Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the franchise's characters, places, etc. I am not making a profit from this work other than the joy I take in writing it.
Previously: While humiliating and painful for Spike, Buffy's latest prank was not without some unexpected fallout. Surprised by her daughter's display of excessive aggression Joyce invited Spike to spend the Fourth of July holiday with her family. On top of that, she also tasked her daughter to help Spike with his crypt renovations. What other unexpected fallout might occur as Buffy and Spike keep spending time together?
DEATH'S EMBRACE
Traffic northbound on the 101 finally cleared up once they made it past Thousand Oaks and for Buffy it couldn't have come soon enough. With her tired mother asleep in the back and Spike at the wheel next to her, she was feeling a tiny bit anxious, though not so much because of the person in charge of their car. Contrary to what Buffy might have believed months ago, she was very confident in Spike's ability to drive. She was more uncertain though of the several dozen other drivers on the road. Thankfully, Spike threaded the needle and carefully maneuvered her mother's jeep past more than a few automobiles whose drivers were sloppily having trouble staying in their own lane. A police checkpoint, forty minutes back, had managed to arrest several intoxicated drivers. If only there were a few more checkpoints, there was need for them. It was true that she didn't have the best history when it came to dealing with law enforcement but in a situation such as this she was grateful for any presence they could provide.
Earlier in the day, Buffy had been all for going to the fireworks show without her bleached nemesis. So much so that she had cursed her mother silently for what she considered to be dangerously misguided feelings towards the vampire. However with her mother tired, coupled with her own non-existent driving skills, Buffy was very much relieved to have Spike sitting a few feet away. Past two am on a very active freeway with some questionable drivers? The words relieved and appreciative had come to associate themselves with him, not that she would ever admit it openly. His ego was big enough already.
Did I seriously just refer to Spike as responsible? Come on! I only had two wine coolers – ugh!
"Can you tell if a person is drunk?" Buffy asked.
"Uh," Spike replied and scratched the back of his head.
Watching his expressions and the way he sent her those furtive glances had Buffy hiding a small smile. Despite Spike's ability to school his various expressions when needed, more often than not the man wore his heart on his sleeve. Currently his demeanor was telling Buffy that her out of the blue question had left him wondering.
"Uh yeah," Spike said at last. "At least when you bite into them and get a taste. Great way to skip out on a bar tab." Seeing Buffy's eye roll and disgusted look, Spike scoffed. "Right, forbid me tellin' ya any truth that might twist and poke that chronic stick up your arse." Spike shook his head and did his own eye roll to reinforce his statement but then tilted his head to the right, an idea coming to him. An idea that had him running his tongue over the lower lip in what Buffy would label as perv-seduction number five. "Chronic stick syndrome," Spike said, giving voice to his thoughts. "There yah go, Summers. Free of charge, Doctor Spike has determined your diagnosis. And for the prescription? Dump soldier boy, get drunk, and have some wild monkey sex."
"Spike?" Buffy looked at him and shook her head. "I don't even know where to start with that."
"Indeed, another classic symptom of CSS."
"Haha very funny, Fetus," Buffy said and gave him one of her own smug looks. "I meant without the disgusting blood-suckage. Can you tell if a person is drunk?"
"Don't need vamp senses if your close enough to somebody sloshed," Spike answered and shot her one of his patented are-you-really-that-stupid look. He turned his attention back to the road but not without a parting shot. "That was are-you-really-that-stupid look number four, Goldilocks. Not as bad a number five but exponentially worse than a three."
"As a future reminder, Undead Britannica? I'm punching you in the nose as soon as we're back," Buffy informed him. Judging by the way she was squeezing her fists Spike was under no illusion that she wouldn't follow through on her promise of violence.
"You keep tappin' my love-button, luv," Spike smirked wickedly while glancing at her out of the corner of his baby blues. The way his eyes flickered from the varying degree of ambient light sources drew her in. "There somethin' you want to get off your chest, Slayer?"
Shaking her head to break his naturally enchanting spell over her, Buffy lifted her brow and rolled the eyes. "Are you on a one-track mind tonight?" she asked.
"What ever could you mean, pet?" Spike replied, fluttering his eyes innocently.
"Hmph," Buffy said and narrowed her eyes. She knew that he knew that he was getting to her, which was his goal all along; he prided himself on it. His need to to reach out and poke everything he could get his hands on was hardwired into him moreso than even the chip. In Buffy's case it was the metaphorical elevator panel. Packed with buttons each one symbolized a weakness that could be exploited. Knowing her as only an enemy could Spike had that ability to get inside her head and press button after button at his leisure. For Buffy, there would only ever be one response.
Her lips curled into a knowing grin of her own, which soon led to him going on the defensive. Without a word said they both knew that the tables had been turned and Buffy enjoyed the way his grimacing face betrayed his earlier confidence. "I'm sorry, did I say one-track mind? I meant you're thinking with only one mind," Buffy commented.
"That just didn't make a lick of sense, Slayer," Spike replied.
"Really? I guess it would be in your case, undead and everything. I don't know what you were like as a human but since I met you, you've only thought with one mind," Buffy said. Despite her attempts at subtlety hinting Spike's face only grew more incredulous. "Seriously?" Buffy asked. "How can you still not get that?"
"Well according to you I only think with 'one mind,'" Spike shot back.
"Wow," Buffy deadpanned. Drumming her fingertips over the dashboard she didn't know how else to explain it to him – besides being overly blatant. "You know what? I take that back. You have no brain in either head. Not the one below, and certainly not the one above."
"Above and – wait. That's the quip you were trying to make? The bleedin' IQ between my bits and bots?"
"Bits and 'bots?' That's not even a word," Buffy exclaimed.
"It is so," Spike argued. "It's a British word. Just because you are lacking a real English vocabulary doesn't make your American gibberish the authority on proper English."
"'It's a British word,'" Buffy mimicked and held her hands up in the air to make finger-quotations. "Do you have any idea the number of times you've used that go-to-excuse?"
"Well, well, what's this then?" Spike teased. Once more he rolled his deliciously pink tongue over his teeth, his eyes shimmering in mirth. That last quip was supposed to be Buffy's 'gotcha!' punch. Instead the only one getting wound up was the slayer herself. "Gettin' hot 'n bothered over a little wordplay, luv? Heh, if I'd known it were that easy, I'd have thrown a book of poetry at yah years ago."
"You with a poetry book," Buffy thought aloud. "Didn't realize it was apocalypse-season already."
"Uh – well? You never can know, luv," Spike hinted. "Still waters can run quite deep."
"Please, Spike," Buffy admonished. "Like any part of you is deep? That's so sad it's not even funny."
Doesn't mean I won't laugh though.
The sound of Buffy's laughter effected a change in him. Boyish smile and all traces of amusement faded from sight to be replaced by restrained anger. Eyes closed to keep from crying in hysterics Buffy missed this change in his outward appearance. Spike kept his eyes on the road and did his best to ignore the cruel reaction, faultless as it was.
When Buffy realized she was the only one laughing and that Spike looked to be disinterested, she decided to let it go.
