Disclaimer: We own nothing. Zip. Zero. Ziltch. A big fat goose egg.
Nadda. Ok. I'm out of synonyms now. lol
Timeframe: Directly follows Intervention. AU from there.
Title: Ohana: No One Gets Left Behind
Actors/Authors: Tequila Sunrise as Buffy, Dawn, Anya. Tigerwolf as Spike, Xander, Giles. Willow and Tara are shared.
Authors Notes 1, Tigerwolf: Ok. Here it is. Thanks to all of you who are coming to this through Sunrise and my first collaboration, The Heart Of The Matter. This is based on a personal challenge that we've given ourselves. Change minor things at the end of S5 to keep Buffy from dying and Tara from getting brainsucked. This is what we came up with. Also, we finally get an explanation about where that stupid Winnabago came from, lol. This was also inspired by a real drive on both our parts to "improve" the end of Intervention. I mean, come on. Who liked that she just left him there, huh? And the title? It's from Disney's Lilo & Stitch. The entire quote is: "Ohana means family. Family means no one gets left behind." Who hasn't wanted to see Spike become a member of the Scooby family, without use of his new soul? Well, here it is. Enjoy, and please review!!!
"What you did.. For me.. For Dawn.. That was real. I won't forget it."
She turned her back then, walking out of the crypt. Spike stared at the door for quite some time after she left. Maybe there was hope, after all...
She was focusing on Dawn on the walk home, not the atrocious bot, not Glory, not anyone. Just Dawn. She was looking at the Walgreens sign. She went in. She found herself in the candy aisle, holding a bag of Reese's Bites, and jelly beans. The pink ones were Dawn's favorites. She bought some disinfectant, gauze, tape, and bandaging cloth, and got rung out. Their first aid kit was getting bare. Her feet carried her to Spike's crypt. She didn't knock. When did she ever? Just went downstairs. Called once. "Spike?"
No answer. There was a lump on the floor halfway between the ladder and the bed. A lump made of semi-conscious vampire.
She dropped the bag, walked over him. "Spike."
Spike's head felt as if there was an elephant tap-dancing on his brain. Still, he managed to turn his head enough to see her through the one eye that wasn't completely swollen shut. Lips moved, no sound.
She didn't... didn't want to carry him. "Spike. C'mon. Get up."
Slow nod. Got his arms under him, doing his best to ignore the incredible pain radiating from everywhere at once. Made it to his hands and knees. Crawled to the bed. Tried to climb on, but his left leg wouldn't support his whole weight. 'Fracture,' he thought. Shifted his weight to the other leg and pushed up. Lay across the foot of the bed.
She went back, picked up the bag, and asked, "Can you sit up? I wanna... I wanna fix you."
He rolled over, sat up extremely slowly. There was an audible grating of multiple broken ribs as he did so. Licked his lips, tried to talk, failed. Licked them again. "...Buffy... You... Couldn't keep away from me, huh?" He would have been smirking, if his lips weren't swollen and bloody from taking an involuntary bite out of a glass.
She rolled her eyes, and opened the bag, pulling out the things she bought for the first aid kit at home. Pulled out peroxide, cottonballs, antiseptic cream, bandages, cloth, and gauze.
He watched her curiously, his chin resting on his chest because his head had suddenly become too heavy to hold up.
She frowned down at the bag of Reese's Bites, then pulled them out, too, to place in his hands.
He looked at it. Started to say something, but coughed hard instead. Recovered. "What...?"
She shrugged self-consciously. Opened the peroxide, wetted a cottonball, and started dabbing at the cuts over his face.
Sharp intake of air to mask a hiss of pain. He didn't pull back, though. Coughed again.
She gave a small frown, then blew a stream of cool air on the places she was disinfecting.
He held his head up a little, to allow her better access to the cuts around his chin. Kept watching her through one eye.
She didn't use bandages on his face. Except on the gash on his cheek. She would look, every once in a while into his eyes, or eye, rather, hold his gaze, then break it to make sure her perusal of his face was perfect.
He twitched a little when she put the bandage on his cheek, his hands playing with the bag of Reese's bites.
She reached down, tore the seal, and opened the bag, stealing a piece. Finally, "You're supposed to eat them."
"Oh." Looked in the bag. It was really hard to have good depth perception with one eye. He missed twice before he got a hand in the bag. Removed a piece, held it up. Bit it in half, and examined the inside. Peanut butter. It was as good with chocolate as it was with graham crackers.
She was done with his face, and she felt a little better. "Come on. Go to bed."
He couldn't resist. "Was that an invitation?"
"Only in your wettest dreams."
He chuckled, but it turned into a cough. Handed the bag of candy to her as he situated himself against the pile of pillows.
His shirt was torn, and it looked gross. At least his sheets were clean. "I'd um... lose the shirt, you don't wanna stain your sheets."
Bit back yet another comment. He started to peel off his shirt, and made a quiet sound when it stuck to something. Something that was still attached to him. Carefully, he pulled the sliced flap of skin free of the shirt, then removed the shirt the rest of the way, dropping it on the floor at the side of his bed.
Buffy almost gagged. There was a hole in his chest, his sides were black and blue, and an ungodly shade of purple, and swollen. A strip of his skin hung loosely from his torso. For her. For Dawn.
He leaned back against the pillows, closing his eye and ignoring the pain in his back from the fall down the elevator shaft. He was unaware of Buffy's almost gagging.
She walked forward, setting the candy on the floor. He had taken this kind of beating. Oh, god... She walked back down, grabbed the peroxide, and started swabbing.
He yelped in surprise at the sudden pain and sat up. Too fast. His head swam.
He looked worse than Angel when he came back from the hell dimension. And it was of his own accord and- "Shit! I- I was just-"
"S'ok." His eye opened again. Not much, but enough to see her. "Really, Slayer. You don't have-"
"Yes." It was firm, but raw at the same time. "I do."
No answer to that. She didn't have to. Even if she thought she did. Not that he wasn't grateful for the help. God knows he wouldn't have even made it to the bed if she hadn't come back, but still. "Thanks...", very quiet. Almost an exhale.
"Welcome." It was uncomfortable. She cleaned the wounds, the hole, taped his skin together as best she could. She put on hand lightly on his right set of ribs.
Tensed up, let out a sound that was a cross between a growl and a whimper.
Broken. She'd guessed as much when she had seen the bruising. "All of them?"
"All on the right. All but the bottom two on the left." Said through his teeth. Even the gentlest touch was excruciating. Coughed again, and moaned at the pain in his sides.
She frowned. "Did you puncture a lung?"
"Not with my ribs. Glory did. With her finger." He pointed at the bandaged hole in his chest.
"Bitch." The word rolled through her. She'd have loved to have choked the skanky whore with her own shoes.
Spike gave a half smile. "I insulted her."
She nodded. "Good." Wiped at the corner of his mouth. "You opened that up again." Handed him the candy bag. "Here. I'm gonna wrap your ribs."
He nodded and slowly ate a piece of the candy. "I told her that you were gonna kick her skanky, lopsided ass back to whatever place would take a cheap, whorish, fashion-victim, ex-god like her."
