MORTAL ALLIES SERIES
Episode 2: Spike's a Good Boi
By: Passion4Spike
Chapter 14: Decoder Ring?
Chapter Summary:
On the road again…
"The stars whisper, psssp, psssp, psssp," Dru breathed next to the big dog's ear in the backseat of the DeSoto. "You hear them, lit'le gypsy? They cry and sing and blend night into day, dark into light. The dusk and dawn mingle and gild the world with sparkles."
The dog whined softly, looking between the driver of the car and the front seat passenger.
"Stop trying to infect my Spike with your crazy – save it for your own," Buffy complained from the front. She sat sideways so she could watch both Spike and Dru, her back against the door and her feet drawn up on the seat, as far away from the caged rats as she could get them. She could hear them squeaking and making other creepy rat noises down there. It was so bad even she turned up the music a time or two, trying to drown them out.
"The golden goblin cannot hear them; doesn't know the stars are fallin' from the night sky," Drusilla continued, speaking softly to the dog. "Raindrops into rainbows, but the darkness calls. Like bees to jasmine, the fluttering wings hum just near enough to inhale the sable sachet of the shadows."
"Do you come with a decoder ring or something?" Buffy asked the dark vampire. "If so, we need to stop so I can get a box of Cracker Jacks … or does it come in cereal boxes?"
"You hear the spark but are blind to the riddle, though twinkling stars whisper in screams of glimmering splendor."
Buffy sighed and rolled her eyes, looking over at the blond vampire. "How have you put up with this for a hundred and fifty years?"
Spike shrugged. "Just let it flow over ya. Lyrical, all poetic-like, innit?"
"In a 'Mad Hatter and March Hare' sort of way," Buffy agreed sarcastically.
Spike smirked. "She's rarely wrong, though … if you can sort it out … and sort out what's drivel and what's a vision."
"Which you can?" Buffy wondered.
"At times."
"So, what's she talking about now? Goblins and rainbows and jasmine and stars?"
"Best I can figure, you're the golden goblin," he explained.
"What?! I'm not a goblin! Goblins are … short and ugly, with giant ears and green skin and big mouths and bad teeth," she protested.
Spike gave her a slow, assessing look, his eyes traveling deliberately up and down her body, and shrugged as he looked back at the road. "Apart from the green skin, fits, dunnit? And she did say 'golden', so…"
Buffy kicked one foot out and jabbed her heel against his hip, shoving him against the other door. "Jerk."
Spike laughed, shifting back into the center of his seat as she withdrew her foot. "Well, you asked," he pointed out.
Buffy rolled her eyes. "What about the rest of it?"
"No bloody idea," Spike admitted, still smiling at the dig he'd gotten in. "Sometimes ya only realize what she meant in hindsight."
"Helpful," Buffy droned, rolling her eyes. She tried to remember what else Dru had said about the 'goblin', but it had made no sense and had gone in one ear and out the other. Buffy resettled herself against the door, refolding her legs, and asked, "Why do you love her so much?"
Spike arched a brow at Buffy before looking back at the road. "Why do you love Angel?"
"I don't … I mean, I did but, well, I guess I do, but … not in the 'I love you' sort of way, just in the friends way. But not in the way we're friends," she hastened to add. "Like, actual friends, thus love of the friendly variety."
Spike barked out an incredulous laugh. "Oh, p-lease! You've never been friends, and never will be!"
"Yes, we are!" Buffy countered, her ire raising. "What do you know, anyway?"
"What's his name?" he challenged.
"What do you mean? … Angel …"
"No, his real name, not the one Darla gave 'im," Spike explained.
"Liam," Buffy answered haughtily.
"And what did our dear Liam do 'fore he was turned into the always-charming Angelus?" Spike continued.
Buffy frowned, her brows drawing together. "I … I'm not sure. He doesn't like talking about the past."
Spike smirked. "Right, then, what was the last movie ya went to with him?"
"I … we … aren't that sort of friends."
"Dontcha go to the movies with your other mates?" Spike challenged.
"Well, yeah, but …"
"Right," he interrupted. "What's his … favorite color? Favorite food? Favorite book? Favorite decade? Dance? Type of music? Favorite Beatle? Favorite blood type?"
"AB Positive," Buffy answered quickly before he could go on.
"AB Positive from nuns, t' be exact. Dru was AB Positive," Spike clarified. "And the rest?"
Her face contorted in thought. "He doesn't … talk about stuff like that."