She attempted a few more conversation starters but aside from a few one word responses, nothing ever came from them. Despite their earlier success at holding a semi-enjoyable conversation, Spike had fallen to the moody side. Not to let him drag her down she instead switched on the radio. Keeping the volume low so as not to wake her mother, Buffy surfed through the different channels until she found a song she recognized from her mixed tape she carried while patrolling.
"It's been one week since you looked at me," Buffy quietly sang along as one of the Barenaked Ladies' well known ballads flowed out from the speakers. "Cocked your head to the side and said I'm angry," she continued. Lost in her own thoughts she missed the way Spike's ears suddenly perked.
The traffic lessened, Buffy's lips moved to the song, and the mountain road opened up to reveal ocean waves crashing along the rocky Californian coast. The way the moon and stars shone out across the rolling waves grabbed at her attention. Losing interest in the song, Buffy strained her neck past Spike's shoulders to gaze at the postmark quality vista. Unable to get a good view she was just about to give up on it when suddenly Spike hit the blinker and accelerated into the left lane along the guardrail. Eyes on the road, he adjusted his seat back and in moments Buffy's eyes were taking in the entire coast. So breathtaking was the sight before her, it took a full ten seconds before she realized how sensitive Spike had just been.
"Umm," she hesitated and looked to Spike in question. She was unsure of what to think about this uncharacteristic act of thoughtfulness, then the vampire only floored her further when he picked up where she had left off.
"How can I help it if I think you're funny when you're mad?" Spike sang. "Tryin' hard not to smile though I feel bad. I'm the kind of guy who laughs at a – funeral?" Off of Buffy's incredulous jaw-dropping look Spike grinned broadly. "You only listen to it nonstop on patrols," he explained and tapped on his ears. He mouthed the word 'vampire,' reminding her of his supernaturally enhanced senses.
"Oh," Buffy realized and scratched the back of her head. So much of this night had been unexpected for her. How would she look back on it Buffy couldn't even begin to imagine. She did know she was enjoying herself, so much so that she was beginning to suspect that a spell was involved. However even if that was the case, she found herself pushing such thoughts aside. At that moment, the last thing Buffy wanted was for the magic to end.
He does have a nice voice.
"I have a tendency to wear my mind on my sleeve," Spike sung. Noticing the pleasant smile Buffy was wearing Spike smiled and tossed her a mischievous wink. "I have a history of taking off my shirt."
She leaned back into her seat and closed her eyes. The vampire slayer was out for the rest of the night. In the meantime Buffy Summers relaxed her shoulders and allowed herself to be charmed by the sound of his voice, if only for the night.
"About time," Spike 'greeted' when Buffy found her way to his crypt. As had become customary for their nightly rendezvous, the vampire was sitting perched atop his crypt with legs dangling off the side. Curls of smoke drifted from a half smoked cigarette between his lips. His voice was dripping with snarkiness. "Expected you over an hour ago."
It was half past eleven and while she had agreed to meet up earlier, there had been a few unexpected risers in a cemetery across town. "Yeah well, new bloods don't come with alarm clocks," Buffy replied, reminding him that her calling came before all else – the least of which helping a mortal enemy with summer redecoration. "You're lucky I came at all."
"Oh really," Spike contended and pushed himself off the top. Knees bent, he landed cat-like on the balls of his feet. Despite his penchant for brawling, Spike came with an abundance amount of grace in his steps. In another life, Buffy could easily imagine him as a dancer. Eyes up, blue found green as Spike raised his eyebrows and looked at her in amusement. "You'd rather pump out my crypt than knock down some walls?"
"I'm not going to pump anything of yours," Buffy denounced and fixed Spike with a look of annoyance at his latest antics. If it bothered him he didn't show it. If anything, his look of amusement turned dirty. "So where is everything?" Buffy asked, not willing to follow Spike around whatever train of thought currently coursed inside him. Peeking inside the crypt, she found that all of his furniture and appliances were still resting where they'd always been. She'd never renovated a crypt before but Buffy was fairly certain that it involved clearing out some space so that no nearby furniture would be contaminated, damaged, or destroyed in the process. His crypt appeared as always, with no effort having been made to allocate a specific excavation center. Neither were there any generators, jackhammers, drills, or even a shovel in sight. "Okay," she said after her cursory survey. "You do know that digging out a basement requires actual digging?"
Spike gave her a knowing grin fully expecting that question. "There is more than one way to skin a kitten, luv. All it takes is a little ingenuity," Spike teased. With a doubtful look Buffy waited expectantly and saw Spike lean down next to a tombstone. Grabbing hold of what looked to be rolls of blueprints, he nodded for her to follow him.
"What are those?"
"Sewer schematics from last year," Spike answered. Unrolling one, he pointed out to her one sewer line in particular. "Some months ago I discovered that there's a line that runs parallel to my crypt. Having access to the tunnels during daylight? Very lovely. Also a second level, a hidden second level, gives me a place to hide should any unwanted visitors come a-calling."
"You do realize that telling me this is counterproductive," Buffy interjected as she peered at the sewer plan. "We may patrol together but don't expect me not to come a-knockin' if I feel you know something. And when I mean knocking I mean your nose, not your door."
"Wasn't referring to your particular brand of social skills, Slayer," Spike replied and abruptly pulled the schematics away. Busying himself by rolling it back up he kept his eyes averted. "Was referring to your sweetie-pie and his mates' tendencies to strut in, toss my digs, and destroy my telly. Weren't for an accommodating skeleton, I'd be a Kansas song by now."
"Wayward Sons?" Buffy frowned, the reference lost on her.
"Dust in the Wind," Spike clarified. "Well innit that something. Didn't think you would take to the classics."
"I like a lot of things," Buffy shrugged. Making an exaggeration to point at her wrist watch, she continued. "I don't have all night, Spike."
"Right, come along then," he beckoned. As she fall in step beside him, Spike led her to a nearby grate which provided sewer access. Two minutes later and Spike was closing the grate behind them as they delved into the darkness.
"Great," Buffy muttered as she squinted her eyes to see in the dark. "Alone underground with a vampire at night. Would it have killed yah to let me know we would be working in the sewer? The least you could have done was bring a flashlight."
"Take the torch then," Spike said and pulled a small flashlight from inside his duster. "Stick close. Bit of a hike," he added after he passed it on to her. Buffy flipped the switch on the light and followed him in deeper.
"You know your way around," Buffy commented as Spike effortlessly led them through a seemingly endless maze. Spike just grunted and continued to lead on. Five minutes became ten and ten twenty and after a while everything looked to be the same. Finally she had had enough. "Okay, I take what I said earlier back. Do you have any idea where we are? How far is it to the renovation site?"
"Only some fifty feet," Spike answered and gestured back down the tunnel they had come out of. At Buffy's incredulous look the vampire broke down into laughter. "Truth told I've been leading you around in one big circle for the past ten minutes."
"Are you for real?" Buffy gawked.
"Was wonderin' how long it would take for you to suss it out," he explained and got control over his excitement.
"And if I didn't?" Buffy demanded.
"Would've kept circling," Spike said. The expression on Buffy's face was priceless and once more Spike was giggling.
"This?" Buffy said and waved the flashlight around. "Is not over," Buffy finished and walked back through the tunnel they had came through. When she noticed no one was following her Buffy swung her head around looked to him expectantly.
