Title: SAMARITAN
Author: Ivytree
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, UPN, Mutant Enemy, etc. Except Wally and Mrs. C. And maybe...
Feedback: Please!
Summary: Sequel to Grandpa; A soul makes everyday demands, and others a little more esoteric... and tougher still.
Setting: The near future; say, September
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
SAMARITAN Pt. 12 My Heart Where It Glows
"I'm okay." Buffy could hardly hear her own voice; there was a sound in her ears like buffeting wind. "I'm okay."
"Are you sure? You suddenly went white, like - " Angel stopped himself before finishing that sentence. "Was it something I said?"
"Spike - " Her own voice sounded thin and distant.
It was impossible; she couldn't have heard him right.
"Did you say - Spike has a soul?"
"Oh, jeez," Angel said, looking sheepish. Dark and broody, but sheepish. "I thought he told you. And he did ask me not to say anything - I'm sorry, Buffy, I thought you knew."
Spike had a soul. Spike had a soul. Spike had a soul.
How? When? Where? Why?
She gripped the edge of the table. "What did he do, antagonize some Gypsies, or something?"
"That's what I said," Angel said with a faint, reluctant grin. "No, he - apparently he sought it and achieved it, somehow. I'm not clear on the details."
"He sought it?" She stared at him. "Can you even DO that?"
"I wouldn't have thought so; the price must be - well, unimaginable. But you know Spike. He never quits when he's after something."
Right, I know Spike, and I never even noticed, she thought. Just how self-absorbed am I? Oh, God, don't let him come in right now. How can I look him in the eye? I never even NOTICED.
"Sorry if I gave you a shock." Angel looked at her, his brow creased in concern. "You okay now?"
"It's just that - well, the only OTHER vampire with a soul is you, right?" Her voice quavered a bit. "Isn't it?"
"I sure never heard of anyone doing anything like this before. But - you know, it's Spike," he said, as if that explained everything. Which of course it did.
Buffy thought if she could just sit here very, very quietly for a couple of hours, without anyone saying anything to her, maybe her brain would get over its total lockdown and actually start to work again. And Angel should stay here, too, because if he went away she might begin to think she really had gone completely insane. Very, very quietly. Just for a couple of hours.
But instead the bell rang, and there he was.
* * * *
Spike paused on the top step, wearing an expression of mild inquiry. This time she looked at him, really looked at him. As always - even now - he was all in black, boots, jeans, shirt, and a rather handsome suede jacket. She noticed for the first time that his hair was a bit longer, a bit darker around the roots, and a bit wavier than she remembered, and excoriated herself again for weeks of willful blindness. His eyes were just as blue, but was there a new light behind them? She couldn't tell. Perhaps there had always been light when he looked at her, at least in the days when he loved her.
He came towards them with a touch of swagger in the swing of his shoulders, despite what he must have been through. No moping in a corner for Spike! Where could he have gone, what on earth could he have done, to win a soul? What strength he had! Oh, God, now she could see her own bosom heaving as if she were the heroine of romance novel. Calm, rational Buffy, that's what she needed to be. Professional Buffy. Don't let him see anything was different -
Of course, he didn't even look at her.
"'Lo, Peaches," he said, smirking at Angel's irritation; some things never changed. Someday she'd have to ask one of them about that nickname. "What kept you?"
"I had some things to take care of. Gunn and Fred get here?"
"I took 'em over to the Gigantic Cub Scout's hideout - and I do mean hideout, in this town."
"Not so much of a cub scout as we thought, it turns out."
"Well, color me surprised. Or not," Spike said sardonically. "I never liked that prat."
"Me either," Angel said. They shared a look that said pretty clearly, women, what can you do, but Buffy was still too dazed to resent it.
"I've got to fill the Slayer in on the Doctor," Spike said. "Maps and everything. You want to go over there and put the arm on the git?"
"I don't mind if I do," Angel replied. "What's the address? I'll find it; I used to live here, you know."
* * * *
Buffy managed to pull herself together enough to see Angel off at the door.
"Don't tell him you told me, okay?" she said.
"Well, I wasn't supposed to say anything, anyway," he said, opening the door of his Plymouth.
"A convertible? You drove from LA to Sunnydale in a convertible?" She folded her arms. "You know, I think you've got a lot more in common with Spike than I realized."
