A Spark of Love
Chapter Ten
Previously: A vengeful Willow goes after Glory. Xander admits that he doesn't totally hate Spike. After a battle with Glory, Buffy decides that it's best for them to head to LA in small groups, but before Spike and Tara can leave, Glory shows up and finds out who the Key is.
"It's the sister!" Glory said with pleasure. "I knew it!"
Spike, still running, reached Dawn and effortlessly scooped her up, saying something to her that Buffy couldn't quite hear.
Buffy shook off the dread that had gripped her. So Glory knew. It was semi-inevitable. She hadn't really expected this plan to work, had she? Things never went that smoothly in her world.
Glory made a mad dash after the vampire, but Buffy, reacting quickly, tackled her to the ground. She suddenly flashed back to one of her first training sessions with Giles, where he'd reminded her for, like, the billionth time to look for an enemy's weakness. "Duh," she'd responded, "but thanks for the refresher course in Common Sense 101."
He'd heaved that heavy sigh and said, "I know it seems obvious, Buffy, but you may one day fight powerful evils without discernible weaknesses. But not even the greatest master vampire is without them."
Well, Glory could probably kick the butt of the greatest master vampire left standing, but she did have a weakness. Besides her fashion sense, of course, but that wasn't exactly a weakness that Buffy could exploit in combat. No, Glory wanted the Key so badly that she could forget everything else when trying to find it.
Good.
Glory shoved her off and climbed to her feet a little more slowly than usual. She scanned the horizon for Spike and Dawn.
"The light is gone," whimpered Tara, still curled up on the pavement.
Buffy watched in amazement as the ex-god stamped her foot and screamed. In a less crappy town, the police might have come to investigate the noise.
But this was Sunnydale, and she was the law.
"Okay, princess," Glory said, turning to her. "Let's get this over with. It should take like two seconds for me to wipe the floor with you." She lunged, but Buffy easily deflected her move. The hellgod stumbled.
Glory was off her game, for whatever reason. Buffy wasn't too worried about it. She didn't care about honor in this fight – if she were a muscly action hero dude, she'd probably be saying "this time, it's personal" right about now. "Sorry, mighty Snorificus, or whatever it is your pathetic minions call you." Buffy shrugged. "You're not going to lay a hand on my sister."
Glory's laugh was interrupted by a well-placed kick to her jaw. The other woman countered with a quick punch that sent Buffy flying. "She's not even your sister! Silly Slayer. Keys…are for gods. Like me. Not for humans to be putting their grimy little hands all over. You don't have a right to her. She's mine, and I'm gonna get her." She stalked over to Buffy as she said this, and moved to place her foot on Buffy's chest.
But she reacted faster, twisting her own legs around Glory's and knocking her to the ground. Buffy stood, unable to even feel the pain through the ridiculous amount of Slayer-enhanced adrenaline (or however that worked – she got a C in bio) pumping through her veins. As soon as Glory was up, Buffy was on her, landing a flurry of blows. She wasn't thinking strategy. Actually, she was barely thinking at all.
She'd forgotten how much fun it was to run on pure reflex.
A low kick sent Glory sprawling. Buffy stood over her, watching. In a more thoughtful moment, she might have wondered if she had bought enough time for her to grab Tara and run. Right then, however, the only thought in her mind was: I have to protect Dawn.
She leaned over the ex-god. "What's that you were saying? Something about wiping the floor with me?"
Glory made a sound like a growl, but it extended higher, then lower, and then into a completely different noise. Her skin seemed to bubble, and to Buffy's amazement, she began to transform into Ben.
Huh…what?
Ben…Glory…
"Oh, sorry," she said awkwardly, stepping away from Ben. It was a little bit of a compromising position, her leaning over him like that, and she didn't want him to think she was leading him on.
He frowned and stood, brushing dirt off of his clothes. "It's okay. Uh…are you okay?"
"Yeah. I think so." She probably looked like a wreck, but whatever. This was one reason it never could have worked between the two of them. Ben was just too normal, he couldn't take stuff like that in stride.
"Is she okay?" he asked, and she followed his gaze to Tara. She nodded. Noticing the attention, Tara stumbled to her feet and walked over, smiling brightly. She looked almost okay when she was happy, but Buffy could see the empty look in her eyes.
