Countdown: Highway 17
By ElsaF
Spoilers: Through mid-Season 5
Disclaimer: Bad Sir Brian Botany is by A.A. Milne, better
known for his Winnie the Pooh stories. All other characters
are property of Mutant Enemy.
Summary: Forget the summary. Read the story.
Out on Highway 17, there is no past and no future. Only the
dark, and the pavement, and the air pulling at your body, and
the curves that make you lean over and work against gravity
to keep the bike on the road. There is the roar of the engine
between your legs and the woman's arms wrapped around
your waist, holding on for dear life, her warm body pressed
against your back.
Highway 17 is cresting a hill and going airborne for a moment
and bouncing back down on the pavement with a solid thump.
And the way her arms tighten around you at that moment. And
it's easy to forget all the pain and humiliation and frustration.
That's what Highway 17 is all about. That's why he comes out
here. That's why he brings her with him.
-----------------
Spike twisted the throttle and urged the bike to give up a bit
more speed. The broken line in the middle of the road merged
into a solid white stripe and the telephone poles and fence
posts blurred into a surreal smear to either side.
The engine screamed. They crested another hill and started the
serpentine decent into the next valley, the tilt on each tight
curve making her cling to him harder. He could feel her heart
beating frantically. And it was rewarding to know that it was
exhilaration, not terror that made her heart race so.
They climbed another slope, the engine straining with each
segment of the twisting climb, then broke out into the
moonlight as the road followed the contour of a cliff over the
ocean.
Spike eased off the throttle and onto the brakes. They stopped
in a pullout with a panoramic view of the sky and the Pacific.
There was a picnic table beside the small parking area, and a
trash barrel.
Spike got off the bike and held out his hand to his lady.
She took off her helmet and shook out her auburn hair. Joyce
Summers smiled and accepted his help dismounting.
------------
A bottle of red wine and two plastic cups. A cool breeze off
the ocean. They sat opposite one another under a canopy of
stars.
"This is beautiful, Spike. Thank you for bringing me up here."
"I was surprised you agreed to come. I mean after ... what
happened."
"After what you did. Let's be honest. It didn't just happen."
"Yeah... what I did." Spike looked embarrassed. The moon
was full, and the light it shed was bright enough that Joyce
could see his face clearly. He was avoiding her eyes.
"What you did was wrong. Very wrong. But, nobody got hurt.
And if there's anything I've come to accept these last few
years, it's that my eldest daughter can take care of herself. I'm
not thrilled by what you did. But, I think you're the one who's
going to suffer the most for it."
"Yeah, I am. Bloody stupid. Should have known better.
Should have forgot what time it was and wandered out into
the sun. Should have ..."
"Enough, Spike. You screwed up. It's over now. You're going
to have to live with the consequences. But it doesn't do any
good to keep berating yourself."
"And you're still being nice to me. Nobody else is, you know.
Not even the Little Bit."
Joyce smiled. "It's a dirty job, but somebody's got to do it."
Spike laughed.
"One thing to give me hot chocolate with little marshmallows
in your kitchen. Still surprised you'd come out here with me."
"What can I say? These last few months have been hard. And
despite last week's little, um... problem ... you've been a help. I
feel better knowing you're looking out for us. And, to tell the
truth, there are moments in a woman's life when the idea of
riding off on the back of a motorcycle with a vampire is, well,
tempting." She let out a nervous laugh.
"My illness. This business with Glory. Dawn. Seeing Buffy in
college, and stretched to her limits. Not really being able to
help her. I don't really know how to put it, but I've been
feeling so -- old."
"Old? You're not old!"
"Yes I am. I'm matronly. You like me because I remind you of
your mother."
"No, I like you because you always treat me like a person,
Joyce. You think my feelings count. You expect me to be
good, and you're disappointed when I fu... screw up.
Everybody else -- well, they're surprised when I don't."
"Admit it," Joyce said with a chuckle. "I also remind you of
your mom."
"My mum? She was short, and round, and she'd go off on me
for hours if I was late coming home. Oh, don't get the wrong I
idea, I loved her. She was the center of my world. But she
wasn't anything like you.
"My mum wasn't an auburn-haired beauty. She didn't have a
smile that lights up rooms. She didn't have gorgeous hazel
eyes. And she'd be a screaming bundle of nerves if anybody
had taken her on a ride like you had coming up here. She
didn't have a warrior princess' heart like you do."