Angel just smiled crookedly and got in. "See you later," he said.
* * * *
After a moment's thought she turned and reentered the shop. Spike stood by the table leafing through a reference book; he paused, but didn't look up as she approached.
"Hi," she said. "So you wanna show me the map?"
"Slayer." He spoke slowly, as if he couldn't find the right words. "I - I'm sorry about Soldier Boy. I mean, I didn't want you to find out that way." Then he finally did meet her eyes, briefly. "Not like before."
"I never thought you did," she said. "I know you wouldn't do that."
"And I meant to tell you Angel was coming - I know it upset you," he went on doggedly. "I'm sorry."
"That's okay." So that's what he thought she was upset about?
She moved closer, placing her hand on his arm, and saw a quiver run through him. He lightly caressed the back of her hand with cool fingers but heat seemed to wash over her skin where he touched her. If she'd ever wondered if his touch would still thrill her after all this time, she knew the answer now. Of course, she never had wondered.
"Spike," she said softly, "Why - "
They were startled by shrill screams from the shop's basement. It was Dawn's voice.
"Buffy, Buffy, Buffy!"
"Bloody hell!" Spike said.
* * * *
They clattered down the stairs, all other considerations forgotten.
"Dawn!" Spike called.
"Over here!" They heard Anya's voice from the farthest corner. Dodging across the room between storage units, they found her kneeling beside Dawn, who sprawled on the floor.
"Dawnie, are you okay?" Buffy cried.
"What happened, Niblet? Are you hurt?" Spike knelt down and took her hand.
"Don't everybody fuss!" Dawn said irritably, struggling to sit up. "I just tripped chasing that demon."
Buffy and Spike shared a glance.
"Maybe she's got a concussion," Buffy suggested.
"No, no!" Dawn insisted. "There was a demon! It was prowling around down here and we surprised it."
"Then where is it now, Little Bit?" Spike said.
"Look over here." Anya pushed a shelving unit well away from the corner, and they saw that a new passageway had been cut through the wall, obviously leading to the Sunnydale underground.
"Bugger!" Spike said.
* * * *
Anya and Dawn flatly refused to be left behind, so all four followed the "minion-y looking" demon, as Anya described it, together. The girls carried flashlights, provided by the ever-practical Anya. Every now and then the faint echo of what could have been a footfall was heard, and everyone stopped short to listen, but they never saw the creature they pursued. Their lights flashed off rough-hewn walls apparently dug out of the bedrock of Sunnydale; then those passages connected with others, and they moved on through stretches of what seemed to be unremarkable service tunnels, now unused. Eventually they came to an opening into another basement area half blocked by debris, possibly from the last earthquake.
"Where the heck are we?" Buffy said, shining hers around the room. "I got all turned around."
"Must be several streets away by now." Spike examined a pile of rubble. "Not quite sure what we're under, though."
"Look - through that hole in the wall there's another tunnel," Dawn said. "Is that a light?"
"Where?"
"Down there, see? Around the corner."
Spike gave Buffy a significant look.
"Trap," she said.
"Only one thing to do with a trap - " Spike's tone was insinuating.
"Head right into it," she agreed. "It's in the superhero handbook."
"Page 12," he added. They grinned happily at each other. After the emotional turmoil of the last few days, a nice, lively bout of violence sounded all too tempting. However -
"You two stay here," Buffy said firmly to Anya and Dawn. "We're just going to look around a little - nothing exciting's gonna happen."
"And if you happen to hear anything exciting happening, you scurry on back to the Magic Box and lock the cellar door, and call the Poof at Xander's right away, understood?"
"I don't see what we need him for." Dawn hunched a shoulder, and, for good measure, gave him the patented Summers pouty lip.
"I mean it, Niblet!"
"Don't worry, we won't take chances that put the enterprise at risk," Anya said, putting her arm around Dawn. "We know better than that."
* * * *
They picked their way along the corridor toward a very faint yellowish light at least a hundred yards away, stepping stealthily over fallen plasterboard and broken chunks of cement. They had passed into what was clearly part of a building. Even in the darkness, something nagged at the edge of Buffy's consciousness, but she couldn't quite pin it down. Something about the way the floor felt underfoot.
