AGAINST DESTINY
Chapter Seven : House Guest
Spike sauntered across the cemetery under the moon and star lit sky. He went up a small, green hill and stopped in front of a headstone. He knelt down on one knee and reached inside his duster. He took out a flower and placed it in front of the gravestone.
"Hey there, Glinda," he whispered with a small, sad smile.
He had heard from Clem that Tara had been shot by Warren shortly after he left. He couldn't believe the Witch was gone. He couldn't believe he would never see her again after he had snapped at her and bit her head off. He felt guilty for it.
"Sorry I snapped at you yesterday. But I want you to know I wasn't mad at you... I was just frustrated... confused with everything that happened between me and Buffy. Didn't mean for you to get caught in the middle." He stood up with a shaky breath. "Hope you're happy up there. Rest in peace, Tara."
Spike turned around and found Buffy a few feet away from him with a calm and casual look. He had been so preoccupied with his thoughts about Tara that he didn't sense her presence. "Slayer... I was just visiting."
Buffy crossed her arms underneath her chest and took a few steps forward. It had been almost two days since 'that' night and she was sure that she would never see Spike again. It felt like she had lost him forever when he said, 'Farewell, Buffy'. But here he was, in the flesh, right in front of her, talking. Frankly, when she first saw him, she didn't know what to do with him. She was torn between throwing herself at him and never let go or punching him in the nose for leaving or just standing still. She was glad that he made the first move.
"You heard?" was all she could say.
He perched himself on a headstone and tried to look nonchalant. The Ex-Vampire felt the same as the Slayer. He wasn't ready and prepared to deal with her should their paths cross again. He was just grateful that Buffy was being civil. "Yeah. Clem told me."
Buffy leaned against a gravestone, across from Spike. "I came by at your place the other day to drop off Dawn after Tara was shot. You weren't there. Clem said you left town. Where did you go?"
The question took him by surprise though he kept his guard up. He couldn't believe she was interested in something other than shagging, punching his nose, or pumping him for information about demons. "Went to L.A. to see someone."
"See who?" she asked, a bit curiously.
"Some guys. Had them transfer my bank accounts from England, Prague, and Brazil to the one I have here in Sunnyhell." Actually, it was more than that. Now that he was human, he had some contacts forge papers for him about his origin, medical records, immigration papers, everything. But she didn't need to know that, yet.
She raised an eyebrow questioningly. "You left to get money?"
"Yeah. Got enough of it to last me for a couple of years. Really needed it. Got m'self a nice flat with brand new furniture and everything. S'not too far from your house actually. And the landlady's setting up my place as we're talking."
She smiled hesitantly. "That's... nice."
He returned the gesture. "Thanks."
Both of them said nothing for awhile and the awkward silence settled in. The two of them didn't know what to do or say next. Spike then decided to divert the attention away from him and changed the subject.
"So... how's Red?" he inquired tentatively.
Buffy sighed in relief inwardly. She had started to get uncomfortable with the noiselessness between them. "She left for England with Giles this afternoon. Giles knows this... this coven of Witches that could help her control her Magick."
"That's good. Just can't imagine Red being the Big Bad and all," he replied automatically.
"I couldn't either," she whispered and turned her gaze away from him. She wondered how her best friend was doing. Was she getting any better? Was she still weeping? Or was she getting worse?
Spike got off from his spot and straightened up. "Better get going. See if my flat is ready and all. Uh... night, Slayer. Happy patrolling." He smirked a little, not his sexy, badassy one but the friendly one.
"Um, yeah. Good night. Have a nice walk home," she told him and started to walk away.
"Slayer?" Spike called out.
Buffy spun around to face him. "Yeah?"
"Mind some company?" he asked.
"No. Company's not minded," she answered.
Spike took out a stake from his duster's inside pocket. "Let's go bag us some nasties," he said cockily.
***
Meanwhile, in another graveyard, Darius loomed over a beaten vampire and crossed his arms over his chest in a proud and victorious manner. "It's real simple, really. You tell me where it is and I'll let you go," he proposed.
