A/N: Okay folks, I am so sorry for the delay here. But trust me when I say I have spent many…many hours banging my head against the keyboard over this chapter. But whoohoo it's finally done. I really have to thank all you guys who continued to give me feedback even though this hasn't been updated in so long. You didn't forget me! I also have some news. Due to the mass amount of email I have received asking for updates I actually felt the need to make an update list. When I first started writing it was entirely beyond the scope of my imagination that enough people would read my stuff to comment much less want updates. So yah! If you want to get on the list send me an email and I will happily add you. Just a few more notes then I promise I will shut up. Cynthia, wherever you are, thanks so much for the numerous emails they meant the world to me. Happy Birthday to Heller for the eighth! Trisha, my heart and my prayers are with you. Now on with the show…
Chapter five-Emotions in Time
"Hey! That bitch has my bleedin coat!"
Buffy froze as the words sailed through the night towards her. She slowed to a stop and turned cautiously to face the vampire stalking towards her with murder in his eyes. Buffy was utterly transfixed, unable to tear her gaze away, he reminded her of a panther descending on his prey. She could feel Rain stepping between them as he closed in and could almost sense the silent questions bouncing off her from all directions.
Buffy recognized that she was a creature of habit, completely in tune with her body and abilities, the job to be performed. In fact, slaying was and had been done on auto-pilot for the better part of two years now. Every movement and task was precision from the details of the slay to wardrobe choices.
Two seconds. Christ why couldn't you have looked in a god damn mirror. Two seconds. Stupid.
Buffy glanced up at the night sky, as if seeking answers to eternal questions in its black depths. Deep thought provoking inquiries, such as how to explain to a rampaging vampire that you just happened to come across his trophy and had taken to wearing it religiously. Her eyes darted from star to star, searching for a solution…for salvation. The stars winked back in some kind of cosmic Morse code, as if all it would take was a little deciphering and she'd know exactly what to do, what to say.
Well then…I'm pretty much screwed.
Buffy stiffened her body, every muscle tensing for an attack as she brought her eyes down. Spike stood inches away, his entire body vibrating with barely suppressed fury. She opened her mouth once…twice, but whatever profound and well thought out excuse she hoped for was lost to the monumental celestial glitch that had gotten her into this situation in the first place. She could feel his eyes traveling the length of her, caressing her, and vaguely lamented the times when the heat of his gaze would be trying to see under her clothes not the actual material her body wore.
In another time, another place she would have reacted differently. Probably. It was automatic and with less than her usual dignity. Spike brought his hand up, just his fingers really, to touch. As if to see if his eyes were playing tricks on him. Buffy watched his fingers coming closer, long, elegant, cool, white fingers. Like a cold, stark, white bathroom. She flinched. It was a barley perceptible muscle spasm. If you hadn't been watching closely you never would have seen it. Unfortunately, Spike saw and reacted accordingly.
"Don't tax yourself, Slayer. It's not you I want."
Buffy flinched again, this time from the white hot, and completely unexpected, bolt of pain that infused her system from the inside out. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him so bad she was practically salivating. In those few seconds she had never in her life wanted to cause someone emotional and bodily harm so deeply in her life. After everything they had been through together, and yes, meant to each other, he should never get to look at her with such dislike and disdain. Ever. It was his choice of words that warranted it and it was his choice of words that stopped her. For one brief, tarnished, moment she saw it. The dark and desperate emotion gripped her that he must have felt…that night. That moment and that moment alone, kept her silence.
"What do you want Spike?"
"From you Slayer? Not a bloody thing. I thought you had something of mine but I should have known you were too lily white to ever let anything less than pure touch your precious self."
She wanted to give him the coat back. She wanted to tear it off her body and throw it in his face. Along with the knowledge that quite a bit more than just his coat had touched her body. She wanted to see the look on his face, see maybe if he would react with the same amount of horror and disgust she had when all this mess had begun.
Neither of them could move it seemed, both caught in an internal struggle to stare the other down first. As if it meant something… as if it meant everything.
A slight throat clearing and uncomfortable foot shuffles were heard from close by, but not acknowledged within the inner circle they had created. A circle created of animosity and for the sole purpose of seeing who would break first. It was entirely possible they could have stood there well into the night, two bodies rigid with determination not to break before the other. Not giving an inch, a battle if questioned later, neither could honestly explain what it was about. If it hadn't been for the untimely arrival of horde of misguided demons they might have never moved again.