Buffy let out a chuckle. Something she hadn't done in a long time. "Good one."
He gave a half smile, not enough to reopen any wounds this time. "I also told her that the Key was Bob Barker."
Another laugh. She was starting to tie off his ribs. "I wish."
He was on a roll. "Actually, I said that it was that guy on TV. That show. The price show. Where people guess what stuff costs. And two of her little flunkies provided me with the title and the guy's name." Coughing chuckle.
She gave him a small smile. "Stop. You shouldn't laugh."
"I know, but that was funny." Ate another piece of candy. "I think these things are addictive."
"They are."
"Ah." He looked at her, his one eyed gaze slightly resembling a curious parrot. "Are we having a bonding moment?" Joking tone. After all, this was the longest conversation that didn't involve her deliberately inflicting serious bodily harm on him. A milestone if he'd ever seen one.
She rolled her eyes. "Give me the candy."
Clutched it to his stomach. "No. I want it."
She smiled. "Fine." She tied the last rib off.
He looked at the candy, then at her, then held it out. "I changed my mind."
She took a few out, munched on them. Started packing the supplies back in the plastic bag.
He reclined against the pillows again, watching her and fighting sleep. Buffy was being nice to him, and she'd laughed at his jokes, THREE times, and she was helping him.. And who could forget the fact that she'd kissed him earlier? He should have gotten beaten up for her a lot sooner.
She walked to his fridge, and made a mug of blood, heated it, and sat it on the stand next to the bed.
Spike didn't move. In the time it had taken her to get the blood, he had fallen asleep. His breathing was shallow, showing that he wasn't in a deep sleep yet. If he had been, he wouldn't have been breathing at all. Or at least, that's what most vampires did.
She put a tentative hand on his shoulder.
That same eye opened a crack. "Yeah?"
She jerked her hand back. "Blood, on the night stand."
"Sorry. I'll clean it up later..."
"No... um... in a mug."
He glanced over, with the irrational urge to whack himself on the forehead. "Oh. Right. Thanks." Didn't make any move toward it. "But I'm not hungry. Just... tired." There was a weariness in his voice that she'd never heard before. He was beyond exhausted. He was quite literally dead. If he hadn't been a vampire, he would have been in a morgue.
She felt uneasy with this Spike. Perverted, sarcastic Spike was easy to deal with. "Right. I'll let you sleep." She picked the mug back up. "I'll put this in the fridge."
"Thanks... Luv?"
She resisted the urge to snap at him for calling her that. "What?"
"Don't tell Dawn... How bad I am, ok? I.. Don't want the Bit to worry."
She nodded. "All right."
"Thank you." Eye closed. "For everything..."
She stood still, till his breathing stopped. She looked under his bed, yanking out a spare blanket, to spread over his now bandaged body. She picked up her bag and went to the ladder. Without turning, she said softly, "... Thank *you*, Spike..."
========================================================================== ==========
Buffy hit the punching bag. Again. Again. Again. The non-action was killing her. That and the boredom. Her brain was numb and fuzzy with boredom.... She could feel her brain pooling into useless yogurt....
Back in the main room of the Magic Box, Xander was feeling rather useless. Anya was busy helping a "lovely paying customer", and Giles was reading something that wasn't in English, so he was once again the odd man out. He got up and decided to see what Buffy was doing. Headed for the training room. "Hey Buff, whatcha doin'?"
Snapped out of it. "Hey, Xander. Nothing... nothing, and a little more nothing. You?"
Sat on a box. "About the same. I'm starting to wish that I'd taken Will up on the invitation to go with her, Tara, and Dawn to the fair."
She sighed. "I bet you are."
He imitated her sigh and exaggerated it.
She laughed, shoved a hand at him playfully.
He caught it, pulled her to him, and actually managed, through element of surprise only, to pin her to the mat. His eyes got big. "Did I just pin the Slayer?"
Her eyes were huge. But she let Xander have a victory. "Only if you don't brag to people."
"Ok. I won't brag to people." Stood up, turned his back on her. "Only demons and vampires. They aren't people."
"Uh!!! Xander! No way."
"Maybe I'll put an add in all the good demon newspapers. Bloodsuckers Weekly, the Hell Post... Maybe I'll even put a add in the Human Eaters Anonymous leaflet..."
She pounced him. "I don't think so."
"Oof!" He hit the mat on his stomach, and still continued. "You know, it might even make a good field trip. I'm sure Anya could give me an address for a demon school..."
She started ruffling his hair.
"Hey! Quit it!" He swatted at her backwards, trying to roll over. "Or I'll ask Anya to call all her demon friends and- ACK!"
She glared at him. "And what?"
He chuckled, knowing that she wouldn't really hurt him. "I'll tell her to tell them that the Slayer's losing her edge."
She smirked. "I LET you win."
"I know that, but THEY wouldn't. What're you gonna do about it, Little Miss Tough Girl?"
"Tell Anya about Mr. Snoogles, the huggable bear."
He blanched. "No. She hasn't noticed the lump under the mattress yet. Please. I won't tell. I promise."
She nodded. "Good."
"Let me up then, pretty please?"
She rolled, then stood.
He clambered up. "And next time, leave the hair alone."
She sniffed superiorly. "I'm the best."
"Yeah... yeah. Well, I think I do pretty good for a normal human."
She gave him a sincere smile. "You're the best for anyone."
He grinned, wrapping her in a tight hug. "Thanks. And you are the best, Buff."
She hugged him back, snuggling to him. He was so... comforting. So Xander.
The back door opened, and Spike limped in, taking in the sight of the hugging pair for a moment before saying, "So, I take it the super friends have finally started a soddin' support group." He sat on a box to take the weight off his healing leg.
Buffy pulled away from Xander slightly.
Xander stared at Spike, took in his bruised and beaten features. Forced himself to keep it at least semi-civil. "Hey, Evil Dead. Take a job as a speed bump?"
Spike looked up. Both eyes open, although one was still more so than the other and they were both puffy. "You bloody well know what happened to me Harris. Sod off."
Xander shook his head. "I was going to check on Giles anyway." He walked back into the other room. "Don't let Dead Boy Junior push you around, Buff," he called back.
Buffy looked from Xander, to Spike, not quite sure if she should be following Xander out into the shop. But the door closed and solved the problem for her.
The moment Xander was out of the room, Spike sagged slightly. He rubbed at his leg gingerly.
She sat on a mat. "Hey."
Spike grunted, feeling around his femur, gauging the rate of healing. "Hey, Slayer."
"If you set it, I can splint it."
"It's fine. I already had it in a splint last night and most of today. It's knitted enough for me to walk." Raised an eyebrow. "Was that a hint of caring that I caught there, Slayer?"
Buffy gave a huff of amusement. "Oh yeah. All there in the front seat of the Care Bus. Uh huh."
He gave her a half grin. "So I see."
She turned the topic. "Have you not learned that daylight is a hindrance to you?"
"Not when the back alley has direct sewer access." Gestured toward the door. "Maybe half a foot of sunlight. No problem. And also, it's cloudy." He made an amused sound. "Huh."