"Yeah I was still messing with yah," Spike teased. "It's actually fifty feet that way," he said and indicated the direction behind him. The same direction they had been walking towards when she first stopped and demanded to know where they were heading.
Growling something about pipe organs needing pointier wood, Buffy switched direction and kept up a brisk pace. From Spike's point of view it looked as if she would walk straight past, however when she got to within a foot she took her left elbow and jabbed it into Spike's ribs. Drawing a yelp from the vampire Buffy tossed her hair over the shoulder and smiled as she continued on.
"Here?" Buffy asked as she found a small passageway leading to an out of the way alcove. Catching up to her, Spike nodded and followed her in. When her flashlight cut across the floor of the alcove, she found the tools and equipment she had looked for earlier back at his crypt. "You've been busy. Where did you get all of this?"
"Liberated it from this company in LA," Spike explained. His pinkish tongue rolling across his upper lip was all she needed to tell her just how guilty he felt over it. His dancing eyebrows and bragging tone of voice only reinforced Buffy's conjecture.
"You mean you stole it," Buffy accused.
"Not exactly," Spike grinned and stretched his neck . "Got a mate who works there. Lent it to moi for a few days between jobs."
"Oh," Buffy said. She had had high doubts that he would even be inclined to try and do this project legally. Semi-legally was perhaps the better term as the idea of a British guy with no ID would have no chance of obtaining a permit.
"Mm-hmm," Spike said, not dropping that boyish grin of his for a moment. Lifting the portable generator, he hefted it up and walked it out through the passageway and into the main sewer. Following his lead, Buffy took hold of a jackhammer and two coiled power cords before following after. "Need to clear that bit of alcove there," Spike explained. "Once everything is out of the way, I'll set the dynamite."
"I'm sorry?" Buffy exclaimed. His words had frozen her in her steps and left her mind reeling at the idea of Spike in control of anything that went boom. "Mind repeating that for me? Were you saying something about your disgusting 'appetite' because I know you did not just say anything including the word 'dynamite!'"
"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Slayer," Spike scoffed as he bent down to open up a small box which Buffy hadn't noticed until then. She shone her flashlight on it and her eyes shot open when she saw 'US Army' written across it. "I know all about explosives." His 'trust me' wink did nothing to help her skepticism.
"You broke back into the Initiative?" Buffy gawked.
"That closed down dump? Course not, Slayer. I wouldn't trust abandoned explosives down there, who knows what shape its in? No, no – I ripped this off the local military base."
"You broke into an active army base and stole their dynamite!" Buffy closed her eyes and rubbed her brow, wondering why she would expect anything else from him.
"Well yeah," Spike replied. Leaving a sputtering Buffy behind, he reentered the alcove and pushed a measured stick of dynamite into a drill hole. The charge set, Spike found his way back out to the sight of a very jittery vampire slayer. "Can't exactly return used up dynamite, yeah?"
"You do know what you are doing?" Buffy questioned. Warily her eyes shifted between the vampire and the seemingly innocent looking hole in the wall.
"Course, pet. Been around dozens of wars in my day," Spike assured as the pair left the alcove and retreated back into the side tunnel. Spike braced himself against the wall and Buffy took up position next to him but by the look on her face he had a long way to go in reassuring her. "What? It's the truth," Spike said defensively.
"You went to battlefields to feed on dead people!"
"No, we never fed on dead people. Fed on the dying. Blood's still nice and hot. Now stop fussin', Slayer. I'm a quick study when it comes to this stuff," Spike said and looked over the detonator in his hand. He thought it best not to mention he'd never actually examined the trigger until a couple of hours ago. Were she to know that, it was likely Buffy would only think him more incompetent.
"Quick study? Tell me, Spike, what the hell do you know about bombs?" Buffy demanded, which only strengthened his thoughts on the slayer's uncertainties.
"I'll have you know I've fixed up plenty of molotov cocktails in my day," Spike said proudly. Puffing up his chest, he then began to knock his fists together in eager anticipation. "I also watched a documentary."
"That's booze!" Buffy cried, her feelings about this 'renovation' dropping from bad to worse.
"And a documentary!" Spike said and held up a finger to punctuate the movie's importance. With detonator in his fingers, he placed palms over his ears so as to muffle the coming explosion's impact on his hearing. Its roar would deafen his vampire senses exponentially more than they would Buffy's. The two exchanged a look. His look was of a fiendish smile brimming with unabashed glee. Hers was two thirds of struggling nerves and aggravation towards the hundred year plus vampire's infuriating penchant for adolescent chaos. The other third was her own character's fiendish delight, which nearly matched his own. This last part was hidden by a well worn glower of disdain for him. The last thing she wanted was for Spike to see just how helplessly seduced she was by the night's adventure and wickedly delightful exhilaration.
"If we die? I'll be making a pit stop at hell to kick your pale scrawny ass!" Buffy said, speaking loudly enough for him to hear her despite his covered ears.
"Really, Slayer?" Spike sighed. Shaking his head, his eyes found hers and glinted enticingly. "Let's just get it over and shag already!" His outlandish proposal dropped her jaw and her hands from her ears as she stared at him in shock. "Fire in the rubble!" Spike announced, before she could even begin to fathom an appropriate response.
His partner in destruction only barely got her hands over her ears in time as the dynamite detonated. The sewer tunnel shook and vibrated dangerously as the shock wave from the explosion nearly lifted Buffy off her feet, twisting her around. The only thing that kept the young woman from sprawling completely from the sudden blast was the feeling of two dead arms wrapping around her protectively.
His hands no longer over his ears, Spike grunted as the noise nearly ruptured his ear drums. She instinctively returned his embrace as he held her body flush against him. The feel of his duster cocooning her as it flapped uncontrollably from the concussive force, left Buffy feeling intrinsically safe and protected from the surging whirlwind of chaos threatening to engulf them in its wake.
The quake continued for an additional few seconds during which Buffy tightened her grip around his waist. He was her anchor and through the storm, she held pulled him closer. For all of her strength, earthquakes would always cause dreaded memories to resurface. The thought of being ripped free from his strong arms and calming presence scared her. At any moment the tunnel could collapse and the last thing she wanted was to be trapped alone. Alone and in the dark. When she felt his hand rub soothing circles over her back, Buffy closed her eyes and tried to forget that the person saving her from insanity was someone she was supposed to hate with all of her being.
As the situation began to stabilize and that the tunnel had held through the worst of it, Buffy allowed herself to exhale the breath she had been holding. With her heart pounding in a staccato rhythm that made her feel each and every pump, she focused on finding her center. This was much easier said than done when every beat of her heart left her chest feeling as if it would explode from the warring pressures inside. Thankfully, with Spike she didn't need to worry about holding on too tight. He was a pillar of strength that wouldn't buckle, no matter how tightly she held him.
Her face pressing into his black on black ensemble, when she breathed it was to the familiar and comfortable signatures of whiskey, cigarettes, and something else she couldn't quite put a name to. She felt his body tense and when she lifted her head, she saw lips moving but no words coming. Realizing that the explosion had done more than bruise her ribs from the concussive force of the blast, a sudden chill rushed took hold of her core. When she took in the look on Spike's face she saw that he was just as worried.