"Face it, Slayer, you aren't friends. The only thing you two have in common is he's a vampire and you're a Slayer. I reckon you know more about me than you know about him by now," Spike posited. "Bet ya don't even know what kinda poncy hair gel he uses."
Buffy's frown deepened. That actually was true. She'd seen Spike's 'Lock-and-Hold Curl-Kicker Complete' pomade in the bathroom that first night they shared a room. She'd never seen what Angel used.
"He took me ice skating once…" she offered, somewhat lamely.
Spike huffed out a laugh. "Would'a paid real money to see Angelus on ice," he laughed. "Did he wear a tutu? Tell me he fell on his arse."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Actually, your goons – one of the Taraka jerks – interrupted the date, so I didn't actually get to find out if he could skate."
"Shame that," Spike admitted. "So, one to ten, ice skating with Angel or road trip with Spike … which was more fun?"
"Not sure I would call any of this fun," she groused, looking back at Dru, who was still whispering sweet nothings to the dog.
"Oh, bollocks!" Spike disagreed. "Fists an' fangs, bears and rats, Burger King and buffalo blood, and the 'hot ass' hotel. Bloody brilliant!"
Buffy rolled her eyes, but a small smile quirked her lips. "You're a total sicko," she contended, but her tone was teasing.
"Better that than a stick-in-the-soddin'-mud like Peaches," Spike pointed out. "Curse or not, he wouldn't know fun if it came up and bit him in the arse."
"Why do you do that?" Buffy wondered.
"What?" he asked, glancing over at her.
"You never say 'soul', you always say 'curse' when you're talking about Angel," she clarified.
Spike shrugged, looking back at the road. "More goin' on there than some spell shovin' Liam's soul back in."
"What do you mean?"
"From what I hear, our Liam wasn't what you'd call the most upstanding of citizens," Spike revealed. "What do you think drew Darla to him in the first place? Watched him fight and drink and carouse, she did. Watched him fu… errr …" He cleared his throat, casting a sidelong glance at his companion. "Use the girls – whores and virgins alike – and toss 'em away like ragdolls, leaving 'em preggers or worse. Never gave 'em a second thought, never looked back. Though, I do reckon Angelus made good in the end, killin' them all, putting them outta their misery.
"Take a bloke who did half o' what he and Darla said he did before he was turned, and I don't reckon that soul would brood over-much 'bout the bodies in his wake," Spike sniffed. "Killed his entire village when he was turned, includin' his whole family. That kinda rage … it don't come from the demon, that comes from the bloody man."
"What do you know about it?" Buffy challenged angrily, her heart and stomach churning with images she didn't want of Angel and girls and death. "You weren't even there. I suppose you didn't kill your family! Dru didn't kill hers!?"
Spike stiffened slightly, but latched onto the second question. "No, Dru didn't kill 'ers, bloody Angelus and Darla beat her to it, didn't they? Made her watch, drove her stark, ravin' mad, didn't he? Then he turned her. Always a seer, she was, but not like this." He waved a hand back toward the giggling woman who continued petting and conversing with the dog. "That's his work. Your beloved's masterpiece."
Buffy looked down at her hands, wringing them in her lap. "I know," she admitted. "He was gonna make me his next."
Spike shrugged. "Seemed like," he agreed, hating the thought of it. He hadn't known Dru before, but Darla told him she'd not been mad – young, confused, afraid of her visions, a devout Catholic, frightened that she may be cursed by the devil, but not mad. Spike knew the Slayer, had seen her wiles and her bravery. The girl had stones, had heart, was resourceful and powerful with a keen instinct, and she was no dummy, despite not knowing what a dirigible was. He would've hated to have seen such a masterpiece of grace and power and death be defiled and degraded by the enormous git.
That wasn't how you defeated Slayers. Fists and fangs and slivers of wood. That was the dance. Life and death with honor, not mind-games and manipulation. Yes, he'd cheated a bit hiring the Order of Taraka, but she'd just made him so bloody angry. She had a penchant for that, it seemed – getting under his skin. Still, he'd never used the tactics Angelus had on anyone, not Slayers or humans. As strange as it was for a vampire to say, it just felt too underhanded to Spike.
Buffy sighed. "You think the curse made him feel more guilt than just his soul would've?"
"Was kinda the point of it, yeah?" he reasoned.
Buffy lifted her brows with a little tilt of her head and shrug of one shoulder in agreement.
"Do you think the curse made him … worse? I mean, when it broke? Did it make Angelus worse?"