"Spike, you're flirting with me. Shame on you!" Joyce said,
glad that in the moonlight, her blush wouldn't be so obvious.
"Well, it's all true!" he insisted. "There's fire in you, Joyce.
That's where your girls get it."
"You're very nice. But I know perfectly well you're only really
interested in Buffy."
"Not true. Oh, I love Buffy. I can't help it. I can't seem to stop
wanting her. Makes me do idiotic things. But that doesn't
mean I don't care about you -- or the Little Bit, for that matter.
I think the three of you come as a package. I couldn't possibly
love Buffy without loving you and Dawn. There's too much of
you in them. You smell the same. You make the same little
noise in your throat when you're peeved. You hold your head
the same way when you're wondering what's going on."
"But I'm still the middle-aged one."
Spike laughed. "I'm almost 150 years old, Joyce. Believe me,
the difference between 20 and 40 isn't that much."
Joyce smiled shook her head. "I really shouldn't like you the
way I do, Spike. You're a vampire, and you're obsessed with
my daughter. No good can come of that. You realize that don't
you?"
"Yeah. I do. And I know Buffy'll never love me the way I love
her. Especially after my little lapse of judgment..."
"I never liked Angel," Joyce said quietly. "But I accepted that
there was nothing I could do about him. If Buffy wanted to be
with him, she was going to, and my objections weren't going
to make any difference."
"That why you put up with me, then?"
"No. I can't explain it. But I've always liked you, Spike. I can't
say I'd be pleased if Buffy suddenly changed her mind and
wanted to be with you. But, leaving Buffy completely out of
it, I've got to say that there's just something about you ...
you're sweet."
"Oh, stop. I'll have to go game face on you to show you I'm
still bad."
"You're Sir Brian," Joyce said with a laugh.
Spike looked puzzled. "Who?"
"Bad Sir Brian Botany," Joyce said.
Spike started to laugh. "Give me a break!"
"Sir Brian had a battleaxe with great big knobs on.
"He went among the villagers and blipped them on the head.
"On Wednesday and on Saturday,
"Especially on the latter day,
"He called on all the cottages and this is what he said:
"I am Sir Brian!" (Ting-ling!)
"I am Sir Brian!" (Rat-tat!)
"I am Sir Brian,
"As bold as a lion!
"Take that, and that, and that!"
"Thanks a lot, Joyce. I know how that poem ends, you know."
He cleared his throat.
"Sir Brian woke one morning and he couldn't find his
battleaxe.
"He walked into the village in his second pair of boots.
"He had gone a hundred paces
"When the street was full of faces
"And the villagers were round him with ironical salutes.
"You are Sir Brian? My, my.
"You are Sir Brian? Dear, dear.
"You are Sir Brian
"As bold as a lion?
"Delighted to meet you here!"
Joyce grinned and took over for the last verses.
"Sir Brian went a journey and he found a lot of duckweed.
"They pulled him out and dried him and they blipped him on
the head.
"They took him by the breeches
"And they hurled him into ditches
"And they pushed him under waterfalls and this is what they
said:
"You are Sir Brian -- don't laugh!
"You are Sir Brian -- don't cry!
"You are Sir Brian
"As bold as a lion --
"Sir Brian the Lion, goodbye!"
"Sir Brian struggled home again and chopped up his battleaxe.
"Sir Brian took his fighting boots and threw them in the fire.
"He is quite a different person
"Now he hasn't got his spurs on,
"And he goes about the village as B. Botany, Esquire.
"I am Sir Brian? Oh, no!
"I am Sir Brian? Who's he?
"I haven't any title, I'm Botany;
"Plain Mr. Botany (B.)"
"I should be very insulted now," Spike said with a laugh.
"They may have put this chip in my head, but I haven't turned
into a pansy."
"No," Joyce said seriously, "I think you're still bold as a lion.
You're our protector. Our guardian. It's just that Sir Brian
having to give up his evil ways makes me think of you.
"I used to read that poem to Buffy when she was little. There
was a time when we were afraid she was turning into a bit of a
bully. She was always stronger than the other children -- not
slayer strength -- but she was very athletic as a child. And she
got sent home from nursery school a couple of times for
getting too rough. One of the teachers suggested that poem to
teach her about using her strength wisely. She liked it and I
read it to her so many times that I ended up memorizing it."
