideration." "How long does it take then?" The demon smirked. "You don't have the time." "I'm a vampire. I'm immortal." "You still don't have the time. Are you ready for the second test?" Spike glared at his tormentor for a long minute. At last his shoulders slumped and he waved his hand in defeat. "Yeah, yeah, bring it on. What's next? Nailing a cathedral together with my nose? Joining a gospel choir that's never heard of The Ramones? What?" "Neither," the demon smiled dangerously. "It's a simple task; a child's game." "Game?" "Have you ever played bobbing for apples, Spike?" The vampire giggled. "Bobbing for sodding apples? Not since I was a kiddie. Easier now I don't even have breath to hold. Right, bring it on. Piece of bloody cake. Speaking of which, have you ever tried devil's food soaked in O neg? It's a right treat." The demon shook his head in disgust and clapped his hands together. A pair of smaller demons hauled in a large wooden tub. They wore protective gloves and smocks. "What's wrong with them, then?" Spike asked. "Water soluble, are they?" "Kneel," the demon commanded. "Right," Spike snorted. "Just trying to make conversation, mate. No need to get shirty." Nevertheless, he knelt as quickly as he could without making it too obvious he was obeying the order out of fear. He peered into the tub. There were no apples in it. "Crucifixes?! I'm bobbing for bloody crucifixes?!" "That's right." "Soon as I get done here, I'm reporting you lot to the Royal Society for the Ethical Treatment of Vampires." Spike rotated his shoulders, steeling himself to the task at hand... well, face. He clasped his hands behind his back in the approved manner. He plunged in. He pulled out, screaming in agony. His face was covered in burns. "Oh, yes," the demon rumbled apologetically, "I forgot to mention; that's holy water." "Of course," Spike sneered as best he could. "I can see how a minor detail like that might slip your mind." "Go on," the demon ordered. "Bob." "Just for information, how many of these things do I have to snag?" "All of them." "All of them?" "All of them." Spike swallowed hard. "How many are in there?" The demon shrugged. "Baker's dozen." "Thirteen?! Thirteen crucifixes in holy water? And you want me to grab the lot of 'em out of there with my bare fangs?" "Come on, Spike. We haven't got all night. You have another test to go after this. Again and again Spike plunged his face into the burning liquid. The pile of holy symbols next to the tub grew with almost every bob. At last he managed to grasp the last one and spat it on the ground beside the others. He collapsed next to the vat, his face mangled almost beyond recognition, his tongue swollen and badly burnt. Still, he found the strength to raise a two-fingered salute to his demon tormentor. "What's next on the menu?" he managed to mumble out. "That can wait until tomorrow. Rest now. You have faced today's ordeals with courage." Spike began to laugh. "You don't have one ready," he giggled brokenly. "Didn't think I'd make it this far, did you?" "Frankly, no, we didn't. Still, we do have something in store for you; something that will truly prove your worth once and for all, or rid us of you entirely." Spike had squeezed his eyes shut against the pain that wracked through him. When he heard something hit the floor of the cave next to him, he rolled to his side and opened first his eyes, then the bundle. He held up a skimpy pair of mesh swimtrunks. "I thought we already did holy water," he protested. When the demon didn't answer, Spike looked at the next item. A pair of sunglasses. He swallowed hard and pulled out the final item. An entrant's brochure, filled out in his name, for the George Hamilton Annual Tan-Off in Bermuda. "When you've won that, you can have your soul back." "Soul? What are you talking about? I just want the sodding chip out!" The demon consulted his notes. "It says quite clearly here that you want to be like you were so the Slayer can have what she deserves. Anyone who has willingly sacrificed her life to save the world twice deserves a nice guy to cuddle up with on a Saturday night, at the very least. That's going to be you, William." Spike screamed. * * * * * Spike sat up, screaming. He looked wildly at his hands. No burns. He felt his face. Nothing unusual there, either. "Must've been dreaming," he assured himself as he scanned the empty cave. "No way they'd do that to me. They know what I meant." He peeked out the door of the cave. Night had nearly fallen. A few more minutes and it would be safe to leave. "Still, no harm in buggering out while I've got the chance." Spike gathered up his meager belongings, pulled his coat over his head, and raced out of the cave to the nearest patch of shade. All that mattered was getting away. When he got to the next large town he'd take a quick gander in the yellow pages. There had to be a good neurosurgeon somewhere in Africa.