Chapter Thirteen
"Hey, Will!" Xander leapt up and rushed over to hug his friend as she hovered in the doorway, looking uncertain. Xander had been sitting talking earnestly with Giles and Anya and from the way the blonde was looking at him it was clear to Willow what they were talking about.
Xander wanted to marry Anya.
Willow would be alone.
She hugged him back and let him lead her over to a comfortable chair, as if she was an invalid. She had a few very minor burns, but it had been her white cotton shift that took most of the damage. It wasn't as bad as last time when the fire had actually burnt her. Tara was slightly worse off - the fire had been higher on her side and her arms and legs were burnt a bit. Willow had wanted to go and see her but Cordelia had advised against it.
"She's sleeping, and she needs lots of rest. Why don't you go and see Mr. Giles? He was worried about you."
So Willow had dressed and gone downstairs, trying to figure out exactly what had happened back there with her and Tara. Since they'd been overheard talking about Willow's previous accusations of witchcraft, the villagers had realised she didn't go to church and she'd tried to explain that she wasn't Christian, but they'd got that far and proclaimed her a witch. Especially since they'd seen her kissing Tara, who was an odd girl anyway, surely a witch also, and they must both be burnt.
They'd been put in separate cells, and the next Willow had seen of Tara was when they were led out to the pyre. On the ride to Angel's Willow had shared a horse with Xander and Tara with Giles, and they'd been taken to different rooms and Willow had spent the whole night and a good portion of the morning trying to figure out exactly what the hell was happening.
She'd kissed another woman. Willow hadn't even ever kissed a man before. She knew Xander had occasionally caught the eye of a pretty lady, but Willow had never been interested before. Why on earth was she now?
What would Xander think?
"How are you feeling?" Giles asked.
"Oh, I think I'm okay. Bit tired. Smoky."
"You should be resting."
"No, that was driving me crazy. I wanted to say thank you, for trying to rescue me. I mean, for rescuing me. I mean..."
"It was really Buffy and Spike who did the rescuing," Anya said. "Giles and Xander just got in the way."
"Yes, thank you, Anya," Giles said, and she beamed at him. "Have you seen Tara?"
Willow blushed. "Um, no, not since..."
There was a silence.
"It's okay, Will," Xander said, touching her hand. "We talked about it and, well, it's a bit weird, but, well, you're sort of not very normal anyway and..."
"You don't mind?" Willow asked in amazement.
"Actually, I think it's sort of-" Xander caught Anya's eye and stopped. "If it makes you happy," he finished lamely. "But hey, listen, on a more conventional note, how would you like to hear some good news?"
Willow nodded and smiled. Suddenly she felt deliriously happy.
"We're engaged!" Anya held up Xander's hand and waved it. "I don't have a ring yet because he only asked about half an hour ago, but as soon as he's stopped worrying about you and Buffy then he'll take me and get one, won't you, Xander?"
"Buffy?" Willow said. "I mean - that's great, I'm so happy for you, but - Buffy? Why are you worried about her?"
Xander and Giles looked at each other. "She didn't follow us here," Giles said.
"Probably she and William just stopped off somewhere," Xander said.
"To have lots of sex," Anya nodded, and they all winced.
"Or to sleep," Xander offered, weakly.
"But - but the last I saw, the fire was spreading," Willow said, her euphoria fading fast. "What if they got caught?"
"I'm sure they'll be fine," Giles said, but he didn't sound too convinced.
"Buffy'll be fine," Xander said. "She seems to be able to take care of herself pretty well."
"But what about William?"
"He's a highwayman, Will," Xander said. "He tried to rob us. He could have killed us."
"But he didn't," Willow said. "He didn't. None of the times he escaped he hurt anyone. He was nice to me and Tara when he tied us up. He knows Shakespeare," she added, visibly upset.
"He probably stole a book from someone," Giles said in despair. "He's very good at taking care of himself too, Willow. I'm sure he'll be fine too."
