Disclaimer: Most of these characters aren't of my creation. They belong to
Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. They are merely my playthings. ;)
Rating: R for violence, character deaths, and some language (mainly R for the character deaths but everything else is pretty mild)
Reviews: Please!
Summary: Sequel to 'Shatters' where Spike and Anya seek each other out and run into a few familiar faces.
A/N: Yes, yes, here's the sequel you guys seemed to want. I hope it won't let you down!
* * * * * * * *
~Seeking Smooth~
Chapter One~
Holding a gleaming axe, she stood above him. Part of her face was covered in shadows but he could still make out the frown on it.
"Are you okay?" She asked and held out her hand. When he took it he felt warmth tingle through him and he knew he never wanted to let go.
"Fine," he assured gruffly and took back his hand. "What the hell is that thing?"
"I don't know but whatever it is, it had too many steroids in its Special K as a kid," she complained.
She looked thoughtfully down at her shoes, blonde hair whispering across the worry lines on her delicate face.
"I guess Jupeille had more demon pals than we imagined," he said dumbly to fill the silence between them.
He studied her sad face until she finally looked up at him, eyes glittering with tears in the moonlight.
"Some of the others. I think they." No words came for a moment and then she said softly, "Spike, I just want you to know that."
Lightly she pulled his head to hers and kissed him softly on the lips. Then she pulled back and took his hand looked up at him. She was so beautiful, it almost hurt him to be near her, he wanted her so badly.
"Remember what we agreed. five years from now, we'll come back."
She walked away from him then broke into a run to help her friends. He never got to find out what that kiss meant.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Yes, I bloody well remember, Slayer. You don't have to haunt me about it constantly," Spike mumbled to his shot glass before he emptied its contents into his mouth. His stomach complained from the alcohol-only diet he'd had it on for the past few days. But he ignored it and ran a shaky hand through his disarrayed platinum locks. He was a mess.
So was the room around him. He sat at a bar made in the old basement of a burnt up department store. It had been weeks since he traveled outside of a 25-mile radius of that bar. Not that there was much to see in the area. He wasn't even sure where he was. After his last visit to Sunnydale, that damn town, all he knew was that he had to get out of California. Then after he got out of California, he decided to just leave the country period. His vagabond ways led him to this place, a run-down bar in Scotland. Or maybe Ireland. Or Britain. Possibly Russia. He didn't know. Most of the creatures he encountered were demons who didn't speak the local language anyway.
The small town appealed to Spike because of its remoteness. He didn't want any reminders of the reason he felt so empty and lost. Any of the reasons. In particular, her. It wasn't the phantom girl whose idyllic beauty and mystery haunted his dreams; the girl who was the worst possible match for him so he fell head over heels for her. The Slayer. Buffy.
No, Buffy wasn't the current reason for his torment. He gave up on that dream long ago. Now he knew that while he would always hold a flicker of love for Buffy, even for Drusilla, his mad sire, he only wanted one person. Anya. Spike hit himself every day for letting her leave like that. The old Spike wouldn't have let her go, he told himself.
"If its possible, you look deader than usual," a voice suddenly observed.
Spike looked up at the large, blue bartender in front of him. The bar was for demons and humans alike but mainly demons came. It's not that they would have hurt the humans, it was in a rarely peaceful town, but there just weren't many humans left.
"Something wrong?" the bartender asked.
In Spike's time there, he rarely spoke to the three-eyed bartender named Charlie except to get another round of vodka.
"None of your bloody business," Spike grumbled.
"I'm a bartender, everything's my business," Charlie returned without sounding curt.
Then without meaning to, Spike told Charlie everything. Well, the condensed version of everything. Spike, even with his soul, didn't like to get into sissy things like his feelings and descriptions of the way Anya smiled. But as he spoke, all those feelings and images flooded to him anyway. When he got to the part where he admitted everything to a stranger that was shining shot glasses while he listened, Spike stopped. Charlie blinked at him, each eye at a different pace.
"So find her," Charlie said simply.
Spike looked at him in disbelief. "Oh yeah, that'll be easy."
Charlie shrugged and replied, "You have an eternity to find her. Either that or an eternity to live without her."
Spike wasn't sure if he mentioned if they would meet again in five years. But the poetic part of his soul whispered of how those five years would seem like an eternity without her.
That next night, after thanking Charlie for the wake-up call and warming his pale cheeks, Spike boarded one of the few remaining passenger planes and headed towards America. He had no idea where to find Anya.
* * * * * * * * *
"And then, I found him with his secretary!" The women cried and then sobbed violently.
"There, there," Anya said dully, patting the woman's back and putting on her rehearsed concern face. 'Why won't this woman just make her wish already?' she wondered as the woman still cried beside her.
