k i n e t i c
by bulletproof (bulletproof_android@yahoo.com)
characters owned by joss whedon.
picks up at the beginning of 'Spiral' and doesn't look back. beta'ed by the wonderful Lisa.
PART 2
"We're here." Spike grumbled like a bad taste in his mouth, disgruntled. He pulled violently on the clutch and the Winnebago left burn marks on the road.
Spike had been quietly grumbling throughout the trip ever since he'd learned of their destination. Revisiting the wanker who had a big ol' yen for kicking his arse was not high on his 'To Do' list, much less *returning* Buffy to his arms. Buffy needed *him*. *He* was the only one who could protect her.
The last to get off, he snatched at Buffy's arm and dragged her ear to his mouth.
Last chance.
"You sure about this? We could ditch these deadweights and head off in the other direction. Just you, me and Little Bit."
"And then what?" She twisted in his grasp to look him wearily in the eye, "Get stuck in a godforsaken shack in the middle of some desert where no one can hear us scream when Glory comes to eat us?"
She stared him down, tired, so tired, and he couldn't help but hang his head.
"Yeah, brilliant plan, that." She added, sliding into a parody of his British accent.
She slipped easily out of his hands, like air sifting through his fingers.
She was close to collapsing, that much he could see, and if this wasn't the end of her road, well, he'd hate to think what she'd let herself succumb to. Her world was falling apart and the first person she turned to was still Angel. Spike had never been her protector, her hero. He was just a means to an end.
He slumped against the steering wheel, letting the borrowed darkness comfort him, letting the reality wash over him.
* * * * *
She stepped off the vehicle and onto hard, solid sidewalk, each step reverberating through her bones, bringing her closer to the ground. She wasn't sure how much longer her legs would support her.
The gang huddled by the side of the entrance to *his* hotel, seemingly afraid of the door that led into unfamiliar territory. They waited for her to lead.
She took in each of their haggard appearances in turn, the way Anya seemed more subdued than usual, the way Xander rubbed the bruise on his forehead from Spike's severe and sudden braking, the way Tara was more incoherent than ever and the way Willow clutched all the more desperately at her hand. The way the light in her Watcher's eyes was on the brink of being snuffed out. The way Dawn looked as hollow as she must have been feeling.
Buffy took it all on, took all their fear, their worry and felt it weigh heavily as her shoulders sagged with the effort.
She wouldn't, she *couldn't* let them down. She silently swore to herself that, if nothing else, she would fight to see Dawn smile again.
Her fingers trembled as she lightly touched the cool metal of the door handle. She'd spent so long, so many sleepless nights, convincing herself that she could go on without him, that she didn't need him like breath, like blood… but now here she was, breaking into his life again.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, not being able to watch as the door swung open under her slight pressure.
Each step felt like it'd bring her crashing to the floor.
"Buffy."
His gentle voice, a simple uttering of her name, brought a cacophony of noise to her head: defence mechanisms screaming, logic yelling back, heart pounding, pounding, pounding…
"Angel."
The symphony swelled with every inch that disappeared between them. The feet that had threatened to fail her before, seemed to have a mind of their own as they carried her, gravitated her towards him. His seemed to be doing the same.
They came together gently, naturally, and a silence came over her, enveloped her. Actually, if she listened very closely, there was a very soft humming emanating from her skin, from the points where she could feel him strong and real against her. She'd forgotten about this. How, even when her soul cried for his, her blood screamed to be near him, her body raged with lust, she could always find this stillness, this silence, this peace with Angel.
"I didn't know where else to go." Buffy confessed quietly into the soft silk of his shirt.
"There's nowhere else you should be." He assured her just as softly, just as sincerely, and pressed a kiss deep into the golden tresses of her hair.
He held her, in the eye of the storm, and the peace that accompanied the simple act was more than she could have imagined possible in the last few days of panic.
Angel was grounding her soul with his and there really wasn't anywhere else in the world that she could have been.
He could feel the way her muscles were bunched so tightly in her back, the way the tension rolled off her bones and touched at his. The tiny, precious cargo in his arms was about to shatter from the pressure that pushed at her from inside and out.
He raised his head from the nest he'd made in her hair and looked over the family she'd gathered over the years. The people she was so desperately trying to be a hero for. Their eyes pleaded with her even as her back was towards them.
They needed a hero and she was about to break in two.
He broke away from her, addressing the group authoritatively, "Here's what we're going to do…"
* * * * *
"A karaoke bar!" Xander yelped incredulously as they descended the stairs into the deep, dark underbelly, the heart of Caritas, "That's even better than a vamp and a Winnebago!"
"Lorne?" Angel called into the shadows of the bar, following his call as he leaned over the counter-top to find the Host.
"No way, no how, sweet cheeks." Lorne laid down the law from above the rim of his tumbler, "I am *not* going with you to Pylea."
"Lorne, I'd like you to meet someone."
The Host stood, straightening his red, Hugh Hefner robe, "Angel-cakes, if this is something about actualising my unresolved need to return home, don't even-"
"This is Buffy…"
"The Vampire Slayer?"