Spike pursed his lips. For once he stopped to think before answering. He knew what she wanted to hear, and he knew it wasn't the truth. What should he tell her – the truth or the lie?
"Are you thinking about lying to me?" Buffy wondered.
Spike glanced at her and back to the road, giving her a shrug.
"As a personal favor to me, I'd rather you not. I already have one vampire here that I need a decoder ring to figure out, I don't need another one."
Spike sighed. "Angelus was always a manky bugger. Not sayin' that being caged that long might not've made his demon a bit more bloodthirsty, but …"
"But he's always been bad," Buffy filled in. "Like you."
Spike smirked. "Different kinda bad, aren't I? The best kinda bad. The kinda bad you wanna roll around in naked," he taunted, running his tongue across his lips and giving her a leer that tingled her skin like a physical caress. He kept his eyes on her long enough to make Buffy squirm uncomfortably and worry that he'd crash the car.
She coughed, trying to cover her physical reaction to those piercing eyes, but couldn't pull her gaze from his face, those lips, those eyes, those cheekbones, even that scar. Shit! Her mom was right. That scar is fucking sexy.
Bad Buffy!
"Pig," she rasped out finally, her mouth dry and throat tight. She cleared her throat and broke the spell as she turned to look back at Dru, forcing herself to breathe normally. "Why do you put up with him doing that?"
Dru looked up and met the Slayer's eyes, her head tilting curiously. "My dark prince has only eyes for his princess, dearie. The sunshine shan't scorch the moon unless the raven blackens his heart."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Why do I even bother?" she muttered with a sigh.
She looked back over at the saner of the two vampires. "So, what is it with you and Dru? Is it a sire thing? Is that why you stay with her?"
Spike arched a brow at her, then looked back at the road. "Told ya before, Slayer. Stay with 'er cos I love her, don't I? She's my black goddess … my destiny."
Buffy's brows drew together, glancing back at Dru who seemed to not be paying any attention to them at all. "And you're her dark prince – I figured that much out – but …" Buffy shook her head. "Never mind."
"What?" Spike asked, shooting her a curious look. "Wanna know if I know her favorite color? Favorite music? Favorite meal? Cos, yeah, I do."
"No, it's just … why didn't she help you get your clothes changed and those gouges cleaned up after she woke up today?" Buffy wondered. "You said she's a seer. Couldn't she see that you needed some help? That you were in pain?"
"Was still recoverin' from the drugs, she was," Spike excused with a shrug. "And they hadn't fed her properly."
Buffy's brows wrinkled further. Dru hadn't looked woozy or weak to her. "Do you ever get tired of being the one who does all the giving, Spike?"
Spike shot her an angry glare. "You ever get tired o' butting into things that you don't bloody understand with that big goblin mouth?"
Buffy nodded to herself. Nail. Head. Well, maybe he wasn't the only one who could reach in and touch those tender spots, find the button beneath all the others that went straight for the pain. She looked out the windshield at the dark forest passing by. "Sorry. None of my business, you're right."
Spike's mouth drew into a hard line as he stared out at the highway ahead, his hands wrapped around the wheel in a death grip. The two blondes sat in silence for a long time as the miles passed by, the sound of the music playing, the engine's rumble, the tires on the asphalt, and Dru's soft singing and cooing filling the thick air between them.
"Sometimes," he whispered after a relative eternity.
Buffy looked at him just as he turned toward her, and their eyes met. She nodded and gave him a sad smile. "As a wise man once said: love stinks," she asserted.
Spike snorted and looked back at the road. "Shakespeare?" he teased even as the J. Geils Band rang in his ears, 'Love stinks, yeah, yeah! Love stinks!'
"Pepe Le Pew," Buffy she replied with a straight face.
Spike barked out a laugh. "Well, he would know."
** X-X-X-X-X **
[ Song: 'Radar Love' by Golden Earring ]
Growing tired of Buffy's long-suffering sighs, and other, louder complaints about his music, Spike allowed her to search through the radio stations to find something that she could live with. The only caveat being it had to be something that didn't make his ears bleed or his eyes roll out of their sockets.
She spun the dial through static and talk, checking both the AM and FM stations. Almost ready to give up, she hit on something that sounded familiar, though faint. She fiddled with the dial, trying to pick it up, and, as the car crested a mountain, the music blared out of the speakers, making all the occupants wince.
