.
In the end, the whole thing was mind-numbingly anticlimactic. They'd set the trap and baited it with a carcass coated with their essences, applied the herbs and the incantations and the magic circles, and then waited in the bushes for Furry to show. They'd had to wait for several hours, Spike smoking like a freight train and Buffy whittling stakes, each shooting the other disgusted looks. At some point, Buffy had thought she'd seen a small pair of blue lights gamboling under the bushes by Spike's feet, just out of the corner of her eye. But then Spike had growled, and when she'd turned her head, there'd been nothing there.
Furry had materialized from the shadows moments later, so quietly that Buffy would've missed it if not for the sudden unmistakable odor. The demon had minced over to the trap, sniffing cautiously, and given the carcass a tentative swipe of its paw.
Magically-reinforced steel had sprung, trapping the beast's front left leg, and now Furry howled loud enough to rouse hell itself.
"Quick," Buffy hissed. A noise like that would go unnoticed on the Hellmouth, but here the citizenry might be less clueless – and more likely to interfere. And get themselves dead for their trouble.
Spike took the time to roll his eyes at her before darting forward, iron dagger dipped in dogbane in his left hand, some small dogbane-dipped trinket of Dru's – what he'd chosen as symbolic of the reason for the contract on his head – in his right. Meanwhile, Buffy went for the rear end, stake in one hand and cat's claw in her other.
Dancing lights appeared out of the ether, a miniature cyclone of viridian and cobalt and fuchsia circling about her before zipping ahead, illuminating her target. When Buffy blinked, they were gone again, and she couldn't be sure she hadn't imagined them.
Shaking off the thought that she'd finally cracked and was seeing things, she bound the beast in place by driving the dogbane-dipped cat's claw through its hind foot, gaining a shallow four-clawed gash across her arm in the process. Then she drove the iron nail they tied the cat's claw to, via the fishing wire, deep into the ground.
Buffy shouted out her success to Spike and sprinted around to the front end. He force-fed the demon the trinket, cursing when the creature fought and bucked and refused to make it easy on him. Furry chomped down on his arm with acid-drenched teeth, and Buffy buried her dogbane-dipped stake, which they'd agreed upon as the symbol of their – er – relationship, into its snout.
The demon let go of its vampiric chew toy with a furious roar of spittle and Spike retreated, panting and grimacing as he swore over the torn leather and mangled flesh.
"We don't have time for you to be a baby," Buffy said, ignoring the agony of where the spittle had splashed her face. She yanked her stake free and repeated the process Spike had undertaken with the trinket by shoving the stake into Furry's maw and down its gullet. "Hurry up and -"
"Sed fugit interea, fugit irreparabile tempus…"
"What?" Before she could figure out why Spike had gone Giles-y and gibberish-y on her, he was back, delivering the deathblow by stabbing the dagger through Furry's large, shag-covered heart with an ease that surprised Buffy after all her previous failed attempts to penetrate the beast's hide.
Had Mr. Herrington had steered them true with his crazy directions?
They both retreated several paces, watching with disbelief as the demon first seized up and then toppled over, seemingly dead.
"Is it – is it really dead?"
Spike sidled forward and gave the monstrous beast a cautious kick. It didn't move, so he did again. "Seems like," he said, and booted Furry in the head with a vicious, bloodcurdling howl of triumph that sent prickles up Buffy's spine.
The look of unholy glee in his yellowed eyes when he turned to face her, the monster completely crowding out any illusions of faux-humanity, bolstered her certainty that this was it. The battle to the death they'd promised each other. She reached behind for her backup stake, tense and poised and ready to strike.
Spike threw back his head and laughed, manic and inhuman. Buffy readied herself to dart forward, but he leapt over the demon, kicking at its head on the way, and spun, duster flaring wide. He laughed again. "A Grdnith, Summers, we survived a bloody Grdnith!" He grinned at her over the corpse, tongue curled up behind his gleaming fangs. "Mind, it's not near the rush of killing a Slayer, but still!"
"I wouldn't know," she said, voice as implacable as the death sentence she aimed to be.
Spike stilled, gleeful mania slipping away as he studied her from across the demon's corpse, head cocked. He looked away for a long minute, and when he turned back, he was wearing his human mask once more. Serious now, almost tentative, he said, "'Course, the Grdnith's dead, but it's not over yet."
"No, it's not," Buffy said stiffly.
"Right. 'Cause we've got to kill the Archduke's brother next."
"Right." Okay, wait, what? That wasn't what she'd expected him to say. At all. "What?"