Rain upended an old cardboard box, dusted it slightly and then perched on its edge. Digging through her coat pockets she retrieved her cigarettes. Once lit, she started to blow intricate smoke circles into the air. Peering through a rather impressive ring, she grinned at Ian as he came stomping across the alley towards her. "Pull up a stump.," she chirped, motioning to the wide array of boxes crowding the alley. She was starting to view this little piece of concrete as her second home. It seemed they were doomed to stay here forever.
Ignoring her gesture, Ian towered over her glaringly condescending. "What are you doing? Did you miss the whole big battle thing we've got going on over here?"
Rain returned his look with own of her own. A look that clearly said 'I am not four and would love for you to remember that fact'. Dropping her cigarette, she focused her gaze on the scene unfolding behind him. "Nope, caught that. Did you miss the fact that we are utterly and completely useless at the moment?"
"What?" Ian sputtered obviously not liking the innuendo that he was inadequate in some way.
"Oh stow your ego and sit down…please."
Ian settled himself gingerly on the ground beside her. Growling distastefully at having to lower his precious ass onto a less than sterile surface. Rain smirked slightly at his delicate sniff. He was so anal sometimes.
"Fine. See. Sitting. Care to explain, why we're on a smoke break."
"Look at them," she said gesturing to the couple in the middle of the alley.
"Look at who?" Ian questioned, with quite a bit of confusion tingeing his voice. There were at least thirty beings in the alley and he was expected to pick out individuals?
Rain grabbed his chin and focused his gaze on the two warriors in the middle of the battle. And warriors was what he watched. Buffy and Spike were something akin to deadly poetry in motion. A level of skill and accuracy that Rain and Ian, for all their love and respect of each other, could never hope to achieve.
"Oh…" Ian breathed the word out on one long slip of breath.
Rain grinned at the look of awe on his face. Then pulled herself back to the problem at hand. "Tell me something," she said casually.
"Hmm?"
"Enemies," she stressed, "don't fight like that together. The fluidity of those movements doesn't come from hate. It comes from passion and a knowledge of each other on a deeply personal level. So I'm thinking that that only leaves one conclusion..."
"What do you mean?"
"One…or both of them are lying to us."
"Come on don't you think you're making to much of this. She's a Slayer. He's a vampire. They're natural enemies. It's only logical, if given the right situation, they'd fight well together. They're bound to have the same instincts is all."
"Are you blind? That's not instinct. That's…something else."
The two blondes stood motionless in the middle of the pack. Their backs were to each other and not a single look or signal passed between them. Without warning, they simultaneously ducked sideways, one to the left, one to the right. The two attackers, that had been approaching, met in the middle knocking each other out with neither Buffy or Spike exchanging a single blow.
"You can't fake that Ian. It's not just there. It's practiced through many battles. "
Buffy suddenly took two steps to the right and in a blur of motion barley susceptible to the human eye, spun on her heel and stood facing forward just off to Spike's side. Rain and Ian watched in awe as Spike raised his left arm to shove a stake into his opponents heart as Buffy ducked under the upraised limb and brought her stake home into the other vampire who thought to attack with his friend.
Rain grabbed Ian's sleeve pointing like a kid a circus. "Did you know he was left-handed?" Ian shook his head and laced his fingers with hers.
Buffy and Spike stood facing each other, their eyes locked in some kind of silent conversation that no one else could possibly intrude on. As one being each bent slightly to opposite sides, eyes never losing contact, each raised a hand and embedded their weapons into the enemies attacking over the others shoulders at precisely the same instant. There was only one vamp left of the thirty that had attacked.
"You think they'd stop for a second so I can go grab some popcorn?"
Rain grinned at Ian. "Next time, babe. It's almost over."
Spike dropped to a crouch and Buffy vaulted off his shoulder and over his head, delivering a kick to the chest of the last threat behind them. Coming up from her roll, in time for Spike to toss his stake, with unerring accuracy into, the remaining vamps chest.
Ian and Rain both stood slowly each fighting the almost irresistible urge to applaud. Linking hands, they strolled leisurely towards the combatants who once again stood motionless, staring at each other.
Buffy slowly let her stake drop to the ground. She had no idea what to say next and was saved the trouble as Tasha rushed towards them.
"Spike? Baby? Are you okay?"