Non-committal noise. "What?"
He shook his head, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "Just reminded myself of something funny. That's all."
He better not have been making fun of her. "I'm sure it's twisted and sick."
He shook his head. "No. It's not actually. Want to hear it?"
"Why not?" She stood, started to pound the bag again.
"Ok. One time, Dru was laying on a table, staring at the ceiling, blathering on about there being confused stars up there. I rolled over next to the table, that was when I was in the wheelchair.." Slight accusation in the tone there. "And told her that, for one thing, we were inside, so no stars. And also, it was day." Chuckled to himself.
She rolled her eyes, hit the bag a bit harder. "Much with the crazy ho- ness."
He was quiet at that. Stared at the wall, went back to rubbing his leg.
The thought of her with Angel made her skin crawl. Solid kick. A seam in the bag popped. Spike glanced over at the Slayer. "Little too hard there, eh luv?"
She frowned. "Old bag. I've gotta get a new one." Of course, kicking a brand new bag would produce the same result, but...
He chuckled. "So. How goes the good guy life?"
"Hell whores abound. That's about it. How goes the evil undeadness?"
"Same answer. How's Niblet?"
Big, huge, worried sigh. "A Key that can open a portal to an untold hell dimension. So, ya know, she's great."
Spike shook his head. "Poor girl. She doesn't deserve all this. First she finds out that she's some sort of mystical Key, then she loses her mother..." Almost unnoticeable voice crack. "Then to top it off, she's stuck on a hellmouth with a stupid bint of a hellgod after her. It's just..." He shrugged. "I don't know. Not fair, I guess."
She hit her bag again, more sand falling. "Yeah... it's hard for her."
"It shouldn't be. She should be... I don't know. Whatever teenagers do these days for fun."
She said, somewhat reminiscently, "Necking with some guy at the movies that you have every intention of breaking up with after the Winter Formal, and being shallow, and only worrying about how in God's name you're supposed to pass History."
"Cor. Things sure have changed." Made a face at himself. "But of course they have. It's been over a hundred years since I was a teenager."
"Yeah... Way with the old, Grampa Fangs."
He snorted. "I'm half the age of a certain poofter, if you will remember."
How did it still sting? "But still, over nine times my age."
He made a quick calculation. 1981-1854 =128. "I'm one hundred and twenty eight years older than you."
"Right. Old as dirt."
Straightened up. "Dirt, is quite older than me, thank you." Thought a moment. "Actually, I'm the youngest Master in the Order now, I guess."
She glanced at him. "Gonna keep the tradition?"
Cocked his head. "Scuze me? Tradition?"
"Ya know, sire someone else to be a pain in my ass?"
He shook his head. "Two things, one, I can't stand fledglings. And two, chip. Can't bite a person, can't sire."
Buffy nodded. "Right."
He gave her a half grin. "Sides, I'm keeping the 'pain in your ass' privilege all to myself."
She snorted. "Take a number." Walked into the main store, tapped Giles' on the shoulder.
The Watcher looked up. "Yes, Buffy?"
"My bag is broken."
He looked confused. "Your.. bag.. Oh. Yes. We'll get a new one." Studied the text in front of him. His eyes lit up. "Buffy?"
"What? When can we get a new one?"
"Not for some time, if I'm reading this right." He gave her a smile. "How would you feel about going on vacation? All of us. You, me, Dawn, Xander, Willow, Tara, and Anya."
"A... vacation?? Giles... Apocalypse..? Say it with me..."
Giles chuckled. "There will be no apocalypse. If we get out of town for a month." He tapped the text. "This says that Glory gets one shot at opening the portal, in two weeks. If she doesn't have the Key, she can't open it, and she can't get the Key if we're not here."
Her eyes lit up. "You're sure?? Read it again. Make sure.... make sure, before I tell Dawn."
He smiled. "I've read it about ten times now. I'm sure. We can probably leave this afternoon. Just the seven of us."
She laughed. A truly happy noise, spilling from her throat.
Xander and Anya came out from behind a bookcase, holding hands. "I take it Giles gave you the good news?", Xander asked, grinning ear to ear.
She launched herself at Xander, her rock, hugging him.
Xander laughed and spun around with Buffy. "We're going on VACATION!!"
Spike was leaning in the doorway, watching, listening. This was good. Dawn would be safe. But... 'just the seven of us..' Not him. Oh well, he shouldn't have hoped. He turned, letting the door close behind him.
When Xander let Buffy down, she looked at Giles contemplatively. "What about Spike?"
Giles looked up. "What about him?"
"Glory's gonna be pissed when she can't find us. I don't really relish the thought of explaining to Dawn that Spike's dead." She thought about it. "Like... completely."
Xander looked at Buffy, thinking. Like it or not, Spike hadn't given them up. And God knew he'd had plenty of chances. "Her scabby guys did take him right out of the crypt the last time. They know where he is." He made a face. "I am not sticking up for him. I'm stating a fact. He can dust for all I care."
"And... like him or not, he's a good fighter, and makes Dawn feel safer."
Giles sighed. "And he can drive. Ok. We'll ask him along." He looked at Buffy. "But you know Spike, Buffy. He may very well refuse to come."
Buffy nodded. "I know. If I can't convince him, Dawn will."
Xander spoke up. "One problem. None of us has a car that can carry eight people. Especially if we don't want Spike to incinerate."
Buffy took charge. "Leave it to me."
========================================================================== ===============
Spike was lounging on his couch, having made his way back to the crypt through the sewers, watching a rerun of a Winnie The Pooh cartoon. He switched over to Passions when he heard Slayer footsteps upstairs.
Buffy walked in his crypt, and down the ladder. "Hey."
Glanced up from where he was trying to decide if he'd seen this episode before. "Yeah? You here to say goodbye?"
She frowned, he was ruining her pitch. "How do you feel about roadtrips?"
He cocked his head at her. "Huh?"
She sat on a sarcophagus, swinging her legs. "How do you feel about roadtrips?"
"Uh.. They're okay, I guess. Never really been on one. Closest thing was when Dru and I stole a German truck in World War Two."
What a great lead-in. "So... you can steal cars?"
He stared at her, a grin quirking his lips. "Yeah. Any particular reason?"
"We... uh... need a big car, or, van, whatever."
"Oh. So, you're finally getting off your moral high horse, eh, Slayer?"
She shifted uncomfortably. "No. I'm saving the world. Again."
He thought for a moment, going over a list of nearby car dealers. Oh, perfect. "What about a RV?"
"Like a camper thing?"
"A Winnabago, I think."
"Ok."
"But."
Her whole thought train wrecked. "But what?"
He grinned. Evil grin. "You have to do a couple of things for me in return."
She took four whole steps back. "Hell no. The Bot is as close to this as- "
He laughed. "Not at all what I meant, Slayer. Relax. I don't bite. Hard."
Her nose curled at the innuendo in his tone. "What, Spike?"
He chuckled. "One, stop bloody kicking me around all the time. If you want something, just ask. I think I've earned that."
