Chapter Thirty~Two: Once upon a time, Spike White was an idiot.

Ground, ground, rushing up./Parts go squish and skulls go thump--This is not the time!

Oh.

Shit...

*Thud*

...Black...

**
...The demon roared and flailed its wings in massive arcs, though how much of that was voluntary and how much was death jerkings was unclear.

Actually, a lot of stuff was unclear.

Starting with who she was and where they were.

Buffy sat up slowly. Oh, God. I feel like I jumped off a high dive into an empty pool. She squinted above her, and registered the thrashing colossus.

"That's not a high dive..." No, it's a 'falling-right-towards-me'! Move, idiot, move!! She rolled to her feet as fast as her disorienting nausea allowed. That's when she realized she'd been lying on something other than grass.

"Oh, God, Spike!" she wailed. No no no no no. Why does this always happen??

He was a mess. He'd obviously broken her fall with his own body, and by the looks of it, that hadn't been the best plan ever. Even a cursory glance identified several joints that really shouldn't be there. Her nervous, coasting hands detected countless more suspicious bends and rising bumps.

Oh God. I really did break every bone in his body...

She glanced up. The shadow of the staggering bat was looming ever closer. Any minute that thing was going to topple in a landing of lake making proportions. Buffy grabbed Spike's arm and pulled.

"C'mon, you big asshole! You don't get to just lie there and get squashed!" She tried desperately to ignore the crackling quality of her tugs, with little success. "--Jerk!" Spike's head lolled back.

Another squawk from above, ending in a gurgle. Maybe that stupid thing was finally realizing there was a shin-plate through it's brain. Buffy grabbed the fallen vampire and hauled him up into her own shaky arms with a heart-curdling crunch.

"Idiot--" she puffed, still regaining her breath. "--jerk-off! Dumb-ass vampire martyr..." She hooked his unnaturally bending legs around her neck and redoubled her efforts in getting them the hell out of the landing strip. Matters were not helped by the intense pain that accosted her midsection with each step.

Great. More broken ribs. Just what I--

There was sudden gust of wind that nearly knocked her off her feet, followed by a massive crunching smack and a shaking of the earth.

Buffy whirled around. The face of the demon bat was not five feet from them. She jumped back, almost dropping her load.

" Holy..." Okay. Okay. It's dead. The fact that it's beady little ...metre-wide eyes are open means nothing. One of said eyes had been skewered, and was oozing clear, gummy liquid. She backed away several staggered steps.

"You are sooo ugly."

Turning away from the macabre corpse, Buffy dropped to her knees, and eased her vampire to the ground. "...Spike..." She finally noticed the blood. She looked down at her hands.

Spike...

"Slayer."

She looked up. She sighed. "What the hell do you want?

"Nothing," Vadas replied. He nodded at the giant bat corpse. "Good work. You've conquered your demons. One of them, anyway."

"It wasn't me."

"Ah, right. Your vampire friend."

Buffy could have killed him, if she'd thought for a second that he was real. Instead she spat at him. "In case you hadn't noticed, I've got a fractured dead guy here!"

The Hungarian's gaze landed on the vampire lying in the spreading patch of matted red grass.

"You broke him?"

"No! Yes! ...Kinda!" Buffy bit her lip and placed a hand on Spike's shoulder. "Not intentionally."

"I think he's dead."

"Of course he's dead, shithead! But he's not dust. Maybe, if it doesn't strain you, you could help me set the bones!"

Vadas sighed. "Do you hear nothing?"

I am not in the mood for this. "What are you talking about?"

He spread his arms. "This realm bows to your will!"

She glared up at his face. "You told me I didn't have the control to change anything," she said dangerously. Surely he's real enough to get his ass kicked.

"You have the control. You don't have the focus. Or," he glanced at Spike. "...you didn't."

"Ungh--ASSHOLE!"

"Perhaps." He smiled. "I'l just leave you two to discuss it." He took a step back, and started fading into the scenery.

"No! You bastard, don't--!" She sighed. "--go. Great," she muttered, surveying the empty landscape. "Right when you can actually be of use, you flake out on me."

Buffy surveyed the pastoral view. No threats to be seen. Just her. And Spike. ...and a giant mutant bat, cooling in the sun. No excuse. She braced herself and looked down at her unconcious one true love.

His face was remarkably free of bruising. That's what landing on your back'll do for you. But there was purpling around his temples, and the back of his head was slick with clotting blood when she hooked her palm under his skull and eased him into her lap.

"Shit..." Buffy laughed the desperate laugh of the prematurely mourning. "You look lik e hell! Glory's got nothing on me..."

She smoothed a reddened lock of hair off his forehead. "I need a new nickname. Maybe 'Widowmaker.'" She paused. "Oh, what, you want me to stop bragging and focus? Well, maybe if you'd wake up, I could do something about that."

She --very-- lightly whapped his cheek. "As it is, I don't think I'm really in the mood for yoga-thoughts."

This is... "You know, just once I'd like to not have this happen. It's like every guy that gets near me gets the shit beaten out of him." Oh wait. That's literal.

"Some knight in shining armour you are," she muttered, going on the offensive. "After all, I'm supposed to be the one.." she trailed off. Don't think too loud, Summers. The universe might hear and smack you down.

She stared at Spike's oddly-tense face. "Once upon a time," she whispered, stroking his brow, "there was a brave and handsome prince..." she snorted and wiped an eye, "...and you kicked his ass and called him a poufter. Whatever that means."

Let's try that again.
"Once upon a time, there was a ...beautiful princess..." She focused on Spike's face, and found herself unable to hold the mood. Her head fell. "...and she kicked your ass. Sorry, sorry. Okay." She forced her eyes shut.

"Once upon a time," she said slowly, "there was a dashing antihero archetype blonde that got his ass kicked by the world and the women he loved." That's one for the Brothers Grimm.

