Buffy resolutely pushed the thought away as she’d been doing since she returned from seeing Angel.
Or she tried to. Normally, the thought obeyed when told to take a hike, or she could banish it by worrying about bills, patrolling, or trying to keep a smile on her face when talking to someone. Now, however, the bills were more of less dealt with, she was done patrolling, and everyone was asleep. Which wasn’t unreasonable, given that it was 2:00 a.m., but it did mean that the thought stayed in the front of her head.
She shifted on the hard floorboards of the porch, trying to distract herself from the memory of the meeting with Angel by focusing on her rapidly-numbing backside or the chill of the night air, but these proved insufficient to the task.
“Buffy….”
He just stood there, looking at her with an unreadable expression. Or at least, it had been unreadable to her. It definitely hadn’t been a smile.
“Uh…hi. I seem to not be dead.”
She blinked, turning her memories away from the awkward stiff-bodied hug and looked around her at the night, up at the stars, out at the broken fence at the back, where a couple of times….
No. I am so not wishing Spike would turn up like he always does when I’m sitting on this porch being sad.
But she was, and she knew it. There were plenty of places in the house to brood, including her nice, warm bed, but she was sitting out here, hoping almost desperately that her former nemesis would appear, with his cocky smile, and his smart-ass remarks, and his almost unbearably gentle eyes.
Buffy sighed. It had been five days since she’d gotten back from her headlong flight to Angel, and Spike had been conspicuous by his absence since. He didn’t join her on patrol, materialize in her vicinity, or leave as much as a cigarette butt near his lurking tree. And she missed him.
To top things off, she knew why he wasn’t there. It had only been the day after she had confessed she had some sort of feelings for him that she had gotten Angel’s call and taken off like a bullet fired from a gun. Not her best timing. She had hurt him, and she hadn’t meant to.
It’s not like I didn’t warn him this could happen. I said I didn’t know how I felt.
That petulant thought she did banish, knowing it for the excuse it was. She had wronged him, hurt him, and it was up to her to make it right.
But, God, she was tired. Buffy leaned her head against the porch pillar and closed her eyes. So tired. More tired than she had ever thought possible. There was nothing that said she had to do it tonight. But if she didn’t, it would be another night of not seeing him, another night of knowing he was hurting for no reason, another night of knowing she owed a debt.
Bone-weary, she dragged herself to her feet and went into the night.
Maybe he’s not even here. Maybe he’s at Willies’ or riding on his motorcycle, or…
Buffy didn’t know if hope or dread fueled the thought as she stood outside Spike’s crypt. If he was here, she could get it over with and stop dreading it, if he wasn’t here, maybe she’d feel better…stronger…on another day. Either way, she had to go up there and knock on the door, and…
The door swung open and a woman stepped out. Or rather, sauntered out, satisfaction evident in every step. Buffy stood silently in the grass, feeling as if roots had suddenly grown out of her feet, anchoring her to the ground, as the woman swung around to face back into the crypt. Her hand flashed out to fist in Spike’s t-shirt, pulling him to her as he laughed softly. When they parted, both were in game face, and Spike’s features didn’t fade as he caught sight of Buffy.
“Well, Slayer,” he drawled, leaning against the side of the entrance. “How nice to see you again. Be a love and refrain from staking my date, would you? It’d make a nasty end to a very pleasant evening.”
She couldn’t move. If every villain from her past, from Glory to the Master, had suddenly appeared, Buffy couldn’t have done anything about it. Several scenes played out in front of her eyes at once:
Riley, leaving their bed.
Parker walking away.
Angelus, laughing at her.
“Cat’s got her tongue,” the female vampire laughed. “I thought the Slayer always had a lot to say.”
“I have that effect on women,” Spike smiled, nuzzling the female vampire’s neck although his gaze stayed on the Slayer. “Make them go all quiet and girlish.”
Stake them both.
The voice inside was quiet, calm, and cold as a bucket of ice water. It wouldn’t take much. The stake was in her belt, and Buffy had a feeling if she let the owner of that voice take over, she could stake Spike, the female, and every vampire in Sunnydale that evening and not break a sweat.
But it would be from anger, and there was just enough Buffy left in what was rapidly becoming a spinning black void to know that it would be wrong. There was also enough left to realize that it wouldn’t be hard for her to stop caring whether it was wrong or not, so she turned on her heel and walked away.