Whatever she was feeling, it was worse for the vampire she held. At the time when Buffy fell, there was no telling if the tunnel and everything above would come crumbling down. Sensibly Spike had risked his own safety to keep her close. Together, they'dhad a better chance of survival. That, and if she'd been killed, there would be no saving him from the wrath of the Scoobies, not to mention a pissed off slayer mama. The woman could wield an ax with the best of them.
The danger over, their senses returned and a race to get as far away as possible from the other began. A person looking on, who had no idea of the context, would think that Buffy and Spike were putting him or her on. Perhaps if they would have been able to hear one another, they would have had a more graceful technique of separating. But wishes weren't horses and a contest of pulling, pushing, and soundless yells erupted as they jockeyed for control of the situation.
After the initial scuffle, Spike had lost his footing at the same time as Buffy attempted to pull herself free. Together they lost their balance and fell to the concrete floor of the sewer. While painful, and otherwise embarrassing, the fall did manage to separate their tangled limbs and allow the two enemies some much needed space. Getting to her feet, Buffy looked herself over, checking for any significant injury, while Spike did likewise opposite. Satisfied, their heads turned and the glaring began, followed shortly by the yelling. The fact the neither could actually hear the other seemed to make no difference.
"See? Look what you did!" Buffy yelled, though neither heard the words she spoke.
"What? I did?" Spike said, his face incredulous. "You're the one who got all up and personal. If I knew you were that tightly wound, I would've arranged you some personal entertainment!"
"You did not just say what I think you said! Did you?"
"I said you needed to get laid, Slayer."
"I have a boyfriend! I've had one for an entire year!"
"Yea! And his failure to seal the deal shows!"
Buffy's fist shot out and clocked Spike on the chin. Her blow wasn't at full strength but it still packed enough punch to inform the vampire that that part of her life was off limits.
"It was your stupid plan to begin with!" Buffy threw back at him. "And what do you know? Another Spike plan didn't 'seal the deal.' You're pathetic. You're – what the hell are you doing?" Spike's arms and hands were a blur as they worked to create a flow of hand gestures Buffy couldn't even begin to figure out. "Since when do you know sign language?" Buffy demanded. His smirk was all the answer he provided. "That is so not fair!"
"Fair? Slayer, you do realize that even though we can't hear each other we can read one another perfectly! In what fucked up world does that make sense? Your world, Slayer! My unlife was fine until – I can hear myself!" Spike exclaimed.
"Me too!" Buffy said, breathing a sigh of relief. Her ears were still ringing and her hearing was muddled yet it was a welcoming sign. No longer worrying over permanent hearing loss, Buffy took stock of their situation. Moving past him, she eyed the side passageway that led to the alcove where the charges had been set. The results were promising. Forging ahead into the rubble-filled room, she picked up one large hundred pound piece of rock and looked to Spike expectantly. "Well? Where are we putting the leftovers?"
Spike smiled.
"Bloody 'ell, what's takin' ya wankers so long?" Spike demanded into the payphone. He had been waiting outside one of Sunnydale's local furniture stores for the past twenty minutes and the demon he had hired to help him with the night's grand larceny had yet to make an appearance. A long string of guttural speech came back back over the phone's speaker. Groaning in frustration Spike ran his hand through the curls he hadn't had a chance to tame before he left his crypt. "Put Stiles on!" Spike ordered. More guttural speak in demon tongue came back over the line. "No. No! No, you stupid git! You don't understand me. You bloody well only had a primary education and most of that was breaking cinder blocks and eating bloody play-doh! Put Stiles on. S-T-I-L-E-S! Yes! Stiles," Spike enunciated slowly for the demon on the other end of the line.
Fyarl demons!
"Yes! Well, where else I would be?" Spike yelled. "I don't bleedin' care if Derek ate your pet rock. Oi," Spike groaned. A long winded rant sounded over the phone and Spike had to fumble inside his coat pocket for another quarter to feed the payphone. He was desperately wishing for a cigarette but he had already smoked the last one ten minutes before, waiting for the two to make their appointed appearance. "Well what about the marriage counseling?" Spike asked. More yammering came from the other end causing the anxious vampire to roll his eyes. "Well yes I would think it would be hard to communicate with the counselor since Derek doesn't understand anything else beside Fyarl!"
Feeding the payphone, Spike was granted an additional couple minutes to this already overextended phone call. It was clear that nothing would happen until the two lovers had worked out their quarrel. He wanted to threaten. He wanted to reach through the phone and strangle both of them. Unfortunately all he had was a phone call and a century of experiencing the pain of making an often one-sided relationship work. Thankfully, you didn't spend a century dealing with a nutty lover without learning patience and perspective.
"Then find him a new pet rock," Spike suggested. "He what? Fine! Then dish out the dosh and buy him a rock! What do you mean that's not the problem?" Spike asked, his patience dwindling by the second. "Sentimental? He found it in a bag of puppy chow not a bloody diamond shop!" Spike's eyes widened in disbelief. "And how is that worse? Uh-huh. Uh-huh, yeah? Well the more time you waste, my time you waste, the less money you'll have to buy dog food."
Dredging up his last ounce of patience, Spike didn't see the shadow move from the mouth of the nearby alley. Wrapped up in the call and unable to think upon anything else, a parade could've marched by and he wouldn't have paid it any mind.
"Listen to me you stupid moron," Spike ground out – he had reached his wits' end. "Just get here. The Slayer is patrolling other side of town and the more time wasted, the bigger chance of her checking in and wondering where I scampered off to." A recorded voice on the phone informed Spike he only had twenty seconds left. "Listen! Just get the lorry and get here. I'll buy you some dog food and shove a rock in it and you can play the Chaos Demon who saved the day. A'ight? We can do it after knocking off this furniture business." More machine fired Fyarl sounded over the phone but this time it was more relieved and Spike sighed in relief, realizing he had finally made progress. "Yes I promise! Just put the truck in the loading bay and I'll handle the B and E." Spike was about to end the call when Stiles said something that made Spike shudder. "No you don't have time for a quickie! And I'm done playing marriage counselor!"
Hanging up the phone, Spike took a moment to compose himself and readjust the leather over his shoulders. Over his shoulder he eyed the store, closed over two hours ago. It's security was still on but he would take care of that. It wasn't the first time he'd robbed something like this. It was the first time he was doing so with the goal of not killing anyone but no matter, he'd adjust. One boot after the other, Spike made it halfway across the street before he realized he wasn't alone. One deep breath, and he knew exactly who had found him.
Oh hell.
"Is it true, Spike?" Buffy asked. "Are – were – you going to rob that store?"
"You overheard all that then," Spike said as his shoulders slumped down in defeat and the tips of his shoes became very interesting. "Did you hear how Stiles and Derek are having problems?" When there was no answer he lifted his head and found Buffy standing on the sidewalk, next to the payphone. "Marital problems aside, it's great innit? Thought those two would never get their act together."
"This isn't funny, Spike," Buffy said. Looking at her now, he was relieved to see that she wasn't holding a stake but with the way her voice shook, she may as well be carrying around a sycamore. "Nothing about this is funny."
