Do What You Have to Do
Part IX
Buffy impatiently flipped through her third magazine in what felt like as many hours. Truthfully, she knew it had only been about thirty minutes since Spike had retreated to the safety of her old room, but she was restless, wanting to do something.
Obviously my company isn't needed, she thought snidely. When Dawn had slapped Spike and she had watched him crumble, Buffy wanted nothing more than to soothe his pain, to wrap her arms around him and whisper to him, reminding him that she would be there through it all for him. In that moment, Buffy had forgotten about everything but Spike. She had forgotten about the past they had built of pain, she had forgotten their harsh words and harsher actions toward one another, she had forgotten that he had been a vampire, one of the most deadly of his kind in recent memory. All that she had known was the broken soul before her needed mending and she was the one to do it.
With at that considered, it was only natural for her to be a bit jealous that Dawn had hugged Spike like Buffy had wanted to.
I'm not jealous, she argued internally. In fact, I'm on the opposite end of the whole jealous spectrum and damn near ecstatic! My sister and her best friend made up—well, somewhat. She knew that there was still a long road of broken hearts and promises to mend between the two but the look her sister had given Spike before she left had Buffy expecting that the pair would once again be like 'peas & carrots'. Or some other despicable combination of wholly goodness, she mused.
Of course, despite her obvious relief at the reunion, she couldn't help but feel twin pangs of jealousy and guilt course through her. She could admit that she was jealous of how Dawn had held Spike, baring her feelings like only she could do. Buffy's guilt originated from the twinge of jealousy harbored toward her little sister as well as the fact that one Garrett Morgan just happened to be in the same room while Buffy was making ga-ga eyes at the man formerly known as the Evil Undead.
"What is wrong with you?" she spat and began pacing the floor, hands clasped behind her back. "First you get a man, can't keep him. Want a man, he uses you. Get another man but don't want him and he leaves. Then have a man and use him, driving him half insane. Now…" she trailed off, her hand coming up to massage her forehead. She wearily flopped into the couch, her legs splayed in front of her, arms lax at her sides. She wanted nothing more at that moment than to sleep. For about a zillion years.
"Nothing can ever be simple, can it?" she breathed out, throwing her hand over her eyes. The creeping digits of exasperation slithered across her consciousness as the slayer's predicament continued to assault her senses.
There was no doubt in her mind that she was doing the bitching thing again, complaining about her life and its little complexities, but she really did have good reasons, didn't she? Not only was her former lover holed up in her former room moping, he had unceremoniously waved her off when she had motioned to follow him to the steps. I just wanted to comfort him like he did me last year, she pouted, tactically ignoring the voice of sarcasm that pointed out she did not just want to jump his bones.
He's my friend and I wanted to be there for him. There was going to be no bone-jumping whatsoever. She rolled her eyes internally as the voice mocked her with silent laughter, knowing the truth.
Then there was the whole Garrett issue that she so did not want to tackle at the moment but her conscience wouldn't let it rest. She knew that she wasn't being fair to him and, in a way, it mirrored her relationship with Riley. Except I really do love Garrett. To this, the inner voice had no reply because at least that much was true. Buffy did love Garrett—a lot. He had been there for her when she needed someone, had put up with her ever evolving (and often bitchy) persona for almost two years. Never did he try to change her into something he wanted her to be, nor did he allow his insecurities to become a barrier in their relationship. He could read her moods and desires as well as anyone she had…well, almost anyone. And though it wasn't too important, the sex was definitely of the wow. He was the most attentive lover she had…Uh oh. There's that 'almost' again.
"Damn it," she sighed. As much as she hated to admit it, everything came back to Spike. It was understandable, considering the lack of closure on their previous relationship and the ugly way they had parted. The fact that he was staying here lent credence as to the current comparisons but she couldn't deny that this was something recent. In fact, the first time she had gone out with Garrett, she had later admitted to herself that he didn't have Spike's quick wit, nor his bleached blonde hair. No matter what, it was always something and for the last few months it had nagged at her mind, prickling her insides. It wasn't if she loved Garrett or not that was the problem. The problem was whether or not she was in love with him.