For the first time in what felt like forever, Spike's gaze shifted away from Buffy and she felt like she was suddenly standing on an stark arctic plain after enjoying the bright warming sun of a meadow. Buffy dropped her eyes to her toes and wrapped her arms around her waist.
"Look out!"
Buffy's focus shot back up in time to see a vampire she'd previously thought dust rising up behind Spike. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The arc of the stake as it descended into Spike's back. Ian looming up behind them and the consequential burst of dust as he killed the attacker. She could only watch helplessly as Spike dropped slowly forward, her name falling from his lips.
Spike watched Buffy through half closed eyes. The lights of the kitchen were near blinding but it was nothing compared to the pain radiating through his chest or the confusion tearing through his mind. He had a dim memory of being in the painfully embarrassing position of getting carried back to the manor slung over Ian's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Thankfully, that portion was rather hazy. Most of what he could recall was the fact he had been physically unable to take his eyes off the Slayer for the entire ten blocks. Tasha had been directly behind them, hands grasping, eyes crying, but it was the Slayer he had been riveted to. She always seemed to be fluttering just off to the side of his vision, like somehow she knew that he needed to see her.
Spike lurched his head as if to forcibly fling the thought away and succeeded in sending a bolt of mind numbing pain through his body. He groaned silently as his brain veered off the Slayer and onto the plank of wood taking up residence in his back. Well that's one way to go about it.
Tasha was running her hands over him poking and prodding at the wood in an extremely warped interpretation of Florence Nightingale. She stepped into his line of vision, blocking Buffy, which finally caused Spike to turn his eyes towards her.
"You mind? I'd like this stake out before you do succeed in killing me."
Spike winced slightly at the wounded look on Tasha's face. But Rain saved him before he could stumble through and apology he only half meant.
"Tasha go get the big kit out of the bathroom."
Tasha nodded slightly and stood slowly her fingers seeking and finding her brothers for some much needed support. Spike squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head onto the kitchen table. He had no idea what he was doing anymore. Sniping at Tasha, staring at the Slayer like a love sick puppy. Not to mention the fighting…
Bloody hell, I'm turning into the poof. Just watch. There'll be no more Spike, soon they'll be calling me 'touched by an Angel'.
There was just no conceivable reason they should have fought like that. He couldn't figure how or why and what's more his mind rebelled at the idea of figuring it out. They were enemies, they hated each other. Vampire. Slayer. Never the two shall meet… except in mutual hatred and the desire to see the other dead. So why did she look so devastated that he was hurt? Did someone need to explain the rules to her? Maybe he'd draw her a diagram or something. While he was at it he'd make a copy for himself. An eternal reminder that the pain and horror reflected in her eyes wasn't supposed to somehow seem more painful than the actual injury.
Spike opened his eyes and fell into the Slayer's. She looked so small, standing there huddled in the corner, not really belonging here. Not really belonging anywhere. What had happened to her? He suddenly, very badly, wanted to fix whatever had caused her to look so lost. He wanted to gather her up in his arms, stroke her hair and chase away her demons.
I'm starting to sound as psychotic as her. Must be contagious.
Spike jumped slightly as a hand touched his arm. He had to blink a few times to clear his vision and acknowledge Rain beside him. She was watching him with something that looked suspiciously like pity. Cold, hard rage washed through his system. He refused to let a little slip of a girl mess with his mind like this. Whatever the Slayer's game was he wanted no part of it. Hardening his face and closing down the emotion in his eyes, he once again faced his nemesis. An insulting smirk graced his lips.
"Sorry to disappoint, Slayer, but I think I'm going to live." Spike's smirk grew malicious as her eyes widened and pain radiated out of them. He flicked his fingers at her like he was waving away a bothersome fly. "Go on then, take you're little vigil elsewhere."
Rain's grip on his arm tightened even as she turned her face from Spike to Buffy. "Can you go somewhere else, Buffy, anywhere that isn't here right now?"
With a slight mumble of agreement, Buffy shuffled out the door. As much as he didn't want to, Spike watched her every movement as she left and almost groaned aloud at the twinge he felt in his heart.
Not her. It's the soddin' piece of wood in your body making you a bit twitchy. Not her. Never her.
"Ow!"
Spike glared at Rain as she took advantage of his distraction and gave a swift yank at the stake.
"Don't be such a baby. Or would you rather I leave the two by four in your chest. Could do, you know, if anyone could pull off this fashion statement it's you."