"And then he got over it," she risked a gentle hand on his cheekbone, but kept her eyes closed, "and started fighting back. And the cruel, evil, mean-spirited, hateful," but I digress, "...slow-on-the-uptake princess finally heard you."

She swallowed. "But it was too late." Because even if you're really slow on the uptake, too, even you have your limits.

"But for some reason, you, he, still fought with the princes--(you know what? Let's just call me the knight, instead.) He still fought beside the knight ...girl, even when he didn't love her. Even when she pissed him off. Even when she," she gulped, "even when she kept throwing herself at you, when you obviously didn't want her. And made your life hell, and..."

She stopped, and risked a peek. Spike was still lying impassively on the ground, unconcious.

Look what I've done to you.

She started again.

"Once upon a time a bad man fell in love with a good girl, who didn't love him back. He fought on her side, at her side, and he went to the ends of the earth to make himself what he thought she wanted him to be. He was a good man. But she didn't love him, and eventually he faced that fact and fell out of love. Only then did the idiot-girl catch on to what she'd been missing, but it was too late. Even then, he continued to fight on her side, but no longer with her."

Now the tricky part.

"And while fighting for her, the good man fell, and would not wake. And the girl, now in love, cried over him. Nothing worked to rouse him, and the girl despaired." Buffy fought to keep down the surge of hope. She bent over Spike's head and whispered the last onto his lips.

"Afraid that she had lost him, the girl gave him a kiss. It was a healing touch, and the good man woke at the meeting of their lips." She pressed her lips together, and swallowed, suddenly nervous. Dive, dive, dive!

She touched her mouth to his.

@@@

Spike woke to the taste of Buffy lips.

Mm. Lips of Buffy...

Because he was mostly unconcious, he could be excused for not pulling away immediately. He could probably even make a case for the way he craned his neck to deepen the kiss, what with being half-asleep and all. Not totally aware of what he was doing, right?

God, I've missed this...

But then Buffy pulled away, and he was forced to open his eyes and acknowledge the reality of the world. She was looking down at him with bright, reddened eyes. Is she crying?

No, she was grinning. "It worked!"

Spike waited for further clarification, but none came. He tried a disarming smile. "Sorry, pet," he murmered. "I must've hit my head or somat. What worked?"

Buffy turned panicked. "Oh, God, your head!" There was suddenly a hand questing through his hair. Her face regained that rare delighted expression. "It's healed!"

"Healed?" Things were getting a little clearer. Why is my head in her lap? And why... I really must have hit my head. He struggled to get into a sitting position. ...And why am I covered in blood? I hope it's not mine. Why is Buffy covered in blood? I hope it's not ...mine.

Buffy, apparently having assured herself that his skull was still in one big piece, pulled back and allowed him to sit up on the ground in front of her.

"The," she nervously tapped her lips, uh, the,"

"Kiss?" he prompted.

Buffy blushed. "You wouldn't wake up."

Spike regarded her with surprise. "And only the kiss of the handsome princess could wake me?"

Buffy looked chastened, but met his incredulous gaze. "Yes? Vadas said it was my mind, I just needed to focus and I can bend it to--"

"Wait a mo. Who said?"

Buffy waved a dismissing hand. "Oh, this asshole that was up in the tower with me. Georgian, or something."

"Dorjan? Dorjan Vadas?"

"Mm-hm," she nodded. "Mostly he just pissed me off. I wonder how we get out of here..."

"Buffy, Dorjan Vadas is the vampire you've teamed up with to take over the world."

"Yeah." She bit her lip. She looked up. "You probably didn't have any real plan when you came in after me, did you?"

"...Not as such."

"So we don't know how to get out?"

"'Ey now! You're little miss spiritual healing. Can't you just," Spike waved his arms vaguely, "zip us out?"

Stupid-- "No, idiot. Haven't you been on enough epic quests already to know it's never that simple?"

"Ooh, epic. Some ego you've got there, Slayer."

Slayer. --What are you, Buffy?--"Bite me, Spike."

"Oh, if only," Spike spat. "If. Only."

Suddenly, Buffy sat back on her heels. "God! This is so prepubescent! I know you don't want to be here. I'm sure I'll be so in debt to Giles after this is over--"

Spike waved her silent. "What'dyou mean, Giles? What's the bar tender got to do with anything?"

Buffy shook her head. "I'm not going to kid myself that you would come in here after me without some serious 'motivation'," she performed air quotes, "from Giles. Don't worry," she added, "I'll say thank you to you, too."

Spike opened his mouth to correct her, but stopped, unable to think of a good excuse for his self-motivation. "Yeah, well..." he muttered, looking down.

But Buffy had moved past the issue, and was now stretching.

Spike squinted up at her into the bright blue sky. "What're you wearing, anyway?"

Buffy stopped her twisting and looked down at her ensomble. Her chest was enclosed in a pink and gold-stitched corset affair, and her incautious hemming had left her with a tutu skirt, now plastered to her bare legs with Spike's blood. "What? Haven't you been to New York lately? The blood-spattered ice dancer look is in." Off Spike's eyebrow, she shrugged. "I don't deal well with big skirts."

"I seem to recall that. One fine Halloween night, a lovely damsel in pink..."

"Bite me, Spike."

"If on--"

"Ack! We're doing it again!" Buffy kicked his foot and walked off. "C'mon. Let's go find the exit."

Spike watched her for a second before jumping up and following on strangely sore legs.

@@@

Chapter title was semi-stolen from the Queen of Parody: Robyn the Snowshoe Hare. No, I didn't ask first, but note the nifty credit I've included.

This one's almost wrapped up, folks. One or two more chapters, and we'll have a nice, neat resolution on our hands.

~Star Mouse