The pain hadn’t reached her yet, but she could feel it out there, circling like a shark around a swimmer in too deep water, waiting its chance to move in and devour her. The attack wouldn’t leave anything behind, and she welcomed the idea. No more Buffy sounded like a plan she could get behind. It was a safe bet that nobody would try the resurrection spell again. After all, the results of the first one had been pretty darn disappointing to everyone including herself.
“After five divorces,” her mother had said of a much-married family friend. “I would have to start wondering if maybe it was me.”
Angel. Parker. Riley. Angel again. Spike. Yep, that was five. If you counted non-dating relationships, you could add Giles and Willow and Xander to the mix. If the past could be factored in, there were Mom and Dad, and, of course, the Council of Watchers. She probably couldn’t count Snyder – it would be sort of like counting Drusilla – but it still didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what, or rather who, the problem was.
“Buffy!”
The pain must have crept in and taken a bite without her noticing, because Buffy was suddenly aware that she was down on her knees on the sidewalk near her house with no memory of falling, and Dawn was running towards her.
“What happened? Did somebody hurt you?”
Dawn knelt in front of her sister, running her hands over Buffy’s arms and back, frantically looking for wounds. Finding none, she threw her arms around Buffy’s unresponsive self and held on as tightly as she could.
“You’re so cold! God, you’re like ice! And you’re shaking!” She pulled back far enough to see into her face, and Buffy looked into the terrified eyes. “Please tell me what’s wrong. We’ll fix it. We’re Team Summers, remember? We can fix anything.”
She had been wrong. There was someone who was glad she was back no matter what form she took, someone who would be miserable if she left again. Which meant she couldn’t go.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” Buffy said distantly, her trembling hand automatically brushing back Dawn’s tangled hair. “You’re not even wearing shoes.”
“Buffy….” Dawn took a breath. “We should both go inside,” she said carefully. “I’ll make us some hot chocolate. Or not,” she added as Buffy slid to the side and was violently sick into the gutter. “Come on. Let me help you.”
Buffy felt Dawn’s arm go around her waist, felt the thin body brace to help her stand. Then, she was moving, shoving her sister aside, drawing her stake as Spike’s vampire friend stepped from the shadows.
“The infamous Slayer,” she purred, smiling. “You don’t look quite as…intimidating…as I had pictured.” She nodded toward Dawn. “And this must be the former Key.”
“Dawn, go in the house,” Buffy said steadily, never taking her eyes from the vampire.
“Yes, run along. Your sister and I have some grown-up things to talk about.”
“Stake her, Buffy!” Dawn said furiously. “Turn her into dust.”
“Oh, I’m sure she’d like to. And then run off for a good cry. You’re having a bad night, aren’t you, Slayer? Your little vampire toy grew a spine and some balls.” She grinned reminiscently. “Especially the last. No more babysitting Little Sister for him. Maybe he could tutor you, though, Sweetness. Teach you a few tricks to impress the boys behind the bleachers?”
Buffy saw Dawn flinch, and a combination of fire and ice swept through her veins. Everything was clear and remote all at the same time. There was no pain or sadness or confusion. There was only Vampire and Slayer and the inevitable outcome.
The vampire shifted into a fighting posture, but she was moving in slow motion while Buffy accelerated to light speed. One breath and she was under its guard; the next, her stake wasin its heart; a third, and there was nothing left but a cloud of dust and Dawn blinking at her.
“I’ve never seen you move that fast,” the girl whispered. “You just…blurred. What was she talking about anyway? What was all that about Spike?”
Buffy shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“But, Buffy….”
“Really, Dawny. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
That wasn’t as much fun as I thought it would be.
Sitting in Willie’s bar, Spike used the burning taste of the whiskey to help shove the thought away as he’d been shoving it for the last three days along with the memory of the Slayer’s huge pain-filled eyes.
That had been the point of the exercise hadn’t it? To hurt her, to make her feel the tiniest part of the agony that had gripped his heart since she ran off to Angel the day after he had held her in his arms?
Even now, rage and pain filled him at the memory of her words the other night; at the way she’d come to him willingly, at last recognizing that what he felt for her was real and that she returned those feelings. She’d kissed him, made him think she’d cared. Then, Angel had snapped his fingers and off she’d gone, with never a thought to what she’d left behind.