"You know you can be a real bitch when you want to."
"I'm letting that go because obviously you aren't in your right mind."
Spike gritted his teeth as she pulled and pushed at his chest trying to work the stake out. "This isn't working, there's just not enough to grab a hold of this way. It's going to have to come out the back."
"But…" For some reason he couldn't fathom, Spike was scared to death of removing his shirt. Tasha's superstition run rampant through his mind and he had a deep-seated dread that somehow, this one time, it was going to come horrifically true.
"Look either I take off your shirt or we use you as a coat rack from now on."
"Ha bloody ha."
Spike clenched his jaw and stared at the wall above Rain's head as she began to undo the buttons holding his shirt on his body.
"About what happened..."
Spike's sigh was unnaturally loud in the room. "Yeah."
"You and Buffy were-"
He shook his head. Not now. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Spike"
"Just leave it alone, Rain…please."
Rain pursed her lips and nodded, but the look in her eyes said, in no uncertain terms, that she'd only keep silent for now. "Okay…Ready?"
Spike stared deeply into her compassionate green eyes and nodded. A slight smile of encouragement alighted on her lips. "Turn around."
Spike twisted his upper body so that he was lying half across the table facing the open doorway. The sound of Rain's audible gasp as she viewed his back was enough to make him jump. "Is it that bad?"
He heard a slight choking noise that he realized was Rain trying to swallow. "No-"
Spike tried to crane his neck around to see how much damage had been done but another voice had him swinging his gaze back to the front.
"I'm sure it will be fine. Won't it Rain?"
Spike forced himself to smile at Tasha who was standing silhouetted in the kitchen door. He pushed hard at the treacherous wish that it had been Buffy instead.
Rain stared dumbfounded at Spike's back, then slowly raised her gaze to her sister in law. She watched as Tasha entered the room and spread the medical supplies out on the table. She pulled a chair beside Spike and took his hands in her own. Not once did her gaze stray from Rain.
"You gonna stand there admiring my physique all bloody day, woman?"
Rain shook her head, trying to clear it, and forced her focus onto the protruding wood rather than the skin surrounding it. Gritting her teeth, she gave a swift, hard yank and was rewarded with a sickening pop as it tore free of bone and muscle. Reaching for a handful of gauze and antiseptic, she began cleaning the remaining blood from the open wound. Her eyes clashed violently with Tasha's even as she spoke reassuringly with Spike. "Just a few stitches and you should be as good as new."
As she sewed, she watched with a growing sense of disgust as Tasha brushed her fingers through Spike's hair murmuring words of comfort, encouragement and love.
Taping down the last of the bandages, Rain stood and started to toss the supplies back into the kit. "Okay, you should probably rest now."
Spike got slowly to his feet as the events of the past few hours began to take their toll on his body. Tasha stood too and slid her arm around Spike's waist, nodding at Rain. "I'll just-"
"Help me clean up. Spike's a big boy, he can remember the way to his room."
Spike wandered, somewhat dazed, towards the door. Stopping briefly to bestow a light kiss on both women, completely oblivious to the tension in the room.
The two women watched his progress until he disappeared around the corner and out of sight. Tasha picked up a used piece of gauze and tossed it haphazardly towards the garbage pail. "You know he shouldn't be-"
"Sit the fuck down, Tasha."
For a moment Rain though she was going to argue but then Tasha plopped down onto a waiting chair like a petulant child. "Rain, I-"
Rain waved her hand in front of her face in a short jerky motion, effectively cutting off any lame excuse Tasha was about to utter. "Don't even begin to pull this shit with me, I've known you too long. What the hell were you thinking? You can't just hide something like this and hope it goes away."
"I wasn't…I…"
"I..I…nothing. That whole lame ass superstition was nothing but a load of crap. You were trying to hide this and just hoping you wouldn't get caught. Well too bad, Tash, you're busted. Now you're going to march your ass up those stairs and tell him exactly what you've done."
"No."
Rain was having a severe amount of difficulty not sending numerous bolts of energy right through Tasha. Tucking her arms around her middle, Rain took and deep breath and let her words out in a gush of air. "Excuse me."
Completely oblivious to the rather precarious position she was in, Tasha stood and planted her hands on the table. Her beautiful face fixed itself into a less than becoming sneer. "Hearing giving out in your old age? I said no. This is none of your business, Rain. Leave it alone."