Seeing that she wasn't going to look the other way, he straightened up his posture and lifted his chin in defiance. "What are you planning on doing then, Slayer?" Spike smirked. "Arrest me? Call the coppers? Be hard to explain the lack of reflection." Truthfully, he had no idea what the best thing had been to say to her in this context. Judging by the way Buffy's eyes narrowed, it was clear that that had been amongst the poorer word choices.
She didn't run. She didn't have to. Spike wasn't about to run from her, not for something like this. With fists clenched and ready to fly, she stepped off the curb and went straight for him. Taking a deep breath he stood tall for the punch that was surely to come – only it never did. At arm's reach, she kept going and pushed his chest. He didn't fall but did stumble back a few steps, more in surprise than from actual force. She hadn't used her slayer strength. Able to see her more closely now, he realized that she didn't have to. All she needed were her eyes and the disappointment held within them.
Her eyes?
"Is this the first time?" Buffy demanded. When he didn't immediately answer she pushed him again. Ready for it this time, he didn't so much as move an inch. "I patrol night after night worrying about ignorant people who take shortcuts through cemeteries and idiots that wander down dark alleys. Are you telling me I need to play security guard too?"
"Evil!" Spike yelled fiercely. Past midnight and standing face to face in the middle of an empty street, they were alone in their own world. "Just because I can't take a bite out of somethin' juicy don't mean I just stop being what I am. Who I am. I am what I am and that will never change." When all she did was continue to look at him in that way, he realized it was worse than anything she could have said verbally. The way she breathed. How her shoulders tensed because she was so near to him. The way her lips trembled. While all of that was bad, it was nothing next to the look of hurt in her twin emerald greens.
Why the hell is that? Why the fuck should I care what that bitch thinks!
"Bit outside your jurisdiction 'ere, Slayer. Why the hell are you here?" Spike asked, hoping that would distract her for a brief moment so that he could regroup. For the second time that night, the second time within thirty seconds, he realized he had again gone with a bad word choice.
"I came here hoping that I was wrong," Buffy said. Her voice had lost its hard edge but those eyes still carried what he had now come to discern as disappointment rather than any semblance of anger. "The way you talked last night."
"We did a lot of talking," Spike pointed out.
"Before we finished last night's renovation you brought up how you wouldn't be able to make patrol tonight. On top of that you wanted to make certain of my patrol route. I know you Spike and after putting two and two together it made me suspicious." She sighed and closed her eyes. "Turns out I was right." Spike sighed in turn, having already expected these very words. The Slayer checking up on him because she suspected he was up to no good? That wasn't anything new. He thought his discussion last night was innocent enough, but she figured it out nonetheless. Yet another example of why this girl was destined for the Slayer Hall of Fame.
Their two lives once again at an impasse, Spike decided to best play it by ear. He'd wait for whichever sanctimonious speech she had memorized for the night and then respond with an appropriate measure of snark. As time passed, it soon occured to him that no lecture was coming and all there was was a guy and girl standing together somewhat awkwardly, at a loss, lost for words. "Fine," Spike said. "Look you go now and I'll wait for Sterek to show up and call the whole thing off."
Buffy looked at him incredulously. "What? You expect me to just leave while you wait for your two demon buddies to show up so you can rob it once I'm gone?" Spike averted his eyes and Buffy had to move her head lower so she could fully see him. "Oh my God, that is what you're thinking."
"Well what the 'ell else am I supposed to think?" Spike asked irritably. "Look at me! Look and – oi!" Buffy grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the street just as a speeding car came swerving around a corner. As it zoomed past, a police car, flashing its lights and now hitting its siren, followed closely behind. Realizing he had almost become roadkill Spike looked at her and nodded appreciatively. On the sidewalk and the immediate danger past, once more there was an awkward silence with neither knowing the words that needed to be said.
Or maybe we do and just don't want to blow up into another squabble.
"Fine," Spike said and held up his hands in surrender. "You don't trust me? Then you stay to tell Sterek that the job is off. Ta ta, Slayer!" He turned to leave but found two strong arms seizing his arms and lifting his feet off the ground. Trying to push her off, there was nothing he could do without hurting her – and him – in the process. Stubbornness prevailing over logic, he continued his efforts to wrest himself free. All of it in vain. He could only watch as she carried him deeper into the alley she had spied earlier. "Lay off, you bitch!" To his relief, at long last she turned and lowered him down. Where they were now, whatever happened would be well out of sight from any curious onlookers.
"You're not going anywhere," Buffy seethed. The alley was a dead end and the only other way out was through her.
"And tonight boys and girls we have an encore guest performance of Blow-Up Buffy," Spike grumbled and kicked a nearby trash can over. The lid knocked loose and contents ranging from half-eaten cheeseburgers to broken bottles spilled over.
"Excuse me?" Buffy blustered. Turning away from the mess of trash littering the alleyway, Spike looked to her and saw a very deep blush spreading over cheeks. Between that and the way her heart had gone from a steady foxtrot to a pulse-pounding swing, whatever he'd said clearly had her flustered. Thinking back over his last comment he considered his words and then blinked in surprise at the double entendre his speech had unintentionally conveyed. "'Blow-Up Buffy?'" Buffy repeated and took an ominous step in his direction.
"Didn't mean it like that! I implied that you are about to 'blow up' and we'll be in for another row." Spike explained. Buffy stopped and reconsidered his words. He relaxed when he saw her nod in understanding and that it was an innocent mistake. "Honestly though, the last thing I was looking to do was turn ya scarlet. But hey, thanks for letting me know where your head is tonight, Slayer," Spike gibed. Just because it was a mistake didn't mean he was going to let a perfectly edible entendre go to waste.
"My 'head,'" Buffy began. "Is once more focused on you and cleaning up yet another one of your messes?" With her arms folded over her chest but still with no stake in evidence, he concluded that just as before, she wasn't going to attack but neither would she leave him unchaperoned. With no other foreseeable solutions, Spike resigned himself to waiting out however long this most latest of tiffs would last. Judging by the scowl on her face, nothing short of an apocalypse would give her cause to leave and let him get back to what he had been planning, the most disastrous of evil plots: getting some decent furniture for once.
Briefly he toyed with the idea of making a sudden rush and then dodging past her. However even if he was successful, the target for the burglary was only a five second walk across the street. He couldn't hit her and neither Stiles or Derek would be willing to take on the Slayer. There wasn't enough money in the world for such a proposal. "So what then? Just goin' to stand there, Slayer?"
"Why not?" she replied. Inside, Spike was scrambling for ideas but Buffy was the essence of nonchalance. "Fifteen more minutes and your demon buddies show up. I tell them to get lost and don't come back. End result? Once word is out that I'm keeping an eye on you, no demon would risk sticking their neck out for something like this."
"That right?" Spike asked. Tilting his head quizzically, he mulled over her notion of further planting a flag on his chest instead of a stake, as was the more traditional custom. "Suppose that's one way to go. But then, say some big bad came along and put a target on me. I can't go looking for some hired muscle to help—you'd have my back?"