Spike had decided to not be left behind, to not be the castoff toy that was only picked up when the new wore off the rest. He’d go his own way, forget the Slayer, take his pleasure where he found it.
“…I'm only ever going to want what you can give…”
That was different. That was about not pressuring her for sex, not about standing around waiting while she ran through her old lovers, making sure there wasn’t something they could give her that he couldn’t.
“Gave her what I had,” he muttered. “Like always. Her, Dru, Cecily. Not enough. Spat on it. Bitches.” An unwilling grin creased his face. It had been enough for Amanda. The female vampire had certainly shown herself appreciative of his offering. Too bad she wasn’t back here tonight, but there were others,
The door opened and a male vampire scuttled in, paler even than usual, and staggered to the bar.
“Shot of A+,” he said to Willie, “And keep the glass full. I’m in for the night.”
“What’s got you spooked?” one of the others called. “Sun coming up early? Convention of Holy Water salesmen in town?”
“The Slayer, man.” The vampire’s shaking voice quelled the laughter in the bar. “She’s out and she’s not kidding. I just watched her take down a K’flack demon.”
There was a long moment of silence as everyone glanced nervously toward the door.
“A K’flack demon?” someone finally said. “That thing’s the size of a bus. What did she use, a flamethrower?”
“Her stake. About three hits with her stake, and she never even changed expression. Wham, bam, thank-you-Slayer, and there’s a pile of demon guts in the middle of the alley.”
“Oh, yeah, right,” Spike snorted, ignoring the icy fingers trailing down his spine. “Be honest, mate. She scared you, and you’re saving face.”
“Damn right she scared me,” the vampire said without a trace of embarrassment. “And I’m not worried about saving my face. I’m worried about keeping a stake out of my heart.”
Stupid prats, scaring themselves silly over nothing.
Spike flipped the channel to Passions, trying to convince himself that the other vampire had been making up stories to cover his defeat. Even if he hadn’t, there was nothing to worry about, was there? Buffy had won the fight, after all. She was the Slayer; she killed demons. No big deal.
Except that line about not changing expression sounded like the time Buffy hid inside herself after Glory took Dawn. Come to think of it, she hadn’t really changed expression in front of his crypt the other night, either. Her face hadn’t moved, just her eyes, getting bigger and darker as she stood there, bringing to mind Angelus’ description of his abandonment of her after losing his soul. “…You should have seen her face. It was priceless. I'll never forget it….”
Even then, he had thought it rather a harsh way to treat someone who loved you. Now…
She didn’t mind hurting me, did she? Didn’t slow her down a bit. She had it coming. I wanted to hurt her, and I did, and I’m not sorry. Not at all.
Spike’s thoughts, not to mention his television watching, were interrupted by a crashing sound from the crypt entrance.
“What the…” He came to his feet, grabbing for the knife he always kept near to hand. This didn’t sound friendly. In fact, it sounded like someone was using an axe on the door.
Which is what it turned out to be, as the lock splintered under a final onslaught and Dawn Summers kicked her way inside. Her face was white and set, freckles standing out like blotches, eyes red and cheeks still wet from what had obviously been furious weeping.
“I don’t know what you did to Buffy,” she choked. “I don’t care. But I’m going to finish it for her. Maybe then, she’ll…she’ll be ok.”
The axe fell from her hand, and she reached behind her to pull one of her sister’s stakes from her belt. At the same moment, Spike saw the large cross dangling from her neck.
“Niblet?” he said, shocked. “What’s wr…”
“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” she screamed. “Don’t ever call me that again, you son-of-a-bitch! I HATE you!”
“Join the club, Dawn,” Spike growled, feeling the demon stir despite himself at her rejection. “I haven’t done anything to the Slayer.”
“Buffy,” she corrected on a sniffle. “Her name is Buffy. She’s a person, not just the Slayer. Except maybe not anymore.”
Worry lanced through him, displacing the anger. That sounded bad. And the girl’s pain was like a raw, angry wound laid out for the world to see.
“What’s happened?” he asked, dropping into the gentle tones that had calmed Drusilla at her wildest. “Dawn, tell me what the trouble is, and I’ll help. I swear.”
She swallowed hard, but her grip on the stake didn’t waver and she stepped forward resolutely. “No. You don’t care. Not about me, and not about my sister.”