Grudging nod. Kick The Spike was her favorite way to relieve tension, it just wasn't fair.
"And two..." He paused, considering. His first thought would probably not only got him banned from the road trip, but she'd probably also personally hand him back to Glory. So, second idea. "Be nice."
The concept was foreign to her. "What? I'm sorry. I'm confused."
"Then please allow me to clarify. When we're with your friends, you treat me with the respect that I deserve. Be nice. You might be surprised what it gets you. After all, I fell in love with you and all you've ever done is beat the soddin' crap out of me. You never know what being nice might do." He looked at her. "Maybe nice is too strong a word. Be civil."
She moved her mouth twice. Then, "Civil."
He smiled. Not a smirk, a smile. It was only for a second, and then his face went back to normal. "Ok then. Let's go get a Winnabago." Stood up, heading into a tunnel.
She followed him closely. "What does... civil entail? Like, PLEASE pass the salt?"
"That's a start. The way I treat Dawn is nice. Take a step down from there."
"You teach her to CHEAT at poker. That is not NICE, that's delinquency."
"I said the way I treat her, not what I teach her. And I seem to remember a certain person asking me to steal a car?"
She winced, then said, "I am saving the world, the only way I know how. It's ethical, in a round about way."
He paused and turned to her. "I know. You're only protecting Dawn. I admire you for it, Slayer. Your family, your friends. You're... blessed." He began climbing up a ladder.
She was taken aback. The... sincerity, the... sadness? in his voice. She caught up with him. "You protected Dawn, too. You might have to again. Um... thanks in advance."
They were on a second level tunnel now. Spike just nodded to her, pondering the markings on the walls. They almost looked like street signs, but not in English.
She tapped his shoulder.
He turned. "Yeah?"
"That was civil."
Again, that quick smile. "That it was." Went back to studying the signs. "Where was it...?"
She was cold. "Today? Maybe? I still have to pack."
"Civil..." He decided to do the slightly silly thing that had gone through his mind when he had realized where they were and what he was doing. In a respectable Bugs Bunny voice, he said, "I think we should have taken the right turn at Albuquerque."
Her arms were goosebumped. She turned around and started trudging the opposite direction, grumbling under her breath.
He snorted. "I'm kidding, Slayer. God. Take a joke. We're here."
She turned to follow him again. "Well, excuse me if we're not all cozy at thirty below room temperature."
He began climbing up a metal ladder. "I'm not 'cozy', I'm bleedin cold. And I want out of here as much as you do. I don't like being in the tunnels when I'm not at full strength. There're a lot of things in this town that have it in for me, Slayer." He pushed open the manhole cover, relieved to see that it was very cloudy. Climbed out, turned around and offered her a hand.
She hesitated a moment, then placed her hand in his. He pulled her up, the touch and action full of caring. He also released her as soon as he was sure she was on her feet. He trotted across the street to an RV dealership. Considered the fence. Normally, he would simply jump over, but in his condition... He began shoving an empty dumpster closer to the fence. His mangled body straining with the effort.
Buffy elbowed him out of her way. She shoved it against the fence, with very little trouble. Spike climbed onto it laboriously, trying not to show how much pain he was actually in. He clambered over the fence and carefully went down the other side, then disappeared around a large RV.
"So.. uh... how do you steal a car?" Buffy asked him as she jumped over the fence, landing in a crouch. She stopped, stood, frowned. "Did you break something else?"
Spike had straightened up as fast as he could when she'd come over the fence, but the pain showed through the mask of normalcy that he wore. "Naw. I'm fine." Limped to the door of a suitable Winnabago, and began digging in his pocket.
Buffy sighed, figuring the civil thing would be to let it go. "We can't have you about to kick off, Spike. You gotta heal up."
"I am not about to 'kick off', Slayer." He pulled a lock pick set out of his pocket, began searching through them for the right size. "Make me sound like a bleedin' Manchester United game," he muttered.
"Never got the big deal about soccer."
He winced. "Football, Slayer... Never mind." He'd already picked the lock expertly. Held the door open for her. "Check it out. See if it'll do. There are plenty of others to choose from."
She walked in, and walked directly back out. "Smells. Lots. And football is what guys watch on Sunday in the fall in America. What you English people do is soccer. And... Whoo! A ball goes from one side of the field to the other. I don't get it. Where's the big?"
"I've been in America too long." He walked to the next Winnabago, a really big, beautiful one. "Don't know what it is for humans, I just like watching the ball. Like a cat." He made a 'meow' sound as he began to pick the new lock.
She grinned. "It's pretty."
"Only the best for the lady," he said, opening the door for her again. "You can see what you think of the inside."
She walked in, and sighed. Clean. And big and roomy. Breathed in deeply. No smell. She plopped down in the driver's seat. "Perfect."
He stayed outside the door. "Good. Now, reach up to the driver's side vanity mirror. There should be a set of keys."
She did, fished around for a minute, then grinned triumphantly. Held them out to him. "Are we committing grand theft auto?"
"Uh uh. You have to start it. Then I can come in."
"Why?"
"It belongs to the person who starts it. Private property." He leaned against an invisible door. "See?"
"Oh." She started the RV, praying it wouldn't just take off. "But... is this grand theft auto?"
"Think of it as an extended test drive. We'll bring it back."
"Ok." She scooted to the passenger's seat.
He climbed in with minor difficulty. "Got one more job for you, luv. Get out, and break the chains on the gate. We don't want to mess up our shiny new fenders, do we?"
She followed his orders, the chains giving her a little trouble, and when they finally broke, she gave a satisfied snort and got back in the Winnabago.
Spike drove through the now open gates and headed for the Summers house. "We'll need to get supplies from everyone's places. And, if I'm going to be driving when the sun is out, we need a whole lot of aluminum foil to cover most of the front window. The others have blinds."
She nodded. "Giles can drive, too."
Spike grinned, not taking his eyes off the road. There was a big difference between driving a classic DeSoto and an apartment on wheels. Parked on the street outside the Summers residence. "Go on in. Dawn and the witches should be home now."
She nodded. "Go pack. Don't forget weapons."
He shook his head. "I have to wait in here now. The clouds are gone. It's ok. We can stop by my crypt last. I don't have much to grab." He got up to avoid the sunlight that was about to come through the front windshield, went and sat in the booth. "Maybe you should call the rest of your pals, ask them to be all packed and at the magic shop in... Three hours?"
She nodded. "We'll stop at the butcher's on our way out." She slipped out of the Winnabago and into her house to pack.
He yawned. Big, long day. He got up and headed for the bedroom in the back, not wanting anyone to even guess how badly he was still hurting. It would be better if he got some sleep before the Scoobies got on board.
End, part one. This is Tequila. I'm sorry this took so long to get up. It's my senior year, and it's kind of kicking my ass. I've been super busy and neglecting stuff in favor of getting 5 hours of sleep. Again, I'm sorry. I'll do better. AND!!!!! I HAVE FINISHED THE NEXT CHAP TO CONVOLUTED!!!!!!!! IT'S GONNA BE UP BY SUNDAY!!! Thanks so much for sticking with me. Always. Tequila
Timeframe: Directly follows Intervention. AU from there.