Joyce looked at him with a little twinkle in her eye. "But I
wouldn't have expected you to read a lot of Winnie the Pooh."
"Believe it or not, when the book was first published --
sometime in the '20s, Dru found a copy on somebody she ...
well never mind. She loved the book and I used to read the
poems to her. That one was from one of the poetry collections.
She liked the Pooh books too."
Joyce shook her head. "You've lived a very strange life,
Spike."
"Yeah, I have."
"We should go back. Buffy will wonder what happened to
me."
"Oh, forget Buffy for a little while. Like you said. She'll take
care of herself."
"Forget Buffy? Are you ready to forget Buffy?"
"For tonight, maybe," he said with an ironic smile. "Want to
go dancing, Joyce?"
"Dancing?"
"There's a road house just a little farther down that way. I
guarantee you won't feel matronly there."
"Not the sort of place a mother of two young ladies would
go?"
"Not at all. I'm sure you wouldn't be caught dead there. Very
rough. The food is greasy. The music is loud and country. The
crowd is disreputable."
"And you want to take me there?"
"Yeah. And I certainly wouldn't want to be seen there with
anyone matronly..."
"What am I going to tell Buffy?"
"Don't tell her. Tell her you had a date with a guy named
Brian."
-------------------
Highway 17 is a place to be someone you're not. To forget
what's wrong and live a little bit of what's right. He
remembered that night for a long time. Last time he saw
Joyce. Giving her a little kiss on the cheek when he brought
her home long after her girls were in bed. Watching the light
go on in the kitchen, then off again. Then the light in the hall,
then the light in her bedroom. He stood outside the house he
couldn't enter, and watched until the last light went off and he
knew Joyce was in bed.
And the next morning he visited a flower shop he could get to
through the sewers and a well-shaded alley. He bought some
flowers and had them sent to Revello Drive. He enclosed a
card.
"Thank you for the lovely evening. See you soon? Brian."
And he always wondered whether she saw them, before she
died.
By ElsaF
Spoilers: Through mid-Season 5
Disclaimer: Bad Sir Brian Botany is by A.A. Milne, better
known for his Winnie the Pooh stories. All other characters
are property of Mutant Enemy.
Summary: Forget the summary. Read the story.
Out on Highway 17, there is no past and no future. Only the
dark, and the pavement, and the air pulling at your body, and
the curves that make you lean over and work against gravity
to keep the bike on the road. There is the roar of the engine
between your legs and the woman's arms wrapped around
your waist, holding on for dear life, her warm body pressed
against your back.
Highway 17 is cresting a hill and going airborne for a moment
and bouncing back down on the pavement with a solid thump.
And the way her arms tighten around you at that moment. And
it's easy to forget all the pain and humiliation and frustration.
That's what Highway 17 is all about. That's why he comes out
here. That's why he brings her with him.
-----------------
Spike twisted the throttle and urged the bike to give up a bit
more speed. The broken line in the middle of the road merged
into a solid white stripe and the telephone poles and fence
posts blurred into a surreal smear to either side.
The engine screamed. They crested another hill and started the
serpentine decent into the next valley, the tilt on each tight
curve making her cling to him harder. He could feel her heart
beating frantically. And it was rewarding to know that it was
exhilaration, not terror that made her heart race so.
They climbed another slope, the engine straining with each
segment of the twisting climb, then broke out into the
moonlight as the road followed the contour of a cliff over the
ocean.
Spike eased off the throttle and onto the brakes. They stopped
in a pullout with a panoramic view of the sky and the Pacific.
There was a picnic table beside the small parking area, and a
trash barrel.
Spike got off the bike and held out his hand to his lady.
She took off her helmet and shook out her auburn hair. Joyce
Summers smiled and accepted his help dismounting.
------------
A bottle of red wine and two plastic cups. A cool breeze off
the ocean. They sat opposite one another under a canopy of
stars.
"This is beautiful, Spike. Thank you for bringing me up here."
"I was surprised you agreed to come. I mean after ... what
happened."
"After what you did. Let's be honest. It didn't just happen."
