They appeared in the empty basement in a cloud of smoke. Jocelyn stepped back from him in horror.
"Wil-Spike…" she said, putting her hand over her mouth. "How bad do I look?" The vampire's signature black was now gray. His face was smudged and his blonde curls were sticking up in odd places, as if someone had repeatedly run their fingers through them. Which someone had.
"Don't laugh," she ordered, swatting him in the shoulder. Spike covered his mouth with one hand.
"Jocelyn, you look…" He shook his head. "I'm just glad that I can't see myself in a mirror." She groaned.
"We can't let anyone see us looking like this," Jocelyn moaned, covering her face with her hands. "We need to find a shower or a bucket of water or a lake-"
"Or I could pick the lock at the school and we could use the locker room showers," he interjected. "Its Saturday." Jocelyn uncovered her face.
"That works," she said, taking a breath of relief. "Just point to what general direction its in. And hold on." Spike, still fighting a smile, pointed to the east and wrapped his arms around her.
"Why Milan?" Spike asked, rubbing the questionable soap they'd found in the locker room.
"It's old," she replied through the shower curtain. She had insisted on separate showers. He was still smarting about that decision. "I could decorate my palazzo how I wanted and no one would find it odd." Spike was seriously considering ripping the curtain off and washing her himself. In the end he decided that that probably wasn't the best way to start off their relationship. Or pick it back up. He still wasn't entirely sure what the etiquette was here. He idly wondered what Miss Manners would have say about it.
"Have you been back to England at all?" he asked, trying to keep his mind out of her shower.
"A few times," she said, cutting the water. He heard her step out of the shower and pad over to their clothes. He finished rinsing his hair and turned off the water, leaning against the wall with a martyred sigh. "They weren't exactly social visits, though. What about you?"
"I haven't been there since the '70s," he said, hearing with perfect clarity the squelch of the denim as she pulled it up her wet legs. "Except for a quick jaunt over to the continent with Dru. Throw me my pants, will you?" They landed precariously on top of the shower curtain. He struggled into the wet denim and pushed the curtain aside. "I'm coming out." She looked over shoulder as he sauntered over to the small wall dividing the showers from the toilets. She managed to wrangle herself into her pants and bra, and was now struggling with her shirt.
"So do you have any friends?" he asked, jumping on top of the wall and pulling on his socks. "Any bounty hunting buddies that'll be worried about you?" Jocelyn succeeded in pulling her shirt down, and laughed.
"Bounty hunters are extremely competitive," she remarked, reaching for her boots. "There aren't much room for friendships. But I've developed one or two. Otherwise it gets lonely." She handed him one of his boots. He pulled it on and began to tie the shoelaces thoughtfully before broaching the next subject.
"Any lovers?" he ventured. She was silent as she zipped up her second boot.
"Like I said, bounty hunters are extremely competitive," she said, leaning against the wall as he tied his other boot. "Damian knew I was more powerful than him, and from the beginning he wanted me to the dirty work while he collected the profits. He was banking on my falling in love with him to keep the arrangement going."
"And did you?" he asked softly, already guessing the answer. She shook her head, as if to dislodge invisible tears from her dry eyes.
"Of course," she said to the ceiling. "Then I cut off his head." Spike swallowed hard. "After that I didn't have relationships for a while. At least not with other bounty hunters. And humans, well, there lives just seemed too naïve after a while." They both were silent for a moment. Spike slipped off the wall.
"It's tears at me to hear you talk about killing," he told her quietly.
"Well I'm not exactly the woman I was when I died," she said bitterly. "I have tracked and hunted and slaughtered some of the vilest creatures to ever exist. For over a century, my job has been to exterminate things that you thought were only in your nightmares. I know you're a vampire, and I know the kinds of you things you've done," she said, her voice cracking. He reached forward and put his hands on her arms, rubbing them gently. "And I know the kinds of things you've seen. But there are things that even you only thought existed in books. And I've had their blood on my hands time and time again-" Her voice broke and she collapsed into him, her body heaving with dry sobs. He held her as her body tried to cry. Unable to make the tears fall, she pulled away from him.
"I'm sorry," she said, wiping her cheeks where tears should have been.
"Don't apologize," he told her, cupping her cheek with his palm. "Everything's all right now. You're safe now." He didn't mean it in a physical sense, and she knew it. He ran his fingers gently through her hair, the calming rhythm had the intended effect and her body relaxed. She rested her hands on his shoulders.
"Why do you put up with me?" she asked. He chuckled, a low, rich sound.
"Sentimental reasons." She wrapped her arms around his broad torso, resting her chin on his chest.
"You always did have a sappy side." He rolled his eyes.
"Don't remind me. I've worked hard on my Big Bad image."
"That's a shame," she said, running her finger down his chest, feeling him shiver. "I found it endearing." She trailed her fingers up his back, pulling herself up to her full height as she wrapped her hands over his shoulders. She leaned in and placed her lips on his neck, trailing up around his jaw before whispering in his ear.
"Hold on." Then the world disappeared.