A Spark of Love

Chapter Nine


Previously: Spike calls Angel while drunk and finds out the truth about Drusilla. Buffy admits to Spike in a roundabout way that she's in love with him. Tired of the constant interruptions to their "date", Spike ignores a phone call, which turns out to have been about Tara. Xander arrives to tell them what happened.


Buffy really wanted to be able to be angry, to just stew in her feelings like a less-red Buffy tomato. Unfortunately, she was the Slayer, which meant she had to be the one being all battle-plan-having instead of petty.

Her mind had rewound pretty damn quick to Xander's off-the-cuff mention of the phone going unanswered. She might not have made the greatest grades in college algebra last year, but she could put two and two together. And, as usual, the sum came up to be Spike's fault.

"Okay, Glory knows where we live, and if Willow's still there we can't risk her sending her gross little minions after Dawn. So the three of you can grab supplies – weapons, food, whatever you might need – and take the tunnels to Spike's crypt. As far as we know, they've never followed us there."

"I'll get the weapons," Dawn said, quietly but with a surprising authority. Buffy spared her a quick glance as she left the room. Sometimes it was hard to believe that she was the same teenager squealing over some pimply boy calling her not two hours before. There were more and more of these moments lately, and she was starting to suspect that this new grown up Dawn was becoming the norm.

Xander finally seemed to register Spike's presence. He eyed Buffy and Spike cautiously, like they were going to explode or start going at it right in front of him. "Well, I guess I'll be Snack Boy," he said awkwardly, heading for the kitchen.

She could sense Spike's gaze on her, but she didn't want to look at him. Looking at him got her nothing but trouble, she thought bitterly. He was like some kind of weird human-shaped drug; whenever she was around him, she forgot everything else, and look where it got her.

"Like hell I'm going with Dawn and the boy," Spike murmured, quietly but forcefully. Almost against her will, her eyes drifted up to his. The stormy blue was drilling right into her. She hated him for it. "I'm backing you up, you're not going in alone."

"No." She sounded a little less sure of herself than she wanted to.

He made a scoffing noise. "Not the time to be noble, pet. I know you can handle yourself, but that bitch could take us all down. You need me."

No, I don't, and I never have, and I never will – that was what she wanted to say, for half a second. Instead, Buffy sighed. "Yeah. I do. I need you to take care of Dawn." She paused. "I mean, God, Spike, a telemarketer? You're not exactly scoring points in the me-trusting-you department."

"I didn't –"

She raised a hand. "I so don't wanna hear it right now. We can talk about it later, assuming there is a later. I'm gonna grab my weapons and go. If – and I mean only if – I'm not back in an hour, then you can be all cavalry and come in as backup. Xander," she said, as he came back into the front, "I need you to call Giles before you go, tell him to bring Anya and Tara to the crypt, too. We can plan our next moves when I come back with Willow."

Not thinking was good, she decided as she readied herself. Not thinking meant not dwelling on details like the flecks in Spike's eyes or the down-turned curve of Dawn's lips. Not thinking meant not remembering the painful crack in Xander's voice when he thought about losing his oldest friend.

It was time to kick some hellgod ass, for like the second time this week. Well, it was spring, which was when her life always seemed to get harder.

She broke into a run. And, as usual, I'd rather beat up my problems than talk about them. I can always talk later.

Buffy just hoped Willow would be conscious for that "later".


The tunnels were dank and cold – not that it really mattered to him. Vampire and all, he could take it. Still, the warmth and coziness of Buffy's home touched some still-human bit of him.

Just like Buffy herself could, and Dawn, and even Joyce (God rest her soul). And who could blame a vamp for wanting to extend that feeling and ignore any disturbances? The chit needed a bloody day off! He'd never realized before coming to Sunnydale what a crap job being a Slayer was. Not that he really would have cared, but…no money, no assurances, lots of wankers bossing you around, and absolutely no vacations. That was hell, right there, but Buffy bore it with a smile. Well, except the Council of Wankers, whom she'd rightfully kicked to the curb.