"And he'll be taking care of Buffy," Anya added. They all looked at her. "Don't give me those patronising 'Anya's talking crazy again' looks. He will. He's the crazy one - he's mad about her. Don't tell me you couldn't see it?"
Giles looked distressed. Xander, even though he'd pretty much figured it out, looked nauseated. Anya rolled her eyes at them both.
Willow gave them a smile, feeling better. "I'm sure he'll be taking care of her," she said.
"Spike, I'm fine," Buffy said. "See me? Completely fine. I am the epitome of fineness."
He poked the loose bandage on her arm and she flinched.
"Yes, I can see that. Let me look at it."
"It hardly hurts."
"I want to see."
They glared at each other, but Spike looked the stubbornest, so Buffy gave in and peeled the bandage off. It did hurt quite a bit. She didn't remember where it had come from - she'd ducked a lot of swords while she was trying to escape. Maybe she hadn't ducked far enough.
Spike was sitting up, leaning against the headboard, looking very heroic with his bandaged shoulder and scarred eyebrow and his cheekbones and his lips and his... Buffy shook herself, and held out her arm to him as she sat crosslegged on the side of the bed. He took it and peered at the cut.
"That might need stitches, love."
"No, it won't."
"Yes, it will. And a cleaner bandage than this. What if you've already infected it? You could get gangrene," his fingers tightened on her flesh, "a fever, you could die."
He was staring at the cut, which looked like nothing to Buffy, but his expression was fierce, and she realised he was trying hard not to cry.
"I'm not going to get a fever," she said gently. "I feel fine. And it's a clean cut, see?"
"You need stitches," Spike said stubbornly, not looking at her, and she recognised his tone. The same anger and fear she'd had in her voice when she'd yelled at him to wake up last night. Anger that he'd got so hurt and fear that it could be very bad. That it could kill him. That she'd lose him.
She couldn't bear to lose him.
She gave him a smile, because she understood, then gently prised her arm from his grip.
"All right. Let me go downstairs and get some clean water, and maybe see if I can find some food."
He let her go, reluctantly, and she kissed his forehead and pulled her clothes on, tying her hair back and pulling her hat down low over her face. She slipped his leather coat on, loving the heavy settle of the leather on her shoulders, the soft silk of the animal skin, the scent of smoke and sweat and alcohol that was Spike.
She turned at the door, and he was watching her.
"It worries me slightly that I still find you attractive when you look like a boy," he said, and she laughed.
"Maybe this is the problem Willow and Tara have," she said, and went downstairs. Now she'd had time to think about it, she realised she'd overreacted when she'd heard about Willow and Tara's Sapphic tendencies. Willow was an odd girl anyway, but she had a good heart. And didn't the Bible say, 'Judge not, lest ye be judged'? She had robbed people for years, and now she was hiding out with a known highwayman. Giving her body to a man who was a virtual stranger. No, she couldn't judge Willow. Love was a fine thing, wherever it came from and wherever it went to.
With this thought in her mind, Buffy flirted with the barmaid for some clean, hot water and a couple of bowls of stew. And while she was there she borrowed a pen and some paper and wrote a quick note to Angel to let Giles and everyone know she and Spike were all right. She paid a man in the village to take it to Sunnydale House and only realised afterwards that there was a possibility Giles and the girls hadn't got there. And then she dismissed it. She didn't need to worry about that now. She'd go mad if she did.
She took the food and some thick beer upstairs and went back for the water. They ate first, and then Spike poured whisky into the cut on Buffy's arm and sterilised the needle and thread.
"See, when I sewed you up, you were unconscious," Buffy said, her heart beating faster.
"Afraid of a little needle, Slayer?"
She looked right at him. "Yes. Would you like me to stick a needle in your flesh while you're wide awake?"
"I could handle it," Spike said offhandedly.
Buffy poked his shoulder, and he sucked in a breath.
"See?" she said smugly.