A roaring sound broke through the awkward silence. She must have been smiling as she saw the motorcycle approach, because Ben turned to her and asked, "Friend of yours?"
"Oh…yeah." Then, feeling braver (and like she wanted Ben to take the hint and get lost), she added brightly, "My boyfriend. We're, um, we're heading up to L.A. for the…weekend." Was it the weekend, still? She wasn't even sure anymore.
"Oh," he said, obviously taken aback. "Cool. I, uh…I'll see you."
"Yeah," she replied, smiling. "See you."
He was walking away when Spike pulled up. "Who's that?" he asked, dismounting. Tara's smile widened, and he quickly returned the favor.
Buffy glanced in Ben's direction. "Ben. He works at the hospital."
Spike tilted his head. "So where's the hellbitch?"
"We fought. And…I think I won," she said slowly, memories suddenly a little fuzzy. Probably the adrenaline. Or maybe she hit her head. "Then she…ran off. Not after you, though. Where's Dawn?"
Spike did his best to look innocent, which would have been a hell of a lot easier if Buffy hadn't been giving him that skeptical look. "Safely on her way to the City of Angels, love, so don't worry. She's with a friend of mine."
"Oh," Buffy said. She seemed to relax for a second, and then her eyes widened. "A friend of yours? A vampire?"
"What? No." He scoffed. "Not a vampire."
She raised an eyebrow. She'd be a terrific mum some day, making scary faces like that. "All right, so he's a demon," he admitted grumpily. "But he's harmless to everything except hot wings. Do not leave him alone with your hot wings."
From the look on her face, she thought he was joking. "Why not just call a cab, Spike?" she asked tiredly.
"Well, I didn't really want to leave a girl of Dawn's age alone on her way to L.A. at night. And…" he triumphantly produced a cell phone from his duster pocket. "Clem has my number, yeah?"
"You have a phone?" Buffy looked shocked, and perhaps a little jealous. Yeah, that's right, pet. "How?"
"Nicked it" would have been the honest answer, but somehow he doubted she'd be happy with that. "Won it in a poker game, fair and square."
She snatched it out of his hand. Bloody hell, that chit will never stop surprising me. "Just because you don't approve of gambling or what all doesn't give you the right to just take what you like off my person! That phone could be bloody useful and you're just…"
Buffy was completely ignoring him in favor of squinting at the numbers and dialing someone slowly. "Shh," was her only response.
Spike groaned, but quietly.
"Hi," she said softly into the phone. "It's me. Yeah. …Mmhmm, yeah. Anyway, you know how last time you said that if I needed anything…right. Well, call me the weather girl, because I'm cashing in that rain check. Or something. I'm not really sure what that means. …yeah, so I've got a few people coming to the hotel. We're kind of on the run, Dawn's in danger, it's a long story. Okay. Willow and Xander should be the first ones there. Great. …bye."
She hung up, and then she turned those green eyes onto him. He felt his breathing change, a human habit that hadn't kicked it yet.
"Well, I s'pose I'm driving," he managed to say. Bleeding hell, but she affected him. And with this unlife or death situation, he almost wished he cared a little less about her. Right distracting, she was, and he wasn't feeling real secure about her report of the hellgod just what, running away? She'd kicked all of their arses more than once.
Something didn't add up.
"Look at the fireflies!" Tara shouted suddenly, pointing up to the sky. Buffy looked uncomfortable; Spike just sighed and gave the witch a gentle pat on the back.
"Come along then, love," he said gently. At least the docs had given her something to calm her down, which was bound to make her a sight easier to deal with than Dru. Of course, her insanity being all magically induced and what not meant she would probably lack those moments of clarity. Which…might be a good thing, now that he thought of it. Dru's times of sanity were almost worse than the rest, and they never lasted.
As they climbed into the car, Spike felt Buffy's eyes on him from the backseat. Guess that she must be thinking about last time, same as me. He looked back and met her gaze. Her small smile nearly melted him. He was a bleeding vampire, but around her he seemed to turn into a damn marshmallow.
Not that he really minded.