He glanced at the boy. Did he know how much the Slayer needed a break, how rough she had it? Maybe, yeah. Seemed to him the Scooby lot took her for granted, but the boy might would have stayed out of their hair if not for Red. And, as much as he hated it, Spike couldn't really blame him for that.

Bloody hell, he was growing sympathy toward all of them. Probably wouldn't much care if it was Xander getting blown up by the hellgod, but the Wiccas were good to him. And Anya was a right piece of work, in a good way.

The Watcher could go to hell after the way he'd treated Buffy today, though. Spike could give him a trip there no charge. The "This Is For Bothering Buffy" rate.

Dawn was walking ahead of them in silence. He didn't like it, but when he'd caught up to her a few minutes ago she'd given him a glare that could have combusted a lesser vampire. As it was, he fell back without protest. He could still sense something coming sooner than she would, anyway.

"I don't like you." Xander's voice cut through the silence.

Spike shot him a look. "Yeah, I think I might have picked up on that, mate," he said, infusing his voice with as much disdain as he could muster. It was a respectable amount, considering he'd come down off his little cloud-9-Buffy-world after she got brassed off at him for no good reason.

"Hold your horses, Deadboy, I wasn't finished," the boy replied, shaking his head. God, but he needed a haircut. Any longer and he'd look like Angelus before the soul. Briefly, Spike considered telling him that. "Like I was going to say, I don't like you. In fact, I can't guarantee that I wouldn't dance on your grave. Not that you'd have one, because, you know, evil creature of the night and all. But I get that, for whatever gross reasons that I really don't wanna think about, Buffy cares about your well-being. So if you get the business end of a stake, I won't cry, but I won't be at the other end either."

His brow furrowed. "So," he said slowly, "you hate me but you won't try to kill me. Seems fair, especially since you know I haven't been able to kill you for years now."

"Yeah, but you would have if you could," the other countered.

Spike slipped out a pack of cigs and lit one, taking a long drag before he replied. "Nah, not likely. Would've pissed off Buffy."

He put a little smack of extra emphasis on her name, a little bit of added intimacy for show. Easier to deal with the boy when he was ready for a fight, that was territory he knew how to deal with. Still, wasn't like he really had to put on, just drop his defenses a little bit. Not like it was a secret anymore.

Xander didn't miss it, either, based on the look he gave back. "So you and Buffy really are…feel free to fill in the blank, because I can't finish that sentence without throwing up in my mouth a little bit."

"Yeah," he said shortly. Probably should feel bad for the boy, given the situation and all, but he was tired of all the bloody nattering. The occasional pang of sympathy was only putting him in a worse mood. "What of it?"

"Nothing," he shrugged. "Just the standard hurt-her-and-you-die-painfully speech. You've probably heard it already."

Involuntarily, he raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"

Their pace had slowed down and Dawn didn't seem to be waiting for them. Spike raised a hand to signal for the Bit to pause.

She looked right at him and ignored it. Typical.

"I mean, I still totally hate you and all, but you're kind of a handy guy to have around, I guess. In an apocalypse-type situation, you don't suck." Xander hesitated. "Pun completely intended."

Well. This was new. "Thanks, Harris," Spike said, strangely touched. Bloody hell, he was going soft.

Dawn's dulcet tones echoed through the tunnels. "If you two don't stop kissing, I'm gonna leave you behind!"

Spike and Xander rolled their eyes in not-quite-unison and headed down the tunnels.


She wasn't a mystical-things expert, but even Buffy could feel waves of power prickling her skin as she entered the room. It wasn't a pleasant sensation – somewhere between having to sneeze and having the tiny hairs on her arms heated with a blow dryer. She rubbed her skin, caught up in the feeling, until her eyes locked on to something more important.

Willow was floating. Magic crackled in the air around her. It was, to put it simply, beyond freaky. Like, miles beyond.

Unseen, Glory cackled maniacally.

"Why don't I ever have sane archenemies to kick the crap out of?" Buffy asked conversationally, sounding a lot calmer than she felt. Another chuckle and she spun around to face the hellgod.

