Disclaimer: It all belongs to Joss and Mutant Enemy. I own nothing.
Buffy rolled over and snuggled deeper into her sheets. Bed feels bigger, she thought and shifted again, weird. Did Dawn buy new fabric softener?
That scent, all sweet and sunshiny, was mixed with another, more familiar one. The scent of his skin and the faint overlay of cigarette smoke with some kind of liquor were so strong that Buffy bit back tears. A dream, it had all been a dream, and now she was back in her static Roman lifestyle. Buffy screwed her eyes shut and tried hard to keep it together. In a moment, the scent would be gone, the warmth would be gone, and worst of all he would be gone. The guilt would come rushing in, racking her in cold, merciless waves. Buffy didn't know if she could take it, not after how real this one had felt. But her dreams had never been this vivid before.
It hit her.
She wasn't in Rome, not nestled up in her tiny, cozy apartment bedroom waiting to muddle through another day. When she opened her eyes, she would see Spike. Buffy reached out a tentative hand, her eyes still tightly shut, and met smooth skin and the hard lines of his abdomen. She retracted her fingers and exhaled in relief. The Apocalypse, the Hyperion, the Bridge Dimension—the marathon sex, she thought with barely contained glee—it had all happened, hadn't it?
"Be real, be real, be real," she murmured as a sort of prayer and opened her eyes, still not quite daring to believe it.
Buffy couldn't help but smile at the sight that greeted her. Spike's sleeping body was relieved of the tension he seemed to exude in wakefulness. His breathing was even and slow. Buffy found that strangely human trait endearing and caught herself smiling at him with a quiet chuckle. He shifted and muttered in his sleep, long eyelashes fluttering against his cheek before he settled back again. She brushed her fingers lightly over the curve of his cheekbone, skimming the hard muscle of his chest before flattening her palm over his unbeating heart. He looked more relaxed and contented than she had seen him in…well, ever.
Buffy kissed that soft skin beneath his ear and ran her tongue along the shell. He stirred and murmured, silly sleepy talk.
"Wake up," she whispered, suckling at his earlobe before pressing another kiss there. Share this with me.
He grinned, his eyes still closed as her lips caressed his jaw line. "Morning."
"Technically, it's the middle of the night here in Hell City," Buffy said, slinging an arm around his waist to press her cheek into his chest, nuzzling him there, "or extremely early. Either way, the big evil red sun has set and it doesn't look like it'll be up for a while."
Spike ventured a glance at her. "Sleep well?"
"Very," Buffy replied seriously. That faint look of doubt that still lingered on his features struck her hard. How could he still look like that after everything? She wanted to kiss it and make it better. She wanted to make him believe. "How about you?"
He laughed and kissed her forehead. "You know I did," he said, then added in a marveling whisper, "You were here. God, Buffy, you're really here."
Buffy stretched, her toes curling. "Present and accounted for."
She propped herself up on her elbow to stare down at him. He reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"You know, I was thinking" Buffy began, kissing him softly as she spoke, "we should take the girls out to patrol. You're shoulder seems better and this dimension's only as big as Los Angeles, right? Well, maybe wrong. I wasn't really clear on that. Either way, we should be on the lookout for demons in case the baddies get a yen for some slaughter and mayhem."
Spike nodded, kissing her again. "What about the sun?"
Buffy frowned. "Oh yeah. Does that rule still work here? I mean, is it a set in stone, name in blood kind of deal? Or is it flexible like…sales tax? Different in every city, or, you know, dimension?"
"Dunno," he replied and began to sit up. "Either way, we should probably wait til morning to find out. Girls gotta be completely knackered after everything that went down."
Buffy sighed and lay back. "Yeah, probably. Even after all the sleepy time, I'm still kinda knacked," She frowned and added, "erred."
Spike leaned over her, one hand rising to caress her hair with an almost worshipful expression, letting it slither through his fingers before raking through once more. A pleasant tingle spread from her scalp to her toes, making her shiver.
Buffy closed her eyes to absorb the feeling and smiled. "You're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"You with the hair touching," she said arching her back as his fingers threaded through her tangled strands once more. "This is quickly becoming a thing."
"Oh, sorry," he murmured and pulled his hand back almost instantly.