"I don't think we've met." Buffy returned, extending a wary hand to his, completing the introduction rites.
"Oh, not at all, honey," Lorne replied, shaking her hand vigorously, "I just see you whenever a blubbering vamp delivers a watery rendition of 'Another One Bites the Dust'. You're quite legendary around these parts."
"Lorne reads souls," Angel filled in, "and in order for them to open up, he has them sing something."
"Ooh," the Host squealed, moving down the line to stand in front of Dawn, "you're positively glowing, darlin', what's your name?"
"Uh, Dawn," she supplied, worriedly glancing over at her sister.
"Buffy and Dawn are running from a Hell-God." Angel continued, following the Host closely.
"Ooh, nasty things those…"
"So you'll understand why the plan is to hide out in another dimension, while being able to rescue Cordelia."
The Host stopped appraising the new group, grimacing as things fell in place.
"Dawn is the Key," Angel finished, "if Glory, the Hell-God, gets a hold of her, you're going to *wish* you were in Pylea."
The Host came to a stand-still and saw the truth in all three horrific statements in the tone of Angel's voice, the looks on the faces of the small gathering in his bar. They all looked so incredibly young…
"Please," the youngest implored, fear written most plainly on her face.
Lorne sighed, already feeling his resistance crumbling, "The portal won't open here again…"
"We know. We've already found another hot-spot." Wesley stepped forward, adding another voice to the plea.
The Host glanced at the glowing girl again watching the particles in the air around her. They danced, they sang, and now that he was *really* listening, oh, the things he saw…
"Let's go."
* * * * *
The group rode silently through dark and hollow streets, lights no longer flickering in windows, voices no longer filtering through doors. This was the last road that they would travel down, such a long way down such a long line of roads, past death and grief and Hell-God. This was the last road that they would travel down and they had no idea if they were coming back.
The vehicle came to an unceremonious stop and Angel alighted, mumbling something about giving him a moment.
Faces pressed against the glass like eager children, the Scoobies watched the encounter with another man.
"Angel, man, I'm not goin'."
Stricken, Angel started, "Gunn, why not? I thought we talked about this over the phone."
The younger man shrugged, feeling the weight of a dozen other eyes crawling over him from the Winnebago, "I can't leave them, Angel," he said, vaguely gesturing to the empty street behind him, "my family."
Angel nodded, understanding, tipping his head back to the vehicle, "Them? My family. We fight and we die together. I thought... You and Wes and Cordy..."
Gunn felt a tug at his heart at the girl's name, the girl who had become his no-nonsense, 'I-will-kick-your-ungrateful-butt-if-I-have-to' sister, now lost to another dimension, and couldn't look Angel in the eye. He felt a hand on his shoulder.
"You gotta do what you gotta..." a thought occured to Angel and a shadow passed over his face, "I hope I see you again."
Not one for goodbyes, Angel turned tail and disappeared into the Winnebago, facing a sea of disappointed faces, having witnessed the entire exchange.
There was a knock at the door.
Gunn stood on the other side, entering with a casual grin and a shrug of his shoulders.
"Welcome aboard."
* * * * *
"Well," Wesley brought the vehicle to a gentle stop, having taken over the wheel, "this is it. Any last thoughts, requests?"
"Ooh, darlin', does this set of wheels have a tape-deck?" The Host drawled smoothly, waving a set of cassettes in the air, "'Cos I know I brought my Joni Mitchell..."
"Yeah, I got one," Spike reacted to the initial question, voice gruff, "I want out."
"Be my guest," Xander murmured under his breath, earning a glare from the vampire.
"Spike?" Dawn turned to him in askance, a touch of fear in her query.
His demeanour softened for his little friend and he put on a small smile for her benefit, "Somebody's gotta make sure that Glory chit doesn't run amuck. Not to mention the Hellmouth. Heck, worse comes to worse, I can always break the other Slay-bitch outta jail and we can have a gay ol' time of it. Come to think of it, I have unfinished business with that one..."
Spike's gaze ran over Buffy's body at his last statement and she couldn't help but bite her lip, lowering her eyes to the floor.
Angel took this in and furrowed his brow at the interaction. He'd have to talk to Buffy about it later.
"Good idea, Spike," Angel commended, and the younger vampire sneered at his grand-sire's attempts to get him out of the way, "somebody'll need to hold the fort down while we're gone."
Spike snorted, "Yeah, right." but headed down the stairs of the Winnebago.
Hand on the door, he felt *her* tiny fingers gripping his elbow and he was compelled to turn back.
"Thankyou." Buffy whispered, pressing a kiss to his hollowed cheek, and she let go of him.
Feet on solid ground, Spike had never felt more at loss. He heard snivelling Watcher-man the second give a tally ho and saw Dawn push through to the window, pressing her small hand to the glass, still trying to reach him. He watched as Angel came up behind her, smoothing a reassuring hand down her long locks and the bus moved forward into a growing pinprick, ball, then cosmos of light that seemed to swallow them whole.
"You better take care of my girls, Peaches." Spike grumbled to the now empty street, pulling out a cigarette for the long walk home.
END PART 2/?
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