"Oh my me," Glory said, eyes sparkling, "isn't this cute. Coming to rescue the little redhead from the big bad god, are we?"

Buffy chanced a glance at her best friend, who was still floating and looking like she was ready to star in an Exorcist remake. Well, great. She dodged a punch from Glory just as Willow began to intone, "Let those of evil freeze their step. I command thee!"

The air seemed to shiver, and Glory screwed up her face. She trudged through the spell like it was molasses, or really anything syrupy. Buffy took advantage of the opportunity to smash a chair over the ex-god's head. That really pissed her off. Glory snarled – yeah, snarled like she was a wild animal – and pushed through the remaining effects of the spell, landing a spectacular kick on Buffy's chest.

Conveniently, this catapulted her to Willow's immediate area. As she picked herself up, she said quietly, "Can you do anything else to incapacitate her? If I could get in a couple of good blows, we can get out of here."

"She needs to pay for what she's done," Willow replied, in a deep, dark voice that didn't sound like her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, like her inner Slayer was warning her.

Glory was launching herself at her now, though, and Buffy couldn't afford to be quiet. Between kicks, thrusts, and punches, she argued, "She will pay. But I can't take her like this, and I don't know how long you can keep this up."

Instead of replying, the witch began to murmur a little spell. Glory caught Buffy's fist mid-punch. "Could you be more rude?" she demanded, in her best spoiled-rich-girl voice. Buffy had a sudden flashback to her first days at Sunnydale High and almost cracked a smile. "Talking about me like I'm not even there. You need to be taught a lesson, little missy. Learn some freakin' respect!"

"I don't respect evil god-wannabes," Buffy shot back, "especially not ones in last year's shoes."

Glory's jaw dropped. Hey, two can channel Cordelia Chase.

A snake writhed up from the carpet – Willow's doing, unless Glory had some serious pest control issues. The hellgod shook it off like it was no big. Okay, more bravado needed. "I could crush you just as easily," Glory bragged.

Buffy connected a few good hits as she replied, "Yeah, I guess those extra ten pounds must be good for something." Even as she was taking potshots at Glory's vanity, she was trying to send Secret Best Friend Brain Messages to Willow.

The power in the air was fading, which only made her heart pound faster. She couldn't let this stupid revenge quest take her closest friend. Buffy fought with renewed vigor, slamming anything she could find against the hellgod's petite form.

A voice sounded, and she knew it came from Willow even though it barely sounded like her. "Let the earth take you back."

Glory stumbled as the floor beneath her began to collapse. Vines and roots rose up, twisting themselves around her limbs. She sank into the dirt, struggling and swearing with words Buffy didn't recognize and didn't really want to understand.

The effort of the spell had knocked Willow unconscious. She rushed to her and heaved her over one shoulder "like a sack of potatoes", as Riley would have said. Then, with one quick glance at the shrieking Glory, she hightailed her way out of there.

"Buffy," Willow said, weakly but coherently, after a couple of minutes. So…not unconscious, but pretty close.

Okay, time to be Comfort Girl. "Everything's going to be okay," she said, in what she hoped was a soothing voice. "We're okay, and…Tara will be okay. And Glory will get what's coming to her."

"We were fighting," the other woman mumbled, and Buffy could feel her shaking.

It was probably a good thing that Willow couldn't see the "what the hell" look on her face just then. "Yeah, we were, but we're out of there now, okay? We're going back to the others."

"No. Me and Tara," she choked out. "We were fighting, and…I said things and…what if she never knows I didn't mean them?"

Buffy's heart sank as it swelled with compassion for her friend. Her heart was really working overtime.

Slowly, she set her friend carefully down. They both sank to the grass. Part of her brain, the Slayer-mode general-type section, was screaming that they needed to get going, but the other part insisted that they could take a few minutes. "She knows, Willow," Buffy said sincerely.