"You know, this is sort of familiar to me," she murmured very quietly, knowing Spike's ears would pick up the slightest sound.
"Well, you've been romping around down here for years now, haven't you, love?" he whispered back. "Probably been past this spot a dozen times before."
"I don't think that's it," she said. "Is that tile on the wall over there?"
Impulsively, she sped across to an unbroken patch of wall about ten feet away.
"Look at this pillar!" she said excitedly. "Isn't this - "
Suddenly there was a clamorous wrenching noise; the pillar began to crack, and hand-size chunks of plaster rained down.
"Buffy, look out!" But he was too late.
* * * *
Anya and Dawn heard the crash, and saw billows of plaster dust puff down the corridor from the direction Buffy and Spike had taken. More frightening still, they suddenly heard a full-throated demonic roar echoing down the passageway. They looked at each other for a moment, and without a word turned and ran toward the sound.
They slowed on reaching a mound of rubble nearly ceiling high blocking the way. Clambering up, Anya balanced herself at the top and aimed her flashlight down to where the corridor opened into a room, the beam glinting of half-tiled walls.
Dawn scrambled up beside her, and saw Spike, fully vamped out and howling, frantically heaving great blocks of masonry, wood and plaster aside. At first she couldn't figure out what he was doing, or where her sister had gotten to - but then she saw one of Buffy's boots protruding from beneath the debris. And it wasn't moving.
* * * *
Buffy, Buffy, Buffy, was all that ran through Spike's mind. Her heartbeat was rapid but still strong. He knew she was alive, but for how much longer? Could she breathe under there? He heard a distant roaring as his taloned hands scrabbled through the heap of shattered building materials with preternatural strength and speed, snatching fragments of ceiling and pillar up and tossing them forcefully aside.
At last he could see her; she lay face down, covered with dust and bits of wreckage. With a mighty thrust he cleared enough space so he could kneel beside her, and extended a hand to feel for broken bones - and saw the claws of a demon. Impatiently, he shook himself back to human form. Then, taking a deep breath, he felt with gentle fingers along her spine and neck; everything seemed normal. She was breathing, and her heart was strong, though there was blood on her hair.
He sat back on his heels for a moment, trembling and willing himself to be calm. As he regained control, he heard Dawn sobbing in fear.
"She's all right, Niblet," he called. "Just knocked out, is all."
"Can we help?" That was Anya's voice. Practical girl.
"Keep watch while I dig her out, and let me know if you hear anything," he replied. "Then we'll get the bloody hell out of here."
Buffy began to stir as he brushed the last of the plaster scraps away. With care, he slipped one arm around her and turned her over on her back. A trickle of blood ran down from a bad bump on her forehead and her hands and arms were bruised and scratched. She moaned a little.
"Shh, love," he said, pushing her dusty, tangled hair off her face. "Wake up, Buffy. Wake up now, love."
A hush seemed to fall over the chamber. Holding her slight body against him, watching for signs of awareness, he felt a low, rhythmic thrumming, quick and powerful, which seemed to emanate from everywhere at once, from the floor beneath them, from the air, from his own flesh. The urgent pulse called to his blood, rousing and strengthening him. After a few moments he realized what it was - Buffy's heart. He heard its beat everywhere.
She murmured something, and frowned. Her hand crept up his arm, sliding from forearm to shoulder, where her strong fingers gripped him, and she opened her eyes.
"Spike," she whispered.
His whole body shook with the pounding of her heart. Her eyes were deep and luminous, the brown-gold color of pebbles at the bottom of a sunlit stream. He couldn't look away, but he could hardly bear to believe what he saw there. Warmth. Forgiveness. Love.
He saw love.
Buffy's hand moved upward, deliberately caressing his cheek; with a gasp, he turned his face to her palm. Then he felt an insistent little tug, and she drew his head down for a kiss.
TBC
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"A diamond is burning
In depths of the lone,
Thy spirit returning
May claim for its throne.
In flame-fringed islands
Its sorrow shall cease,
Absorbed in the silence
And quenched in the peace.
Come lay thy poor head on
My heart where it glows
With love ruby-red on
Thy heart for its woes.
My power I surrender;
To thee it is due.
Come forth! for the splendour
Is waiting for you."
