I guess I shouldn’t be thinking about things that way, though. I have plenty to be thankful for. I have my sister; I have my Watcher; I have most of my friends; and I’m still alive. When you’re a Slayer, that’s gotta count for something.
But Faith and I? Not exactly giggle twins. We’ve been doing better, don’t get me wrong. We’re not trying to kill each other anymore, and neither of us are in a coma or dead or in prison, all of which are big with the positive. Still, I can’t help but be surprised when the call comes in. She says she wants my help to put a few things down. I have the feeling that she can handle the monsters just fine. She’s never exactly wanted my help before. But she’s asking this time, plus she’s pulling the "it’s the holidays" card, so I gave in.
She might just want to hash things out a bit. There’s been some different ideas among all the girls about what should be the standard Slayer policy. Some of them play up to the ideals of the old Council, some follow me, and then there are those who just follow their own path. Faith and I disagree on some things, but we keep communication open for the most part. Still – I don’t really want to go. But in the words of Dawn, I need to stop being a big baby and just suck it up already. Hmpf. I think she just wants to go somewhere with a bunch of snow for the Christmas season.
Either way, Cleveland it is.
“I thought we were supposed to be in Cleveland?” Dawn asks as she takes in all the trees, looking slightly worried underneath her pink wool-knit snow hat. “I thought it was a city. Cleveland’s a big city, right?”
I frown. “That’s the general consensus… But the number on the mail box matches the address she gave me.” In the last ten minutes of our drive out here, we had passed exactly one car and three deer. Never a good sign for civilization.
The sun set a couple hours ago and now the only sources of light are the cozy looking ranch-style house in front of us and the moon reflecting off the snow. Behind the house, the trees grow dense. Looking at it in the dark is like looking at a towering, impenetrable wall of black. A gust of wind suddenly rises up, sending a shiver down my back. “C’mon. It’s cold out here.”
I heft the majority of our bags and we leave the rental car behind. Our boots crunch loudly on the ground, churning up icy snow and gravel on the driveway. “Leave it to Faith to live way out in the middle of Nowhere, Antarctica,” Dawn grumbles behind me.
I drop the bag and push the doorbell. You can hear the buzzing inside the house. “Buffy. Smile!” Dawn hisses in my ear.
“What?” I whisper back, irritated. “I wasn’t even doing anything.”
“Yes, you were! You were making that ‘I’d rather be anywhere but here’ face.”
“But there’s trees and you were just agreeing that – ”
“At least be polite. Please?” Somewhere along the road, Dawn and Faith became good friends. I’m not real sure how that came about. Apparently, Dawn must’ve forgiven her for when she held her and mom hostage and then stole my body. Not that I’m keeping track.
“Of course I’ll be polite. Buckets of polite. She just has to give buckets back.”
Dawn groans and starts to say something else when the door to the brightly-lit home swings open.
“B! Dawnie!” Faith shouts, grinning. She opens her arms wide and Dawn runs the last steps to meet her hug. “How’s it been, babe? Whoa, easy there. Gonna crush these poor Slayer ribs of mine.” She releases Dawn and tilts her head towards me. Her kilowatt smile falters a bit, but when I step forward to give a hug of my own, it lights back up. Her hugs are just like everything else about her – fierce.
“How’s it going?” I ask. I can’t help but smile back at her, a little surprised at the fondness surging up in me.
“You know me. Five by five,” she says with a smirk before stepping back into the house. We follow in after her, stomping the snow off our boots, and I can see she wasn’t kidding. In the warm lighting she looks good; she gleams. Sleek, healthy, and ruddy.
“Did anyone tell you that you live in the middle of nowhere?” Dawn asks, hopping a bit, trying to maintain balance as she struggles to get out of her snow boots. “I thought the hellmouth was in Cleveland. This isn’t Cleveland.”
Faith shrugs. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking when I signed up for this gig. Thought there was going to be a nice big city to play in. Apparently you have to read that fine print that says the hellmouth is actually in Geauga County. Cleveland’s just real close by.” She waves absentmindedly at a side table shoved in a corner next to the door. “Just toss your coats and stuff there.”
She picks up Dawn’s luggage and hauls it into the living room. “It’s not so bad though. No one out here to bother with. And all this wilderness to run around through when you’re chasing some baddie gives you a little extra burst.” She nods her head toward me. “Know what I mean, B?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to deny it. Old habit when it comes to Faith, I suppose. “Yeah, I do.”
She must’ve been expecting denial too cause that smile cranks back up again. She abruptly looks away, and takes the rest of our stuff. “Make yourselves at home, ladies. I’ve got a big toasty fire going.” Her living room is a hodge-podge collection of furniture. Nothing much matches and it’s all pretty well-worn, but the colors are warm and the place is clean with just the right amount of clutter to make it homey. A stone fireplace is imbedded against the main wall, contrasting nicely with the russet-colored wood of the walls. “You gals want something to drink? Beer?” She looks from me to Dawn, then falters, her eyes flickering to mine a bit anxiously, as if waiting for me to lecture her for offering my little sister alcohol. “Or um, hot chocolate?”
Before I can say anything, Dawn swoops in to smooth things over. “Hot chocolate is great.”
“I wouldn’t say no to a beer. Whatever you have is fine.”
Faith nods and disappears into the kitchen. We begin to hear the opening and shutting of cabinet doors, and Dawn turns, leveling me with an imperious glare. “Be nicer,” she mouths.
I make a face at her. Behold, Maturity thy name is Buffy. It’s obvious that Faith is a bit nervous, but surely that’s not all about me, is it? Since when has she cared about approval? Especially mine?