The witch was full-on crying, her face scrunched up and her eyes red. "Oh, goddess, help," she prayed quietly. "I just – I wish I could turn back time or something. My-my magic is so…so damn useless. It couldn't save her fr-from…it can't show her that I love her more than…and I am so sorry, baby, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean those things. I'd do anything to…"

Her words were stifled into the fabric of Buffy's shirt as she embraced her friend. Willow cried without abandon, and even as Buffy comforted her, she was filled with new resolve. Glory wasn't going to ravage any more of their lives. Something had to be done, and, well, she was the general-type. It was time to come up with a plan.


"Anybody got a plan?"

Spike surveyed the room with a bit of a cynical eye. The Scoobies were useful, yeah, when they had Buffy to lead them, tell them what to do. Without her, they seemed like a lot of dead weight, and if they kept up this lambs-to-the-slaughter behavior, that "dead" would become more than metaphorical. The Watcher was smart, but he lacked the drive or battle skill of the Slayer. Anya was a clever bird as well, but better with small-scale matters. Red was missing in action, and clearly a loose cannon to boot. Dawn was a good kid, but she didn't know the mechanics of war – and he'd like to keep it that way. The boy…well, the less said there the better, and Glinda was literally off in la-la land. It was a sad state of affairs when the Big Bad was their best shot at stayin' alive.

The group looked as blank as he'd expected. He sighed. "Can't just wait forever for Slayer to return with Will in tow, can we? Now, personally, I favor charging in and giving that hellbitch a good arse-kicking, but if you think that lacks nuance I'm open to suggestions."

"I suggest," Giles said sharply, "that you cease this charade of being Buffy's lieutenant. You two may be…involved, but that does not give you the right to make decisions in her absence. We cannot afford to put another life in danger until we are more certain that it is necessary."

"This has nothing to do with me and the Slayer," Spike argued. "And bloody excuse me for trying to keep you lot alive. Look, the hiding out here plan was alright, as far as hiding out plans go, but Glory's beaten the Slayer before and that was without a vengeance-crazed Wicca in tow, so I'm not likin' the odds."

"I agree," said Anya suddenly, eyes gleaming thoughtfully. "I mean, Buffy is excellent as a super-powered human fighter, but Glory is a god. When I was a vengeance demon, we used to bet on Slayers' battles, and I wouldn't lay down anything on Buffy in this. On the other hand, I don't want Xander getting anywhere near it."

"He doesn't have to. You barricade the place, I go alone after Red and the Slayer. None of you lot like me much anyway, so it's no skin off your nose if I kick it." He shrugged. "All in favor?"

"Well, my nose would be skinned!" Dawn said strictly. "Look, I know you're dying to play the hero or whatever for Buffy, but you're the best fighter we've got here. We're all screwed without you."

"You're meltin' my undead heart, Niblet," he said, not entirely sarcastically. Did give him a nice feeling of warmth to think that the Bit would miss him. At least her affection was constant. "But we can't just sit around twiddlin' our fingers. Somebody's got to –"

But he stopped, hearing someone approaching. Actually, two someones. Spike tilted his head to listen better. "It's Buffy," he said, not realizing that he spoke aloud. "She's alright."

When she walked through that door, he could have sworn his heart was hammering, although it had been so long since it'd beat that he'd nearly forgotten the sensation. He sought her eyes eagerly, like a dying man finally setting his eyes on fresh water. She held his gaze as she entered, still authoritative even with the weak witch leaning on her arm.

The Scoobies were full of praises and questions, but the Slayer, woman that she was, silenced them all effortlessly with her look. This was a new Buffy, rarely seen. Gone was the scrappy fighter and the lone warrior. She was a goddamn commander.

Giles rose and helped Willow over to a makeshift seat next to Tara, who smiled brightly and clung to her hand.

Buffy was positively glowing with authority, if not cheerfulness. Her face was grim as she spoke. "We have to get out of here. Glory's not interested in the rest of Sunnydale, so they should be safe, but we have to go. Every one of you is in danger, and – and I'm not ready to risk that anymore, okay?"

Xander opened his mouth, but seemed to reconsider and closed it. Everyone else nodded solemnly, and the expression on the Bit's face made Spike feel sick. She didn't deserve to feel guilty over this. She didn't deserve any of this, and despite what she thought, she was as much of an innocent as everybody in this situation. And definitely more innocent than he was.