He was preparing to disarm her – it wouldn’t be difficult; he could do it without the chip firing – when a quiet voice said, “Dawny, stop. Put the stake down. This isn’t the way,” and he looked up to see Tara standing in the doorway.
Dawn also turned to look at the witch. It would be an ideal time to knock the stake from her hand, but something held Spike back.
“You saw her,” Dawn said miserably. “You saw how Buffy was. It’s his fault. Spike did something to her.”
Tara took a step forward. “Even if he did, killing him won’t help Buffy. Or you. There’s badness around all of us right now, Dawn, like a fog or a black cloud. Don’t add to it.”
She took another step and reached out a hand. “I know you want to help her. So do I, but not like this. Give me the stake, sweetie. You know I’m right.”
Slowly, hesitantly, Dawn let the stake fall into Tara’s hand. Then, she began to cry again, the chest-heaving sobs of an exhausted child. Spike started forward, but Tara shook her head, folding the girl into her arms and swaying gently, rocking her back and forth.
“What’s happened?” Spike asked again desperately. The way they were carrying on, it could be anything, up to and including Buffy being dead again, and Dawn’s grief was lacerating his heart.
“Buffy told Giles he should leave,” Tara said, her eyes on him even as she cradled Dawn. “Very cheerfully and pleasantly. She said she knew he had his own life, and it wasn’t fair to keep him here, wasting his time on her.”
“Giles said he didn’t think of it as a waste,” Dawn said tiredly, lifting her head from Tara’s shoulder. “And Buffy said, ‘Yes, you do. Besides, you’ll go eventually, so you might as well do it now and not lose your lease.’ She was smiling and happy and like she was fine with the whole thing.”
“Everybody started talking,” Tara continued. “But Buffy didn’t seem to understand that what she said was a problem. It was just the way things were. Like I said, she was very upbeat about it. She’s been like that the past few days. At first, I was glad because I thought she was feeling better, but it’s a lot like having the ‘bot back.”
“It all started a few nights ago,” Dawn finished. “I saw her leave and I was waiting up for her to come back. She was walking towards the house and she just fell over. I ran out, and she was cold and sick and wouldn’t talk. Then this woman vampire showed up, and said horrible things about you and Buffy and…and me.”
Oh, God. Spike closed his eyes. He’d told Amanda to stay away, but of course she hadn’t listened. She’d sensed weakness in the Slayer and gone after it, although her senses had apparently been a little off.
“She’s dust, I assume,” he said.
“Buffy staked her after she said something about you teaching me…things,” Dawn bit off.
“Ah. That would do it.” Pity. He would have preferred staking her himself after that remark. Comments like that were the price you paid for hanging around evil beings.
He opened his eyes and met the witch’s direct gaze. “I took up with her after Buffy went to Angel. She saw us together.” He shrugged a little. “I wanted to forget about the Slayer, hurt her a bit.”
Dawn stiffened, and Spike realized that she probably wasn’t the best audience for this sort of remark, but it was too late now. She had to learn sometime. Besides, he was pretty sure she wouldn’t leave.
“Congratulations,” Tara said coolly. “You made it. Because Buffy hasn’t been hurt enough, has she? I’m sure more was needed.”
“Oh, well, fine. Here’s a bit of news for you. She hurt me too! All right? One minute, she’s crying on my shoulder, saying I make her feel safe, the next, she gets a phone call from her old boyfriend and goes off without a backward glance.”
He paced back and forth, glaring at the women. “I know we’ve got a history. I was there. I’ve done what I could to make amends. I’ve helped her, helped the rest of you at every turn, and what do I get? Kicked in the teeth, cast aside, and threatened.” He pointed a finger at Dawn. “You didn’t even think to ask me about what happened, did you? You just started in with the attack. When have I done you a bad turn?”
Dawn stared down at her feet for a long moment. “I’m sorry,” she muttered at last. “I was scared.”
“Yeah, well, I get scared too. And upset.” He looked away. “And do things I shouldn’t.”
Tara sighed. “Buffy screwed up over Angel. I know that. I think she does too. So, go tell her about it. Yell, jump up and down, have a big fight, whatever. Don’t abandon her. I’ve listened to Willow’s stories and I’ve watched this group, and the one thing I get is that Buffy doesn’t think she’s allowed to make mistakes. That if she does, the world will end…which, ok, it might…and that everyone will leave her. She tries harder than anyone I’ve ever seen, and she hurts more than anyone I’ve ever seen when things go wrong.”
