Of Hellgods and Homicide
>
The next day, Buffy called Ben for a coffee date. It was easy. Too easy, so easy it scared her. A mocha, a shortcut through the cemetery, a neck snapping in her hands. Anti-climactic, really. She more expected some mystical explosion, at the very least, or to be transported back to where she'd come from. But it was just a death, and she stood there holding the body. Not like he wouldn't have met it sooner or later. Giles had never really told her, never really told anyone, but they'd all known. Or she had, anyway. Sometimes she wondered how he'd done it, if it had been so easy for him, if he'd been sorry or just stored it away with the Ripper part of him. But there was reality in front of her now. Logistics. She hated how death came with logistics. The problem of being the last to see him alive, and an alibi. She kicked through the door of Spike's crypt without a second thought. She really, really hoped she wouldn't have to witness the bot.
Spike was alone, but he did look a bit rumpled. Buffy suppressed a shudder at the implications. Sleeping. He was sleeping. Or... doing naked push-ups. Or. Oh, shut up, brain.
"Slayer! To what do I owe the breaking and entering?" It was all she could do to keep from melting into a sobbing mass and throwing herself into his arms. I hate him right now, she reminded herself.
Buffy sighed. "I need your help."
"Didn't know you were accessorising with dead bodies these days."
"Spike, listen to me. This guy is Glory. Was. Was Glory. Sharing a body, wacky mystical split personalities. And before you attack my moral compass, I had no choice and you know it."
"Preachin' to the choir, luv."
No, no, don't get moony-eyed at terms of endearment. "I'm not your love."
"Right. So. You need my help, do you? What's it worth to you?"
"What do you want?" Can of worms.
"Hm. That you might actually agree to?" He sniffed at the body. "Only dead a few minutes. Lemme drain 'im."
"Suit yourself. The deader the better, in my opinion." She tossed him the body, not flinching or looking away as he drank.
"So. What do you need, Slayer?"
"For you to hide the body for a while, get rid of it somewhere later. And... and I need you to be seen with me. Be my alibi."
A predatory grin. "All roses for me. Looks like you're doing me the favour. Though I have to ask, why me? Why not your beloved Scoobies?"
"Because. Hellgod or not, Ben is...was human. I'm not sure they'd understand."
"Too bloody right they wouldn't. How you gonna tell them?"
"With any luck, I won't have to. Tomorrow I'm getting us all out of town till the time has passed for the portal to be opened."
"Portal?"
"I'll explain later," she fumbled, realising that she wasn't supposed to know this yet. "Let's go."
"Right. Where to?"
"Bronze first. Make like we're looking for him. Then back to the Espresso Pump, like maybe I was confused where I was supposed to meet up with him again. Then back to the Bronze."
"Hell of a lot of trouble."
"I've got to have an airtight story, in case when he's found somebody decides to look at his phone records."
"Right, then. Off we go. You wouldn't make a bad criminal mastermind, pet," he said, grinning.
"I'm not your pet!" Oh, I so am.
A smirk. "I'm upping the ante. Tonight, you are."
"Spike, if you think for a second--"
"Not like that, miss mind-in-the-gutter. I mean just...make like you don't hate me for a few hours."
"I don't hate you." Barely above a whisper.
Something crossed Spike's face that would've been indiscernible to her, in this time, but she now knew as hope. Then it was quickly replaced with the customary bad-ass mask. "Convincing. Let's be off, then."
It sort of scared Buffy how well she'd learnt to lie. Displaying concern, confusion, questioning every employee at the Bronze, and then at the Espresso Pump, even making the cashier ask the waitstaff if Ben had been back, asking them in an urgent tone to tell him Buffy was looking for him if he turned up. She was terribly grateful that Spike didn't comment once they were alone again, on their way back to the Bronze to be seen not-murdering.
"Don't s'pose we really need to go back there," he said quietly."
"No, we should."
"I don't want a pity date."
"It's not pity and it's not a date. Maybe I've watched too many cop shows, but they'll only be able to place the time of death within a few hours. I need the whole night covered."
"Got more sense than I thought... That came out wrong."
"No, I know what you meant."
"Back to the Bronze, then." He paused for a moment. "If your mates turn up, you can punch me or something. For show."
That was sweet, in a twisted way. "They won't. They're all at Xander's, watching Dawn. I gave them a story. They think I'm out to capture and interrogate one of Glory's minions."
"You gonna tell 'em the truth?"
"If I have to. But like I said, out of town, portal time passes, we're home free. Long as the Knights Who Say Ni don't get us."
Spike chuckled. "Never pegged you for a Monty Python fan, Slayer."
Oh, right. She hadn't been. "I'm full of surprises."
"How's the Bit holding up? What with your mum and all?"
"She's...dealing. I think. It's not easy, for either one of us. I had to talk her out of some half-cocked resurrection spell. I sort of feel like the crisis is a good distraction."
"Makes sense, really. So what about this portal?"
The rest of the walk back to the Bronze was taken up with Buffy's as-vague-as-possible explanation. She finally had to tell him she'd seen it in a Slayer dream, since having read it in a book would be far from believable. But he didn't question, just listened. The situation was becoming more date-like by the minute, right down to him holding the door open for her when they arrived at the Bronze. She wasn't going to let him buy her a drink-- that was going to be the line not crossed, but he gave her a look that told her he considered it part of their bargain. It broke her heart, really, that he didn't think he returned her feelings, that this was as close to a date as he thought he'd ever get. Could she love him without a soul? She knew she loved him as she knew him three years in the future, but could she love him here and now? If he didn't get it this time, could she still be with him? If she even got to stay that long. One apocalypse at a time, she reminded herself.