Not that he was repentant of his crimes, mind you, but he recognized that of those here, he was the most deserving of death. Maybe Anya would be in second – had to have some casualties in a millennium of vengeance, after all.

"I realized something else. Glory's focused her attacks on me up until now, people she saw me with, but she's also focusing on the ones that are alone. So I think everybody should pair up for the trip. Dawn and I will go last," she said, green eyes glinting with emotions he didn't want to see.

And Buffy, most of all, didn't deserve this.

She cleared her throat nervously as they continued to look expectantly at her. Poor shepherdess, leading a bloody ragtag group of sheep, he thought wryly. "I thought we'd go towards L.A. If we can make it there, Angel can help us, or at least give us shelter. Apparently, he has a hotel now."

Spike caught her eye again and made a face. For the first time since she came in the crypt, Buffy cracked a slight smile.

"Um…right, pairs," she said, coming back to herself. "Xander, Willow, you'll go first. Still have some magic left in you?"

The witch gave a double thumbs-up.

"We can take my car," Xander said reassuringly.

"Grr-reat," Buffy joked weakly. "Uh, Giles and Anya next. Spike, you can take Tara. Does anybody have any objections?"

"None, Your Honor," Dawn replied dryly, forcing a smile. "When do we get to take this fun road trip?"

"Nightfall."

When it seemed that everyone was wrapped up in other pursuits (although none of them had left his crypt yet), Spike approached Buffy. "We were about to send out the bloody cavalry," he said quietly, smiling thinly.

"Sorry," she replied, eyes turning up in the corners. "Willow and I kind of had a crying sesh in the grass. It was…unexpected."

"The fight went okay?"

She shrugged. "I felt like an ant fighting a giant, but we survived. I guess that's what counts."

"Yeah," he agreed.

They fell silent, and he was about to either make up an excuse to get away or ask her point blank if she was still angry when she sighed loudly. "Oh, who am I kidding? This is ridiculous."

Before he could ask her what she meant, she was wrapping her arms around him. He savored her scent as her warm lips met his, worry and fear melting away into a Buffy-induced haze. Her kiss wasn't as hot and needy as it had been before, but it was more tender and passionate. He drank her in, pulling her as close as physics would allow. He could have died happy if she had sunk into his bloodstream then and there, or he into hers, so the distinction could cease to exist.

Oh bloody hell, there were the poetics again. He couldn't bring himself to care, though. Buffy's hot breath tickled his face as she pulled away, gasping for air.


Part of her wanted to tell him that she couldn't promise anything even if they survived. Part of her wanted to remind him that she was still angry, and another part insisted that she could expect no better from a soulless creature. But another part kept remembering Willow's tears, and her silent resolution that she wouldn't face the same regret.

"Sorry," she said, still breathless. "I kind of needed to do that."

Spike chuckled, a low sound that made thrills shock through her. She suddenly felt uncomfortably warm, and she wished that the rest of the gang hadn't been there. "Don't need to apologize, love," he murmured. "Of course, you might want to warn a bloke next time. If I'd needed breath, I might have passed out right in your arms."

"Well, that's why I personally prefer guys who don't have to breathe," she whispered back, feeling daring.

Telling things like that to Spike was like willingly standing near the edge of a cliff. It was stupid, possibly suicidally so, but it felt amazing. After all, she had already kinda-sorta admitted that she loved him, so what was the harm in hinting around it some more? She wanted him, and she suspected that she always would from now on. Whether they could be together might be a different matter, but that was a problem for Future Buffy (if she existed) to wrestle with. For now, she was going to make the most of the time they had.

"I thought finding out got me over the weirdness, but nope, seeing it is worse," Xander said quietly. Buffy knew he didn't mean to be heard, only by whoever he was speaking to – Willow, probably. It wasn't his fault that she had supersonic Slayer hearing. Spike, of the even-more-supersonic vampire hearing, raised an eyebrow as if to judge her reaction. She smiled, deciding to pretend not to have heard, but freed herself reluctantly from his embrace after one final, quick kiss.

