"I have changed my mind," Ramie said with finality, his eyes wide as he surveyed the scene around them.
Spike paused in his rhyming—he had gotten to 'hind'—and shook his head. "Oh, no you don't. I didn't spend two bloody days getting fake papers made and nicking money from pickpockets just to have you change your mind."
"If you had not given all the papers I gave you to the Council, it wouldn't have been so hard to get fake papers," Ramie sniped back, feeling his stomach roll over. He had included a great number of things in that packet of papers for William Bryce, including a type-written birth certificate and a pass into the Council libraries.
"I thought they'd be convinced," Spike said petulantly, reaching out to flick Laramie's ear. What that got him was a cuff across the head and a rousing set of name-calling.
"Don't call me a pansy," Spike said, genuinely amused. "You're the lily-livered wanker who's decided he can't go to America unless we take a bleedin' boat—which we're not." He leaned back and crossed his ankles, watching another plane take off. The airport was such a lovely place, really. That is, it was lovely if you were accustomed to the sight of airplanes.
"When we left, airplanes were a foolish experiment by a couple of American morons, contraptions that sputtered and belched smoke and couldn't even go the length of a beach. Now you are telling me it is perfectly safe and perfectly rational to get in one of those great metal beasts and go across the ocean?" At Spike's innocuous grin, Ramie slumped farther into his seat and vowed not to be sick.
~~~
She expected to find Buffy doing any number of things an hour before her scheduled class. Warming up, burning off the excess energy that she didn't want seeping out during class, or sending Dawn off for another evening class at the college. Sometimes, Kelly found her crying at this time of day, crying over things that she wouldn't talk about.
She didn't expect to find her cleaning.
"Buffy?" Kelly walked into the house after knocking a few times and receiving no answer, her curiosity peaked. "You in here?"
"In here," was the muffled reply from the master bedroom. Kelly walked to the doorway and gasped.
Clothes lay everywhere, piles strewn over the bed, the floor. Exactly half of the dresser had been cleaned off, half the drawers emptied. Half of the hangers in the closet stood in wait of garments, their previous occupants scattered willy-nilly.
"Buffy, what on earth are you doing?" Kelly picked a sheer black blouse out of the pile, recognizing it as one Buffy had worn only a few nights ago. The clothes seemed pulled at random, some sleeveless, some turtlenecks, coats, skirts, pants. There was no pattern, no system, and as far as Kelly could see, no reason at all. "Buffy?"
Buffy sat in the middle of the floor, a long gray skirt clasped in her hands. She looked up at Kelly with big eyes and said, "I have to make room for him."
Kelly's blue eyes narrowed in confusion and she knelt to join Buffy on the floor, twining gentle fingers with Buffy's tense ones. You need your real friends, she thought mournfully. You don't know that yet, but you need them. I don't know what to do. "Make room for who?"
"If he comes back, he'll need places to put his things, his clothes and his… things, whatever made him smell so good, smell like him, and he'll need a place to sleep, and so I need to get rid of some of these pillows, because who can sleep in a bed with fifteen pillows?" She squeezed her eyes shut, a single tear spilling out. "Why did I buy so many pillows?"
Kelly risked a glance at the decorative pillows stacked in the corner, then looked back at Buffy. "Is it Spike? Is he coming back?"
"I don't know," Buffy said, shaking her head. "But I want to be ready if he does." She tried to stand, got her feet tangled in a denim jacket, stumbled. She caught herself on the edge of the dresser and raised desperate eyes to Kelly, who stood motionless. "What if he comes back, but he doesn't come back to me?"
"He will," Kelly said, warring within herself between truth and prudence. "Buffy, he will come back to you. They're looking for him. They'll help him find you."
She should have been confused, should have had no idea what Kelly was talking about. But Buffy's mind flew back to Angel's immediate recognition of Kelly. "Which ones? Which ones are looking for him?"
"Mr. Giles and Mr. Wyndham-Price."