He glared at her, then picked up the needle. "Come here," he said, getting her to sit facing him, and when she was closer, leaned forward and kissed her.
"I'll try not to hurt you," he whispered. "Not any more than I have to."
Touched, she gave him a smile, stroking his cheek. "I know. I trust you."
It was probably the first time anyone had said those words to Spike, and it took him a second to recover.
I love you, he thought, and this time he knew it was true. He kissed her again, briefly, for courage, then started to sew the cut on her arm.
Buffy figured it probably wouldn't hurt too much, but after half a dozen stitches there were tears rolling down her face. By the time Spike had finished, her fingers, which had been resting on the mattress, had dug a hole through the sheet.
He set down the needle and wiped away the blood with a clean cloth. Then he wiped her face and Buffy, who'd tried to keep her tears turned away, looked up, slightly ashamed she'd been caught crying over a few stitches.
Spike's eyes were so full of compassion she nearly started crying again. He pulled back the bandage holding his arm against his chest, and showed her a faded scar on his wrist.
"Sword practice when I was an ensign," he said. "Needed thirteen stitches. I howled like a baby."
Buffy gave a bit of a smile at the thought of him sobbing so hard, and he smiled back, reaching for some clean cloth to bandage her arm properly. He kissed her skin, then he kissed her mouth, and she held onto him, grateful and relieved and... and... and oddly sad.
She didn't know why. He was going to be fine: his enthusiastic sexual performance had convinced her of that - and he was being pretty nice to her. Maybe that was the problem. The compassion. The concern. The sweetness of his kiss.
She didn't want to lose him.
Buffy kissed him a little harder, trying to remember him completely, because she knew she'd have to-
Have to what, exactly? Leave him again? But why? Now she had her memory back she remembered that she'd been a pretty rebellious kid in the first place. Giles had probably been more shocked by her compliance, than he would if she announced she was running off with a highwayman.
Why shouldn't she?
They'd make a great team. Buffy remembered she'd been a damn good highway robber. She'd worked well with Angel and with Faith. And judging by how well they got along in... other areas... Buffy was fairly sure she and Spike would get along famously-
Or infamously-
-in a professional sense. She suddenly broke the kiss and smiled at him and he paused, taken aback by how lit up she was.
Glowing. Wow.
"You recovered pretty quickly," he said, for want of anything else.
"Magic kisses," she said, still grinning daftly.
"Dare I ask what makes you so happy?"
You.
"I feel like celebrating," she told him.
"Celebrating what?"
Us.
"Your recovery."
"I'm not exactly recovered yet-" Spike began, but then she pulled the sheet away from him and started kissing down his stomach. "But a bit of future celebrating - Jesus, Buffy!"
She looked up and gave him an innocent look. "Oh, I'm sorry... didn't you like that?"
"Uh..." He tried to get his brain back so he could answer her. "I'm not sure. Why don't you try it again?"
"She says William has been injured and she doesn't want to risk moving him," Giles said, looking up from Buffy's letter.
"How badly?" Dawn asked nervously.
"She doesn't say. And there's no indication of their whereabouts."
"Who delivered it?"
Giles looked exasperated. "Mute boy."
"I could follow him back?" Angel suggested, and Giles nodded.
"Good idea."
Angel went to get his coat as Giles wrote a quick reply, assuring Buffy that they were all fine, and the boy took it silently, went out to his horse, and was miles away before Angel had even got a saddle ready.
Spike wasn't sure what had come over Buffy, but he didn't care: he'd never seen her so happy. She touched him almost constantly, whether awake or sleeping, even if she was just curled up by his side, telling him about the plantation in Virginia or her family or the coaches she'd robbed.
She fell asleep, exhausted, as the sky got darker, and Spike gently eased her away from him and had a go at standing up. There. Not so bad. Didn't seem like he was going to fall over, or die or anything. He pulled his clothes on, with difficulty, abandoning his boots and his coat, pulling Buffy's large cloak around his shoulders to hide the arm strapped to his chest. He pulled his hat down low and went down the stairs, locking Buffy in, to see where the hell they were.