Buffy frowned and opened her eyes. "Sorry? Keep going," she said and shut her eyes once more. "It feels good."
She heard that soft sound of wonderment. His hand was back at her hair again and combed through once. "Like this?"
"Yeah," she said, pouting when he didn't continue. "Hey, make with the strokey."
"Bloody gorgeous hair," he whispered as if dazed.
Buffy met his eyes and ruffled a hand through his own messy bleached curls, soft without the gel. "We both have mega bead-head."
He ran a hand through his hair and laughed at what he felt there.
"When's Angel getting that tiny generator going?" Buffy asked. "I know this is a hell bridge and I should be more concerned with other more important things…but dear God, I could kill for running water."
"I know," he murmured. Spike crawled over her, pressing her deliciously into the mattress, his mouth dropping to her neck. He was warm from her skin. "You don't have to get up yet. We've got a couple hours before big evil sun comes a rising."
Buffy sighed as he wound his fingers through hers, dragging her arms up.
Spike met her eyes, his tongue trailing her throat before he caught her mouth with his.
"Yeah," Buffy agreed breathlessly, "hours…"
Buffy wandered downstairs and into the kitchen, hell-bent on finding food. The girls were in their rooms. Some things never change. Early morning is still early morning in hell. She sighed and adjusted the thin cotton robe around her body, emblazoned with a small H on the right breast pocket. Buffy cursed herself for not getting better dressed before leaving the suite, but she was starving and her clothes were wrinkled from the rain. She had to admit that it did feel kind of sexy, wearing a hotel robe and almost nothing else in this glamorous place. Thank God no one else was up. She was craving a shower. Her skin felt sticky and hot. Outside of the privacy of the hotel suite, it was uncomfortable to say the least.
As if on cue, the light fixture overhead flickered once, twice, and was on. It brightened the dark lobby light by light, each one flickering to life in succession. Buffy shielded her eyes for a moment to adjust, but grinned and kept on toward the kitchen.
The door leading to the basement stairs opened as she walked by, making her jump.
"Oh, Buffy. It's you," Cordelia said and looked her over. "Did you forget something? You know like clothes?"
Buffy felt a twinge of embarrassment. Her hair was a rat's nest and she was wearing underwear beneath the cotton robe. She smoothed her hair behind her ears, trying to make it presentable. "I didn't know anyone else was up."
"I helped Angel fix the generator. Now we can finally bathe and stuff," Cordelia explained with a nod toward the basement door. "There are clothes in a box by the kitchen, if you need them. Dawn found them in the rooms. She made breakfast too about an hour ago but I think she went back upstairs."
"Thanks," Buffy replied.
There was an awkward beat.
"I-uh, I'll just go get those clothes. Now." Buffy cringed at the sound of her voice and turned. To her surprise, Cordelia followed behind her.
The cardboard box just outside the kitchen had long since been raided. The only things left were a pale blue cotton undershirt, two men's t-shirts, and assorted jeans. Buffy grabbed the women's tank for her, a dark grey t-shirt for Spike, and a pair of jeans each, holding her choice against her body to make sure it would fit and guessing with his.
Cordelia was still there, just watching.
Buffy sighed and turned to her, slinging the clothing over her arm. "Look, not to sound rude, but are you planning on saying something anytime soon?"
Cordelia laughed. "Sorry, I'm just...It's here. The Apocalypse. Don't blame me for being a little excited."
"The Apocalypse is here, and you're excited," Buffy said blankly. "Geez, you've still got that brutally honest streak, don't you Cor?"
"Come on, I'm not excited for the apocalyptic stuff. I don't even know what the world's going to be like if this all turns bad," Cordelia explained. Her face softened. "It's just finally happening."
"What is?" Buffy asked, wandering into the kitchen, Cordelia still on her heels. She stopped before a pot on the stove and opened it to find slightly hardened oatmeal. Food was food, and Buffy was starving. She raided a drawer for a spoon and dug in. It was sugary with the slightest hint of cinnamon.
Cordelia studied Buffy eating her oatmeal and hopped up on the marble countertop. "You mean, Angel never told you?"
"Told me what?" Buffy asked between spoonfuls.
"About the Shanshu?"
Buffy frowned. "The sham who?"