Title: Ohana: No One Gets Left Behind
Actors/Authors: Tequila Sunrise as Buffy, Dawn, Anya. Tigerwolf as Spike, Xander, Giles. Willow and Tara are shared.
Authors Notes 1, Tigerwolf: Ok. Here it is. Thanks to all of you who are coming to this through Sunrise and my first collaboration, The Heart Of The Matter. This is based on a personal challenge that we've given ourselves. Change minor things at the end of S5 to keep Buffy from dying and Tara from getting brainsucked. This is what we came up with. Also, we finally get an explanation about where that stupid Winnabago came from, lol. This was also inspired by a real drive on both our parts to "improve" the end of Intervention. I mean, come on. Who liked that she just left him there, huh? And the title? It's from Disney's Lilo & Stitch. The entire quote is: "Ohana means family. Family means no one gets left behind." Who hasn't wanted to see Spike become a member of the Scooby family, without use of his new soul? Well, here it is. Enjoy, and please review!!!
"What you did.. For me.. For Dawn.. That was real. I won't forget it."
She turned her back then, walking out of the crypt. Spike stared at the door for quite some time after she left. Maybe there was hope, after all...
She was focusing on Dawn on the walk home, not the atrocious bot, not Glory, not anyone. Just Dawn. She was looking at the Walgreens sign. She went in. She found herself in the candy aisle, holding a bag of Reese's Bites, and jelly beans. The pink ones were Dawn's favorites. She bought some disinfectant, gauze, tape, and bandaging cloth, and got rung out. Their first aid kit was getting bare. Her feet carried her to Spike's crypt. She didn't knock. When did she ever? Just went downstairs. Called once. "Spike?"
No answer. There was a lump on the floor halfway between the ladder and the bed. A lump made of semi-conscious vampire.
She dropped the bag, walked over him. "Spike."
Spike's head felt as if there was an elephant tap-dancing on his brain. Still, he managed to turn his head enough to see her through the one eye that wasn't completely swollen shut. Lips moved, no sound.
She didn't... didn't want to carry him. "Spike. C'mon. Get up."
Slow nod. Got his arms under him, doing his best to ignore the incredible pain radiating from everywhere at once. Made it to his hands and knees. Crawled to the bed. Tried to climb on, but his left leg wouldn't support his whole weight. 'Fracture,' he thought. Shifted his weight to the other leg and pushed up. Lay across the foot of the bed.
She went back, picked up the bag, and asked, "Can you sit up? I wanna... I wanna fix you."
He rolled over, sat up extremely slowly. There was an audible grating of multiple broken ribs as he did so. Licked his lips, tried to talk, failed. Licked them again. "...Buffy... You... Couldn't keep away from me, huh?" He would have been smirking, if his lips weren't swollen and bloody from taking an involuntary bite out of a glass.
She rolled her eyes, and opened the bag, pulling out the things she bought for the first aid kit at home. Pulled out peroxide, cottonballs, antiseptic cream, bandages, cloth, and gauze.
He watched her curiously, his chin resting on his chest because his head had suddenly become too heavy to hold up.
She frowned down at the bag of Reese's Bites, then pulled them out, too, to place in his hands.
He looked at it. Started to say something, but coughed hard instead. Recovered. "What...?"
She shrugged self-consciously. Opened the peroxide, wetted a cottonball, and started dabbing at the cuts over his face.
Sharp intake of air to mask a hiss of pain. He didn't pull back, though. Coughed again.
She gave a small frown, then blew a stream of cool air on the places she was disinfecting.
He held his head up a little, to allow her better access to the cuts around his chin. Kept watching her through one eye.
She didn't use bandages on his face. Except on the gash on his cheek. She would look, every once in a while into his eyes, or eye, rather, hold his gaze, then break it to make sure her perusal of his face was perfect.
He twitched a little when she put the bandage on his cheek, his hands playing with the bag of Reese's bites.
She reached down, tore the seal, and opened the bag, stealing a piece. Finally, "You're supposed to eat them."
"Oh." Looked in the bag. It was really hard to have good depth perception with one eye. He missed twice before he got a hand in the bag. Removed a piece, held it up. Bit it in half, and examined the inside. Peanut butter. It was as good with chocolate as it was with graham crackers.
She was done with his face, and she felt a little better. "Come on. Go to bed."
He couldn't resist. "Was that an invitation?"
"Only in your wettest dreams."
He chuckled, but it turned into a cough. Handed the bag of candy to her as he situated himself against the pile of pillows.
His shirt was torn, and it looked gross. At least his sheets were clean. "I'd um... lose the shirt, you don't wanna stain your sheets."
Bit back yet another comment. He started to peel off his shirt, and made a quiet sound when it stuck to something. Something that was still attached to him. Carefully, he pulled the sliced flap of skin free of the shirt, then removed the shirt the rest of the way, dropping it on the floor at the side of his bed.
Buffy almost gagged. There was a hole in his chest, his sides were black and blue, and an ungodly shade of purple, and swollen. A strip of his skin hung loosely from his torso. For her. For Dawn.
He leaned back against the pillows, closing his eye and ignoring the pain in his back from the fall down the elevator shaft. He was unaware of Buffy's almost gagging.
She walked forward, setting the candy on the floor. He had taken this kind of beating. Oh, god... She walked back down, grabbed the peroxide, and started swabbing.
He yelped in surprise at the sudden pain and sat up. Too fast. His head swam.
He looked worse than Angel when he came back from the hell dimension. And it was of his own accord and- "Shit! I- I was just-"
"S'ok." His eye opened again. Not much, but enough to see her. "Really, Slayer. You don't have-"
"Yes." It was firm, but raw at the same time. "I do."
No answer to that. She didn't have to. Even if she thought she did. Not that he wasn't grateful for the help. God knows he wouldn't have even made it to the bed if she hadn't come back, but still. "Thanks...", very quiet. Almost an exhale.
"Welcome." It was uncomfortable. She cleaned the wounds, the hole, taped his skin together as best she could. She put on hand lightly on his right set of ribs.
Tensed up, let out a sound that was a cross between a growl and a whimper.
Broken. She'd guessed as much when she had seen the bruising. "All of them?"
"All on the right. All but the bottom two on the left." Said through his teeth. Even the gentlest touch was excruciating. Coughed again, and moaned at the pain in his sides.
She frowned. "Did you puncture a lung?"
"Not with my ribs. Glory did. With her finger." He pointed at the bandaged hole in his chest.
"Bitch." The word rolled through her. She'd have loved to have choked the skanky whore with her own shoes.
Spike gave a half smile. "I insulted her."
She nodded. "Good." Wiped at the corner of his mouth. "You opened that up again." Handed him the candy bag. "Here. I'm gonna wrap your ribs."
He nodded and slowly ate a piece of the candy. "I told her that you were gonna kick her skanky, lopsided ass back to whatever place would take a cheap, whorish, fashion-victim, ex-god like her."