"Just can't let someone sweep you off your feet, B," she muttered before letting out a disgruntled sigh. She was the slayer, always one to be strong, always to be the rock and it was difficult for her to lay back and let someone else do all the work. Not that sweeping her off her feet would be classified as work to the lucky bloke that succeeded in doing it. The fact of the matter was that…
"Oh my God," she said, her eyes wide in disbelief, "did I just say 'bloke'? Tell me I did not just say 'bloke'."
"You didn't say 'bloke'," came the witty reply and Buffy squeaked in surprise and instantly jumped into a defensive stance.
"Xander!" she admonished, one hand on her hip and the other pressed across her thumping chest.
"Sorry, Buff," the brunette replied, dropping his eyes sheepishly. "Didn't mean to make with the scaring. The door was unlocked and I…well, I called out but no one answered. And I did see your car, so…" he trailed off, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Buffy couldn't help but smile at one of her best friend's many distinguished idiosyncrasies.
"It's okay," she assured before sitting down and patting the spot next to her. Nodding his thanks, Xander strode over to the couch and plopped down as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders.
"Rough day?" She asked and was greeted with a tired snort.
"If only 'rough' was a strong enough word to describe it." He begun his tale for her, starting with the wake-up call by one of his head guys at one of the sites he was supervising. Evidently, there had been some late-night vandalism at said site and the damage done had set the whole project back two weeks. That situation had taken up Xander's morning until about eleven, which, in turn made him late to the other site. He reached the second site in time enough to see Craig Roberts casually ignoring safety protocol just long enough to end up with a broken leg and concussion.
"I had to stay there to settle things down and I was so busy that I forgot about calling Anya to cancel our lunch date. Needless to say, by the time I got to the Café, she was less than thrilled to see me."
"Did you tell her about what happened?"
"Well, yeah, but I kind of shut it up when she threatened to make my mouth disappear."
"Oh."
"Yeah. Anyway, she balled me out in front of the whole lunch crowd, rambling on about how she could think for 'One second I could be friends with the same man who loved me enough to have multiple orgasms with me but not enough to marry me and, in fact, chose to leave me at the altar on what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life!'" the last part he had mocked the high pitched whine of Anya and Buffy had to bite her lip to keep from falling on the floor, laughing herself to tears. She didn't think Xander would take too kindly to that and she couldn't blame him. Having someone laugh at her most memorable failure would quickly land that person on her people to make suffer list.
It had been two years and, though she had gotten better at not bringing it up, in times of anger and/or annoyance, Anya would rip into Xander with the whole wedding thing as the perpetual ace up her sleeve. Every time she said it, it had the invariable effect of knocking the wind out of him. Usually, they wouldn't speak for a week after that, only reconciling when they realized how stupid whatever the fight had been about. There was still a lot of hurt in Anya and Buffy doubted that the vengeance demon would ever fully forgive Xander for leaving her at the altar though Buffy was loath to tell him that. Xander (and Dawn, too) entertained a sliver of hope that the two would get back together but Buffy doubted that and to have those misgivings hurt her more than she cared to admit. Luckily, she had Willow there to lend an ear.
"And to top it off," Xander continued, oblivious to Buffy's temporary hiatus into her mind, "she does the 'poof' thing again."
"The 'poof' thing?" Buffy scrunched her eyebrows together.
"You know, the 'poof' thing," on her confused look he added, "the grand entrances and exits made so often by Vengeance—or, excuse me—Justice demons."
"Oh," Buffy said, "she disappeared." Her relieved features widen in surprise as it dawned on her. "She disappeared…"
"In front of the whole lunch crowd," he said, finishing her thought. "In all her purplish poofdom, leaving me to hold the bag—figuratively speaking, of course," he deadpanned the last part as his eyes drifted closed.