Rain crossed the space between them in two steps and met Tasha's glare with one of her own. "Everyone and everything that happens in this house is very much my business and the fact is he has a right to know what's been done to him."
"Maybe it was done for him not to him."
"What the fuck are you talking about!"
"The spell or whatever it is, has to be pretty powerful to be personalized like that. There must have been a reason."
"I'm sure there was, which is all the more reason for you to tell him. We need to find out who or what did that to him and more importantly, why."
"Would you just stop and think for a second. It's on his back, a place that no vampire could conceivably see it. I don't think he's supposed to know it's there."
"You're so full of shit."
"Why can't you just leave it alone. Is it your singular goal in this world to ruin everyone's life."
"What? I…"
"No. I swear you have some kind of sick need to be the only one happy. Leave well enough alone Rain, you already stole my brother from me. Leave my man alone."
"I am not trying to, nor have I ever, taken any men away from you."
"Well I guess that's all a matter of opinion. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to make sure Spike made it his room okay." Tasha paused at the door, fire burning in her eyes. "I mean it Rain, for once, keep you nose out of it. This is not an issue, if you don't make it one."
Spike leaned his forehead against a soothing panel of dark wood. His mind was swimming and he realized that Rain must have slipped him some painkillers when he wasn't looking. Closing his eyes, he splayed his fingers against the door and inadvertently opened his mind to the sounds and movements of the person on the other side. Someone was crying, a female someone. These weren't quiet, dainty tears though, they were deep, painful, gut wrenching sobs. Sighing slightly, Spike pressed his lips to the door and whispered her name. "Buffy." A slight noise on the steps alerted him to a new presence and Spike pushed himself quickly upright. Hurrying down the hall, he made it safely to his room seconds before Tasha rounded the corner.
"Adstringo… Adstringo…."
Rain quietly muttered to herself as the computer in her office slowly blinked to life. There was something not quite right here and she was determined to know what. Rain typed in the word etched in Spikes chest and waited for the search to complete.
"Adstringo…Latin, figures. Translates to…bind."
Rain sat back from the screen and stared at the definition for a few minutes.
"So it's not a protection spell, but how does the rest fit in?"
Rain began scrolling through various websites typing the word in search engines again and again. There were hundreds of spells using the word and hundreds using tattoos but none mentioned a third marking. Finally when her eyes were beginning to cross, she came across an obscure site that she'd never see before.
"Emotions in time…what's this?"
Rain rubbed at her eyes, Rain cracked her neck and began to read. With every word, the fatigue left her body and by the time she was done energy was zinging along her veins.
"A rare spell once thought lost. Blah blah. Few cases, blah blah blah. Literally indestructible, hmmm. Most powerful binding spell…" Rain stared at the screen. "Okay, tell me something I couldn't figure out on my own." Rain scrolled through pages and pages of text mostly involving how the spell was translated, who had discovered it, nothing overly relevant. On the last page, she found the information she wanted.
Emotion in Time
When coupled with a name or symbol, relevant with an individual, this spell is used to bind emotion in time. When used in the cases of the heart, this spell serves a dual purpose. Not only does it bind the emotion so that love may prove eternal, it also prevents the individual from loving any other in the same way. This spell was often times used in the place of wedding ceremonies as it is ultimately indestructible. Most will wear the marks, most commonly known as tattoos, above and behind the heart as an added symbol of their devotion. This act also succeeds, by the very nature of the spell itself, to render the heart impervious to harm.
Rain sat back in the chair, her jaw dropping. "Undustable," she breathed.
She stared at the screen trying to process what she was reading. Spike's tattoo once again flashed across her mind, but this time she concentrated on the one she'd seen on his back. It was done exactly the same as the one on his chest, with the same writing and green vine running through the letters. But this one had a name etched, almost defiantly, into the skin. Buffy Anne Summers.
"Holy shit! He wasn't protecting himself from her. He was marrying her!"
Rain jumped to her feet, knocking the chair to the floor.
"Ian!" She screamed up the stairs, as she gathered her coat and purse. " Get Buffy! We're going for a drink!"
"So he just…left?"
Buffy glanced from Rain to Ian and back. So far they had questioned her on almost every aspect of her life while plying her with alcohol. They had just moved onto the dismal failure of her romantic life. Buffy glanced around at the crowded bar and then scrunched up her nose as the latest shot of tequila burned a path down to her stomach. "Mmhmm," she nodded at Rain's incredulous look. "Big swirl of helicopter blades, bye bye Riley, and stupid me standing there yelling at him to come back. I suppose it could have looked romantic. Personally, I'm leaning more towards pathetic."