Spike remembered standing beside Buffy, watching Riley let a vampire feed from him, seeing the sorrow in her face and something like resignation, as if this were no more than she had expected on some level. He had recognized the same expression in her face that night at his crypt.
“Ok,” he said at last. “I’ll see what I can do. I’ve got to set up a couple of things.”
It wasn’t so bad. In fact, it was sort of peaceful. The ice encasing her felt like a prism or magnifying glass, and Buffy had never felt so focused, so clear about everything. The pain that had constantly accompanied her, at least since Angel had turned, and maybe since her Call, had finally gone. Of course, everything else was gone too, but that was didn’t seem much of a price to pay.
…“I am destruction. Absolute. Alone.”…
You had it together, First One.
She moved through her patrols like a feather, barely disturbing the air, except when she fought. That disturbed things enough, but only for a short time. Also, the amount of time she had to spend fighting had decreased significantly. She hadn’t seen anything even remotely occult in the two nights since she’d fought the K’flack demon. She’d even drifted by Willie’s and found it closed with bars drawn across the door.
Buffy leaped over the wall and dropped lightly to the sidewalk in front of the deserted cemetery. That had been a waste of a hunt, nothing to see but tombstones and crypts. No one had been there, not even….
A ripple stirred behind the ice, but she banished it with a steadying breath and turned her mind to important matters.
Where else should I look? The docks?
The low purr of a motor interrupted her thoughts, and Buffy turned to see the DeSoto idling up the street in her direction. Instinctively, she pulled further back behind her shield, and by the time the car pulled up alongside, her face was impassive.
Spike’s face was neutral too as he leaned down to look at her through the passenger’s side window. “Get in. I need to show you something.”
“What is it?” she asked, ignoring the sudden stir of her emotions.
“It’ll make more sense if I just show you.” As she paused suspiciously, Spike added, “Do you think I’d be pestering you if it wasn’t important, your Slayerness? It’s not as if I don’t have anything else to do.”
Not with that vampire from the other night you don’t.
The smug tones of the mental voice startled Buffy. Apparently, her hard-won calm wasn’t as impenetrable as she’d thought. It would be smart to avoid Spike at this time since he seemed to be able to affect, if not shatter, her control like no one else could. Still, he had provided information in the past.
Buffy opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, and Spike pulled away from the curb with a muttered, “Thanks so much for honoring me with your presence,” which she ignored.
They drove in silence for a time until she noticed that they were heading out of town.
“Where are we going?” she asked. “What is it you need to show me?”
“You’ll see when we get there.”
Awareness of something wrong twanged across her consciousness, but her voice remained calm as she said, “Spike, either tell me what’s going on, or pull over.”
He did neither, his hands tightening on the wheel as he continued to drive. She felt the the car speed up.
“I don’t know what stupid game you’re playing, but whatever it is, I don’t have time for it.” Still watching him, Buffy angrily reached for the door handle.
Which wasn’t there. Disbelieving, she whirled to look at the inside of the door and saw that the handle had been removed. As she watched, the lock buttons clicked down and Spike tromped on the accelerator, the sudden rush of speed flinging her against the back of the seat.
Adrenaline surged through her muscles, and wasting no more time arguing, Buffy swiveled to face the passenger door and pulled her knees to her chin in preparation for a kick that would certainly open the door and quite possibly take out the side of the car.
“No!” Spike shouted, and she felt one of his hands seize her belt and twist, throwing her slightly off balance. “Buffy, you’re not in any danger. This isn’t a trap. I just want to talk, that's all.”
“You’re right. I’m not in any danger,” she snarled. “And if you want to talk, then Stop. This. Car.”
“And have you flounce off without listening? No chance, Pet. You want out, you have to chance killing us both, and I’m betting you won’t do that. Not while you have to look after Dawn, anyway.”
He was right, damn him. They were going so fast now that if she jumped out or fought for the car, even with her speed and strength, there was a good chance she would die, and she couldn’t do that. Dawn needed her.
Buffy jerked clear of his grip and sat back, eyes drilling daggers into the side of his head. “So, talk, already. You’ve got my attention.” She smiled mirthlessly. “At least until you run out of gas.”