"If someone came after you?" Buffy snorted. Still, he could see her giving it some candid thought. Albeit only briefly, she went from considering to a quiet chuckle. Clearly the idea of a dangerous enemy placing its sights on the chipped vampire wasn't something she expected anytime soon. "In the unlikely event something like that does happen? I'll help you pack but that's about it." Noticing the uncomfortable look growing on his face she couldn't help but take advantage, as in her mind it was the least he should get, given what he had tried to pull tonight. "Look, Spike. As far as I see, the only person you need to worry about pissing off is the one girl in all the world whose job is to kill you, and given where we're standing? You should really think hard before pulling a repeat of tonight. Some 'big bad' coming after you? Why? To steal your Passions box set?"
His eyes closed. His shoulders stretched. His knuckles clenched. Spike opened his eyes and golden orange was clashing with sky blue as he fought to keep his rage in check. It was a losing battle and he finally snapped. "How does persecution grab yah?" Spike asked. The grave tone his voice had taken matched the way his eyes had begun to scour her. "Gripping enough?"
"What?"
"I told yah just last night, pet. They were gunning for me and nearly did me in when they raided my crypt, destroyed my telly."
"That? As I recall, Spike," Buffy spoke. "I did offer you my protection and you returned it by stabbing me in the back!"
"As I 'recall' you let me in because I had info you needed. Once you knew I wasn't a threat, you let me go my own way. Anything that happened between us afterward was strictly business. Nothing happened without money changing hands. Same thing with that Adam tosser. It was mercenary work, which is a hell of a lot more than your self-righteous arse could claim."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Buffy demanded.
"My recollection; you joined them knowin' full well what they were up to. Or did you miss the cages and operating tables during the grand tour?"
"Where the hell is this coming from? That makes no sense at all," Buffy argued. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing here."
"Oh really?" Spike asked. "You know what I'm on about. Please don't hold back, Slayer. Educate us all."
"First? This is pathetic. You're sidestepping the real issue of just how pathetic your existence is right now. Deflection via persecution? Saying I am guilty of the crap the Initiative was involved in? I didn't know what the hell was happening when I first visited the place."
"So then what was it?" Spike snapped, his eyes flashing amber. "When did you have your grand revelation? When they tried to off you in the sewer or when teen wolf was captured? Or do you really think he was the only innocent caught in the crossfire?" His retort turned ambush had been successful, as was expected. Spike had a lot of time alone with these thoughts and now he was going to pile it on. Already he had her on the ropes. Moving for the first time in minutes, he closed in for the kill, coming right up alongside her and whispered softly in her ear. "Or was it only when a human got chipped that you wagged that self-righteous finger of yours and judged them guilty?
"Take a look in the mirror, 'Hero,'" Spike spat and pointed a finger to his chest. "I'm the one without a reflection but I can still see who I am. Who the hell are you?"
She was balling her fist. Her body trembling in rage at the audacity of his accusations. They both knew what she wanted to do to.
"Take your swing, Slayer," Spike said at last. Lifting his head up high he tapped his face, right along the jaw. "Put it right there."
"I'll do more than hit you if you don't shut up," Buffy said.
"Do it then," Spike taunted. "Isaac Asimov, Slayer. 'Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent.'"
"Excuse me?" Buffy retorted. "You're quoting words of peace? Who the hell is William the Bloody to give lessons on ethics?"
"Sure, piss on the demon. Change the subject. Deflect all you want and lock the truth in your vault of denial. But me? Never forget that there is one person out there who sees straight through you, you hypocritical bitch."
"It's in the past, Spike. Can't change what has already happened," Buffy replied. She wanted to hit him. Wanted to lay him out in that alley and beat him senseless. Instead, Buffy kept her cool and put a couple of feet between them—forcing him out of her personal space. This was not at all how she'd wanted the night to go. Things had been different lately. She had someone to fight with and accompany her. They had even been cordial with one another just the other day. She turned to leave him behind, it was time she found her way to the loading dock to intercept the other two demons. Spike's voice though followed after. "You're getting off easy, Slayer."
She couldn't resist the temptation any further. She hadn't wanted it to escalate. It's why she hadn't hit him when she'd found her suspicions about his whereabouts had proved true. It seemed, though, that sometimes old habits were just too hard to break. "I'm the one getting off easy?" Buffy turned and looked at him sharply. "Tell me then, where else are you going with this petty tantrum of yours, Spike? Bad mouth every questionable decision I ever made? Maybe go all the way back to Angelus? Because that's what happened last time we got into this shit! Well, forget it. This is about you; you and me. And I've had enough. You will point and mock that if I'd killed Angelus earlier I'd have saved more lives. I'd have saved Miss Calendar. Was that it, Spike? How close am I? Because a person can make a damn good argument that unless I kill you right now? The day will come when you get that chip out and the people you kill, their blood will be on my hands. So really, who is getting off easy right now?" This time it was her turn to close the distance and back him up until he was flat against the alley wall.
"Er – well I uh... Er-" Spike stuttered, grasping for words. The right words this time.
Until, suddenly, something Spike never expected to happen – happened. Buffy relented. "Fortunately for you, I'm the kind of person who is, for the moment, able to box that fact away into my 'denial vault' until the day comes when you and I do have to deal with it. Which reminds me," Buffy said. Uncertain of anything, Spike had no clue as to Buffy's intentions until her fist slammed into his jawbone, the exact spot he had pointed to moments earlier. "Pretty certain Isaac Assmoff would still say I made my point. Truth is, Spike? You're right. I am a hypocrite. But at least I'm trying to learn from my mistakes, to the point of where I won't kill a helpless demon outright. But I tell yah, if you want me to change my mind about that, you just keep on talking."
"Well," Spike chuckled and wiped the blood from his jaw. "Looks like pigs fly after all, Buffy. Beat ole'Spike with my own logic. And in the interest of self-preservation, you won't hear any more on the issue from me – long as you agree to stop bringing up how I 'betrayed' you. We never trusted each other enough for that."
"Point," Buffy conceded and took a step back, giving him some much needed room to relax. "Point is, you're the last person I wish was here with me right now. No amount of fireworks or patrols together will ever change that. So no, Spike. I'll help you pack. I'll keep whoever you're worried about off your radar. But the extent of my protection is conditional on you leaving town until the issue is dealt with."
"So you're saying you don't want me gone then?"
"You're not about to start killing innocents. I'm the Slayer not a dictator. Way I see it, you can live where you want. As for my protection? I think I made myself clear enough on that." She turned to leave, make the trek to the meet with these Stiles and Derek guys.
"And if I don't leave?" Spike called after.
"Talk with Giles," Buffy decided. "It'll be business. Just like it's always been with a guy like you." His followed after her, hoping that tonight's roller coaster from hell had finally come to a stop. Just before she exited the alley she turned back and called to him. "No more knocking over businesses. You want furniture? Get a job."
A job?
"Hey! What did I say?" Spike yelled before she was out of earshot. "I cheat! I lie! Steal! I'm evil! I have a muzzle, not a Jiminy Cricket!"
She set off towards the loading dock, leaving Spike standing in the alley, exasperated. Thankfully 'exasperated' had become a way of life for him since coming to this little town in California and was well versed in curing it.
"That all you've got?" The two bulky demons looked at each other, sharing disbelieving glances, before refocusing their attentions on the crazed vampire who'd started the fight.