I've been drivin' all night, my hands wet on the wheel
There's a voice in my head that drives my heel
It's my baby callin', says I need you here
Buffy quickly turned it down, grinning, as she started dancing in her seat, snapping her fingers to the rockin' beat.
"I love this song! Mom and Dad used to play it on road trips when I was a kid," she shared. "Like … over and over all the way to Illinois!"
When the chorus started, both she and Spike sang,
"We've got a thing that's called radar love.
We've got a wave in the air … … radar love."
They both laughed, Spike tapping out the rhythm on the steering wheel as Buffy snapped her fingers and danced in her seat.
As the car began back down the other side of the mountain, the signal began to cut in and out. "No! No, no, no! Go back!" Buffy begged, her body stilling in the seat as she stared at the radio, willing it to come back on.
Spike slammed on the brakes and shifted the car into reverse on the dark, deserted highway. Buffy had to catch herself on the dash to keep from being thrown from the seat onto the floor as the car lurched backwards, speeding back toward the top of the mountain. The two occupants in the back were also caught off-guard and were tossed about a bit, with Drusilla muttering something about 'willing slave to the golden goblin', but Buffy was too focused on the soft glow of the radio to notice, eager for the song's return.
When the song returned, loud and strong, Spike swerved off onto the shoulder and stopped. They both picked up singing the next verse,
"We've got a thing that's called radar love.
We've got a light in the skyyy … … radar love."
They were both grinning, Spike now tapping out the beat with both hands on the dash as Buffy continued snapping her fingers and grooving in her seat. She danced with her upper-body, her moving shoulders and bobbing her head along to the drums and bass, her hair bouncing in waves around her face and shoulders.
As the next stanza began, she held up her fist to her mouth like a microphone to sing, "Gotta keep cool now, gotta take care."
She reached her fist over to Spike for the next line, and he sang into it,
"Last car to pass, here I go. And the line of cars drove down real slow."
They alternated the next lines, Buffy shifting the 'mic' back and forth between them.
"And the radio played that forgotten song," she crooned.
"Brenda Lee's comin' on strong."
"And the newsman sang his same song."
"Oh, one more radar lover gone," Spike finished.
Buffy held her fist between them and they both leaned into sing,
When I get lonely and I'm sure I've had enough.
She sends her comfort comin' in from above.
We don't need no letter at all.
We've got a thing that's called radar love.
We've got a light in the sky-yyy.
We've got a thing that's called radar love.
We've got a thing that's caaalled … … radar love.
They both laughed as the song ended and the DJ started talking about the annual rodeo and pickle festival in a nearby town. Spike put the car in gear and pulled back onto the road, heading down the mountain again, the DJ's voice fading. Buffy mused that it was so weird that she could remember the words to that song from those childhood trips, but couldn't remember the difference between an analogy, a simile and a metaphor, which would've been handy on the SATs she just took. 'Radar Love' wasn't on the test … like, at all.
"Careful, Slayer, you might actually start havin' fun," Spike warned, smirking as Buffy continued singing the song under her breath.
Buffy snorted and rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. "Almost as fun as imagining Angelus on ice in a tutu."
Spike barked out a laugh. "Hard t' beat that," he agreed.
The big dog leaned up over the seat and nuzzled Spike's neck with his cold nose.
"Oi!" the vampire complained, lifting his shoulder to deflect the cold wetness, but he was still smiling.
Undeterred, the Guardian shifted over to give his smiling master the same treatment. She didn't complain, but wrapped her arms around his thick neck and leaned her head against his. She began chuckling again as the image of Angel on skates, in tights and a tutu, appeared in her mind. The tutu was pink. He tried a spin with his hands raised over his head like a goofy, really big-boned ballerina. Angel fell on his ass. The ice cracked. Buffy's chuckle turned into a throaty laugh, which made the vampire laugh again.
The dog's eyes shifted over to look at the driver approvingly, his tongue lolling out happily as Buffy hugged him, laughing. The vampire returned the honor with a small nod of approval directed at his namesake. He was still grinning as he looked back at the dark highway. Angelus on ice would be bloody priceless.
Who's a good boi? Spike's a good boi.
*END NOTES**
What's YOUR go-to road trip song?
Thank you so much for reading! I hope you're enjoying the story! Please stop in and let me know, I'd seriously love to hear from you!
Thanks to my wonderful friends, PaganBaby and Holi117, for sharing their talents with me by betaing this story. Any mistakes here are mine because I just can't stop fiddling!
Thanks to Paganbaby and Holi117 for the two lovely banners!
More to come soon!