His smile was equally humorless. “Fasten your seat belt, Baby. It’s going to be a wild ride.”
On the surface, things weren’t going well. The Slayer wasn’t exactly melting in his arms and seemed to be looking forward to his running out of gas with pleased anticipation. He was having a hard time masking the panic he'd felt when he saw her prepare to kick out the door. He hadn't counted on that. All this time, all the fights they'd shared, and she could still surprise him. Which was quite a turn-on but was going to get him killed if he wasn't careful.
Still, she is in the car. And she didn’t dust me the instant she figured out what was going on. That’s something.
He had also managed to make her angry, something generally wise to avoid with the Slayer, but anger was better than the indifference of despair. Anger could be worked with.
Spike watched from the corner of his eye as Buffy dragged the seatbelt across and fastened it jerkily. Good. On some level, she wanted to stay alive even if it was only to protect her sister. Now came the juggling act of holding the necessary conversation, keeping the car moving at a sufficiently high rate of speed to keep her from attacking, and avoiding running said car into a tree.
However, he kept any stress from his voice, allowing only annoyance to color it, as he fired the opening salvo. “You’re a real piece of work, Summers.”
Buffy didn’t answer, and glancing over, Spike saw that she’d folded her arms over her chest and was staring resolutely through the windshield, ignoring him. He wouldn’t have been overly surprised to see her stick her fingers in her ears and hum really loudly.
Sorry, Love. Don’t think so.
They were on a semi-straight stretch of highway, so he jerked the wheel hard, sending the car careening across the yellow line and almost into the ditch. A human would have crashed it, and even his vampire reflexes had to fight for control for a moment before he got the car moving forward again.
He’d made his point however, for risking another glance, he saw that Buffy was clutching the sides of her seat and staring at him in shock.
“I’ve gone to a lot of trouble for tonight, so pay attention from here on out,” he snapped.
A growl answered that comment, and Spike knew that if he didn’t make his case convincingly, he stood a good chance of greeting the sun as a pile of dust. Buffy could only be bullied and scolded so far.
Ah, well. Faint heart and all that.
“As I said,” he continued, modulating his voice back to conversational levels. “A real piece of work. Can’t even take a taste of what you’re always dishing out.”
“And that means what?” she gritted.
“That means you left first,” he said angrily, some of the hurt he’d felt breaking through despite himself. “You feel abandoned, you fall apart. If the rest of us feel that way, it’s too bad. We’ve got to just suck it up and take it.”
“I didn’t abandon anybody,” Buffy said angrily. “I was gone two days. I came back.”
“Until the next time Angel calls you or Finn shows up or maybe Parker wants a round two.”
Spike heard her breath hiss in, and decided mentioning Parker might have been a tactical error. His ass had undergone one of its more significant kickings during that time, and it wasn’t an experience he cared to repeat.
“It doesn’t look like you had too bad a time,” she struck back. “You and your vamp friend. Who came after me. Who came after DAWN!”
“I’m sorry about that,” he said honestly. “That shouldn’t have happened. I told her to leave you alone.”
“Yeah, well, she didn’t listen to you. And by the way, I only staked her because of what she said to Dawn. It didn’t have anything to do with you.”
“I know.” Her face was turned away again, watching the scenery fly by the window, shoulders tight and hunched. Spike glanced at the gas meter, and relaxed when he saw there was still over half a tank. “If it helps, I didn’t like her.”
She shrugged a little. “I don’t suppose Reilly went with them because of their fascinating repartee.”
“If you’re going to compare me with the enormous hall monitor, we’re going to fight for real, chip or not.”
Buffy leaned back in the seat, anger drained out of her face and resignation setting in. “Sorry, Spike. I can’t help seeing a trend. I’m not what someone wants and they go off with vampires.”
“Oh, give it a rest!” he scoffed. “You’re always what I want, and you know it. You weren’t there, Summers. I thought…I thought you weren’t coming back, and I went a bit mad. Still, I shouldn't have gone with her." He cast her a sideways look. "Should have chased you down and turned you over my knee. Of course, you'd have ripped my leg off and beaten the rest of me to death with it, but that's still what I should have done."
Her mouth twisted a little in what might have been a smile, then she sighed and said, "I shouldn't have gone without saying something."