"Wow," the slayer whistled, "you really had a tough day, Xan."
"Yeah," he agreed and his features went strangely blank as he fixed Buffy with slightly hooded eyes. "And then, when I was going back to the site, to check up on things, I ran into this guy that I can't stand."
"You did," Buffy replied, her voice hiding the slight wave of panic hurling around in her stomach.
"Yeah," he said before breaking eye contact, "we never really got along, you know. Thought his ass was dead—figuratively speaking, of course," he said and Buffy noted the ringing sarcasm in his tone. "I never thought he'd show his face in this town again but obviously, I was wrong." Buffy shuddered at the murderous tone that tinged Xander's words and before she could reply, he jovially switched topics.
"So," he said," slapping his hands on his thighs, "enough about my day. What about yours?"
For as much as I boasted and bragged about it, rarely have I missed being a vampire. Well there are a few things about it that I have missed. The whole no heartbeat thing—priceless party gag. Same goes with the game face. Though, to be honest, anytime I flashed the face at a party, I fail to remember anyone ever laughing. Hmm. Fancy that.
Anyway, as I was saying, there's only a few things I miss about being a card-carrying member of the undead and a whole list of reasons what it is the last on my list of things to do in this lifetime ever again--tops on that list bein' another run-in with a bunch of soddin' gits like those in the Initiative. Didn't take to well to havin' a piece of silicon and metal shoved in my brain, never mind the fact that said utensil elicited a delightfully, incredible jolt of pain through my cerebellum any time I connected with a soddin' human. Not only was it embarrassing but it was this side short of torture. Aside from that bleedin' chip, migraines were never a factor in my life…well, my unlife.
'Course now with me being all mortal and such, I am quite susceptible to the wonderful world of earth shattering head pains. Sorta like the one I have now.
S'not like it's anything new, though. Been havin' 'em a little too frequently for my tastes these past two years. Rachel's the only one that knows about 'em. Sometimes when they are bad, worse than this one, I get a bit scared—yeah, I get scared—cuz I don't know what's goin' on. Already been to all the specialists in San Diego, taken a shitload of soddin' tests and they all come back the same: I'm in the best shape a bloke can be in, better shape than anyone of those quacks have ever seen. So, you see, it's nothing physical. To be honest, the first time I had one, I thought of Joyce. Thought she was getting' retribution for what I tried to do with her daughter by makin' me go the same way she did but I dismissed that thought rather quickly. I knew Joyce and, while she would have kicked my arse ten times over for what I did, she wouldn't 'ave killed me—just didn't have that meanness in her. Not like her daughters—Buffy and the Niblet.
Dawn.
I run a finger across my jaw where Dawn's hand connected. Thanks to my rapid healin', the marks are gone, though the pain at seein her like that is still resonatin' inside of me. It hurts bad enough to see her in pain, but to know that I've caused it is worse than anything Angelus has ever done to me. But as bad as it is, the way she held me after slapping me silly, how she begged me not to leave, has me filled with a hope I haven't felt since me an' Buffy's last time together in the crypt. The difference, however, is that my Niblet doesn't play—when she says somethin', she means it. She's not wishy-washy like some petite, blonde slayers that will remain nameless can be. Fact o' the matter is that if the Niblet was a few years older back then, maybe none of this would have ever happened. Well, with me be damn near a male slayer; guess things worked out for the best.
Yeah, a male slayer. S'not the first time that particular thought has crossed my mind either. Wouldn't surprise me if those prats upstairs that call themselves the Powers threw this at us as a joke. Real funny—ha bloody ha. Course, I don't know if that's the case or that when Lurky hit me with the whammy, he allowed some of my vampiric essence to transfer. Guess I'll never know though. Don't fancy finding out that I'm a part of some bleedin' prophecy considerin' I got enough on my plate as it is. I'm not daft enough to think that not knowin' will stop whatever's comin', if something's comin', that involves me, but at least I won't be bugger-all out of my mind until it does come. And I thought Buffy was stubborn.