"Yeah... what I did." Spike looked embarrassed. The moon
was full, and the light it shed was bright enough that Joyce
could see his face clearly. He was avoiding her eyes.
"What you did was wrong. Very wrong. But, nobody got hurt.
And if there's anything I've come to accept these last few
years, it's that my eldest daughter can take care of herself. I'm
not thrilled by what you did. But, I think you're the one who's
going to suffer the most for it."
"Yeah, I am. Bloody stupid. Should have known better.
Should have forgot what time it was and wandered out into
the sun. Should have ..."
"Enough, Spike. You screwed up. It's over now. You're going
to have to live with the consequences. But it doesn't do any
good to keep berating yourself."
"And you're still being nice to me. Nobody else is, you know.
Not even the Little Bit."
Joyce smiled. "It's a dirty job, but somebody's got to do it."
Spike laughed.
"One thing to give me hot chocolate with little marshmallows
in your kitchen. Still surprised you'd come out here with me."
"What can I say? These last few months have been hard. And
despite last week's little, um... problem ... you've been a help. I
feel better knowing you're looking out for us. And, to tell the
truth, there are moments in a woman's life when the idea of
riding off on the back of a motorcycle with a vampire is, well,
tempting." She let out a nervous laugh.
"My illness. This business with Glory. Dawn. Seeing Buffy in
college, and stretched to her limits. Not really being able to
help her. I don't really know how to put it, but I've been
feeling so -- old."
"Old? You're not old!"
"Yes I am. I'm matronly. You like me because I remind you of
your mother."
"No, I like you because you always treat me like a person,
Joyce. You think my feelings count. You expect me to be
good, and you're disappointed when I fu... screw up.
Everybody else -- well, they're surprised when I don't."
"Admit it," Joyce said with a chuckle. "I also remind you of
your mom."
"My mum? She was short, and round, and she'd go off on me
for hours if I was late coming home. Oh, don't get the wrong I
idea, I loved her. She was the center of my world. But she
wasn't anything like you.
"My mum wasn't an auburn-haired beauty. She didn't have a
smile that lights up rooms. She didn't have gorgeous hazel
eyes. And she'd be a screaming bundle of nerves if anybody
had taken her on a ride like you had coming up here. She
didn't have a warrior princess' heart like you do."
"Spike, you're flirting with me. Shame on you!" Joyce said,
glad that in the moonlight, her blush wouldn't be so obvious.
"Well, it's all true!" he insisted. "There's fire in you, Joyce.
That's where your girls get it."
"You're very nice. But I know perfectly well you're only really
interested in Buffy."
"Not true. Oh, I love Buffy. I can't help it. I can't seem to stop
wanting her. Makes me do idiotic things. But that doesn't
mean I don't care about you -- or the Little Bit, for that matter.
I think the three of you come as a package. I couldn't possibly
love Buffy without loving you and Dawn. There's too much of
you in them. You smell the same. You make the same little
noise in your throat when you're peeved. You hold your head
the same way when you're wondering what's going on."
"But I'm still the middle-aged one."
Spike laughed. "I'm almost 150 years old, Joyce. Believe me,
the difference between 20 and 40 isn't that much."
Joyce smiled shook her head. "I really shouldn't like you the
way I do, Spike. You're a vampire, and you're obsessed with
my daughter. No good can come of that. You realize that don't
you?"
"Yeah. I do. And I know Buffy'll never love me the way I love
her. Especially after my little lapse of judgment..."
"I never liked Angel," Joyce said quietly. "But I accepted that
there was nothing I could do about him. If Buffy wanted to be
with him, she was going to, and my objections weren't going
to make any difference."
"That why you put up with me, then?"
"No. I can't explain it. But I've always liked you, Spike. I can't
say I'd be pleased if Buffy suddenly changed her mind and
wanted to be with you. But, leaving Buffy completely out of
it, I've got to say that there's just something about you ...
you're sweet."
"Oh, stop. I'll have to go game face on you to show you I'm
still bad."
"You're Sir Brian," Joyce said with a laugh.
Spike looked puzzled. "Who?"
"Bad Sir Brian Botany," Joyce said.
Spike started to laugh. "Give me a break!"
"Sir Brian had a battleaxe with great big knobs on.
"He went among the villagers and blipped them on the head.