Slyly, he slid a Ramones tape into the deck – his baby wasn't new enough to have a CD player, and he didn't have many to play on it, anyway. Glancing into the mirror, he saw Buffy smirk as she recognized the song. Yeah, that might not be the best memory, but it was a memory of a time when the world was less likely to end immediately, so that was something. Tara bopped along to the music, a wide grin spreading across her face. He wished her lover was here to see it, would've warmed her aching heart.
The ride was a couple of hours - less, the way he drove. Buffy fell asleep. She did look…cute, blonde hair framing her face like an angel. And, funny enough, it was Angel who was popping into his head.
See, he'd remembered a little something. A fight they'd had a few days ago that seemed bloody insignificant now, about Buffy lying to her ex-lover. Based on the existing evidence – Spike wasn't a pile of dust – Angel had bought it. But he sure as hell wasn't going to believe it when the Scoobies showed up knowing nothing about Spike's supposed shiny new soul. The Poof was thick, but it didn't take a mastermind to see through that kind of lie. And like that, Spike would be out on his arse.
He wasn't sure if his grandsire would let the rest stay anyway, though. Angelus had been all about grudges back in the day, and as far as Spike could tell, not much had changed as far as that was concerned. He might not actively seek revenge, but if it came knocking on his doorstep, well…
Still, the rest of the Scoobies could honestly claim ignorance, and even Angel's caveman face was a sucker for Buffy's woe-is-me puppy dog eyes, so it'd probably just be him getting the boot. He could make it on his own, sure, but it would be tough for him to keep an eye on the Summers girls without Angel noticing.
"Spike? Introspection time is officially over," Buffy joked, sitting a little more upright. "We're in LA."
Huh. "So we are, kitten. Let's roll."
Spike's idea of rolling, apparently, was to get stuck in a traffic jam and then to nearly crash the car finding a way out of the traffic jam. After Tara stopped screaming and clinging onto Buffy's arm, it was actually kind of fun, in a masochistic kind of way.
When they finally got to the hotel, Buffy's began to stress-count the cars. Xander – check. Giles – check. An unfamiliar car that must be Spike's friend's – check. And them. She smiled nervously at Spike.
Before she could even open the back door, Cordelia was there, with her trademark light bulb grin. She looked a little different than Buffy remembered – for one things, she was wearing jeans and a loose-fitting blouse – but that smile definitely hadn't changed. "Buffy, hi!" she said brightly, opening the door. Okay, is she actually excited to see me or is she about to follow this up with some snide comment?
"Where's Angel?" Buffy asked, before she realized that she was actually speaking out loud. Part of her, the part of her that would always be that sixteen-year-old girl infatuated with him, was a little disappointed. She'd come all the way to L.A., depended on him for help, and he couldn't even come out to greet her? It was all dark and stuff, not like he'd catch fire. Maybe he had the vampire flu and didn't want to give it to her.
Ha.
Cordelia glanced behind her, as if expecting him to have appeared as soon as Buffy said his name. "I told him to stay inside – it's crowded and everyone's tired and I don't think Angel really gets hospitality, you know? Probably all those years of living in a dumpster and eating rats. I figured he can learn the hard way." She shrugged.
"You told him to stay inside," Buffy repeated incredulously. "And he listened to you?"
The other woman nodded and leaned in conspiratorially. "You have to be very firm with him. He's like a dog. A big, broody vampire dog." Before Buffy had a chance to formulate some kind of response to that statement that wasn't who are you and what the hell have you done to Cordelia Chase – and Angel for that matter, Spike got out of the car and the light bulb was back. "Hi, Spike! Just so you know ahead of time, I don't want to be impaled again."
He frowned. "Don't be blamin' me for Red and the boy's indiscretion."
"Yeah, but I wouldn't have known about it if you hadn't kidnapped them, duh. Or at least I wouldn't have been in the hospital for a week. But hey, water under the bridge, yadda yadda. By the way, since you're not evil now, have you considered losing the all-black look? I've managed to get Angel to incorporate some more earth tones, and I think it looks way better. I get it, the whole creature of the night thing, and black is flattering, but I think you vampires just take it a little too far."
Spike didn't reply. Instead, he opened the door and began trying to coax Tara out. Cordelia, catching sight of this, said to Buffy, "Oh, is she Willow's girlfriend?"
Buffy blinked. "Uh, you know about Willow?"