"It's Tenobit's contract," Spike said, gaze holding hers. "Just 'cause we killed his pet assassin doesn't mean the contract is over. And -" he said before she could protest that the contract had nothing to do with her "- he's sure to have heard of your involvement, or will have soon enough thanks to our little tattletale. Don't go thinking you'll be safe from whatever the wanker sends after me next."
Buffy's mouth was moving, but nothing was coming out of it.
She couldn't believe she'd heard him right. Rather than the epic battle and bloody death he'd been promising her, Spike wanted to… extend their truce? Again? Which also meant…
"You mean… drive back to L.A…. together?"
"Yeah, that'd be easiest, don't you think? I'm sure the prick's still there, la-de-da-ing about in his brother's court."
It was almost as if… he was looking for an excuse not to kill her?
Yeah, sure. And she enjoyed Spike's company. Not.
"Okay, and won't this Archduke guy be pissed if we kill his brother?"
Spike snorted. "Demon politics aren't much different from the human courts of yore. What's a little fratricide here or a coup there between royal families? The Archduke will make some noise about revenge, but he'll be secretly grateful if we do Tenobit in. No more worrying about a knife in his back from some wanker what thinks he ought to have a chance at the title, you see what I'm saying?"
Buffy considered his reasoning. It did make sense. Not to mention, it solved the problem of how she was going to get back to L.A. She'd been worried about being stuck in Portland without any money. At least in Los Angeles, she knew her way around. Knew where – and whom – to turn to if she absolutely had to.
The red and blue whorl of approaching emergency vehicles lit up Spike's face, and they both turned and began walking quickly in the opposite direction of the light, in perfect synchronicity. Buffy kept hold of her stake, but her grip had loosened, and she only half-expected him to turn on her at any moment.
"And the Archduke's nephew? Tenobit's kid? Isn't he the one you -"
"Yeah, we'll have to finish him too."
Buffy didn't think Drusilla would be too pleased, but that was Spike's concern, not hers. "So… another road trip, then?"
"The sooner we leave, the better. We'll be racing news of the Grdnith's failure. And of your being on my team – at least in Tenobit's eyes," he said to her scoff. "If we can get there before he finds out -"
"He won't be prepared for us."
"And he won't have time to contract out a new assassin."
Buffy kept step beside him as they turned the corner back toward the store, his duster flapping against her leg thanks to the chilly breeze that had sprung up. "And to be perfectly clear, now we're not killing each other until after the Archduke's brother is dead? On Drusilla's unlife and all that?"
Spike eyed her, not slowing his stride, and she eyed him back. "Yeah," he said eventually.
Well, that was less than reassuring. And begged the question: did he really need her help any longer? With Furry, it had been clear he'd needed her. Her safety, at least until the demon's death, had been somewhat assured. Buffy didn't have the same confidence that she could trust Spike not to turn on her before they reached L.A.
Even if he lied, she could at least put the question to him. Let him know she wouldn't trust him blindly. "This guy dangerous? I mean, do you really need me alive in order to help you take him out?"
Spike didn't immediately answer, which made her wonder if he might actually tell her the truth. If he was going to lie, she was pretty sure he would've done it right away in an attempt to allay her suspicions.
They reached the store and he unlocked the door with his stolen key ring and then held it open for her, not seeming to realize what he was doing. Buffy stepped through sideways, unwilling to turn her back to him, and Spike followed after, deep in thought.
"Spike?"
"No," he said, finally. "No, I don't absolutely need you. But it would be a hell of a lot easier with two of us. Especially if he's not expecting you."
"Oh, joy, just what I've always wanted – to be William the Bloody's secret weapon."
"It's not exactly a proud moment for me either, here."
"Wow, way to win me over." Buffy backed towards the stairs, stake at the ready, certain he'd attack at her next words. "How 'bout we just call it quits now."
To her surprise, Spike said, "I'd rather end this whole thing for once and all. Finish off the wankers, make sure the only reason I'll have to be looking over my shoulder is you, Slayer, not some sodding bounty. Wouldn't you rather the same?"
"In other words, you want my help getting Drusilla back. Again."
Spike's eyes flashed yellow, and the muscle in his jaw ticked. Buffy readied herself for him to lash out. Instead, he sniffed, and shrugged. "I'll be leaving in ten minutes. Come with me, or don't."
They stared at each other a long time, Buffy's mind churning the same questions around and around.
It was crazy. She was crazy to consider it. He was crazy.
But other than in the alley, he hadn't tried to kill her so far.
And she did need a ride back to town.
"Fine," she said, and went to gather her things.
.