Buffy let out a chuckle. Something she hadn't done in a long time. "Good one."
He gave a half smile, not enough to reopen any wounds this time. "I also told her that the Key was Bob Barker."
Another laugh. She was starting to tie off his ribs. "I wish."
He was on a roll. "Actually, I said that it was that guy on TV. That show. The price show. Where people guess what stuff costs. And two of her little flunkies provided me with the title and the guy's name." Coughing chuckle.
She gave him a small smile. "Stop. You shouldn't laugh."
"I know, but that was funny." Ate another piece of candy. "I think these things are addictive."
"They are."
"Ah." He looked at her, his one eyed gaze slightly resembling a curious parrot. "Are we having a bonding moment?" Joking tone. After all, this was the longest conversation that didn't involve her deliberately inflicting serious bodily harm on him. A milestone if he'd ever seen one.
She rolled her eyes. "Give me the candy."
Clutched it to his stomach. "No. I want it."
She smiled. "Fine." She tied the last rib off.
He looked at the candy, then at her, then held it out. "I changed my mind."
She took a few out, munched on them. Started packing the supplies back in the plastic bag.
He reclined against the pillows again, watching her and fighting sleep. Buffy was being nice to him, and she'd laughed at his jokes, THREE times, and she was helping him.. And who could forget the fact that she'd kissed him earlier? He should have gotten beaten up for her a lot sooner.
She walked to his fridge, and made a mug of blood, heated it, and sat it on the stand next to the bed.
Spike didn't move. In the time it had taken her to get the blood, he had fallen asleep. His breathing was shallow, showing that he wasn't in a deep sleep yet. If he had been, he wouldn't have been breathing at all. Or at least, that's what most vampires did.
She put a tentative hand on his shoulder.
That same eye opened a crack. "Yeah?"
She jerked her hand back. "Blood, on the night stand."
"Sorry. I'll clean it up later..."
"No... um... in a mug."
He glanced over, with the irrational urge to whack himself on the forehead. "Oh. Right. Thanks." Didn't make any move toward it. "But I'm not hungry. Just... tired." There was a weariness in his voice that she'd never heard before. He was beyond exhausted. He was quite literally dead. If he hadn't been a vampire, he would have been in a morgue.
She felt uneasy with this Spike. Perverted, sarcastic Spike was easy to deal with. "Right. I'll let you sleep." She picked the mug back up. "I'll put this in the fridge."
"Thanks... Luv?"
She resisted the urge to snap at him for calling her that. "What?"
"Don't tell Dawn... How bad I am, ok? I.. Don't want the Bit to worry."
She nodded. "All right."
"Thank you." Eye closed. "For everything..."
She stood still, till his breathing stopped. She looked under his bed, yanking out a spare blanket, to spread over his now bandaged body. She picked up her bag and went to the ladder. Without turning, she said softly, "... Thank *you*, Spike..."
========================================================================== ==========
Buffy hit the punching bag. Again. Again. Again. The non-action was killing her. That and the boredom. Her brain was numb and fuzzy with boredom.... She could feel her brain pooling into useless yogurt....
Back in the main room of the Magic Box, Xander was feeling rather useless. Anya was busy helping a "lovely paying customer", and Giles was reading something that wasn't in English, so he was once again the odd man out. He got up and decided to see what Buffy was doing. Headed for the training room. "Hey Buff, whatcha doin'?"
Snapped out of it. "Hey, Xander. Nothing... nothing, and a little more nothing. You?"
Sat on a box. "About the same. I'm starting to wish that I'd taken Will up on the invitation to go with her, Tara, and Dawn to the fair."
She sighed. "I bet you are."
He imitated her sigh and exaggerated it.
She laughed, shoved a hand at him playfully.
He caught it, pulled her to him, and actually managed, through element of surprise only, to pin her to the mat. His eyes got big. "Did I just pin the Slayer?"
Her eyes were huge. But she let Xander have a victory. "Only if you don't brag to people."
"Ok. I won't brag to people." Stood up, turned his back on her. "Only demons and vampires. They aren't people."
"Uh!!! Xander! No way."
"Maybe I'll put an add in all the good demon newspapers. Bloodsuckers Weekly, the Hell Post... Maybe I'll even put a add in the Human Eaters Anonymous leaflet..."
She pounced him. "I don't think so."
"Oof!" He hit the mat on his stomach, and still continued. "You know, it might even make a good field trip. I'm sure Anya could give me an address for a demon school..."
She started ruffling his hair.
"Hey! Quit it!" He swatted at her backwards, trying to roll over. "Or I'll ask Anya to call all her demon friends and- ACK!"
She glared at him. "And what?"
He chuckled, knowing that she wouldn't really hurt him. "I'll tell her to tell them that the Slayer's losing her edge."
She smirked. "I LET you win."
"I know that, but THEY wouldn't. What're you gonna do about it, Little Miss Tough Girl?"
"Tell Anya about Mr. Snoogles, the huggable bear."
He blanched. "No. She hasn't noticed the lump under the mattress yet. Please. I won't tell. I promise."
She nodded. "Good."
"Let me up then, pretty please?"
She rolled, then stood.
He clambered up. "And next time, leave the hair alone."
She sniffed superiorly. "I'm the best."
"Yeah... yeah. Well, I think I do pretty good for a normal human."
She gave him a sincere smile. "You're the best for anyone."
He grinned, wrapping her in a tight hug. "Thanks. And you are the best, Buff."
She hugged him back, snuggling to him. He was so... comforting. So Xander.
The back door opened, and Spike limped in, taking in the sight of the hugging pair for a moment before saying, "So, I take it the super friends have finally started a soddin' support group." He sat on a box to take the weight off his healing leg.
Buffy pulled away from Xander slightly.
Xander stared at Spike, took in his bruised and beaten features. Forced himself to keep it at least semi-civil. "Hey, Evil Dead. Take a job as a speed bump?"
Spike looked up. Both eyes open, although one was still more so than the other and they were both puffy. "You bloody well know what happened to me Harris. Sod off."
Xander shook his head. "I was going to check on Giles anyway." He walked back into the other room. "Don't let Dead Boy Junior push you around, Buff," he called back.
Buffy looked from Xander, to Spike, not quite sure if she should be following Xander out into the shop. But the door closed and solved the problem for her.
The moment Xander was out of the room, Spike sagged slightly. He rubbed at his leg gingerly.
She sat on a mat. "Hey."
Spike grunted, feeling around his femur, gauging the rate of healing. "Hey, Slayer."
"If you set it, I can splint it."
"It's fine. I already had it in a splint last night and most of today. It's knitted enough for me to walk." Raised an eyebrow. "Was that a hint of caring that I caught there, Slayer?"
Buffy gave a huff of amusement. "Oh yeah. All there in the front seat of the Care Bus. Uh huh."
He gave her a half grin. "So I see."
She turned the topic. "Have you not learned that daylight is a hindrance to you?"
"Not when the back alley has direct sewer access." Gestured toward the door. "Maybe half a foot of sunlight. No problem. And also, it's cloudy." He made an amused sound. "Huh."