"She kind of came out to me on the phone a little while back…there was a big mix-up when Harmony was in town." She laughed a little, and Buffy's awkwardness-feelings were amplified. Cordelia and Willow talked on the phone? Cordelia and Willow had inside jokes? Had Spike driven through some alternate universe portal while she was asleep?
Spike had caught at least the last part of Cordelia's sentence, and he went paler than usual as Tara gingerly stepped out of the back. "Harm was here?" he asked cautiously. Buffy stifled a snort.
"Yeah, you know her? She was here a month ago, but I kicked her out when she double-crossed us. Hi, I'm Cordelia." This last part was directed to Tara, who shrank back a little and murmured something about the moon.
"Tara was…attacked, magically. A hellgod sort of sucked her brain out," Buffy said quietly.
Cordelia's eyes widened with a strange amount of sympathy. "God, I didn't know. A vision about that would have been helpful, PTB."
Buffy decided to ignore that last nonsensical sentence.
"Do you need help with your bags?" Cordelia asked, because it was obviously impossible for her to shut up for more than half a second.
Wait. Bags. Buffy shut her eyes. "I totally forgot to pack stuff for myself," she said, more to herself than any of the others. She opened them again. "I think Willow has Tara's stuff."
Cordelia looked at Spike. "And something tells me you're the travel light type."
He smirked. "Yeah, everythin' I need is here."
"Well, come on," Cordelia said, walking toward the hotel. "I have some stuff that I leave here, some of it should fit you, Buffy. It might be a little bigger in the breast area, but that'll be fine. And we can go shopping tomorrow!"
"Joy," Buffy muttered, quietly enough so only Spike could hear. The corners of his lips twitched.
The hotel was…big. Part of her wanted to be a little bitter. Here she was in Sunnydale, scraping by and hoping that there weren't any medical bills left to be taken care of, and Angel was living it up in Los Angeles.
Or…undeading it up, I guess.
Tara must have caught a glimpse of Willow, because she went tearing off to another part of the hotel. Buffy watched, a little sadly. If she'd been a better leader, they would have been gone before Glory could have hurt her.
"So Angel owns this place?" Spike asked Cordelia, with as much disdain as he could muster. Buffy elbowed him. He ignored her.
"The hotel? Yeah. But technically, the business is Wes's now."
Wes? As in, Wesley? As in, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce? Was Angel's boss?
Maybe she did have it better after all.
Wesley – speak of the devil – caught sight of them and made his way over immediately. If Cordelia seemed different, Wesley was like an entire other person. He strode over to them with real confidence, not put on, and he looked way…not older, but more mature. He'd obviously seen some battles in the last couple of years.
"Good to see you again, Buffy," he greeted warmly, and to her surprise, he enveloped her in a friendly hug. He was definitely stronger than he had been, but remembering herself, she returned the embrace only lightly. They didn't need to crack the ribs of Angel's…boss. She still couldn't get over that.
Still…damn. He was kinda hot now. I wonder if Cordelia is still into him? Buffy sneaked a glance, but there was nothing there to suggest anything beyond a friendly professional relationship. Wesley shook Spike's hand, showing nothing but hospitality, even though Buffy suspected he wasn't crazy about having another famed killer under this roof.
"So it's just you three working here?" she asked with polite interest.
Wes shook his head. "Our friend and colleague, Charles Gunn, is another member of Angel Investigations. Unfortunately, he had somewhat of a crisis and was unable to be here tonight. You'll probably meet him tomorrow."
"Where's Peaches?" Spike asked, looking around.
After a second, Wesley seemed to register that Spike was referring to Angel. "I believe he's finding accommodations for your friend – Clem?"
The vampire nodded. "Good of him," he said cautiously. "Surprised he's willing to put up a demon. Or that you are."
"Oh, no, actually we've had quite a few pacifist demons as clients," Wesley explained. Spike raised an eyebrow but didn't comment further.
"There he is," Buffy said, turning away.
When Angel reached them, he embraced her first. It was nice, but she didn't feel that usual rush. "I'm glad you're here, Buffy," he murmured.
"Well, I'm glad you're giving us a place to stay, because I totally can't afford an actual hotel," she joked. "This place is really nice, by the way."
"Thanks."
Angel said something quietly to Cordelia as Spike eyed him warily. Cordy turned to Buffy, with a bright smile that seemed a little fake this time. "Hey, let's go find you some clothes!"