I sigh audibly as I think about the hurt I saw in Buffy's eyes when I waved her away earlier. Don't quite remember seeing pain in her eyes because I spurned her advances. Course, the reason may be is because I never did.
"Maybe I should apologize," I say to the ceiling my eyes are fixed upon, "explain to her why I did that." I nod to myself and get up gingerly from the bed. I'm pleased to feel that the soddin' migraine has been reduced to a dull thud in the back of my brain. That's definitely of the good. I laugh silently, both in amusement and in horror, when I realize what I just said. Guess Buffy's rubbing off on me more than I thought.
"Too bad it's not the way she used to," I murmur and silently make my way back downstairs. I jog down the steps, eagerly seeking to apologize to Buffy if I hurt her feelings. Yeah, I know I'm a poof to the nth degree, not to mention head of the class at Love's Bitch University, but I still can't stand to see her or the Niblet hurting.
So lost in my own internal dialogue I fail to realize that a conversation's taking place in the living room.
"Buffy," I call as I turn into the living room. I stop as I am greeted with one of the most hateful pair of eyes I have ever since.
"Bastard," Xander sneers, rising to his feet. "I knew you were here."
"Whelp," I reply, my voice hiding my unease admirably. It's not like I can't take him, I know I can but this is only my second run-in with a Scooby member and even though I can't stand the ponce, something in me wants even Xander's approval.
"So, what brings you here?" he says, taking another step towards me. I see Buffy place a hand on his arm and he relaxes a bit. I read his eyes and know it's only a matter of time before the shit hits the fan. I'll just make sure I'm not the one that pushes the on button.
"Fancied a vacation," I reply and steal a glance at Buffy. Those beautiful hazel eyes are pleading with me to behave and I give her a genuine smile. Already decided to behave myself today, luv.
He takes another step towards me, though it's surprisingly non-aggressive. "So you mean to tell me you have no ulterior motives?"
"That's what I'm sayin'," I respond curtly. Not three complete sentences and this ponce is already threatening to drive me to drink. I don't know what it is but the whelp can grate my nerves with the best of 'em. Almost as well as I am with pissin' Peaches off.
"And for some reason, I don't seem to believe you," he replies and I sense my own resolve slipping.
"Don't matter what you believe, whelp. So long as Buffy knows the deal, you can sod off for all I care," I push off from the wall, my own body thrumming with anticipation.
"Just don't think you can crawl back here and ask for forgiveness, because we ain't having it. If it was up to me, you'd be ashes by now."
"News flash, ratchet head, not a vampire anymore," I waggle my arm in front of the window and the rays from the sun illuminate my tanned flesh and I watch the whelp stagger back in shock. The smile forming at my lips falls when I see a condescending smirk greet me.
"Well, well, well," he says, eyeing me from head to toe. "And here I was hoping I was seeing things earlier at the Expresso Pump. Damn, I wish I was wrong."
"What's your point?" I ask, ignoring his quick regrouping.
"The point is, Spike, is that I don't know what type of magic you used but you don't even have to step out of line for me to stuff that magic right along with a nice, pointy piece of wood, into your chest."
"I'd like to see you try, Harris."
"Guys," Buffy says, stepping in between us, "cut it out."
"And don't think I'm the only one who's got it in for you. Her fiancé," he says, nodding towards Buffy, "would love to have a one on one with you." He smiles sadistically when I flinch at the mention of Garrett and I already know he's gonna try and twist the knife in just that much deeper. "Oh, yeah, you didn't know. She's engaged Spike as in 'about to get married'."
"Xander," Buffy yells but he continues as if he doesn't hear her.