"You're going to have to choose, Buffy,” he said more gently. “None of this cuddled up to me one moment and off to another bloke the next, no matter who it is. I can’t manage that. It hurts too much.”
It felt like the universe paused. She watched him drive, face pale and set, hands tight on the wheel.
She missed the ice. It had been comforting, surrounding her like some sort of frosty blanket, but Spike had melted it, shattered it, his pain reaching her when his anger couldn’t. It mattered to him that she stay, that she wanted to stay. That wasn’t something she was used to.
They had taken a long, strange journey, a wild ride as he had said. It had begun in the alley behind the Bronze, and would end who knew where? There had been some not-so-pleasant stops along the way. But she knew she would be lonely if he left her, knew she didn’t want to make the trip alone.
“You can slow down,” Buffy said at last. “Or even stop the car. I’m not going anywhere. I’ve chosen.”
Spike drew a deep, shaking breath, and she saw he had been surprised by her words. The realization moved her more than anything else. He’d been trying to be so cool and in control, but the emotion seeped through despite himself, and all the time he’d been unsure of her.
He didn’t look at her again as he eased off the accelerator and the tortured DeSoto began to slow. She didn’t look at him either, her eyes drifting closed, worn out by the emotional rollercoaster they’d both been riding. Another emotion filled her, replacing the chill of the ice, and it took her a moment to recognize it as relief. The choice had been made, and she thought it was the right one. She also realized that the pain hadn’t returned even as she allowed feelings to come back inside.
She felt the car turn, pavement giving way to dirt, and opened her eyes to see that Spike had turned off onto a deserted logging road, little more than a track that wound under overhanging trees. He halted the car, and blackness and silence settled around them, broken only by stars and crickets.
“You did choose me, right?” Spike said after a moment.
Buffy snorted. “No, I’ve decided Parker’s the way to go. Yes, I chose you. Dumbass."
“Your poetic use of language is but one of your many charms.”
“That and my right cross.”
She felt him undo the buckle of her seat belt, and then his arm was cautiously around her shoulders, drawing her across the seat. She went willingly enough and leaned against him, turning a little to fit against his side, an arm going around his waist.
He rested his cheek on her hair, and that sat that way for a time, both calming down, letting the night still them.
“I didn’t sleep with Angel,” Buffy said at last.
“I didn’t ask,” his hand slid up, caressed the side of her face. “But, thank you for saying.” She felt him turn and look down at her. “Why did you go to him, Buffy? You’d been apart for months. You didn’t even tell him about Glory.”
She tried to think. It was hard, now, to understand the driving urgency that had gripped her when she heard his voice. "I wanted it to be like it was. The way it was when I first loved Angel. When my biggest problem was combining Slaying with not failing math. When I was…young.”
“Twenty’s not so very ancient, Love,” Spike said.
“I’m only twenty in years. I’m a lot older otherwise.”
“I know.” Lips brushed her forehead and she snuggled closer.
"He was happy to see me. I think,” she continued. “But it was very much something he had to deal with. He'd moved on. God, had he moved on. So me being back was this thing that fell in his lap. I've gotten that a lot. Even Willow, and she's the one who brought me back in the first place. Even Giles. I'm this big problem for everybody. I think the only ones who're 100% glad I'm back are you and Dawn."
“The Niblet’s definitely glad you’re back. I heard there was a problem with you when she attacked me in my crypt.”
“Oh, God,” Buffy shifted around enough to look at him. “Poor Dawny.”
“Poor Dawny, indeed. I’m the one whose door got chopped down.” She could see his smile in the darkness. “She’s a tough little bird. Almost as vicious as her big sister.”
“Give her a few years, she’ll get there. Don’t mess with Team Summers.”
“I’m getting that. And for the record, I’m definitely glad you’re back too. I missed you.” His voice almost broke. “I missed you so much.”
Her lips found his, cutting him off. Spike’s arms tightened around her as he more than returned her kiss, his open passion and need a stark contrast to Angel’s stilted words. Buffy wriggled as close as the confines of the car would allow, trying to show with mouth and hands that her choice was made and not regretted.
Spike turned in the seat, hands coursing over her as if making sure that she was really there. He stopped kissing her long enough to curse when he got jammed into the steering wheel, elbow hitting the horn, then swept an arm under her knees and lifted, bearing her back onto the seat and following her down.