Buffy wasn't stupid. Obviously, Angel wanted to talk to Spike alone – and maybe try to beat him up. She took a deep breath and reassured herself that Spike could hold his own, and that they probably wouldn't actually kill each other. Besides, it was pointless to fight against the whirlwind of Cordelia Chase, who was physically dragging her away. She sighed and accepted her fate.
"So this is the big man's office?" Spike said with exaggerated amazement as Angel shepherded him into the office. Yeah, shepherded, like he was a bloody sheep and his grandsire was a dog. Spike didn't appreciate it. "And by the big man, I mean Wesley, not you, obviously."
Angel gritted his teeth, but to Spike's surprise (and disappointment) he didn't try to retaliate. "I didn't bring you here to fight."
"Oh, I see. You just wanted my advice on your interior decorating." Spike pretended to consider the room. "I dunno, mate, I think you need some artwork to spruce up the place, yeah? Maybe a throw rug, too, while you're at it."
"I thought," Angel pushed on valiantly, "that you should hear the whole story about Dru."
Well. If that was the way he wanted to play it, Spike would bloody well play along. He sat in Wesley's chair, crossed his legs, and propped his boots up on the desk. Angel hesitated, with an emotion stronger than perturbed but a little less than brassed off. "I'm listening," Spike said pleasantly.
His grandsire cleared his throat, then launched into a story about an evil law firm, a resurrected Darla (those lawyers really were evil to bring that bint back), and sordid sex. Well, the wanker didn't so much describe the sex or even mention it at all, but Spike could read between the lines. Angel didn't have the willpower to stay away from Darla for two seconds.
But before the sex was the fire. Angel, in a fit of reminiscent badassery, had apparently been lighting up in a building he'd lined with gasoline. Drop the cig and boom, no more Darla. But Dru'd been with her and her instincts were less than good. Grandmama had left her and Angel "hadn't been able to reach her". Bollocks, like he'd have saved her. Angelus had ruined her, and she was too impure for souled Angel to help.
They fell silent after that. Spike took the time to muse on the circumstances. He'd always figured Dru would go before he would, being insane and what all, but he thought angry mobs or maybe a Slayer he was chasing. Not her very own sire and grandsire offing her.
And, as he'd always imagined, he'd go down fighting soon after. Go into a battle totally unprepared, wage a war, something huge. The purpose or foe didn't matter.
Yet here he was, still bloody undead and with more will to keep going than ever. All his romantic notions about Dru had fallen away, it seemed. He would have saved her, he felt sure of that, but part of him…the small part that wasn't raging and bleeding and wanting to cry…that part was relieved. Damn his own hypocrisy.
But damn his grandsire's more. A deeper circle of hell, fierier torment, whatever.
"When had you last seen her?" Angel asked, voice a little rough. Was he actually upset? Or was this some sort of show, for Buffy's benefit via Spike? He wasn't sure how that made sense, but the Poof had to have an angle.
"I went back to her after that last time in Sunnydale, but she refused to have me for long. I guess that was a couple years ago now. So I bounced around the world a bit and then came back."
Angel's brow furrowed, and considering the amount of brow he had, that gave about half his face wrinkles. "That seems unlike her, don't you think? I mean, she's not usually the type to hold a grudge, if she can even remember it."
Spike bites back the scathing comment he's forming. The truth will hurt dear pops so much more. "She left me because she had visions. Saw me fallin' for the Slayer, and didn't want none of me after that. Sure, for a night or two she'd be happy, then she'd be off snogging some hideous demon as…payback, I s'pose. Payback for a sin I hadn't yet committed."
Yeah, there went his fist, all balled up and white and ready to punch poor innocent Spike in the face. So bloody predictable. He wasn't ready quite yet, though, but if Angel had been acartoon character there would be steam coming out of his ears. "So you came back to Sunnydale to win Buffy over?"
God, it would be fun to lie to him, to go all ooey-gooey, but he remembered Dawn and shut down his response. Instead, he scoffed. "Oh, bloody hell. No. I went back to kill her."
"Not exactly making a case for yourself," Angel muttered.