The vampire shot him a dirty look and kept its lips sealed. ". . ."
The Demoner growled from irritation and impatience. "You're just like the rest of them." He put his left arm forward and aimed for the undead fiend's heart. His pupils dilated and turned black as a blast of flame flew out of his palm. "Off to the crematorium," he chuckled coldly and watched the bloodsucker transform into ashes.
"I'm running out of time..." Darius grumbled and whirled around to return to his place.
***
Buffy caught the attack of her vampire assailant with her left hand and punched him on the side of his face. "Even if you do kill me, I've been there..." She kicked him on the side. "Done that..." She grabbed his neck with her right hand and threw him toward a tree. "...twice."
Spike watched the Slayer pummel her opponent from a tombstone, where he was perched, with admiration in his sapphire blue eyes. He had always loved and enjoyed the way she danced while she shot witty remarks at her enemy. How he wished he was at the vampire's place. He could dance with her all night. She was a worthy opponent, his equal.
The Slayer took a step forward and towered over her enemy. "Don't you villains ever get tired of trying to destroy the world and everything that's good? 'Cause that's SO overrated these days," she stated sarcastically.
The demon was back on his feet and did a spinning high kick.
She ducked and jabbed him in the stomach. "I mean, it's a big world out there. There's plenty of things to do." She jumped back as her opponent lashed out with his arm. "You can build a bird house..." The monster threw another punch and knocked the stake out of Buffy's hand. "...fly a kite..." He attacked with both hands to break her neck but she caught them with her own and twisted his wrists. "...or kiss a baby." The vampire roared at her face, in pain and irritated by the girl's banter. The Slayer's features contorted into a look of mocked disgust. "But you might want to get some breath mints first."
She pushed the bloodsucker away from her but before she could slug him across the face, the undead fiend whipped out a knife and slashed her across her left arm. Buffy gasped in pain and instinctively covered the cut with her right hand.
The vampire smiled smugly and advanced forward. Before he could make another move, he paused momentarily and soon combusted into dust when Spike staked him from behind.
Spike pocketed his weapon and rushed to Buffy's side. "Let me have a look."
Buffy let him see the cut though hesitantly.
"It'll heal but looks pretty deep," he said with a hint of concern.
The Ex-Vampire eyed the Slayer, his stare somewhat accusing and reprimanding. As much as he loved watching the Slayer dance, he couldn't help but notice that she spent too much time bantering than fighting. She also seemed a bit distracted and he had an idea why. Was she thinking about Willow? Tara's death? Or maybe him and 'that' night?
Buffy avoided his gaze. "I know. Thanks..." she whispered.
"Come with me. Let's get you patched up," Spike proposed nonchalantly.
Buffy knit her brows in confusion, unsure if she heard him right. "What?"
"Spend the night at my flat. The wound needs some bandaging and you look like Hell."
She gave him a small smile. "Yeah. Post apocalypse induced effect."
He put up his hands in the air. "Don't worry, I'll keep my hands to m'self."
She nodded her headed. "Fine."
Spike grinned in return and started forward. "Let's go before a pack of nasties find us."
Buffy trailed after him without a word. The blonde duo walked in silence while they stole glances from each other when one of them thought the other wasn't looking. Fortunately, they weren't attacked by anymore creatures so their little night stroll was quicker than they had hoped.
The two entered an apartment complex and headed for the elevator. They got off the lift at the third floor and went down the hall. Buffy watched Spike stop at the last door and fish out a set of keys from his duster's inner pocket.
"Room number twenty," she told herself when she read the number on the door.
"Come on in," Spike called out, who had already gone inside.
Buffy walked in. She looked awe stricken when she stepped out of the foyer and into the living room. One thing she admired about Spike was that he had taste and style. At the back wall of the living room was a black, leather sofa that could accommodate three people. To the sofa's left was a love seat and to its right was an armchair, both of the same colour and material. Between the couches was a coffee table made out of oak. A few feet away from the coffee table was a thirty two inch TV with one those DVD and VCR player in one to go with it. The curtains behind the love seat were dark blue and were thick enough to keep the sunlight away during the day. The carpet was also dark blue and the same for the marble patterned wallpaper.