"And the funny thing is that he didn't need a spell for her to say I do," he turns around, satisfied before throwing over his shoulder, "guess that just shows that if they aren't crazy or under a spell, you've got no chance--loser."
Even before the words leave my mouth, I know there's going to be trouble. Being the git that I am, I say them anyway.
"I don't remember Anya being under any spell…" I don't get to finish as Xander's fist connects solidly with my jaw.
Guess I pushed the button after all.
***
Rarely had Spike been surprised by the power and speed a human could attain when their adrenaline levels rose. He had seen the supernatural feats mortals achieved when a loved one was in danger or their own lives were on the line. More than once, he had been on the receiving end of a superhuman punch or kick, that particular person's last gasp to save his or her life. Of course, it was never enough as they always ended up with his fangs buried in their throats.
If only he had his fangs now.
The rage that Xander felt was almost overwhelming and he didn't even remember turning around. In truth, he didn't remember anything but the image that would forever be burned into his mind—Anya and Spike, her body splayed open underneath the vampire as he pumped into her. Even now, after two years, that vision stuck with him and he wasn't sure whether or not he could ever get past it and no matter how much he wanted to get back with Anya, he wasn't sure if he'd ever forgive her for it.
But now was not about Anya. Now was about revenge, retribution and all the other shit he wanted to pay Spike back for. Oh yeah, this was going to be sweet.
The punch rocked Spike and the back of his head slammed against the wall. No sooner than he righted himself, Xander's second and, more damaging punch collided with his nose. Spike roared, though it was drowned out by the sickening crunch of broken bone. His eyes teared up automatically from his broken nose but he refused to close them. He saw Buffy from the corner of his eye move to grab Xander but the former vampire beat her to it.
With a speed he had not had even as a vampire, Spike dug into Xander with a crushing body blow, doubling the construction worker over. Though he could have ended the fight with a simple knee to the face, a part of him knew it wouldn't be prudent to injure the git too much. Instead, he plowed a right hook into the brunette's left shoulder, relishing in the sound of his fist connecting with muscle.
He watched in fascination as Xander careened out of control into the table next to couch, shattering it. Instinctively, Spike made ready to leap onto the downed man, oblivious to the blood pouring from his broken nose or the murderous glare in his own eyes. As he readied to finish the rising man with a kick to the ribs, a strong hand gripped his arm and flung him back into the wall where his head cracked against for the second time.
"Bloody hell," he shouted, turning his gaze on the person whom dared to… "Buffy," he whispered, his anger dissipated at the site of an enraged and very hurt slayer in front of him. He was amazed at how her eyes blazed with unkempt fury and unshed tears and he was helpless, falling in love with her all over again.
"What in the fuck do you two think you're doing?" she spat her eyes migrated from Spike to the staggering Xander with equal fury and for that, Spike breathed a sigh of relief. "Don't answer that," she answering when she saw the two men's mouths open in defense, "I don't want to hear the bullshit from either one of you."
Her hard eyes softened as she finally registered the blood pouring from Spike's nose and her best friend's hunched form. Silent tears fell from her eyes, unbidden, and both men stared at each other with the 'we really fucked up' expression.
"Buffy," Spike said softly, his hand gingerly touched her on the shoulder. She backed away from his touch, her hands wiping the tears from her face.
"Don't. Not now…"
"Buff…" Xander tried.
"I said don't. God, and I thought when you guys were horny was the only time you didn't know how to comprehend the word 'no'."
The words impacted Spike harder than a church balcony ever could and his knees buckled visibly. Buffy saw his response and it took a moment for her mind to register what she had said and when she finally did, her eyes widened in horror and remorse.
"Spike, I…" she reached out to him like he had done to her seconds before and, though he did not pull away, the rigidity of his body was enough for her to remove her hand.
"I…I'll be upstairs, doin' a little repair work," he smirked and even Xander noticed the falsity of the gesture, "you hit harder than you look, whelp."