Spike tilted his head, enjoying the effect he was having. "Well, I failed, obviously. Then a couple weeks later, got snatched up by some military blokes who put a bit of metal in my head, kept me from killing or hurting any humans. Still in there and functional, in case you're skittish about me being around your precious companions."
His grandsire acknowledged this with a nod.
Right, how to incorporate the soul thing. He'd never been very good at outright lying, so he could just skirt around the issue. "Then, uh, I teamed up with the Scoobies, we beat some baddies up, a few life-changing experiences later and now I'm here at your doorstep. Oughta be published in Ripley's."
The other vampire sniffed. "Why are you here?"
Spike's eyebrows shot up. "Buffy didn't tell you? Alright, I'll give you the condensed version. Dawn is a mystical key, Glory – that's the hellbint that sucked out Glinda's brains and nearly made me into mincemeat – wants to use her to open up some almighty hell portal and doom us all, and the Hellmouth is even less safe than usual for Buffy and company."
Angel shook his head, frustrated, and said, "No, why are you here?"
"I'm in love with Buffy," he said slowly, like one might say to an incredibly stupid and ugly little child. "And I love Dawn like my own flesh and blood. Or more, actually, since I s'pose that would include you. The rest of the Scoobies I can take or leave, although Glinda – Red's girlfriend – is a decent sort and Anya's good for a laugh."
"Anya," Angel said thoughtfully. "She's Xander's girlfriend, right?"
"The very same, although I'll never understand what she sees in the git." Even if he's been a little better of late, he added, feeling almost guilty. Anyway, Angel was no big fan of the boy's, that was clear to see. Probably his long-lasting soft spot for Buffy. Xander's, not Angel's. Well, really, both of theirs. And now he was thinking about "Buffy" and "soft", and he really needed to stay alive for the foreseeable future. Keep talking, Spike. "She used to be a demon, you know," he added quickly. "A vengeance demon, and a damn good one from what I understand. Older than me, you, and the old hag put together."
The Darla reference didn't seem to brass off his grandsire as much as he'd hoped. Maybe it'd gone over his head. "And this Glinda you mentioned –"
"Real name of Tara, but I like to call her Glinda sometimes because, well, it'd make sense if you knew her. She's Will's girlfriend – yeah, she plays for the other team now. Tara's gone a bit batty on account of Glory sucking her brains out, but Red'll fix her up. She's really picked up the magicks now."
"And Dawn's a key," Angel said slowly.
"Yeah. She's actually only existed this year." Spike shrugged. "Can't imagine you miss life on the Hellmouth, but it's never boring there."
For a long second, they just looked at each other. Made him a little uncomfortable, if he was being entirely honest. Finally, Angel said, "I know you don't have your soul back."
Well, damn.
Spike didn't even try to hide it. Pointless, really. Angel might be thick, but once he latched onto an idea he wouldn't let it go. Instead, he sighed dramatically. "Well, I guess it's a good thing I haven't unpacked yet. I'll have to find somewhere near enough that'll take me, and it's just too bad for Dawn that one of the few people that she knows, trusts, and is strong enough to protect her can't be there, but I s'pose that's how it has to be."
Angel barely even registered that he was talking. "You don't have your soul back, but you are…different. What is it? A curse? That chip, it's some kind of moral guide? You took an acting class? Whatever it is, Buffy seems to really believe it."
Spike rolled his eyes. "It was Buffy's idea to tell you that, so you wouldn't come and stake me in my sleep. I was firmly opposed to it, but then, when does that change anything? And the chip doesn't do jack except give me a shock when I directly hurt a human. Demons, no problem, and I think indirect harm is alright, but punches, bites, et cetera are out."
Angel stood up and started pacing. "That's not possible. You don't have a soul. Spike," he added threateningly, "if I find out this was all some…scheme to get into Buffy's life, I will personally ensure that your death is slow and painful. You know I know how."
"It's bloody not!" Spike exclaimed, getting up. Had nothing left to lose, really – Angel was about to kick him out any second now. "I love her and she loves me and if you try to get rid of me she will kick your arse. And you know she knows how."
Angel set his jaw. Then, through gritted teeth, he said, "I'm sure Cordelia has a room ready for you. And I'll be watching you."
Spike was honestly speechless, so he left the room with nothing but a smirk and a half-sarcastic salute. Huh. A room ready in the Hyperion hotel. That he could unlive with.