"On Wednesday and on Saturday,
"Especially on the latter day,
"He called on all the cottages and this is what he said:
"I am Sir Brian!" (Ting-ling!)
"I am Sir Brian!" (Rat-tat!)
"I am Sir Brian,
"As bold as a lion!
"Take that, and that, and that!"
"Thanks a lot, Joyce. I know how that poem ends, you know."
He cleared his throat.
"Sir Brian woke one morning and he couldn't find his
battleaxe.
"He walked into the village in his second pair of boots.
"He had gone a hundred paces
"When the street was full of faces
"And the villagers were round him with ironical salutes.
"You are Sir Brian? My, my.
"You are Sir Brian? Dear, dear.
"You are Sir Brian
"As bold as a lion?
"Delighted to meet you here!"
Joyce grinned and took over for the last verses.
"Sir Brian went a journey and he found a lot of duckweed.
"They pulled him out and dried him and they blipped him on
the head.
"They took him by the breeches
"And they hurled him into ditches
"And they pushed him under waterfalls and this is what they
said:
"You are Sir Brian -- don't laugh!
"You are Sir Brian -- don't cry!
"You are Sir Brian
"As bold as a lion --
"Sir Brian the Lion, goodbye!"
"Sir Brian struggled home again and chopped up his battleaxe.
"Sir Brian took his fighting boots and threw them in the fire.
"He is quite a different person
"Now he hasn't got his spurs on,
"And he goes about the village as B. Botany, Esquire.
"I am Sir Brian? Oh, no!
"I am Sir Brian? Who's he?
"I haven't any title, I'm Botany;
"Plain Mr. Botany (B.)"
"I should be very insulted now," Spike said with a laugh.
"They may have put this chip in my head, but I haven't turned
into a pansy."
"No," Joyce said seriously, "I think you're still bold as a lion.
You're our protector. Our guardian. It's just that Sir Brian
having to give up his evil ways makes me think of you.
"I used to read that poem to Buffy when she was little. There
was a time when we were afraid she was turning into a bit of a
bully. She was always stronger than the other children -- not
slayer strength -- but she was very athletic as a child. And she
got sent home from nursery school a couple of times for
getting too rough. One of the teachers suggested that poem to
teach her about using her strength wisely. She liked it and I
read it to her so many times that I ended up memorizing it."
Joyce looked at him with a little twinkle in her eye. "But I
wouldn't have expected you to read a lot of Winnie the Pooh."
"Believe it or not, when the book was first published --
sometime in the '20s, Dru found a copy on somebody she ...
well never mind. She loved the book and I used to read the
poems to her. That one was from one of the poetry collections.
She liked the Pooh books too."
Joyce shook her head. "You've lived a very strange life,
Spike."
"Yeah, I have."
"We should go back. Buffy will wonder what happened to
me."
"Oh, forget Buffy for a little while. Like you said. She'll take
care of herself."
"Forget Buffy? Are you ready to forget Buffy?"
"For tonight, maybe," he said with an ironic smile. "Want to
go dancing, Joyce?"
"Dancing?"
"There's a road house just a little farther down that way. I
guarantee you won't feel matronly there."
"Not the sort of place a mother of two young ladies would
go?"
"Not at all. I'm sure you wouldn't be caught dead there. Very
rough. The food is greasy. The music is loud and country. The
crowd is disreputable."
"And you want to take me there?"
"Yeah. And I certainly wouldn't want to be seen there with
anyone matronly..."
"What am I going to tell Buffy?"
"Don't tell her. Tell her you had a date with a guy named
Brian."
-------------------
Highway 17 is a place to be someone you're not. To forget
what's wrong and live a little bit of what's right. He
remembered that night for a long time. Last time he saw
Joyce. Giving her a little kiss on the cheek when he brought
her home long after her girls were in bed. Watching the light
go on in the kitchen, then off again. Then the light in the hall,
then the light in her bedroom. He stood outside the house he
couldn't enter, and watched until the last light went off and he
knew Joyce was in bed.
And the next morning he visited a flower shop he could get to
through the sewers and a well-shaded alley. He bought some
flowers and had them sent to Revello Drive. He enclosed a
card.
"Thank you for the lovely evening. See you soon? Brian."
And he always wondered whether she saw them, before she
died.