Anya hated when her clients cried. Whenever they cried, she almost cried. Two women sobbing together but not caring about the other, it was especially bad in public places like the musty bar they sat in. And for these times, it was a pretty crowded bar. She was in New York City or at least what remained of it. The world had been developing rapidly recently. Cities that were once grand now grew and thrived again. Of course, these days a population of a thousand people was considered thriving. Not to mention the few demons that stocked every town.
With a yawn, Anya turned from the sobbing woman. She just couldn't take it anymore. The woman next to her was sobbing about her two-week-long boyfriend cheating on her when Anya recently had to leave.
She pushed back her feelings of resentment with another swig of Jack Daniels, for old times sake. As D'Hoffryn told her repeatedly, business was hard to come by these days so she sure as hell better take it. Sometimes she wondered why she stayed a demon.
"That's all that can be done now. Stay alive."
The words resonated in her mind. She shut her eyes against the memory.
"Stay alive."
Her heart ached. Being with Spike was great. But now she questioned whether the pleasure and love she felt was worth the new pain. She'd spent all that time getting over the past. Getting over Xander. Now to have all this new pain. Anya felt angry all of a sudden. She almost didn't hear that the woman was talking again.
"I just wish. I wish."
Suddenly, Anya stood up, tears in her eyes, and murmured a hurried good-bye after leaving a wad of cash. Anya was getting good at hurriedly leaving bars.
* * * * * * * * * *
"So this is the real thing?"
Looking up, Xander blinked at Anya in surprise. "What do you mean?"
"This demon, Jupeille and his minion types, they could actually beat us," Anya explained with her usual bluntness.
"With demons there's always a risk involved," Xander replied carefully.
Anya picked up on the double meaning but she didn't want to pursue the subject. It had been a few months since their wedding ended in tears instead of vows. The issue of whether they still loved each other or not hadn't been brought up. There was something there, they knew it but it had taken long enough to become friends again without so many complications added to it.
"But I mean theses guys are tough. We both saw them. They were big. Maybe too big," Anya said worriedly.
"Buffy can handle it. And we'll help," Xander comforted her and gave her the smile of that high school boy he once was. Softly he took her hand in his and they stood in the comfortable silence of the night.
* * * * * * * * * *
The sudden crash of lightening caused Anya to wake with a start. Soft morning light dimmed by the oncoming storm filtered through her windows. She felt cold in the warm fall air. Shaking the dream from her head, Anya pulled the blanket up around her and settled back to sleep.
* * * * * * * * *
TBC
Rating: R for violence, character deaths, and some language (mainly R for the character deaths but everything else is pretty mild)
Reviews: Please!
Summary: Sequel to 'Shatters' where Spike and Anya seek each other out and run into a few familiar faces.
A/N: Yes, yes, here's the sequel you guys seemed to want. I hope it won't let you down!
* * * * * * * *
~Seeking Smooth~
Chapter One~
Holding a gleaming axe, she stood above him. Part of her face was covered in shadows but he could still make out the frown on it.
"Are you okay?" She asked and held out her hand. When he took it he felt warmth tingle through him and he knew he never wanted to let go.
"Fine," he assured gruffly and took back his hand. "What the hell is that thing?"
"I don't know but whatever it is, it had too many steroids in its Special K as a kid," she complained.
She looked thoughtfully down at her shoes, blonde hair whispering across the worry lines on her delicate face.
"I guess Jupeille had more demon pals than we imagined," he said dumbly to fill the silence between them.
He studied her sad face until she finally looked up at him, eyes glittering with tears in the moonlight.
"Some of the others. I think they." No words came for a moment and then she said softly, "Spike, I just want you to know that."
Lightly she pulled his head to hers and kissed him softly on the lips. Then she pulled back and took his hand looked up at him. She was so beautiful, it almost hurt him to be near her, he wanted her so badly.
"Remember what we agreed. five years from now, we'll come back."
She walked away from him then broke into a run to help her friends. He never got to find out what that kiss meant.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Yes, I bloody well remember, Slayer. You don't have to haunt me about it constantly," Spike mumbled to his shot glass before he emptied its contents into his mouth. His stomach complained from the alcohol-only diet he'd had it on for the past few days. But he ignored it and ran a shaky hand through his disarrayed platinum locks. He was a mess.
So was the room around him. He sat at a bar made in the old basement of a burnt up department store. It had been weeks since he traveled outside of a 25-mile radius of that bar. Not that there was much to see in the area. He wasn't even sure where he was. After his last visit to Sunnydale, that damn town, all he knew was that he had to get out of California. Then after he got out of California, he decided to just leave the country period. His vagabond ways led him to this place, a run-down bar in Scotland. Or maybe Ireland. Or Britain. Possibly Russia. He didn't know. Most of the creatures he encountered were demons who didn't speak the local language anyway.