Buffy clutched him with all her strength, arching up against his hard body, relishing the fact that she didn’t have to hold back. It felt as if all of her nerve endings were snapping awake for the first time since she’d been back, making her feel as if she were drowning and burning and flying all at once, and she couldn’t get enough of it.
He disentangled long enough to shrug free of his duster and Buffy ran her hands up under his shirt, divesting him of that as well. Spike knelt over her a moment, the moonlight glinting off the pale skin of his shoulders and chest, throwing his face into shadow. Her fingers drew a slow line from the base of his throat down to his belt while he shuddered under her touch. She rested her hand on the buckle for a moment, watching him, then slid her hand slowly down, curling around the outline of his erection.
A sound between a groan and a snarl came from between his teeth, then her own shirt was yanked over her head and the catch of her bra torn open before Spike sank back down on her, tongue deep inside her mouth. She curled up and around him, arms tight across his back, legs wrapped around his hips, trying to get ever closer.
He buried his face in her neck, kissing and biting the tender skin there, and she heard him gasp. “Buffy. Oh, God, I love you.”
She closed her eyes and said the words, recognizing them for truth at last. “I love you too, Spike. Always you from now on. Only you.”
He went very still for a moment, his arms tight around her. Then he was kissing her again, as gentle and leisurely now as he’d been fierce before as if he understood that she wouldn’t leave, that they had time.
But not that much time. Buffy slid a hand between them and found his belt again, this time undoing the buckle and locating the button to his jeans.
“I’m trying to have a romantic moment here,” Spike complained mildly.
“You can have it later.”
“If you insissssss….”
She grinned at his reaction as her fingers located and gripped the cool hard flesh she sought, stroking firmly. He writhed against her hand, eyes flashing blue to gold and back again.
“Did you want to go back to romance now?”
He gave her a look, pulled her hand away from him, then pinned both wrists over her head and against the door with one hand, his other moving to her own belt. It was Buffy’s turn to twist and strain as his fingers slid over her folds with maddening slowness, dipped inside and out again, before returning to a lazy circling.
“You seem to have lost your train of thought, Slayer,” he murmured before his mouth lowered to her breasts, teasing curve and nipple while his hand continued its slow torture, his weight keeping her from moving her hips as she wished.
“Not really. There’s pretty much only the one working track,” she managed. “Do you think we could pull into the station anytime soon?”
“Poetry. It’s just sheer poetry with you.”
Despite his protests over the language, Spike didn’t seem to have any trouble with the underlying concept, given his enthusiastic cooperation in helping with the gymnastics involved in removing two pairs of pants and boots and one set of underwear in the front seat of a car.
“We need the RV,” Buffy said, rubbing at her head where she’d banged it on the door. “At least it had a bunk.”
“I've got an actual bed back in the crypt,” Spike said dryly. “But do we really want to wait?”
“Nuh-uh,” she answered firmly, sliding her arms under his and pulling him back to her.
“Besides,” he said into her mouth. “Could be worse. Could be bucket seats.”
And then the time for talking was past.
He entered her slowly, kissing her with a passionate tenderness that almost drove her wilder than the feel of him inside her. She kissed him back with everything she had, hoping to make him feel as she did, loved and wanted and safe.
It seemed to work because there was an extra shine to his eyes when he pulled back to look at her, and the smile on his lips wasn’t the familiar smart-ass grin, but just a smile of happiness.
His arms went under her, molding their bodies ever closer as they moved, the slow, languorous strokes imperceptibly growing faster and harder as the desire caught and grew between them.
Buffy whispered his name into his shoulder as she crested, and Spike pulled her head around and covered her mouth with his, swallowing her cries. A moment later, he stiffened and arched, pouring into her as she held him close.
They lay still and sated on the front seat of the car, until Buffy had to finally pay attention to a leg cramp that she’d been ignoring for awhile. She nudged Spike and he shifted around until they were more or less sitting up again, although still wrapped around each other.
“It’ll be interesting driving like this,” he commented. “Bit hard to reach the gear shift.”
“Mm,” she agreed, half-asleep. “Not to mention cold. But I have confidence in you.”
“You’ll protect me from Dawn when we get back, won't you? Tell her I’m definitely playing on Team Summers? I am on the team, aren't I?”
She smiled lazily and leaned around to kiss the line of his jaw.
“You’re at least the bat-boy.”