Non-committal noise. "What?"
He shook his head, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "Just reminded myself of something funny. That's all."
He better not have been making fun of her. "I'm sure it's twisted and sick."
He shook his head. "No. It's not actually. Want to hear it?"
"Why not?" She stood, started to pound the bag again.
"Ok. One time, Dru was laying on a table, staring at the ceiling, blathering on about there being confused stars up there. I rolled over next to the table, that was when I was in the wheelchair.." Slight accusation in the tone there. "And told her that, for one thing, we were inside, so no stars. And also, it was day." Chuckled to himself.
She rolled her eyes, hit the bag a bit harder. "Much with the crazy ho- ness."
He was quiet at that. Stared at the wall, went back to rubbing his leg.
The thought of her with Angel made her skin crawl. Solid kick. A seam in the bag popped. Spike glanced over at the Slayer. "Little too hard there, eh luv?"
She frowned. "Old bag. I've gotta get a new one." Of course, kicking a brand new bag would produce the same result, but...
He chuckled. "So. How goes the good guy life?"
"Hell whores abound. That's about it. How goes the evil undeadness?"
"Same answer. How's Niblet?"
Big, huge, worried sigh. "A Key that can open a portal to an untold hell dimension. So, ya know, she's great."
Spike shook his head. "Poor girl. She doesn't deserve all this. First she finds out that she's some sort of mystical Key, then she loses her mother..." Almost unnoticeable voice crack. "Then to top it off, she's stuck on a hellmouth with a stupid bint of a hellgod after her. It's just..." He shrugged. "I don't know. Not fair, I guess."
She hit her bag again, more sand falling. "Yeah... it's hard for her."
"It shouldn't be. She should be... I don't know. Whatever teenagers do these days for fun."
She said, somewhat reminiscently, "Necking with some guy at the movies that you have every intention of breaking up with after the Winter Formal, and being shallow, and only worrying about how in God's name you're supposed to pass History."
"Cor. Things sure have changed." Made a face at himself. "But of course they have. It's been over a hundred years since I was a teenager."
"Yeah... Way with the old, Grampa Fangs."
He snorted. "I'm half the age of a certain poofter, if you will remember."
How did it still sting? "But still, over nine times my age."
He made a quick calculation. 1981-1854 =128. "I'm one hundred and twenty eight years older than you."
"Right. Old as dirt."
Straightened up. "Dirt, is quite older than me, thank you." Thought a moment. "Actually, I'm the youngest Master in the Order now, I guess."
She glanced at him. "Gonna keep the tradition?"
Cocked his head. "Scuze me? Tradition?"
"Ya know, sire someone else to be a pain in my ass?"
He shook his head. "Two things, one, I can't stand fledglings. And two, chip. Can't bite a person, can't sire."
Buffy nodded. "Right."
He gave her a half grin. "Sides, I'm keeping the 'pain in your ass' privilege all to myself."
She snorted. "Take a number." Walked into the main store, tapped Giles' on the shoulder.
The Watcher looked up. "Yes, Buffy?"
"My bag is broken."
He looked confused. "Your.. bag.. Oh. Yes. We'll get a new one." Studied the text in front of him. His eyes lit up. "Buffy?"
"What? When can we get a new one?"
"Not for some time, if I'm reading this right." He gave her a smile. "How would you feel about going on vacation? All of us. You, me, Dawn, Xander, Willow, Tara, and Anya."
"A... vacation?? Giles... Apocalypse..? Say it with me..."
Giles chuckled. "There will be no apocalypse. If we get out of town for a month." He tapped the text. "This says that Glory gets one shot at opening the portal, in two weeks. If she doesn't have the Key, she can't open it, and she can't get the Key if we're not here."
Her eyes lit up. "You're sure?? Read it again. Make sure.... make sure, before I tell Dawn."
He smiled. "I've read it about ten times now. I'm sure. We can probably leave this afternoon. Just the seven of us."
She laughed. A truly happy noise, spilling from her throat.
Xander and Anya came out from behind a bookcase, holding hands. "I take it Giles gave you the good news?", Xander asked, grinning ear to ear.
She launched herself at Xander, her rock, hugging him.
Xander laughed and spun around with Buffy. "We're going on VACATION!!"
Spike was leaning in the doorway, watching, listening. This was good. Dawn would be safe. But... 'just the seven of us..' Not him. Oh well, he shouldn't have hoped. He turned, letting the door close behind him.
When Xander let Buffy down, she looked at Giles contemplatively. "What about Spike?"
Giles looked up. "What about him?"
"Glory's gonna be pissed when she can't find us. I don't really relish the thought of explaining to Dawn that Spike's dead." She thought about it. "Like... completely."
Xander looked at Buffy, thinking. Like it or not, Spike hadn't given them up. And God knew he'd had plenty of chances. "Her scabby guys did take him right out of the crypt the last time. They know where he is." He made a face. "I am not sticking up for him. I'm stating a fact. He can dust for all I care."
"And... like him or not, he's a good fighter, and makes Dawn feel safer."
Giles sighed. "And he can drive. Ok. We'll ask him along." He looked at Buffy. "But you know Spike, Buffy. He may very well refuse to come."
Buffy nodded. "I know. If I can't convince him, Dawn will."
Xander spoke up. "One problem. None of us has a car that can carry eight people. Especially if we don't want Spike to incinerate."
Buffy took charge. "Leave it to me."
========================================================================== ===============
Spike was lounging on his couch, having made his way back to the crypt through the sewers, watching a rerun of a Winnie The Pooh cartoon. He switched over to Passions when he heard Slayer footsteps upstairs.
Buffy walked in his crypt, and down the ladder. "Hey."
Glanced up from where he was trying to decide if he'd seen this episode before. "Yeah? You here to say goodbye?"
She frowned, he was ruining her pitch. "How do you feel about roadtrips?"
He cocked his head at her. "Huh?"
She sat on a sarcophagus, swinging her legs. "How do you feel about roadtrips?"
"Uh.. They're okay, I guess. Never really been on one. Closest thing was when Dru and I stole a German truck in World War Two."
What a great lead-in. "So... you can steal cars?"
He stared at her, a grin quirking his lips. "Yeah. Any particular reason?"
"We... uh... need a big car, or, van, whatever."
"Oh. So, you're finally getting off your moral high horse, eh, Slayer?"
She shifted uncomfortably. "No. I'm saving the world. Again."
He thought for a moment, going over a list of nearby car dealers. Oh, perfect. "What about a RV?"
"Like a camper thing?"
"A Winnabago, I think."
"Ok."
"But."
Her whole thought train wrecked. "But what?"
He grinned. Evil grin. "You have to do a couple of things for me in return."
She took four whole steps back. "Hell no. The Bot is as close to this as- "
He laughed. "Not at all what I meant, Slayer. Relax. I don't bite. Hard."
Her nose curled at the innuendo in his tone. "What, Spike?"
He chuckled. "One, stop bloody kicking me around all the time. If you want something, just ask. I think I've earned that."
Grudging nod. Kick The Spike was her favorite way to relieve tension, it just wasn't fair.