Suddenly feeling her tiredness and verge-of-teariness, she made her way over to Xander and Willow. "The hotel is called the Hyperion." Ugh, her voice was even trembling. Could she be more Hallmark movie of the week? "And…be careful."

"The carefulest," Willow said reassuringly. "I'm more worried about Xander's driving than the impending Glory threat."

"Hey!" he said, mock-offended. "Just for that, I get to pick the road trip music."

Buffy hugged both of them. Goodbyes were exchanged all around (Anya even shed some tears and threatened to turn Xander into a toad if he was hurt), and her oldest friends left.

Next were Anya and Giles. Even as he glared disapprovingly at Spike, he offered her a tender embrace that she decided to accept as an apology. "The Hyperion," she said again. "And…don't antagonize Angel. Or Cordelia."

"Cordelia's there?" Anya asked, suddenly interested. "Hmm."

"No jealous crap," Buffy said, for her sake as much as Anya's.

To her surprise, the ex-demon pulled her into an enthusiastic hug. "Don't die, okay?" Anya said brightly.

"I'll do my best," Buffy replied, letting her go.

After Anya and Giles left, she looked at Spike. Dawn was sitting with Tara, braiding her hair tenderly.

It would be so great if this could be it. Everything normal. Nobody dying, no imminent end of the world. Her gaze turned wistful. No trips to L.A…or strictly fun ones, anyway.

Catching her look, Spike said, "Walk us out, will you, love?"

"Where's the Desoto?"

"Out back, but I've got a bike to take." Misinterpreting her expression, he added, "Don't worry, Glinda has enough sense left in her to hang on. Not even as bad as Dru on her worst days, and even she had most of her self-preservation left."

"Why?" she asked, frowning. "Why not take the car?"

"I figured you'd be better off with something easy to maneuver, yeah? Seem to remember you mentioning a hatred of driving. Don't worry, it's clean."

"Oh," she said, oddly touched. "Okay."

They went outside together, the four of them. Tara giggled and tangled her fingers with Dawn's when she heard a distant siren. Buffy took Dawn's other hand, hoping to show all the strength she wasn't quite feeling. Spike stood behind her, in what was now a comforting gesture.

After a minute, Spike and Tara got onto the motorcycle. They had agreed that they should stagger the vehicles for safety, but Buffy still felt oddly lonely as they prepared to leave. Even the kisses she'd given him earlier seemed insufficient. She wanted to tell him…something. Something good enough to somehow make their separation okay. Something he could remember her by if they never saw each other again.

But she had nothing left to say. Dawn squeezed her hand.

They were still within sight when it happened. Like a crack of lightning, a sudden flash of energy appeared, stopping the motorcycle with what seemed to be a single hand.

"No," Buffy whispered, taking off at a run. Dawn was dragged along, and in her dreamlike haze Buffy could sense her trying to keep up.

They were almost to the scene when Dawn stumbled. Their hands broke apart – Buffy looked at her.

"Go on," she said, sitting on the pavement and looking like the small little girl she never was. "Save them."

Glory had Spike by the throat, holding him up above her head. She was shaking him and screaming. Buffy had the advantage, though, because she couldn't see her coming. She struck the back of Glory's head, and Spike took the opportunity to kick the hellgod, freeing himself.

Her mouth was open and she was about to deliver a snappy one-liner – something about keeping hands off or watching out – which was quickly forgotten when Tara let out a horrific scream. "The light!" she shrieked, crawling on her hands and knees away from Glory's crouched figure. Spike whipped around and began to run toward her. Buffy froze, paralyzed with dread.

"The light!" Tara repeated, in that same hysteric voice. "The morning light, it's – it's so beautiful. There! Look how it shines!"

Buffy realized suddenly that Spike wasn't running toward Tara, but Dawn, who was standing silhouetted in the moonlight. Glory gasped. "It's the sister!" she said with pleasure, just as Spike reached her. "I knew it!"