"Well that's just…sad. I mean it was his obviously his fault, what with those skeezy vamp whores and-"
"Hey!" Ian took that moment to assert his prerequisite, male superiority, indignation or vampire superiority indignation. Whichever it was, he was asserting it. "How do you know she didn't drive him to it. Maybe she wasn't giving him what he needed and-"
"So you're saying if I'm a little tired one night you're just gonna go off and find the first slut who-"
"Look jello shooters!" Buffy squeaked desperately. "Alcohol in nummy jiggly fruit flavors, always of the good."
Shooting Ian a glare that promised future retribution, Rain turned back to Buffy and reached over to grab her hand. "So that was the great love of your life," she cooed sympathetically.
Buffy snorted causing jello to go up her nose in a most painful way. "Oh, hell no!"
Buffy blinked at the empty shooter cups stacked in front of her. It had taken four regular tequila shots to tell the story of Riley. Ten jello shots to tell the tale of Angel…so far. Digging the last bits of orange jelly out of her cup, Buffy silently amended her total to eleven and continued her story.
"So there I was, school saved, apocalypse averted, fire trucks…firing and he goes off all Mr. Swirly coat and where am I? You guessed it standing there looking stupid." Buffy waved her hand in front of her trying to encompass both Rain and Ian in her next question. "Are you detecting a pattern here?"
"Yeah," Ian sneered, still sore over his previous argument with rain. "You have lousy taste in men."
"Ian!"
"No, s'okay," Buffy said, patting Rain's hand. "He's right. I've got terminal taste."
"That's not true, there had to be one good one."
Buffy stared at the empty tray that once held shooters. "You know what's truly pathetic. I think Spike was the good one." Buffy completely missed the look that passed between Ian and Rain. The one that said 'now we're getting somewhere'.
"Spike?," Rain toned casually, "What about Spike?"
Ignoring the question, more than the girl, Buffy searched for the shooter waitress.
Maybe if I get an even fifty shots for this…I can always order more.
"You rang?"
Oh crap…
Buffy watched through slightly less than focused eyes as Spike and Tasha squeezed around the table.
"I'm just going to…" Buffy made it half way to a standing position before the room tilted at an unnatural angle and she was forced to sit back down. The effects of the shooters slamming her back in the chair like a punch to the groin.
"And there lies the fate of the world, folks, all safe and sound in the hands of lush. What's a matter Slayer, can't hold your drink."
Buffy glared into the sanctimonious smirk Spike sent her way. "Like you're one to talk. How was the old sobriety level when you decided to drive cross country for a love spell, Spikey? Or should I say 'Love's bitch'?"
That did the trick, she mused. Spike's eyes turned glacial as he glared at her. "At least I could keep someone satisfied for well over a hundred years. What's your record, Slayer? Last I saw you had a bit of difficulty holding onto them the morning after."
Buffy lifted her glass in a silent salute. Spike sat back with all the confidence of someone who'd won the war, he really should have known that it was never that easy. Buffy leaned forward on her elbows and smiled sweetly in a semblance of defeat. "So Spike, how's that whole neutered thing working out for ya."
A muscle began to tick in his jaw as Spike lifted his drink to his lips. Only to spit it out in disgust as he encountered lime jello rather than the bourbon he had been expecting. Wiping his tongue on a napkin, Spike cringed at the loud burst of laughter from the Slayer's section of the table. Turning towards Ian, his face grew shrewd and a tad bit contemplative. "Did I ever tell you about the two Slayers I killed."
"Oh please, not this again. Really Spike, reliving old moments of glory, you can't even begin to imagine having again? It's a little pathetic, don't you think?"
"Not that you would understand the concept Slayer, but those us of with a life expectancy beyond thirty sometimes feel the need to reminisce about the good times we've had. Which leaves me trying to suss out what chafes your ass more, your dismal lack of quality moments or the rather limited shelf life you've got."
Buffy snapped her mouth shut with an audible click and slumped back in the chair. Revenge was a meal best served cold.
Buffy put the last crease in the fairly elaborate duck she was making out of the napkins on the table. She had been listening with half an ear for over an hour to Spike's tales of glory.
Or is that gore? Whatever. It's never going to end. He hasn't even made it to New York yet.