"Wow. This is... wow," Buffy sputtered.
Spike made a mental note to give the landlady a little something for her efforts. He gestured for her to take a seat with his hand. "Make yourself at home. I'll go get the first aid kit."
Unconsciously, she sat down on the love seat "Yeah, sure," she answered quickly, still amazed.
Spike returned a few moments later with a red plastic box. He took a seat next to Buffy and placed the first aid kit on the coffee table. "Raise the sleeve of your shirt."
She complied silently.
The Ex-Vampire produced a small, blue moist towel and cleaned off the dried blood. With a cotton ball and an anti-septic, he disinfected the cut as gently as he could so it wouldn't sting too much and then finally bandaged the wound. During the whole ordeal, he was careful not to make skin contact or make his need for air noticeable. The young woman next to him had been through so much lately and didn't want to give her another thing to think or possibly worry about.
Buffy just stared at the wall the whole time, lost in her thoughts though she had noted that Spike avoided touching her. He had kept his word like he always did. How could a soulless demon have honour?
Spike snapped her out of her reverie when he announced proudly, "All done."
"Thanks," she said in a small voice.
"Welcome," he nodded curtly. "Want a tour 'round my new lair?"
"Yeah. I'd like that," she replied and two of them stood up.
The Ex-Vampire and Slayer went down the hall and opened the first door to their right. It was a bathroom with the shower stall and the tub separated. Opposite of the washroom was a linen closet and Buffy noted that the spare blankets and towels were black, red, and dark blue.
The two took a few steps and were met with another pair of doors. To their right was a room with boxes, little things still left unpacked from Spike's crypt. To their left was the master bedroom. There was a king size bed with black pillows and covers, an oak dresser, and a study table with books.
The blonde duo reached the end of the corridor and went into the kitchen. It had everything whatever a kitchen had; fridge, stove, microwave, toaster, cordless phone, and a small, wooden, round dining table.
"Hungry?" Spike asked, trying to be the perfect host.
"No thanks," she smiled weakly. "I'll just go to sleep."
"You can use my room," he offered. "I'll take the couch."
Spike left the kitchen and went to the bathroom. He splashed water on his face and his hair to wash out the hair gel. He then looked up from the sink to the mirror on the wall and for the first time in a hundred something years, he saw his reflection. After the spell cursed him with humanity, it never occurred to him to check himself out in a mirror.
He leaned forward and examined himself. He still had the face of a twenty three year old but with a few changes. His hair was no longer dark brown but peroxide blond. He no longer needed glasses to aid his vision and his left brow had a Y-shaped scar. He smirked to himself.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say I'm one handsome creature," he grinned. With a chuckle, he brushed his teeth and stepped outside.
He slightly opened the door to the master bedroom and was relieved to find his guest sleeping peacefully. "Night, Slayer," he whispered and helped himself with a pillow and a blanket from the linen closet.
Spike went to the living room and placed his pillow on the big couch's arm rest. He then checked if the door was locked and shut the lights off. He kicked off his combat boots, shrugged out of his duster, and hung the leather coat on the armchair. He wrapped the blanket around himself and lay down with his arms crossed under his head.
The Ex-Vampire stared at the ceiling and pondered how he would spend the next day. One thing he had on his list was to clear out the boxes from the empty room. As soon as Buffy left tomorrow, he had to find appropriate spots in the flat where he could display his old, black and white photos; pictures of him from when he was a baby to his youth, his little sister, parents, and England in the old days. He also had to find a safe place where he could keep his stolen Buffy goods and weapons. Perhaps a trap door in the linen closet was in order.
Another thing on his list was to find a job. He had a degree in Literature and Arts. Maybe he should start writing again for living. He had written a few poems about Buffy when they were together and thought they were good enough to be published. It was amazing what a century of practice can do.
He tried to come up what else he had on his mental list but couldn't remember anymore. He yawned and closed his eyes. He was exhausted. His brain nagged him to sleep and that he did.