"Shanshu," Cordelia corrected, tilting her head and looking Buffy over. "You know, big Apocalypse, The Apocalypse. It's Angel's chance to be human."
Buffy choked on her oatmeal and swallowed hard before gasping, "What?"
Cordelia shifted uncomfortably. "He never told you? I thought you knew."
"Color me stunned," Buffy said, her voice still vacant and astonished. "Human? Like living, breathing, heart-beatingly human?"
"Well it's not that specific," Cordelia explained. "We never even read the full text. All we know is that Angel will earn the Shanshu by fighting in The Apocalypse."
Buffy wrinkled her brow, still not quite able to process the information. "What does he have to do?"
"Hell if I know," Cordelia explained. She still looked discomforted. Why was that?
"What's up?" Buffy asked. "You're all weird-acting."
Cordelia shrugged. "It's just…you're here."
"Yes," Buffy agreed slowly, taking another bite before saluting Cordelia with the utensil. "Me and my little oatmeal spoon."
"And Angel's here," Cordelia continued. Buffy only continued to eat her oatmeal, unsure of what she was getting at. Cordelia let out a frustrated sigh and said, "Once he's human...you two can finally be together."
Buffy choked again, this time less successfully swallowing it.
"God, Buffy, ew," Cordelia criticized.
"I'm ew? You're the one offering your honey up on a silver platter," Buffy exclaimed, coughing and grabbing a dishtowel to wipe her mouth, "and I'm ew? I'm ew—How ew can you get?"
"Isn't that what you want?" Cordelia asked, a bit surprised, slightly offended. "And I definitely wasn't offering by the way. I just thought…" she trailed off, looking more confused than ever.
Buffy gaped at her and gestured down at her barely covered body. "No, that is not what I want. I'm in a committed relationship as of…almost several hours ago."
Cordelia cocked an eyebrow at that one in a way that had Buffy feeling sixteen again.
"I'm sorry, my mistake," Cordelia said, a bit sarcastically. "You've only been pining over Angel since high school."
"I did not pine over him!" Buffy said. "And what do you know? It's not like you were there. You were here, with Angel." She thought about it a moment and said in confused realization, "You probably know him better than I ever did."
"Yeah," Cordelia agreed, looking almost satisfied, then as if she wanted to protest again. "But you—"
"I moved on, Cordelia," Buffy said. "I'm allowed to do that, you know. Most people do. In my understanding it is perfectly normal to engage in romantic relationships after high school's over, healthy even. Also, I've been told that good skin might be a pleasant one-off side effect."
"Good skin, huh?" Cordelia said slowly. She sighed and slid off the counter top. "But you, you're human."
"So are you," Buffy said, looking her over. Cordelia was still pretty, still wearing great clothes, had perfect hair. Buffy resisted the urge to smooth down her own tangles.
Buffy wasn't jealous, not really. It was just strange, imagining Angel's life outside of her, being in love with someone else—and Cordelia of all people—she had never seen him like that before and it was a difficult image to conjure. Angel, the guy with a life outside of Buffy obsession. It even sounded strange in her head. God, did I ever even know him? Is it weird that this is vaguely funny? Buffy wondered internally.
Cordelia still looked stricken in a way that had Buffy's heart twisting in her chest.
"You are human, Cordelia," she assured her.
"Not really," Cordelia replied, her face terribly sad. "I'm a dead human. Technically I'm a dead part-demon in an astral body tethered to an artificial plane that keeps me corporeal, but—"
"I'll admit, you kinda lost me there so I'm going to stop you before you get started on the demon-dimensional whosit whatsit stuff," Buffy said. Cordelia rolled her eyes, but her resolve to argue seemed to lessen. "Cordy, you don't need to be all threatened by something that isn't going to happen. I mean, Angel loves you, doesn't he?"
"I think so," Cordelia said quietly with a quick smile that melted back into melancholy. She turned to the kitchen archway and paused. "But he shouldn't."
Buffy watched her leave and felt a strange sense of sympathy. This is Cordelia. Bitchy, shallow Cordelia, she reminded herself, but she still could not shake that need to comfort her. No, they had never been the best of friends in high school, but there was something different about the woman in front of her. She'd changed. She was softer, sadder. Buffy could hardly stand seeing her look so desolate. They had been almost-friends after all, despite the teenage cattiness that often got in the way.