"Come on, you overgrown nancies, give us a tickle!" Eyes nearly swollen shut and blood dripping from his nose and mouth, Spike lifted his fists and bent his knees, ready to take whatever his two opponents would throw at him. Except what he wasn't ready for, was two scaly arms that wrapped around his waist and lifted him off the bar's floor in a overwhelming bear hug.
"Meet Spike, boys," a gurgling voice spoke out from behind Spike's shoulder.
Shaking his head and wriggling his body to try and break free, he would've gagged at his captor's pungent breath if he could smell anything through his busted nose. The two demons Spike had been facing off against gave the speaker a look of uncertainty; clearly they were from out of town.
"You see, what we have here is a turncoat," the scaly demon elaborated. "He used to fight for us but now he fights to kill us. Kills his own kind. My kind. My friends." The demon tightened its hold on Spike's torso, its strength so overwhelming that the vampire heard the sickening cracking of several ribs along with severe pain that shot through his body – he was helpless.
"Uh, Gormtosk," the bartender Willy spoke up, glancing nervously around at the escalating spectacle. "How about you just let Spike down? Rumor has it he's really fighting for the Slayer. If so, we don't need her coming down here and shutting my bar down."
"This has nothing to do with her!" Gormtosk argued and squeezed Spike tighter. "One less vamp is a banner day for her – especially one that fought for Adam not two months ago. Now, come on boys! Show Mister Spike what happens when you turn on your own kind!"
Out of the corner of his eye, Spike saw Willy look at him with sympathy in his eyes. Whatever else they might have been in the past, it was clear that Willy held no over-the-top resentments towards him. Still there was nothing Willy could do other than look the other way and ignore the painful screams erupting at the other end of the room.
"That's it," Gormtosk cheered as the two demons approached Spike and began to wail punch after punch into the vampire's unprotected gut.
Alternating blows, one slammed uppercut after uppercut into Spike's broken ribcage and wide open organs: liver, stomach, lungs, diaphragm, and whatever else the demon could hit. The other focused on Spike's pretty boy chiseled looks. Mug-sized fists pelted Spike's face again and again. His cheeks became fractured and crushed. His jaw broke in several places, leaving his mouth hanging open. Teeth were knocked out and his eyes swelled shut entirely.
Gormtosk, not wanting to be left out, removed one of his arms that had been holding Spike's now limp body, and wrapped the hand around the vampire's throat. Squeezing and clamping all around it Spike's throat tore. Cartilage popped and his airway crushed closed. Still the punches rained down, his skull splintered into pieces and red blood mixed with a yellowy discharge pooled from a pair of century-old ears.
"Had enough?" Gormtosk asked the near unconscious vampire. When all Spike's head did was droop, he released his bear hug and held him only by the throat. Thanking the other two demons for their cooperation, Gormtosk marched Spike out the back. With the strength of ten men, he threw Spike across the alley into the side of a dumpster, leaving a dark red splatter of blood from where the vampire had hit.
Gormtosk stalked forward. "How about that," he said, staring disgustedly down at the broken body that somehow was still moving – refusing to give in. "Don't worry, I won't kill you – yet. You fought the Slayer before. You fought alongside us with Adam. For that, me and the other demons are gonna give you one last chance. Leave, Spike. Leave the hellmouth and never come back."
"Fuck you," Spike choked out as blood and broken teeth fell from from his mouth.
"You know what? I'm sick of you," Gormtosk said. "We all are. You don't belong here – you don't belong anywhere." Next to the dumpster was a wooden crate filled with empty glass bottles. Lifting his foot up, Gormtosk slammed down the heel of his heavy boot, smashing glass and pieces of wood in all directions. Reaching down, he took a broken piece that would serve as a makeshift stake. Gripping the wooden shaft in his cold reptilian fist, Gormtosk watched in amusement as Spike fought to get to his feet. It was a futile effort though, and the vampire only managed to come to one knee. Lifting his fists, Spike puffed up his chest and glared in defiance.
I love you Dru.
Spike was under no illusions regarding what was about to happen. He was alone. No one was coming to save him. But after a century of living in the moment Spike would be damned if he let himself go out with his back on the ground. His body was broken but his spirit would never be denied.
"You know something?" Spike's executioner spoke. "I almost admire you." As Gormtosk cocked back his arm to deliver the death blow, Spike braced himself for whatever hell awaited him. When he felt the sharp pain of the stake ripping into his chest Spike knew it was over. The fire would soon be all around him. An eternity of pain and suffering. That was his fate and for William the Bloody, he wouldn't have it any other way. Any second now it would happen.
Any second now.
"What the hell?" Gormtosk said in disbelief. "Impossible!"
Spike looked down at the wood protruding from his chest only to blink in surprise at where it had landed, or rather not landed. The wooden stake had stabbed though his right breast, bare inches from Spike's heart. It had been close but it wasn't enough. Despite his blurred vision Spike could easily see the look of shock on the demon's face. In fact he suspected that his own expression mirrored Gormtosk's. The strike had been point blank.
"Must've had too much to drink," Gormtosk tried to reason. "No matter," he added and Spike felt the deadly piece of wood begin to pull out of his chest as Gormtosk prepared for a more accurate strike – only it didn't. Growling in frustration Gormtosk shifted his grip and wrapped both of his hands around the stake, trying to wrench it free but to no avail. The best he could do was wriggle it back and forth, cutting into Spike's surrounding pectoral muscle. He would've screamed out were the rest of his body not in worse pain.
What the hell is happening?
"Hey!" Gormtosk snapped as his struggles with the stake suddenly ceased and instead focused on his two strong wrists. "What the hell?" he demanded. Spike looked on, astounded as Gormtosk tried to move his arms against some invisible force holding them down. Becoming tired and frustrated, the scaled demon stopped and stared hard to his left, Spike's right. "Who's there?"
In answer, Gormtosk's entire body was lifted up into the air and flew across the alley, the exact opposite direction of where Spike had collapsed. Hitting the brick wall opposite, Gormtosk groggily shook his head and moved to pick himself up – only to be slammed back down into the hard concrete. As blood continued to seep from his wounds, Spike fought to stay awake. Stay conscience and not give in. He had no idea what was happening and just as earlier, he wasn't about to slip away and let Gormtosk stake him should the other demon recover.
His recovery, though, was beginning to look less and less likely. Still pinned a dozen feet away, his head was now jerking wildly from left to right as if being punched. Bleeding out green pus, Gormtosk was powerless to stop the relentless assault and eventually just gave in. That did not save him from further punishment. Spike still didn't know what this was. The best he could go on was a ghost and if so then this was a very pissed off spirit. Gormtosk's head was beginning to look less and less like a head and more like a stump. A greenish purplish pulp that kept hitting its head into the back of the pavement was all that remained and it seemed that the ghost had finally realized this.
Spike watched as the pummeling stopped only moments later to hear a the loud snap of a complete break – Gormtosk's neck being snapped. Gulping nervously, Spike tried to work his fingers around the stake to pull it out before it was his turn with the night's surprise guest. It was no use though. Spike's body was broken and his energy drained. So it was to no surprise when he felt something hold him still and pull the stake free from his chest. The piece of wood dripping with his blood hovered a foot above him in the air and he knew that Gormtosk's killer was now poised over himself to do the same thing.