The barmaid looked very pleased to see him and asked if he wanted any female company for the night.
"But I-" Spike began, and realised that they all thought Buffy was a boy. "Er, no, but thanks anyway. Still sleeping off the effects of last night. Wouldn't be much good to you, love."
She looked disappointed, and about to suggest something else, when he said, "Got any food? Me and the boy are starving."
"He came down for some earlier," she said, wandering into a large and scruffy kitchen. "Bit scrawny, ain't he?"
Spike, busy remembering how he and Buffy had worked off their food, gave her a vague smile. "And something to drink," he said. "In a bottle, so's I can hide it from the boy," he gave the barmaid a wink, and she grinned back at him, displaying a mouth full of brown teeth. He tried not to recoil, and instead asked for some bread and cheese. He'd been about to ask for meat, too, but saw the state of kitchen and decided not to risk it.
When he went back up Buffy was sitting up in bed, looking alarmed. As he opened the door she aimed the pistol at him, then relaxed.
"Where have you been? I was worried, and - and you're not supposed to be out of bed! Spike, you lost a lot of blood, and you're still all weak, and..."
She was dragging him over to the bed, all warm and soft and naked, and he happily allowed her to do it.
"I went for some food," he said. "And I got you something, too."
"What?" she asked suspiciously.
He withdrew a folded bit of paper from inside the cloak and gave it her as he sat down beside her on the bed. "Came while I was chatting up the barmaid."
"That hag with the teeth? What were you doing-"
He grinned and kissed her pouty lip. "Getting grub, love. Mmm, I could kiss that lip all day..."
He kissed her again, and again, slipping his arm about her and taking her mouth completely. She started to kiss him back, but then pushed him away and said, "I want to read my letter. Kissing later."
Spike pouted.
"You can't wait five minutes?"
"No." He shoved the sheet away from her body and caressed her breasts. "But this'll do. You read. Fast."
She rolled her eyes but didn't stop him. Giles's note was short, telling her that he, Anya and Xander had got Dawn, Tara and Willow safely to Angel's, and that none of them were badly hurt. Buffy frowned at the 'badly', but she remembered how practical Cordelia had been, and knew that any injuries they had would be taken care of.
He wanted to know where they were, and said Angel was following their messenger back to the inn, and when she read that she stilled Spike's roving hand and read it again, out loud.
He froze.
"He's coming here?"
"Well, if the letter got in half an hour ago, then he's already here," Buffy said. "Shit." She started grabbing clothes, and was out the door in seconds, leaving a rather confused Spike sitting there on the bed.
"She rushes off to see him," he said. "Bloody Angel."
He picked up his boots and tried to get them on, but it was impossible with only one hand and a raging temper. So she'd shag him into oblivion, and then when her old boyfriend turned up she'd run off to see him. Okay, so he'd be the first familiar face she'd seen since she got her memory back, but still...
But still, he didn't want her running off to see anyone. She was his now. Didn't she know that?
He'd just given up on trying to fasten his boots and was throwing them across the room when Buffy came back in. She looked slightly startled, especially when she saw his mardy expression.
"Well?" Spike asked moodily. "Peaches down there?"
"No," she said. "I talked to the boy - he said - well, he didn't say anything, but when I asked if anyone followed him he shook his head. Not that you'd know with Angel, but I checked around. No one's seen him."
Slightly mollified, Spike stood up to collect his boots. "Will you give me a hand, love?"
"Why, where are you going?"
Away from Angel.
"I figure it's only a matter of time before the witch-burners come after us," he said, and watched the fear come over her face. "We should move on."
"But you're not-"
"I'll be fine," Spike said, and he was almost sure it was the truth.
Well, that's the first update for the New Year… (have a great 2004, dear readers, both of you). Almost finished with this one now! Well, actually, I am finished, but you… you'll have to wait. (Picture me cackling evilly)