"Slayer? Still with me?"
She must've been silent too long. "Yeah. Sorry. Just thinking about...everything."
She didn't have to pretend to flinch when he touched her hand, not out of disgust, but because it startled her. "Sorry," he said, pulling back.
"It's okay."
"How are you figuring on getting out of town?"
She shrugged. "I dunno. Steal a motor home?"
Spike grinned. "I could do that."
"Bet you could." She couldn't fight a smile.
"Say the word, Slayer, and I'll get you some wheels."
"I'll let you know."
"This part of the act?"
"Nope. Dead serious here. I could buy one, but that'd mean either cleaning out my savings or a very interesting conversation with Angel." Angel's lame. His hair goes straight up and he's bloody stupid. For all the creep factor, it was so idiotically hilarious. Buffy burst out laughing.
"All right there?" Spike was clearly confused.
"Yeah...just...you ever just think of something hilarious at the stupidest time? Crack up laughing on the bus at last week's joke and everyone looks at you like you're nuts?"
"Yeah. Though mostly people think I'm murderous. What'd you think of?"
"Oh. It's...it's kinda lame if you weren't there. Actually, it's kinda lame even if you were."
"I see. Fancy a dance?"
That came out of nowhere. And as much as she wanted to, she knew that this year's Buffy would say no. "Spike..."
"Can't blame a bloke for asking."
Screw this year's Buffy. Part of what had gone wrong with Spike was that this year's Buffy was a moron. "It's not that. I just don't feel much like dancing."
"We've probably been here long enough."
"It's okay if you want to go."
"I just thought you did."
"Not really. I'm not ready to be explainy-girl yet."
"'Nother drink, then?"
"Also not ready to be drunk girl."
"You've only had the one."
"Believe me. I think Slayer strength and alcohol tolerance are like, inversely proportional." This year's Buffy would so not know those last two words. Oh well.
Spike laughed. "Well, I'm getting one for myself. Anything you want? Wings? Onion?"
"I wouldn't say no to a diet Coke."
"Coming up."
Buffy did have another drink, a diet Coke and a water later, while Spike had so many beers she lost count. Her future alcohol tolerance was a lot better than her now alcohol tolerance, but what with the body thing, she didn't want to tempt fate.
"Gotta say, Slayer," Spike said as closing time rolled around, "I have to wonder just how much of this is you humouring me."
Buffy shrugged. "Less than it started out as."
Spike didn't make an attempt to hide his smile. Maybe he'd shut down the bot out of guilt, if she gave him hope of something real. Could he feel guilt? God, this was hard. All she wanted to do was slam him into a wall and ravage him, but she had to be all aloof-girl. Stupid past.
"I want to leave tomorrow," she said. "Can you handle that?"
"Yeah. I can deal with hellgod boy tonight and have the wheels to you in the morning. I'll take care of the Hellmouth while you're away."
Right. The Hellmouth. Slayage. Sacred duty. Damn. It would make sense. But she needed him with her. She couldn't leave it unguarded, though... Well, she'd figure that out later. "No."
"No?"
"No, as in you're coming with us."
"Why? I'm no use against the Renaissance faire."
"You might be. And you know what Dawn is, which makes it dangerous for you to stay here. Glory has freaky brain-sucking powers. I've seen her do it." Yay, lies! "And besides, as much as I hate to say it, you're better with Dawn than any of us. I think she'd feel better if you were there."
"'f that's what you want."
"It is."
"What about the Hellmouth? It'll be demon bloody anarchy once they figure out the Slayer's scarpered."
Oh, that. Well, her sense of pride was more or less gone when it came to Angel. For all the bullshit he'd put her through the past week... well, the past week before she came to the past... god, why didn't verbs work in her head anymore? "I'll call Angel."
Spike snorted. "He'll love that. Knight in shining armour, whole noble gig of his."
"He'll do it. Or send some of his guys. And if he won't...I honestly really don't give a rat's ass about Sunnydale if it means keeping Dawn safe." They turned the corner that led to Spike's cemetery.
"What're you gonna tell your mates?"
"Like I said, that we tortured one of her minions."
"We?"
"What? They're demons. You're good at torture."
Spike shrugged. "Your plan."
"It'll work. Ooh, but we both look a little too clean. We should make with the roughing-up."
"Much as I'd love to, Slayer, I don't really fancy getting one of those electronic migraines just for the sake of your ruse."
Oh. Right. He couldn't hurt her. "What if you're not trying to hurt me?"
"Dunno."
"Just spar with me, maybe. I bet you can hit me if you don't mean to hurt me."
"Better idea. Two vamps, ten o'clock."
"Sweet." She tossed him a spare stake and they took one each, making sure to let them get a couple of hits in before the staking. "That's better," Buffy chirped, brushing vamp dust from her jeans as she helped Spike up. "C'mon, let's get to Xander's."
"Oi, who said I was comin'? You can deliver your faux recon yourself, specially since Harris'll never invite me in. You want hellgod disposal and wheels, I'd better get on it."
"You're probably right."
"See you in a few hours, then."
"Yeah. And...thanks."
Mmm, Spuffy snark. There's more where that came from. And that reviewing thing? I like it. I really do. Please make me happy.
