Most Of All

:: CHAPTER SIX ::

"Ah, Clem, I hate being Buffy. Most vamps are afraid of me, the rest try to kill me, old people tut at me if I'm wearing hot clothes, but smile at me if I'm dressed like a curtain. And, worst of all, this army guy tried to chat me up. I mean, please! Like I'd ever go for a guy whose biggest appendage is his gun!" Spike whined, having found the only person in town he remembered who wasn't one of the Scoobies.

Clem nodded, still staring at him, a little nervously.

"I mean, I'm a person too, you know!" Spike continued into his shot glass. "What do they expect me to do?!" He shook his head and blinked with wide, watery puppy-dog eyes.

Clem looked around. The seedy, back-door establishment they were in was designed for daemons and creatures that Buffy usually hunted down, but Spike had managed to find it within a few hours of travelling. Since his entrance he had been watched, and Clem knew it.

"Did I tell you about this guy who kissed me?" Spike asked, looking up, a disgusted and hurt look on his face. "He had really bad teeth, a naff comb-over, and dirty clothing. He was sickening. I nearly threw-up afterwards. Seriously." He reached across and tugged on Clem's arm. "Do you know what I'm saying?"

Clem looked at him sympathetically. "Look…Spike," he said, a little wearily, "I don't think it's safe for you to come in here."

Spike watched him for a moment before realisation struck. "You're embarrassed by me! After everything we've been through, you're embarrassed by me!" His eyes began to well-up.

"No, that's not what I'm saying--"

"Yes, it is! You're embarrassed by me!" He sobbed.

"No, come on. Don't cry." He tried.

"It's not my fault," Spike swallowed hard, "I'm just very emotional right now--"

"I know, I know." Comforted Clem. Spike lent across the table and draped his arms around his friend, sobbing onto his shoulder.

"I don't want to be Buffy anymore! I don't even know where she lives!"

Spike walked. His legs were leading him, but his hands were in his pockets and his head was down. He had so far established that he was in LA, the big Hollywood sign had helped with that, but that didn't help with anything else. Clem had bought him some new clothes; baggy jeans and a baggy t-shirt, which had so far secured him in being ignored by the elderly and shuffled past by most of the rest.

He sighed and took a deep breath, tipping his head up to see where he was. A cemetery. His legs had led him to a cemetery. It was probably for the best. After all, he was supposed to be standing in for the Slayer.

He pulled back an iron gate and stepped inside. It would be so bad, he thought. After a while he'd get used to it. He'd learn how to apply lipstick, and choose clothes, and-–but he didn't want to, damnit! He wanted to go back to how things were. He was an evil killing-machine. Grrrrrr!

"Well, hello there, pretty young thing." A voice from behind him made his skin crawl. He knew that voice. He hated that voice. He wanted to rip the throat out from that voice.

"Xander." He growled, turning.

Xander stood there with Anya, and Willow, and… His stomach turned. Angel was there, smiling at him like they were friends. They all were smiling at him. Big happy friendly smiled.

Spike wanted to throw up again. It was all too sickening.

"Buffy, we were so worried about you. We hadn't seen you for days!" Willow moved forwards and slung herself across Spike, hugging him in a welcome. Automatically, Spike's hands moved to hold her.

"Hey, Red." He never had had anything against Willow. She was alright. It was that other bastard, Xander. And the prick…Angel.

Anya grinned. "I would hug you, but I'm expecting and don't want other people's vibes polluting me. Right Xander?" Xander took a deep breath and looked at his wife.

"Bloody hell! You're not seriously expecting to have the spawn of the elk, are you?" He couldn't stop himself. It was a natural reaction that was surging through his body. He had never before needed a reason to restrain the real him…but, as he looked at the reaction on their faces, he realised he'd have to.

Man, life sucks.

He let out a long forced laugh until the others joined in. His laugh soon turned to a growl as he looked at Angel.

"Well, lets get hunting, eh?" Angel said, grinning a Buffy. The others began to disperse into the trees. "Er, Buffy I was wondering if we could have that little discussion now?" He moved forwards and reached out a hand.

"Fuck off!" Spike spat in disgust. "Like she'd ever—I mean, I'd ever go out with you!"

Angel looked at him strangely. "I meant about the ghost-al plane Willow was sensing. But it's nice to know where you stand." His voice had a bite to it, as he looked straight ahead and began to walk forwards.

Spike followed him. "Look--"

"Look, Buffy," Angel said, turning, "I understand what you're saying, and I won't pester you about it anymore. If the idea disgusts you so much, then just forget it. We can just be friends."

Spike scoffed. "Men never want to be just friends. You people only have on thing on your mind, and it isn't football."

Angel reached out a hand and put it on Spike's shoulder. Spike eyed it suspiciously. "You know I'm leaving for Canada tomorrow night. You've known for weeks. What's brought this on? Can't we just part as friends?"

Spike growled under his breath. His eyes were still fixed on the hand on his shoulder. "Whatever." He continued, angrily. Still glaring at the bare fingers.

"Good." He heard Angel whisper. He turned just as Angel bent and caught his lips in a soft kiss. Spike froze in fear and disgust. "Goodbye, Buffy." Angel turned and left, as Spike remained motionless.

Cracks in the bracken from behind him barely dented his shock as Willow appeared. She was smiling, supportively.

"How did it go?" She asked softly. "What happened?" She put her hand on Spikes shoulder, pulling him back into reality. He turned to her.

His cheeks swelled as he brought a hand to his mouth. "Bloody hell! I think I'm going to be sick!"

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