George Russell ("A. E.")
Author: Ivytree
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, UPN, Mutant Enemy, etc. Except Wally and Mrs. C. And maybe...
Feedback: Please!
Summary: Sequel to Grandpa; A soul makes everyday demands, and others a little more esoteric... and tougher still.
Setting: The near future; say, September
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
SAMARITAN Pt. 12 My Heart Where It Glows
"I'm okay." Buffy could hardly hear her own voice; there was a sound in her ears like buffeting wind. "I'm okay."
"Are you sure? You suddenly went white, like - " Angel stopped himself before finishing that sentence. "Was it something I said?"
"Spike - " Her own voice sounded thin and distant.
It was impossible; she couldn't have heard him right.
"Did you say - Spike has a soul?"
"Oh, jeez," Angel said, looking sheepish. Dark and broody, but sheepish. "I thought he told you. And he did ask me not to say anything - I'm sorry, Buffy, I thought you knew."
Spike had a soul. Spike had a soul. Spike had a soul.
How? When? Where? Why?
She gripped the edge of the table. "What did he do, antagonize some Gypsies, or something?"
"That's what I said," Angel said with a faint, reluctant grin. "No, he - apparently he sought it and achieved it, somehow. I'm not clear on the details."
"He sought it?" She stared at him. "Can you even DO that?"
"I wouldn't have thought so; the price must be - well, unimaginable. But you know Spike. He never quits when he's after something."
Right, I know Spike, and I never even noticed, she thought. Just how self-absorbed am I? Oh, God, don't let him come in right now. How can I look him in the eye? I never even NOTICED.
"Sorry if I gave you a shock." Angel looked at her, his brow creased in concern. "You okay now?"
"It's just that - well, the only OTHER vampire with a soul is you, right?" Her voice quavered a bit. "Isn't it?"
"I sure never heard of anyone doing anything like this before. But - you know, it's Spike," he said, as if that explained everything. Which of course it did.
Buffy thought if she could just sit here very, very quietly for a couple of hours, without anyone saying anything to her, maybe her brain would get over its total lockdown and actually start to work again. And Angel should stay here, too, because if he went away she might begin to think she really had gone completely insane. Very, very quietly. Just for a couple of hours.
But instead the bell rang, and there he was.
* * * *
Spike paused on the top step, wearing an expression of mild inquiry. This time she looked at him, really looked at him. As always - even now - he was all in black, boots, jeans, shirt, and a rather handsome suede jacket. She noticed for the first time that his hair was a bit longer, a bit darker around the roots, and a bit wavier than she remembered, and excoriated herself again for weeks of willful blindness. His eyes were just as blue, but was there a new light behind them? She couldn't tell. Perhaps there had always been light when he looked at her, at least in the days when he loved her.
He came towards them with a touch of swagger in the swing of his shoulders, despite what he must have been through. No moping in a corner for Spike! Where could he have gone, what on earth could he have done, to win a soul? What strength he had! Oh, God, now she could see her own bosom heaving as if she were the heroine of romance novel. Calm, rational Buffy, that's what she needed to be. Professional Buffy. Don't let him see anything was different -
Of course, he didn't even look at her.
"'Lo, Peaches," he said, smirking at Angel's irritation; some things never changed. Someday she'd have to ask one of them about that nickname. "What kept you?"
"I had some things to take care of. Gunn and Fred get here?"
"I took 'em over to the Gigantic Cub Scout's hideout - and I do mean hideout, in this town."
"Not so much of a cub scout as we thought, it turns out."
"Well, color me surprised. Or not," Spike said sardonically. "I never liked that prat."
"Me either," Angel said. They shared a look that said pretty clearly, women, what can you do, but Buffy was still too dazed to resent it.
"I've got to fill the Slayer in on the Doctor," Spike said. "Maps and everything. You want to go over there and put the arm on the git?"
"I don't mind if I do," Angel replied. "What's the address? I'll find it; I used to live here, you know."
* * * *
Buffy managed to pull herself together enough to see Angel off at the door.
"Don't tell him you told me, okay?" she said.
"Well, I wasn't supposed to say anything, anyway," he said, opening the door of his Plymouth.
"A convertible? You drove from LA to Sunnydale in a convertible?" She folded her arms. "You know, I think you've got a lot more in common with Spike than I realized."