Buffy glanced down at her armful of clothing, oatmeal spoon in one hand and shook off those confusing feelings.
God, she really needed to go kill something.
"You ready?" Buffy asked.
Spike nodded and stuck his hand beneath the curtain. He flinched, preparing himself for the worst. He pulled his hand back and shook his head. "No burn."
The eight slayers gathered around them at the Hyperion door tightened their grip on their weapons. After everyone had showered and eaten their fill of Dawn's sugar saturated oatmeal, Buffy had decided it was time to patrol. God I've missed this, Spike thought, almost twitching with anticipation as he hovered beside the door.
"How about you?" Buffy addressed the slayers. "Everyone ready?"
"Let's go," Veronica said in fierce determination. Spike knew exactly where she'd learnt that voice.
He grinned. Bunch of mini-Buffys, all of them. The girl herself pushed those doors open and Spike caught his first eyeful of the hell outside.
The odd thing, it was Los Angeles. The entire city, exactly as it had been with only a few minor differences. The streets were run with cracks, deep and jagged from the earthquakes that had started this ordeal. The sky was the deepest red, blood red, with only the faint outline of a sun in the same color illuminated by a filmy, pale yellow circle. That sky had him salivating, struggling not to shift into game face then and there. Weird impulse. Spike ventured a glance to Buffy, her mouth was open slightly in surprise, in awe and horror.
"Stay close to me," Buffy instructed the lot of them, her eyes flickering to the battle ravaged minivan parked out front.
"No arguments here," one spoke up, a nervous timber in her voice as she played with the strap of her overalls.
They were scared and couldn't be blamed for it. Spike felt mostly curious, but yeah, the prospect of L.A. hell was humbling.
"I thought it was bad before," Spike muttered aloud.
Buffy took a tentative step and stopped before the trees that framed the hotel entrance. Their leaves had dried overnight. They were faintly brown and brittle, the red light coming from a pale outline of a sun just as red as the sky shone through them.
Spike knelt at the base of one. "Take a look at this."
Buffy crouched beside him as he scooped up a handful of soil, letting it run through his fingers. It was grey and chalky. On closer inspection, all the exposed earth had the same color and consistency.
"Weird," Buffy whispered. She stood and cleared her throat. "We should split into pairs, look through the city, but don't go too far. I don't want anyone getting lost in this. We meet back here in one hour's time. Watch yourselves and watch each other's backs."
The girls murmured in agreement and started grouping together and wandering with fists slightly tighter on their axes or swords.
"I got the best buddy," Buffy said, leading Spike toward Wilshire.
"No," Spike said with a shake of his head. He could not stop staring at her. "I did."
Buffy grinned at that, then furrowed her brow. "I hope the girls can handle this. Do you think they'll be okay?"
"A bunch of highly skilled slayers, trained by you to kill any demon who gets in their way?" Spike began. "They're safe as houses."
Buffy sighed in relief then frowned. "Which is weird, cause, if you think about it, houses do not equal safe. Or at least, my house didn't. It equaled zombies once though."
Spike found himself leading the way through restaurants, small shops, dingy homes, and cheap housing complexes, unconsciously tracing the streets back toward his own small apartment.
"You know your way around," Buffy commented.
"Lived here almost a bloody year didn't I?"
"Right," she said, her voice low.
Buffy seemed almost hurt. That look had him feeling guilty.
"I hate Los Angeles," he said. At least her painful expression melted always into confusion.
"You do?" she asked.
"Yeah, nothing but crushed dreams and plastic noses. Not to mention the little demon problem they've got," Spike said. "Well that part wasn't too bad. Kind of fun, really."
"But no fun to be had from the plasticine facial features," Buffy said, "got it."
She chewed on her lower lip. Spike knew that look. Buffy had something to say, all he needed to do was wait.
"If you hate it, why stay?" Buffy asked him moments later, her eyes glued to the scythe in her hand.
Spike frowned. "Loaded question, love."
"I know, but I don't know, you know?"
"No."
Buffy sighed. "What I mean is, what kept you here? Obviously something did. Somehow I doubt it was best-friendiness with Angel. So what? Please tell me it wasn't the Smurfette."