The small town appealed to Spike because of its remoteness. He didn't want any reminders of the reason he felt so empty and lost. Any of the reasons. In particular, her. It wasn't the phantom girl whose idyllic beauty and mystery haunted his dreams; the girl who was the worst possible match for him so he fell head over heels for her. The Slayer. Buffy.
No, Buffy wasn't the current reason for his torment. He gave up on that dream long ago. Now he knew that while he would always hold a flicker of love for Buffy, even for Drusilla, his mad sire, he only wanted one person. Anya. Spike hit himself every day for letting her leave like that. The old Spike wouldn't have let her go, he told himself.
"If its possible, you look deader than usual," a voice suddenly observed.
Spike looked up at the large, blue bartender in front of him. The bar was for demons and humans alike but mainly demons came. It's not that they would have hurt the humans, it was in a rarely peaceful town, but there just weren't many humans left.
"Something wrong?" the bartender asked.
In Spike's time there, he rarely spoke to the three-eyed bartender named Charlie except to get another round of vodka.
"None of your bloody business," Spike grumbled.
"I'm a bartender, everything's my business," Charlie returned without sounding curt.
Then without meaning to, Spike told Charlie everything. Well, the condensed version of everything. Spike, even with his soul, didn't like to get into sissy things like his feelings and descriptions of the way Anya smiled. But as he spoke, all those feelings and images flooded to him anyway. When he got to the part where he admitted everything to a stranger that was shining shot glasses while he listened, Spike stopped. Charlie blinked at him, each eye at a different pace.
"So find her," Charlie said simply.
Spike looked at him in disbelief. "Oh yeah, that'll be easy."
Charlie shrugged and replied, "You have an eternity to find her. Either that or an eternity to live without her."
Spike wasn't sure if he mentioned if they would meet again in five years. But the poetic part of his soul whispered of how those five years would seem like an eternity without her.
That next night, after thanking Charlie for the wake-up call and warming his pale cheeks, Spike boarded one of the few remaining passenger planes and headed towards America. He had no idea where to find Anya.
* * * * * * * * *
"And then, I found him with his secretary!" The women cried and then sobbed violently.
"There, there," Anya said dully, patting the woman's back and putting on her rehearsed concern face. 'Why won't this woman just make her wish already?' she wondered as the woman still cried beside her.
Anya hated when her clients cried. Whenever they cried, she almost cried. Two women sobbing together but not caring about the other, it was especially bad in public places like the musty bar they sat in. And for these times, it was a pretty crowded bar. She was in New York City or at least what remained of it. The world had been developing rapidly recently. Cities that were once grand now grew and thrived again. Of course, these days a population of a thousand people was considered thriving. Not to mention the few demons that stocked every town.
With a yawn, Anya turned from the sobbing woman. She just couldn't take it anymore. The woman next to her was sobbing about her two-week-long boyfriend cheating on her when Anya recently had to leave.
She pushed back her feelings of resentment with another swig of Jack Daniels, for old times sake. As D'Hoffryn told her repeatedly, business was hard to come by these days so she sure as hell better take it. Sometimes she wondered why she stayed a demon.
"That's all that can be done now. Stay alive."
The words resonated in her mind. She shut her eyes against the memory.
"Stay alive."
Her heart ached. Being with Spike was great. But now she questioned whether the pleasure and love she felt was worth the new pain. She'd spent all that time getting over the past. Getting over Xander. Now to have all this new pain. Anya felt angry all of a sudden. She almost didn't hear that the woman was talking again.
"I just wish. I wish."
Suddenly, Anya stood up, tears in her eyes, and murmured a hurried good-bye after leaving a wad of cash. Anya was getting good at hurriedly leaving bars.
* * * * * * * * * *
"So this is the real thing?"
Looking up, Xander blinked at Anya in surprise. "What do you mean?"
"This demon, Jupeille and his minion types, they could actually beat us," Anya explained with her usual bluntness.
"With demons there's always a risk involved," Xander replied carefully.
Anya picked up on the double meaning but she didn't want to pursue the subject. It had been a few months since their wedding ended in tears instead of vows. The issue of whether they still loved each other or not hadn't been brought up. There was something there, they knew it but it had taken long enough to become friends again without so many complications added to it.
"But I mean theses guys are tough. We both saw them. They were big. Maybe too big," Anya said worriedly.
"Buffy can handle it. And we'll help," Xander comforted her and gave her the smile of that high school boy he once was. Softly he took her hand in his and they stood in the comfortable silence of the night.
* * * * * * * * * *
The sudden crash of lightening caused Anya to wake with a start. Soft morning light dimmed by the oncoming storm filtered through her windows. She felt cold in the warm fall air. Shaking the dream from her head, Anya pulled the blanket up around her and settled back to sleep.
* * * * * * * * *
TBC