Angel just smiled crookedly and got in. "See you later," he said.
* * * *
After a moment's thought she turned and reentered the shop. Spike stood by the table leafing through a reference book; he paused, but didn't look up as she approached.
"Hi," she said. "So you wanna show me the map?"
"Slayer." He spoke slowly, as if he couldn't find the right words. "I - I'm sorry about Soldier Boy. I mean, I didn't want you to find out that way." Then he finally did meet her eyes, briefly. "Not like before."
"I never thought you did," she said. "I know you wouldn't do that."
"And I meant to tell you Angel was coming - I know it upset you," he went on doggedly. "I'm sorry."
"That's okay." So that's what he thought she was upset about?
She moved closer, placing her hand on his arm, and saw a quiver run through him. He lightly caressed the back of her hand with cool fingers but heat seemed to wash over her skin where he touched her. If she'd ever wondered if his touch would still thrill her after all this time, she knew the answer now. Of course, she never had wondered.
"Spike," she said softly, "Why - "
They were startled by shrill screams from the shop's basement. It was Dawn's voice.
"Buffy, Buffy, Buffy!"
"Bloody hell!" Spike said.
* * * *
They clattered down the stairs, all other considerations forgotten.
"Dawn!" Spike called.
"Over here!" They heard Anya's voice from the farthest corner. Dodging across the room between storage units, they found her kneeling beside Dawn, who sprawled on the floor.
"Dawnie, are you okay?" Buffy cried.
"What happened, Niblet? Are you hurt?" Spike knelt down and took her hand.
"Don't everybody fuss!" Dawn said irritably, struggling to sit up. "I just tripped chasing that demon."
Buffy and Spike shared a glance.
"Maybe she's got a concussion," Buffy suggested.
"No, no!" Dawn insisted. "There was a demon! It was prowling around down here and we surprised it."
"Then where is it now, Little Bit?" Spike said.
"Look over here." Anya pushed a shelving unit well away from the corner, and they saw that a new passageway had been cut through the wall, obviously leading to the Sunnydale underground.
"Bugger!" Spike said.
* * * *
Anya and Dawn flatly refused to be left behind, so all four followed the "minion-y looking" demon, as Anya described it, together. The girls carried flashlights, provided by the ever-practical Anya. Every now and then the faint echo of what could have been a footfall was heard, and everyone stopped short to listen, but they never saw the creature they pursued. Their lights flashed off rough-hewn walls apparently dug out of the bedrock of Sunnydale; then those passages connected with others, and they moved on through stretches of what seemed to be unremarkable service tunnels, now unused. Eventually they came to an opening into another basement area half blocked by debris, possibly from the last earthquake.
"Where the heck are we?" Buffy said, shining hers around the room. "I got all turned around."
"Must be several streets away by now." Spike examined a pile of rubble. "Not quite sure what we're under, though."
"Look - through that hole in the wall there's another tunnel," Dawn said. "Is that a light?"
"Where?"
"Down there, see? Around the corner."
Spike gave Buffy a significant look.
"Trap," she said.
"Only one thing to do with a trap - " Spike's tone was insinuating.
"Head right into it," she agreed. "It's in the superhero handbook."
"Page 12," he added. They grinned happily at each other. After the emotional turmoil of the last few days, a nice, lively bout of violence sounded all too tempting. However -
"You two stay here," Buffy said firmly to Anya and Dawn. "We're just going to look around a little - nothing exciting's gonna happen."
"And if you happen to hear anything exciting happening, you scurry on back to the Magic Box and lock the cellar door, and call the Poof at Xander's right away, understood?"
"I don't see what we need him for." Dawn hunched a shoulder, and, for good measure, gave him the patented Summers pouty lip.
"I mean it, Niblet!"
"Don't worry, we won't take chances that put the enterprise at risk," Anya said, putting her arm around Dawn. "We know better than that."
* * * *
They picked their way along the corridor toward a very faint yellowish light at least a hundred yards away, stepping stealthily over fallen plasterboard and broken chunks of cement. They had passed into what was clearly part of a building. Even in the darkness, something nagged at the edge of Buffy's consciousness, but she couldn't quite pin it down. Something about the way the floor felt underfoot.