Spike laughed. She was acting almost jealous. It felt good, knowing that Buffy loved him in return. Knowing that the smallest thing, like Illyria, could elicit such a reaction.
"Yes and no," Spike said. "I liked…oh God I sound like a poncy sod."
"You just used words that I don't fully understand. You have to spill," Buffy said, amused.
"Fair enough," Spike said, earning a smile. He wasn't quite sure how to put his feelings into words, how to make her understand. "I stayed because…I had friends here."
Buffy still looked confused. Spike continued, "I don't mean we were bosom, joined at the hip, best mates forever friends. I just mean…I fit here. I had a place here. I felt welcome."
"You had a place with me," Buffy said, glancing at him as they rounded a particularly deep crack.
"With you, yeah," Spike said, shifting uncomfortably. "But face it, that last year Dawn couldn't even look at me, Xander's always hated me, and Willow and I were never close. Adding in a bunch of teenage girls who couldn't wait to slam a stake through my chest didn't really make a fella feel welcome."
"I didn't hate you," Buffy protested in a grave, soft murmur.
"No," Spike agreed. "No, you didn't."
Buffy grinned, but tensed just as quickly. "Did you hear that?"
Spike stopped walking and strained his ears to hear. Footsteps, too heavy to belong to a slayer, met them with soft thuds. "Yeah, something's coming."
Buffy's grip on the scythe tightened. "Be careful," she instructed gently.
Spike cocked an eyebrow. Be careful, he thought in repeat, what happened to watch your back or cover me? Be careful…
He didn't know what to make of it.
"Spike!"
Spike ducked just in time as a sword swung over his head, smashing a crosswalk button into a mess of wires and metal. A demon, one of the tall, grey-skinned armored ones from the battle in the rain, roared a deafening screech and raised its weapon again. The sword, rusted with age and decorated with sculpted iron vines, swung through the air again as the demon spun, barely missing Spike's head.
"That all you got?" Spike asked, swinging the short battle-axe a slayer had lent him. The demon blocked the blow and bellowed again, snapping sharp lower tusks dripping with ropes of saliva. Spike moved to hit it again. "You're one sad, ugly bastard, mate."
The demon simply growled and lurched toward him with clumsy, brute strength. Spike staggered as he blocked the blow with the axe handle. He tried to pull back to get in another hit, but the connection was not so easy to break. They were locked that way, his strength against the demon's. God that thing was burly, all muscle and cord.
There was the deafening crack of breaking ribs. The demon grunted and dropped to its knees, its sword cluttered to the ground. Buffy kicked its back again with a crunch, eliciting a howl of pain before the pointed end of the scythe pushed cleanly through its chest. Buffy pulled it out with a squelch and neatly decapitated the demon.
"Thanks for that," Spike said.
"You okay?" Buffy asked, her hands coming up to cradle his face, her fingers smoothing through his hair.
"Yeah, yeah I'm all right," he assured her, touched by her concern.
Buffy sighed and pressed her forehead to his. She was holding back tears. Spike frowned when she buried her face in his chest, her arms crushing around his middle. It was bordering on painful, but he didn't stop her, he let her hold him.
"What is it?" he asked. "What's wrong?"
"Me?" Buffy said and sniffed, pulling away quickly. "It's nothing."
Spike wanted to push her, but he wouldn't. He wanted her to talk to him when she was ready.
"If you say so," he muttered.
Buffy stooped down beside the sword. "Check out this big ugly."
The metal was tarnished with rust and a fine grey chalky sheen covered it. Under the grime, a curious symbol was molded into the thick metal handle—a demonic face with twin profiles flanking it, each one sporting an unnatural feature of either horns, fangs, or snout.
"Looks like our friend here dug this out of the ground," Spike said.
"So what does that mean?" Buffy asked, brushing away some of the dust.
"No idea," Spike replied.
"We should go back, let everyone know there was a demon out. Let's find the girls," Buffy said, sword in one hand, scythe in the other.
"We should probably head back to the hotel and wait for them."
"I don't like this," Buffy said slowly. "What if there's more of them?"
"Best we not stick around and find out," Spike replied.
They wandered back toward the Hyperion, neither of them able to wrench their eyes from even the faintest shadows.