It was over.
Spike peered up to where he thought the apparition stood and waited expectantly. Resigned to his fate, with all semblance of pride lost he had one final request. "Do it fast, yeah?" The words he thought to be his death toll had an altogether different effect. He eyed the stake, held like one would in their hand, as it was turned sideways until it became pointed away from Spike. A beat passed and then suddenly the deadly piece of timber was cocked back and pitched, spiraling down the alley where it splintered to pieces against a rusted dumpster.
He could feel but not feel what was happening. His senses were lost but he could still see enough and was aware enough that something was holding his head up off of the hard ground. Tired of holding it up, Spike gave into his unknown benefactor and allowed himself to rest.
Before the world faded away, Spike felt a soft, gentle, touch caress his cheek.
It was just past dawn when Willy finished taking inventory. Between finishing his monthly inventory and the trouble with Gormtosk and Spike earlier, the only thing on the barkeep's mind was the fastest route from the bar to his bed. Last night had been rough and he hoped that for Spike's sake, the vampire would finally take the hint and leave town for a while until the dust settled. His work finished, Willy headed back through the kitchen to close up the back door when something large slammed into the kitchen's back wall. The crash was so loud that it sounded throughout the entire establishment and had Willy stunned speechless.
"Hey did you hear something?"
"Yeah, Clem," Willy replied, finding his voice. "In the alley I think." His curiosity getting the better of him, Willy walked through the back door to explore the alley behind the bar. The first thing he spotted was an enormous blue dumpster half imbedded into his kitchen's outside wall. Shaking his head in disbelief, he looked around, trying to find the source of the damage but the only thing he saw was Gormtosk's pulverized dead body lying some twenty feet up the alley.
Willy had wondered what had happened to the powerful demon after it had dragged Spike out the back, as it never came back to finish its drink. Seeing it dead, and in that ghastly state, was the last thing he expected. Scratching his head, trying to make sense of it all, Willy came to the conclusion that the only other person who had the slightest idea of what had happened was - "Spike?" Willy's eyes found the crumpled heap of dead flesh further up the alley, near the entrance and with the sun's rays inching dangerously close to his unconscious form. Kneeling down beside the vampire, he gently shook him, trying to get some sort of response. "Uh Spike? I know you're a bit out of it but the sun's getting a-"
Suddenly Willy's head shot back and his mouth was torn open wide into a soundless scream. Eyes closed, his body spasmed violently as a burning pain consumed him. Fortunately, the pain wasn't lasting and seconds later, both eyes snapped open. His knees buckled and he fell forward, only to catch himself at the last moment, his nose inches from the pavement. He lifted his head and his eyes flashed white before returning to their normal color. His jaw set and eyes focused. There was only one thing they saw.
Jumping to both feet, he reached down and went to lift Spike up onto his shoulder in a classic fireman's carry. Except that he found that the strength he needed wasn't there. Growling in frustration Willy glanced towards the slowly encroaching sun. The sight of the sunlight so close to Spike's hand, triggered a flash of fear across his face. However just as quickly as it had come, Willy's eyes turned hard and he shook his head in defiance. Shifting his grip, Willy instead held Spike by the shoulders and managed to drag him back down the alley and into safety of shadow. With the vampire out of harm's way, the human fell to his knees and tightly gripped at his chest.
His body shaking with tremors and involuntary muscle spasms, it a full thirty seconds before he could regain control of his nerves.
"No," Willy grounded out, his voice ominously quiet. "Not yet." Turning his head back towards the bar, Willy shouted. "Clem! Clem, come out here!" It took a minute and the whole time Willy kept yelling for the demon's assistance until finally the flappy-skinned poker player revealed himself.
"Okay, okay, I'm here," Clem announced as he emerged through the back door. "Where's the fire – whoa! Why's there a dumpster in the wall?"
"Later," Willy said and gestured with his head for Clem to help. "Right now we need to get Spike someplace safe."
"Huh?" Clem asked and looked to Willy in disbelief. "Wow Gormtosk really did a number on him and what do you mean someplace safe? Nowhere is safe for him, not right now."
"He need-" Willy began but a sudden wave of discomfort took hold. Fighting it off Willy's voice took on a decisive edge. "Spike needs a place to stay low and heal. With the town out for his blood, the last place he should be is his crypt." Willy looked out of the alley, the sunny Californian sky was cloudless. As if that weren't enough, the streets were starting to fill up with the local residents as they went about their morning appointments. The sight of a dead body under a burning blanket would draw a great deal of unwanted attention. "You'll have to take him," Willy decided and fixed Clem with a hard stare.
"What-what?" Clem asked and looked at the human as if he had grown an extra head. "All of Sunnydale is out for his blood and you want me to take him back to my bachelor pad?"
"He needs blood also," Willy added and turned his attention away from Clem, ignoring his protests. His eyes focused on Spike, voice becoming quiet. "I'll take care of that. Take the sewers and get him to your apartment on Boxley. I'll grab the blood and meet you there."
"My apartment? I don't even know this guy!" Clem balked. Willy's head whipped around and the look in his eyes made Clem's blood go cold.
"This isn't up for discussion! Keep him out of sight. If things get bad? Find the Slayer."
"Oh no!" Clem shook his head. "Listen, Willy. You've been real swell letting us play in the back but my help doesn't include getting my head chopped off. Besides, I know Spike's rep. No way would she help. In fact, why do you care what happens to him?" Clem asked and noticed in the sudden uneasiness on Willy's face.
"Because he-! I mean... Well? Look, we've had our differences," Willy said at last. "But lately he's been good about paying off his tab! And, uh? He – he even took out a few demons who were harassing me."
Clem looked at him doubtfully. "Okay but doesn't he just do that because he gets off on that?"
"Yeah well?" Willy said then stopped. Clem watched as the uncharacteristically assertive human now was at a loss for words. Brushing a hand through his greasy hair Willy shook his head and sighed. "He's better than the Slayer. She barges in and punches me in the face all the time! Busts up my bar! She doesn't give a crap about what happens here. Us good guys don't have anyone to represent us."
"Good guys?" Clem stated, his floppy eyebrow raised in doubt.
"You know what I mean," Willy said. "And it doesn't matter! What matters is getting him out of sight before more trouble starts." When he saw that Clem still needed some convincing, Willy rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Do this and we're square for the rest of the summer. Tab cleared and free drinks until August. Deal?"
"What the heck has gotten into you?" Clem wondered. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Clem left his spot by the door and joined Willy at Spike's side. Casting one last doubting look at the human, Clem knelt down and pulled Spike's body over his shoulder.
"There's a sewer grate over there," Willy indicated. He led Clem, now carrying Spike on his shoulder, towards the sewer access. Momentarily setting the vampire down to help Willy with the grate, Clem lifted Spike again and dropped down into the safety of the sewers.
To Be Continued...
Appreciation: A big special thank you goes out to the story's beta, All4Spike. A talented writer in her own right please a big welcome for her and much appreciation for her assistance.
AN: So I'm just about finished with all the writing for this story. I've been writing a lot since April and will continue to try to post at least weekly. It'll come out to roughly around eighty thousand words or so, and I do have plans for a sequel when I get there.
-S