It was odd, Buffy thought, to hear their names off her lips, to hear the formality behind it and know that her friends had come together though the distance was long. Indiana and California weren't so far away, after all. But at the moment, Buffy was glad for it. "He didn't tell me. Angel didn't tell me."
"He didn't tell you I called because I asked him not to. I didn't mean to pry, I just wanted to help—"
Buffy covered the younger girl's hand with hers and shook her head. "I mean he didn't tell me about Giles, and Wesley." She took a deep breath and let it out in a long, shaky sigh.
"They'll find him," Kelly said, not at all sure of her words. Then, to her shock and amazement, Buffy did something she'd never done before. She laid her head on Kelly's shoulder and let herself relax.
~~~
"They said he's been there." Xander paced in the living room of the small apartment, chewing on his thumbnail. "That's good, right? Shouldn't we tell Buffy?"
Willow crunched up her face as she deliberated. "Yes. No. You know, I gotta say, I don't know. I mean, what if it's not him? Orrrr… what if he's all 'I'm human now, I need to sow my wild oats?'"
"Will, Spike spent a hundred plus years without a soul, and the only sowing he did was with that psycho Dru, and then flaky Harmony. I don't think he's much of a sower… or a planter… not that I would know how he plants, I just…" Xander waved his hand, looking disgusted. "Never mind."
"I brought home guests," Kennedy's voice bounced through the apartment, followed closely by the slamming door. As she entered the living room, Willow could see Robin and Faith close behind.
"Been out patrollin'," Faith said easily. Xander noted with mingled disbelief and interest how she gloved her hand in Wood's easily. As though it were natural.
"What's with the sober-slash-happy faces?" Kennedy asked, leaning down to kiss Willow's cheek.
"Spike's back," Xander replied tersely. He was still wary of Kennedy. It came along with the territory of best friend; if anyone hurt Willow, they'd have to deal with him, as well. But there was something about her that rubbed Xander the wrong way, and living in the same close quarters as her was doing nothing but increasing the rubbing. Wincing at his own thoughts, Xander waited for a reaction.
"Damn," Faith said under her breath. "For real?"
"For realest," Willow replied.
"Does Buffy know?" The ex-principal tried to keep his tone conversational, nonchalant, but didn't succeed; Faith gave his hand a squeeze, either by way of reassurance or warning. He gladly took it as both.
"No," Xander said. "And that catches you up on the discussion. We were just discussing the Buffy knowing factor when you all walked in."
"It's good news, man. B would wanna know." Faith shrugged as though that simple fact precluded any discussion.
It should have been that simple, Willow thought. It should always be that simple. Where did it get complicated? "She's at work now, though."
"She's an adult. You know, maybe she doesn't always want her gang to help her out. Did you ever think of that? Did you ever think that's why she went all the way across the freakin' country?" Kennedy rolled her eyes.
"Kennedy, honey," Willow said, lacing her fingers together. "True friendship isn't about giving people help when they want it. It's about giving them help even when they don't want it." She thought of Xander, risking life and limb to bring her out of the magic-induced rage she had worked herself into after Tara's death. At the same time, Faith thought of the second chance she'd gotten even though she never asked for it.
But Kennedy didn't know these things, and the things she knew in her head didn't connect with her heart. "I'm going to shower and go to bed," she said snappishly, trying not to be offended and failing miserably.
"So where is he?" Faith asked, completely unperturbed by the tension Kennedy had left suspended behind her. There were many more things in life to be concerned with than a few tantrums, Faith thought.
"We don't know," Xander said. "Giles and Wesley went to find him."
"They won't be able to," Robin said quietly, his brow furrowing. "Not if he doesn't want them to."
"Well, we'll just have to hope he wants them to," Willow said with forced brightness, her thoughts on her girlfriend. "I—I think I'm going to go to bed," she said, heading for the bedroom.
Faith watched Willow go with a sense of give and take. It was just a way of life. As some things came together, others came apart.