"I could have danced all night with that one."
So engrossed on her origami, it took a moment for Buffy to realize that the sound of rather loud indelicate snort was actually coming from her. Popping her head up at the sudden silence, Buffy glanced around at the eyes all trained on her.
"Something to add?," Spike asked, dryly.
""What? No, no, go right ahead. Pretend I'm not here."
"I'd love to."
Buffy's shoulders stiffened and she decided it was time to rejoin the fun. Leaning towards Rain, she whispered in a voice loud enough to fill grand halls. "I hope he does the pool stick twirly thing. It's really the best part of the show."
Silence reigned once again as everyone, including Spike, raised questioning brows at her.
Buffy suddenly clapped her hands together as a new idea occurred to her. "You missed something!"
Spike watched the Slayer like she'd just told him the moon was indeed made of cheese. "What?"
"The death wish and the one good day part. Come on you've got to do the one good day part or there's no point to the story."
"You know they've got places for your kind, Slayer. Cozy little rooms with lovely white coats that do up in the back."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Just stand up and I'll show you."
Spike got to his feet, caution echoing from ever movement. Buffy slipped out from her place at the table and moved in front of him. She grinned up at him like a cat who was about to get the cream. 'What's the matter, Spikey? Scared?"
"Oh you? Hardly." But the slight tremor in his voice belied the foreboding in him.
Buffy suddenly shoved him back against a wall and put her hands on either side of his face, effectively blocking every escape route. She slowly ran her tongue over her mouth and couldn't help the almost childish spurt of glee she felt when his gaze became riveted to the play of tongue on lips. In a voice that was part seduction, part warning, Buffy began.
"Death is on your heels, baby, and sooner or later, it's going to catch you. Some part of you wants it. Not only to stop the fear and the uncertainty-" Buffy moved impossibly closer so that her mouth almost touched his, "but because you're just a little bit in love with it." Buffy drew her gaze up from his lips to his eyes. "Death is your art. You make it with your hands, day after day. That final gasp, that look of peace. Part of you is desperate to know...What's it like? That's a warrior's question. A warrior's curiosity." Buffy took a slow measured step back never letting him free of her eyes. "Sooner or later, you're gonna want it and the second-" Buffy suddenly brought her hands up in front of his face, clapping them together with a loud bang. "the second, that happens, I pray to God I'm there. I'll slip in-" Buffy stepped closer so that the air from her words brushed against his lips. "have myself. A. Real. Good. Day."
Buffy stared into Spike's eyes. He was crammed tight against the wall like he would dearly love to sink through it. "Slayer…" It came out like a plea and a demand all at once.
"Yeah, Spike?"
"Outside."
Buffy stared at him in confusion. "Huh?"
Spike forced himself away from the wall, grabbing her arm in a vice lock. " Outside… Now!"
Buffy ripped her arm out of his grip and then stumbled a bit as her momentum and the remaining effects of the alcohol played havoc with her equilibrium. Tossing her face up to the stars, Buffy took deep, gulping breaths of the cool night air and tried to clear her head.
"What was it exactly Slayer, blunt head trauma or did they mess up your meds. Not that I really care but it'd be a damn shame not to know what makes a Slayer certifiable. Cause let me tell you that is the only conclusion I can fathom as to why you've completely lost the bloody plot!"
Buffy brought her gaze back from the heavens and focused on Spike. "Did you know your going all 'grr' right now."
"At the risk of letting you drive me further round the bend…what, pray tell, are you blatherin on about now?"
"You know, with the yellowy eyes and the…" Buffy raised her hands to her mouth and pointed her index fingers downward to symbolize fangs.
Buffy watched with an almost comical detachment as the muscle in Spike's jaw began to tic. His hands were clenching and unclenching at such a rate it was obvious he wanted nothing more in that moment than to rip her head clean off her shoulders.
A million thoughts flitted through her mind as she stood there watching him. Plans and ideas that would safely remove Spike from her life once and for all. No more pain, no more selfish indulgence, no more fear, no more love…no more…well…Spike. Buffy opened her mouth to spin a clever lie, but all that emerged was a small choking noise caught deep in her chest and she resisted the urge to cringe at her own inability to end this. She'd forgotten what it was like to have him look at her like that. Spike had two modes, it was either utter and complete devotion that was imbued into every fiber of his being or he despised you with an equal intensity. The pure, unadulterated hatred flashing out at her from those deep blue orbs had the power to bring her to her knees. They say that there are times that define your life. Seconds really, where one small decision will turn you from one path onto another. For Buffy Summers, the road had irrevocably forked. There was no turning back.