"Yeah," the Scoobie replied, "same goes for you." He smiled at the looks of surprise that Buffy and Spike gave him before he sat down on the couch. Though they stared at him in disbelief, he had a hard time himself understanding how the anger and rage that had built up against Spike in the last seven years had been halved in less than ten seconds.
Spike returned Xander's smile tightly before ducking his head and scurrying up the steps. Buffy fought the urge to reach out a grab him before he left. Instead, she steeled her nerves and turned towards one of her oldest friends.
Xander studied Buffy carefully, trying to gauge her emotional state. Though he could tell that the anger that had been there earlier wasn't as prevalent, it wasn't gone completely, instead overshadowed by a painful sadness and concern.
She sat next to him, her eyes cast forward, wringing her hands nervously in her lap. Xander stayed silent, waiting for her to make the first move in the inevitable reaming.
After several tense moments, she turned towards him, the anger completely gone, replaced by an even more biting disappointment.
"Are you okay?" He flinched at the unexpectedness of her question before nodding.
"Yeah," he said, finding his voice. "If you discount the broken shoulder and torn abdominals, that is."
"He really did a number on you," Buffy said reaching out to touch Xander's shoulder. He winced at the slight pressure and smiled weakly.
"You should see the other guy," he joked.
"Xander," Buffy warned and he raised his good arm in surrender.
"Easy there, tiger. Just a little post-fight humor."
"Sorry," she assented, "it's just…it's just been an emotional twenty-four hours." Xander nodded absently, not sure what to say. He fiddled with his hands, trying to come to grips with the last ten minutes. He had originally intended to come in here, fists a-flailing, weapons in hand, his only intent to send the platinum-haired demon to hell where he belonged. But then he had thought back to what he had seen earlier—the way Buffy had been completely at ease as she walked alongside Spike and Xander couldn't remember the last time she looked so at peace. Not with Garrett, not with Riley, and definitely not with Angel. In actuality, he didn't know if she had ever been that much at ease, even when they had first met. He knew part of it was her finally accepting who she was, what she was, even if she didn't tell the Scoobies. If there was one thing that Xander had to give himself credit for was his newfound ability to hold judgment on things, regardless of how strong he felt about something or someone. So maybe he slipped back into his old histrionics now and again, but that was expected. The bottom line was simple; some part of him was convinced to give Spike the benefit of the doubt—well, at least not try to kill him right away. He knew now that that was the right thing to do and it wasn't because he felt like a Mack truck had slugged him.
"So," he began after a long silence, "where did you find him?"
"San Diego."
"San Diego? Huh. Just couldn't stay out of good old CA."
"I guess. You know he owns his own club? It's called Blue Song. Pretty popular from what I gathered."
"So the evil undead went all capitalistic on us. Anya would be proud." Both of the room's occupants lowered their heads at the mention of Anya and Spike in the same sentence.
"I take it 'evil undead' is no longer an applicable term," Xander mused, attempting to break the somber mood that had gripped both he and Buffy.
Buffy smiled. Leave it to Xander to deflect the intensity of a situation—well, at least when he wasn't the cause of it.
"On that you would be correct."
"So, like what is he? Some sort of Super Saiyan? Because human he's not."
"Why do you say that?" She asked him, intrigued. Buffy had her own suspicions about Spike's physical prowess—No thoughts about that prowess—when she had hugged him earlier. She had been in the ex-vampire's embrace on several occasions and the strength behind his hug earlier did not differ much from his vampiric hold.
"Well, aside from the fact that I didn't even see the two punches he threw, I don't think I'm gonna be able to stand up straight for a week and my shoulder feels almost as bad as when that troll guy snapped my wrist. Buffy, what's going on?"
"I wish I knew Xander," Buffy replied honestly, "I wish I knew."
***I know, no closure or cliffhanger like most chapters, but if I didn't stop here, run-on chapter.
***Well, guess we'll see the rest of Xander's reaction soon as well as some possible patrolling.