"You know, this is sort of familiar to me," she murmured very quietly, knowing Spike's ears would pick up the slightest sound.
"Well, you've been romping around down here for years now, haven't you, love?" he whispered back. "Probably been past this spot a dozen times before."
"I don't think that's it," she said. "Is that tile on the wall over there?"
Impulsively, she sped across to an unbroken patch of wall about ten feet away.
"Look at this pillar!" she said excitedly. "Isn't this - "
Suddenly there was a clamorous wrenching noise; the pillar began to crack, and hand-size chunks of plaster rained down.
"Buffy, look out!" But he was too late.
* * * *
Anya and Dawn heard the crash, and saw billows of plaster dust puff down the corridor from the direction Buffy and Spike had taken. More frightening still, they suddenly heard a full-throated demonic roar echoing down the passageway. They looked at each other for a moment, and without a word turned and ran toward the sound.
They slowed on reaching a mound of rubble nearly ceiling high blocking the way. Clambering up, Anya balanced herself at the top and aimed her flashlight down to where the corridor opened into a room, the beam glinting of half-tiled walls.
Dawn scrambled up beside her, and saw Spike, fully vamped out and howling, frantically heaving great blocks of masonry, wood and plaster aside. At first she couldn't figure out what he was doing, or where her sister had gotten to - but then she saw one of Buffy's boots protruding from beneath the debris. And it wasn't moving.
* * * *
Buffy, Buffy, Buffy, was all that ran through Spike's mind. Her heartbeat was rapid but still strong. He knew she was alive, but for how much longer? Could she breathe under there? He heard a distant roaring as his taloned hands scrabbled through the heap of shattered building materials with preternatural strength and speed, snatching fragments of ceiling and pillar up and tossing them forcefully aside.
At last he could see her; she lay face down, covered with dust and bits of wreckage. With a mighty thrust he cleared enough space so he could kneel beside her, and extended a hand to feel for broken bones - and saw the claws of a demon. Impatiently, he shook himself back to human form. Then, taking a deep breath, he felt with gentle fingers along her spine and neck; everything seemed normal. She was breathing, and her heart was strong, though there was blood on her hair.
He sat back on his heels for a moment, trembling and willing himself to be calm. As he regained control, he heard Dawn sobbing in fear.
"She's all right, Niblet," he called. "Just knocked out, is all."
"Can we help?" That was Anya's voice. Practical girl.
"Keep watch while I dig her out, and let me know if you hear anything," he replied. "Then we'll get the bloody hell out of here."
Buffy began to stir as he brushed the last of the plaster scraps away. With care, he slipped one arm around her and turned her over on her back. A trickle of blood ran down from a bad bump on her forehead and her hands and arms were bruised and scratched. She moaned a little.
"Shh, love," he said, pushing her dusty, tangled hair off her face. "Wake up, Buffy. Wake up now, love."
A hush seemed to fall over the chamber. Holding her slight body against him, watching for signs of awareness, he felt a low, rhythmic thrumming, quick and powerful, which seemed to emanate from everywhere at once, from the floor beneath them, from the air, from his own flesh. The urgent pulse called to his blood, rousing and strengthening him. After a few moments he realized what it was - Buffy's heart. He heard its beat everywhere.
She murmured something, and frowned. Her hand crept up his arm, sliding from forearm to shoulder, where her strong fingers gripped him, and she opened her eyes.
"Spike," she whispered.
His whole body shook with the pounding of her heart. Her eyes were deep and luminous, the brown-gold color of pebbles at the bottom of a sunlit stream. He couldn't look away, but he could hardly bear to believe what he saw there. Warmth. Forgiveness. Love.
He saw love.
Buffy's hand moved upward, deliberately caressing his cheek; with a gasp, he turned his face to her palm. Then he felt an insistent little tug, and she drew his head down for a kiss.
TBC
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"A diamond is burning
In depths of the lone,
Thy spirit returning
May claim for its throne.
In flame-fringed islands
Its sorrow shall cease,
Absorbed in the silence
And quenched in the peace.
Come lay thy poor head on
My heart where it glows
With love ruby-red on
Thy heart for its woes.
My power I surrender;
To thee it is due.
Come forth! for the splendour
Is waiting for you."
George Russell ("A. E.")