"What exactly is pissing you off more here, Spike. The fact that I know things about you that I shouldn't or the fact that I messed up storytelling hour."
Buffy watched with more than a bit of interest as Spike's pale face seemed to turn an unbecoming shade of purple. It took all her strength not to take that minuscule step back her body was so desperately craving. Instead, she dug deep crescents in her palms with sharp little fingernails and began a small countdown in her mind as to when this initial shock would pass and Spike would explode. She got to twenty.
"I am not one of your lackeys or one of your toys, Slayer. You do not now, or ever, get to presume you know a bleedin thing about me. The only reason you're still here is because Rain has some misguided notion that you are worth more than you are."
"And what, exactly, do you think I'm worth Spike?'
'Well that's painfully obvious now innit it. You're a washed up shell of what you once were. There's a reason Slayers die so young, you know. After a certain point they aren't much good for anything. Seems to me your expiration date is long over due."
It had been ages since she'd had this particular feeling. When complete and untainted rage flows through your body suffusing every last limb and corpuscle. It was incredibly liberating for the simple fact that it came with a deep-seated calm that shut down all outside influences and left you completely focused on your goal with an incredible amount of clarity.
Spike must have seen the change in her demeanor because he began to slowly back away. Buffy advanced on him, matching her steps with his so that they were never more than inches apart. "You. Don't. Get. To. Be. Angry. With. Me." She spit the words into his face like they were holy water. "You don't get to be hurt or upset or…anything. You gave up all those rights when you ran from Sunnydale with your tail between your legs."
Spike tripped over a forgotten bottle and landed unceremoniously on his ass confusion apparent in his eyes. Buffy loomed over his prone figure and laughed, the bitterness of the sound could have cut through glass. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you? Well you know what, that's just too god damn bad. Because you don't deserve to know what really happened. You got to start over without knowing how bad everything really was. I-", she said, punching him in the chest with every word. "Didn't. Have. That. Option."
Buffy blinked her eyes to clear the tears that had formed there without her permission. She knew in some dim corner of her mind that she had been beating on his chest. She also knew that he was taking it, in fact, for some reason she couldn't comprehend, instead of shoving her away, he was clutching at her waist as she screamed and raged and punched and kicked.
Buffy went completely still, she found herself staring into eyes that were implausibly sympathetic. Slow tears dropped from her eyes and bounced off his chest as she sat there straddling his waist, letting the words flow with the pace of her tears. "I had to stay there. With the hurt and the pain and I can't make it go away. I'm lost and I'm tired and I'm so completely screwed up. But you, you're fine. You have this wonderful new life with friends and people who care and I have nothing. Nothing! And I want to hate you, oh I want to hate you so bad I can taste it. I have every right to, but I don't and I can't and that's so not fair. You should have to hurt too because I don't want to be alone, hurting all by myself. But you don't and that makes me so miserable…and so happy, all at the same time."
Buffy raised her hands between them in a silent plea of understanding, a slight smile haunting her lips. Their eyes locked, a clash of blue and green, a war of color that had begun before either of them had existed and would continue long after they were gone. It was elemental, it was pure. It had nothing to do with vampire and Slayer and all to do with man and woman.
Buffy's could feel her breath coming in short gasps, like there wasn't enough air in the world to fill her starved lungs. She found herself leaning, just that slightest bit forward, so that their foreheads touched. Her hands spasmed slightly on his elbows, which she gripped like a lifeline. She felt an answering pull on her own arms and realized he was locked in the same position with her. For some reason that slight contact was the only thing holding them to this earth.
"It's okay, luv. It's okay."
Buffy wanted to scream and laugh at the same time, instead she settled for a quiet sigh of peace. It was becoming painfully clear that all these months this was what she was searching for. Just for him to tell her that whatever she felt, whatever she did, it was okay. His hand reached slowly for her face and she closed her eyes. She knew the next step. Knew the inevitable was less than a moment away. She needed this contact, she needed to know that she was still alive.
"Spike?"
Tasha's voice bounced off the walls behind the bar like a shot being fired. Their eyes flew open and for a moment they could do nothing more than stare at each other before jumping apart like a bomb had gone off between them.
TBC…