Someone--or something--is getting the living hell beat out of it as she descends to her basement.
And sure enough, as she suspected, Spike stands in readiness as he halts the momentum of the body bag
She almost feels sorry for him. Almost.
"So where's tall, dark, and forehead?" he asks. His English brogue pulls at her consciousness as she remembers the first time she heard it. Outside the Bronze. He called her love.
Should have killed him then. Knowing what she knows now, be better off for everyone. For her and Angel, especially.
But she'll put up with him a while longer. He still has uses.
"Let me guess. You can smell him?"
Spike nods. Buffy can't help but marvel at his calmness throughout this. Fuck him. Fuck him and that soul. He has no idea how hard it is for Angel. No concept of what a privilege a soul is. Instead, he's making jokes. Shrugging it off. Life's just one big joke, isn't it?
I want you in pain, dammit!
"Yeah, that and I used my vampire eyeballs to watch you kissing him."
Get off on it?
"It was a hello," she reassures him, satisfied that he'll just scurry up to her side like before. Dog that he is.
"Most people don't use their tongues when they say hello," he counters sarcastically. It surprises Buffy for just a minute. The soul has given him a backbone, she thinks in disbelief.
Who the fuck does he think---!
"There were no tongues," she tells him. Wasn't enough time. "Besides," she continues. "He's gone."
"Oh, just stopped by for a quicky then?" Spike has held up surprisingly well. Better than Angel, in fact.
And Buffy hates him all the more for it.
"Good!" she says exasperated. "I haven't had enough vampire crap for one night!"
"He wears lifts, you know."
Like that makes any difference, you arrogant piece of--
"You know, one of these days, I'm gonna put you two into a room and let you rassle it out," she sighs. Buffy thinks back to her roundabout attempts to get Angel to do exactly that, excepting the harmlessness of wrestling. Buffy wanted to make love with Angel on top of Spike's ashes. Instead….I'm no better, she thought ruefully. Treating all of this like a joke. Angel's no joke. And I'm treating him like one.
"There could be oil involved," she added for good measure. Keeping it light for what she hoped would be easy persuasion.
"Where's the trinket?" Spike asked. Buffy had to admit she was thrown by this. She didn't expect it so soon.
But she would make him work for it.
"The who-ket?"
"The necklace your sweetie-bear gave you," Spike emphasized.
Buffy's hand balled into a fist.
I'm going to make sure you wear it for that. Trivializing our love. I'm gonna sear that thing right onto your fucking---
"The one with all the power. I believe it's mine now," Buffy heard pass from Spike's lips.
"How do you figure?"
"Someone with a soul, but more than human? Angel meant to wear it, that means I'm the qualified party." Spike held out his hand fully expecting to get it. Buffy wanted to conk him in the head with it repeatedly. Finish what she started in that alley. She regretted stopping it so soon.
But she played him this far.
"It's volatile. We don't know--"
"You'll need someone strong to bear it then," he insisted..
Okay, time for my last card., Buffy thought. The one that'll make him bite.
"Angel said the amulet was meant to be worn by a Champion," Buffy said softly, adding just a touch of solemnity to make the whole thing noble. No way would Spike resist this.
Spike only looked down in acceptance. Keeping her impatient anger under wraps, Buffy handed Spike the amulet.
The look in his eyes as he gazed at it almost melted her. Almost.
"Been called a lot of things in my time," he whispered to himself.
No. I will not let it go like this. He's just playing me, like always. He tried to rape me!
"Faith still has my room," she said. She meant it to sound harsher and more like an order, but she was still affected by the look of naked wonder on his face.
Has he really been denied so much?
"Well, you're not staying here," he said loudly, somewhat insulted.
Buffy's heart immediately froze again at his impertinence. Bastard thinks he's worth something. I should have brought you along with me. So Angel would have fought and killed you on the spot. Why am I so weak when it comes to you?
"You can't just buy me off with shiny trinkets and sweet talk," Spike declared. "You have Angel breath."
Buffy bristled at that but kept herself in check. Needed to play it out to the end. No matter what.
"Won't let you whack me back and forth like a rubber ball. I got my pride, you know?"
The nerve of him to say that. He disgusts me.
But she knows what makes him tick. What'll keep him docile at her side.
"I understand," she says. And starts a slow deliberate walk to the stairs. Right on cue, Spike stops her.
"Clearly you don't since that whole pride thing was a smokescreen."
My own clockwork vamp, Buffy mused triumphantly. I'm the substitute for that chip of his now. He doesn't act unless I say so. Fight unless I give the word. Comfort me until I allow him to comfort. It's like a drug.
"Thank God." She pasted on a smile of relief.
Spike, ever loyal Spike, gazed adoringly at her. She tried to stifle a laugh. "I don't know what I would have done, you'd gone up those stairs."
Without thinking, she caressed his cheek unwillingly touched by his bared emotion. It was almost too much.
It was a good thing she had Slayer healing, she was reminded of afterwards. Because when she relived the moments in her mind, she would meticulously cut her arms with Mr. Pointy in a daze. Dragging the point across her skin to let the cleansing blood seep out.