TITLE:
Darkest Before Dawn 29 "Harsh Truths"
AUTHOR: Nmissi
PART:29/?
DISCLAIMER: I own Nothing and No one.
Especially not Spike. If I did,
what makes you think I'd share him with you?
DISTRIBUTION: Want it? Take it. Just let me know where it's going.
Feedback:
Please. Nmissi@aol.com
SUMMARY: The way the world would work if I wrote the Buffyverse.
NOTE:
I love Spike. I adore Spike. I do not hate Him. I am a redemptionista and a B/S Shipper. I am Not David Fury. Hate mail will be used
to line catboxes.
It was pink. The little line in the
control window was also pink.
Two pink lines.
Two tests with two pink lines, lying
side by side on the vanity's edge. Like matching toothbrushes, but without
bristles.
She picked up the box, and reread
the same text she'd already been over thrice. Then she sighed, and tossed both
empty boxes into the trash.
"Buffy?"
She looked over at Willow, waiting
patiently outside the bathroom door.
"It's the same."
"Oh."
Willow thought for a moment, then
approached Buffy smiling nervously.
"Congratulations?"
Buffy dropped the first, then the
second test stick into the wastebasket, and brushed her hair back out of her
eyes.
"Yeah. Yaay Me."
Willow hugged Buffy close. Behind them, Tara stood
uncertainly. She wanted to go to them, but didn't want to intrude. No matter
how much time she spent with Buffy, Willow and Buffy had years of history
between them. Sometimes she still felt very much the outsider. She was ONE of
Buffy's friends. But Willow was The Best Friend. Consequently, Tara stood apart
from them at a time like this, waiting to be asked, before she offered herself.
Willow
raised her eyes to her lover, and smiled at her in invitation. Buffy looked up, and beckoned her over with
one arm. Tara rose, and moved in towards them.
"Group Hug," announced Willow as Tara wrapped strong arms
around them.
The car moved along Sunnydale back roads steadily, moving
its occupants through the half-glow of dusk, towards the other side of town.
"So the way I figure it, you owe me a rematch. And seein'
as how you've gone all drunken lush, my odds are improving."
Spike rolled his eyes, but he didn't rise to the bait.
Eventually they'd have it out- He'd just rather not do it while Xander's car
swerved all about the road.
Instead he settled for lighting up a cigarette, enjoying
how the smoke in an enclosed space made Xander's eyes water.
They pulled up outside of the Bronze, and climbed out.
Together they entered, and made for the billiard table.
It was early evening. The dinner patrons had all gone
home, but the nightclub kids and the nightcreatures were still an hour or so
away. That's why Xander had chosen this time of day for their game. It was
always better to quarrel with Spike in a room with fewer innocent bystanders. He
didn't think this whole "Humanity" thing was likely to have changed things in
that respect.
Spike racked, and Xander broke.
"I didn't think you'd take the money, by the way."
He meant it almost apologetically, and it came across in
his tone.
Spike quirked an eyebrow at him, his cigarette dangling
from his lip as he readied his shot.
"Then why'd you help him do it? Why'd you come along with
him?"
The boy shrugged.
"I couldn't talk him out of it. So I came to observe- In
case it all gets back to Buffy later, I can tell her the truth."
He gave Spike a look full of meaning.
"I don't really trust either one of you to do that
anymore."
The blonde smirked, as Xander's shot banked.
Xander ignored him, and stepped away from the table
slightly.
"I told Giles it'd never work. Why should you give up
Buffy for money? You don't know how to spend it."
He made a face.
"You don't really need money for anything except Booze,
and Buffy buys you that."
His eyes met Spike's, and Spike saw something in their
depths that chilled him.
"You know what I would have done?"
"Enlighten me, please," he drawled.
Xander lined up his next shot.
"There should have been a hypodermic syringe and rope in
that bag. I'd have drugged you, trussed you up, drove out into the desert and
dumped your ass. You'd have had to figure out how to live as a human, or you
wouldn't have had to do it for very long."
He smiled as his shot completed beautifully.
Spike raised his cigarette at him in mock salute.
"You know? That might have Actually Have Worked. Or then
again, maybe not."
He moved with superhuman speed to pin Xander Harris up
against the pool table, the cue poised to break his windpipe. When he saw the
fear flit through his eyes, he smiled at him, and stepped away, offering the cue.
Xander took it, presenting his back to Spike as he
readied another shot. Behind him, his opponent added, almost plaintively,
"You know, I do love her. You lot seem to discount that,
but its true. She's the only thing I'm living for these days, her and the
girl."
His voice held a note of wonder as he explained.
"They're my family."
Xander wheeled on him, furious.
"Since when do they get to be YOUR family, Spike? You
were dead for about a hundred years, and you spent the last four of them trying
to KILL Buffy. You don't have any family. WE"RE their family. You don't have a
right to them."
The smoke rose between them, and Spike's cigarette was
one long ash. It fell away from his lip, and as Xander's gaze pulled up from it
they met the pain in those blue depths.
"No. I don't. Don't you think I know that?"
He sighed, and ground out the dead cigarette stub into a
little aluminum ashtray on the side of the table.
"But it doesn't do any good to pretend like I don't love
them. I can't. I did that for years and I'm all done with it. And as long as
they'll have me, I'm staying. I don't give a good bloody damn what you Scoobies
think about it."
Xander's face tightened as he absorbed the impact of
Spike's words. Then he thought for a moment, and spoke carefully to him.
"Then if you're gonna be around awhile, maybe you could
try NOT to be such a drag on Buffy. You say you love her- Fine. Let's say I
believe you. What have you got to offer her? What kind of a life can you give
her? You don't have a job. You don't have a home. Meanwhile Buffy busts her ass
to make ends meet, trying to raise Dawn- and what do you do, Spike? What do you
contribute around there?"
"Hey, I do my bit. I take out the trash, I mow the lawn…"
Xander cut him off.
"The little stuff you do around there, it doesn't count
for much. I tell you what…You get a job. You start paying some bills. You do
stuff around the house, and you help her take care of Dawn. You do all that and
I'll shut the hell up about what a freeloading loser you've turned out to be,
okay?"
Then he considered for a moment.
"And maybe you oughtta be patrolling for her some. If my
new bruise is any indication, you're still pretty damn strong in a fight." He
rubbed his side awkwardly where he'd hit the table.
Spike nodded, almost imperceptibly.
Then he questioned,
"So are we gonna do Oprah all night or are you ever going
to shut up and play the game?"
Xander hefted the cue.
"I think I've said my piece. Hand me the little blue cube
thingie."
Spike rolled his eyes and tossed him the resin.