"And two..." He paused, considering. His first thought would probably not only got him banned from the road trip, but she'd probably also personally hand him back to Glory. So, second idea. "Be nice."
The concept was foreign to her. "What? I'm sorry. I'm confused."
"Then please allow me to clarify. When we're with your friends, you treat me with the respect that I deserve. Be nice. You might be surprised what it gets you. After all, I fell in love with you and all you've ever done is beat the soddin' crap out of me. You never know what being nice might do." He looked at her. "Maybe nice is too strong a word. Be civil."
She moved her mouth twice. Then, "Civil."
He smiled. Not a smirk, a smile. It was only for a second, and then his face went back to normal. "Ok then. Let's go get a Winnabago." Stood up, heading into a tunnel.
She followed him closely. "What does... civil entail? Like, PLEASE pass the salt?"
"That's a start. The way I treat Dawn is nice. Take a step down from there."
"You teach her to CHEAT at poker. That is not NICE, that's delinquency."
"I said the way I treat her, not what I teach her. And I seem to remember a certain person asking me to steal a car?"
She winced, then said, "I am saving the world, the only way I know how. It's ethical, in a round about way."
He paused and turned to her. "I know. You're only protecting Dawn. I admire you for it, Slayer. Your family, your friends. You're... blessed." He began climbing up a ladder.
She was taken aback. The... sincerity, the... sadness? in his voice. She caught up with him. "You protected Dawn, too. You might have to again. Um... thanks in advance."
They were on a second level tunnel now. Spike just nodded to her, pondering the markings on the walls. They almost looked like street signs, but not in English.
She tapped his shoulder.
He turned. "Yeah?"
"That was civil."
Again, that quick smile. "That it was." Went back to studying the signs. "Where was it...?"
She was cold. "Today? Maybe? I still have to pack."
"Civil..." He decided to do the slightly silly thing that had gone through his mind when he had realized where they were and what he was doing. In a respectable Bugs Bunny voice, he said, "I think we should have taken the right turn at Albuquerque."
Her arms were goosebumped. She turned around and started trudging the opposite direction, grumbling under her breath.
He snorted. "I'm kidding, Slayer. God. Take a joke. We're here."
She turned to follow him again. "Well, excuse me if we're not all cozy at thirty below room temperature."
He began climbing up a metal ladder. "I'm not 'cozy', I'm bleedin cold. And I want out of here as much as you do. I don't like being in the tunnels when I'm not at full strength. There're a lot of things in this town that have it in for me, Slayer." He pushed open the manhole cover, relieved to see that it was very cloudy. Climbed out, turned around and offered her a hand.
She hesitated a moment, then placed her hand in his. He pulled her up, the touch and action full of caring. He also released her as soon as he was sure she was on her feet. He trotted across the street to an RV dealership. Considered the fence. Normally, he would simply jump over, but in his condition... He began shoving an empty dumpster closer to the fence. His mangled body straining with the effort.
Buffy elbowed him out of her way. She shoved it against the fence, with very little trouble. Spike climbed onto it laboriously, trying not to show how much pain he was actually in. He clambered over the fence and carefully went down the other side, then disappeared around a large RV.
"So.. uh... how do you steal a car?" Buffy asked him as she jumped over the fence, landing in a crouch. She stopped, stood, frowned. "Did you break something else?"
Spike had straightened up as fast as he could when she'd come over the fence, but the pain showed through the mask of normalcy that he wore. "Naw. I'm fine." Limped to the door of a suitable Winnabago, and began digging in his pocket.
Buffy sighed, figuring the civil thing would be to let it go. "We can't have you about to kick off, Spike. You gotta heal up."
"I am not about to 'kick off', Slayer." He pulled a lock pick set out of his pocket, began searching through them for the right size. "Make me sound like a bleedin' Manchester United game," he muttered.
"Never got the big deal about soccer."
He winced. "Football, Slayer... Never mind." He'd already picked the lock expertly. Held the door open for her. "Check it out. See if it'll do. There are plenty of others to choose from."
She walked in, and walked directly back out. "Smells. Lots. And football is what guys watch on Sunday in the fall in America. What you English people do is soccer. And... Whoo! A ball goes from one side of the field to the other. I don't get it. Where's the big?"
"I've been in America too long." He walked to the next Winnabago, a really big, beautiful one. "Don't know what it is for humans, I just like watching the ball. Like a cat." He made a 'meow' sound as he began to pick the new lock.
She grinned. "It's pretty."
"Only the best for the lady," he said, opening the door for her again. "You can see what you think of the inside."
She walked in, and sighed. Clean. And big and roomy. Breathed in deeply. No smell. She plopped down in the driver's seat. "Perfect."
He stayed outside the door. "Good. Now, reach up to the driver's side vanity mirror. There should be a set of keys."
She did, fished around for a minute, then grinned triumphantly. Held them out to him. "Are we committing grand theft auto?"
"Uh uh. You have to start it. Then I can come in."
"Why?"
"It belongs to the person who starts it. Private property." He leaned against an invisible door. "See?"
"Oh." She started the RV, praying it wouldn't just take off. "But... is this grand theft auto?"
"Think of it as an extended test drive. We'll bring it back."
"Ok." She scooted to the passenger's seat.
He climbed in with minor difficulty. "Got one more job for you, luv. Get out, and break the chains on the gate. We don't want to mess up our shiny new fenders, do we?"
She followed his orders, the chains giving her a little trouble, and when they finally broke, she gave a satisfied snort and got back in the Winnabago.
Spike drove through the now open gates and headed for the Summers house. "We'll need to get supplies from everyone's places. And, if I'm going to be driving when the sun is out, we need a whole lot of aluminum foil to cover most of the front window. The others have blinds."
She nodded. "Giles can drive, too."
Spike grinned, not taking his eyes off the road. There was a big difference between driving a classic DeSoto and an apartment on wheels. Parked on the street outside the Summers residence. "Go on in. Dawn and the witches should be home now."
She nodded. "Go pack. Don't forget weapons."
He shook his head. "I have to wait in here now. The clouds are gone. It's ok. We can stop by my crypt last. I don't have much to grab." He got up to avoid the sunlight that was about to come through the front windshield, went and sat in the booth. "Maybe you should call the rest of your pals, ask them to be all packed and at the magic shop in... Three hours?"
She nodded. "We'll stop at the butcher's on our way out." She slipped out of the Winnabago and into her house to pack.
He yawned. Big, long day. He got up and headed for the bedroom in the back, not wanting anyone to even guess how badly he was still hurting. It would be better if he got some sleep before the Scoobies got on board.
End, part one. This is Tequila. I'm sorry this took so long to get up. It's my senior year, and it's kind of kicking my ass. I've been super busy and neglecting stuff in favor of getting 5 hours of sleep. Again, I'm sorry. I'll do better. AND!!!!! I HAVE FINISHED THE NEXT CHAP TO CONVOLUTED!!!!!!!! IT'S GONNA BE UP BY SUNDAY!!! Thanks so much for sticking with me. Always. Tequila