“I’m serious, Buffy,” Dawn hisses quietly.
“Lay off already. I get it. Play nice with others,” I grumble back.
Faith emerges from the kitchen, her hands full, juggling two bottled-beers and a mug of steaming chocolate. “Here we are. Happy Belated – ”
The front door bursts open and Robin storms in, face twisted in quiet frustration. Following close behind is a blur of noise and movement and black leather. “I don’t care what the book said, you can take your poncy ring and shove it up your arse. I’m not going to be wearing any more magic – ” Both men stop dead, staring at the three girls in the living room.
“Buffy,” Spike says matter-of-factly. Like naming an object. Like calling a chair a chair and a table a table. My heart constricts. I knew he was alive. Knew he was in LA. But actually seeing him in the flesh – the white blonde hair tousled from a fight, those blue eyes that pin you down like a butterfly under the glass – it’s a completely different knowledge. And then his whirlwind of anger starts up again. “What the bloody hell is she doing here?” he all but snarls at Faith, jabbing a finger at me.
Um. Ow.
“ – New Years,” Faith mutters miserably, setting the drinks on a scuffed up coffee table.
“Hello to you, too, Spike,” I say, unable to keep some of the bitterness from my voice.
“I’m here, too, you know,” Dawn mutters darkly. I glance over and catch the hurt flashing over her face before turning my attention back to Spike.
His eyes flicker to Dawn before turning back to Faith. He takes a deep breath, body tense, obviously trying to not start yelling again. He fails. “Thought you and me had an understanding, Faith. Why are they here?”
“Cause I got tired of you crying like a school girl in your room every other damned week, Blondie!” And now Faith’s yelling.
This new form of talking is so much better than the old. I don’t know why we even bothered with those soft, indoor voices.
Spike opens his mouth to say something, but then he quickly snaps it shut. He turns away, jaw clenching, before glaring at Robin accusingly. The larger man puts his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t have anything to do with it. She never said a thing to me about it.”
Slowly, Spike finally turns and looks me in the eyes. He’s not yelling anymore, but his tone is still just as hard. “So what are you here for then?”
I make my voice overly calm. “Dawn and I came out here because it’s the holidays and Faith invited us. She mentioned a chance to try out this spiffy new axe I got, too.”
Dawn pipes up at my side, arms crossed, and hips cocked – the classic Dawn Summers ‘you’re so screwed’ look. “Yep. Notice how she didn’t mention you. At all.” She smiles, but it’s not in a nice way. “And now, my hot chocolate is cold and our cozy holiday get-together mood is ruined. Thanks a lot, He Who Never Calls.” She purposely turns her back on him, facing the fireplace instead.
Spike’s gaze is locked on her, lingering at her turned back, before it darts to me, his face open and anxious as if looking for advice.
I keep my expression like my voice – blank, yielding nothing. With a scoff he throws his hands in the air. “Great. Now somehow this is my fault, too.” He grabs the leather jacket he’d thrown across a chair. I don’t ask where is his usual duster is. He pulls it on angrily, movements’ jerky. “Sorry all, didn’t realize I was cramping your style, what with my living here and all,” he says sarcastically. “I’ll just give you your room, shall I?”
“Spike – ” Faith starts, but he’s already gone, slamming the door behind him. Everyone’s silent for a moment, not moving, before she heaves a sigh. “I’ll give him a bit to cool down, then go after him. No point in talking to him when he’s like this.” Her gaze falls on the beer and she grabs it up, taking a long pull.
I blink, looking from the door to the brunette Slayer now slouched low in the armchair. Isn’t that my line? At what point was that no longer my line to say? My vampire to go after? And just like that, I’m angry. Really fucking angry. I turn on my counterpart. “What was that about, Faith? Was that your real reason for inviting us up here? Some misguided attempt at playing matchmaker?”
“Buffy – ” Dawn starts in.
I hold up a hand, halting her. “No, Dawn. I want to know. I want to know what Faith’s intentions were.”
Faith meets my eyes before her gaze falls back to the bottle in her hands, a slight tinge of guilt on her face. “Look, I didn’t – ” She trails off, but then looks up again and meets me square on. “I meant what I said.” Her voice is firm. “I wanted to spend the holidays with friends in the house, and it would be nice to have some help with this new baddie that’s popped up. But did I think that it would be good for you and Spike to work out some of your damn issues? Yeah, I did.” She pauses, and I’m about to snap a reply at her about minding her own business, but then she starts up again. Her voice is soft and kind of forlorn. “He just gets so down sometimes, B.”
Robin moves up behind the chair and settles his hands on her shoulders. The gesture is surprising, but what’s more surprising is Faith’s total lack of reaction. Like it’s expected. Like it’s the usual. I can count on one hand the gestures of affection or goodwill that I’ve seen Faith take gracefully. “They lost a lot of people in LA, Buff. Fred, Wes, Gunn. I’ve worked with ‘em. They were good guys. And Spike was fighting the fight right there with them when it all went down.”
Slowly, I nod. “I heard about LA last summer.” I snort. “People there are as willing to hear what they want to hear as they were in Sunnydale. ‘Giant earthquake.’ Yeah, cause earthquakes leave scores of rotting demon bodies all the time.” I get quiet again. “But, no. Except for Wes, I didn’t really know them.”
Faith shakes her head. “You didn’t really know him, either. He was a different man from the one you knew in Sunnydale.”
A flare of irritation reignites, but Dawn quickly overrides me. “So Spike’s been here since then?”
“Yeah. Found him in that alley, hacked up in a dozen places and looking about ready to drop, but still swinging. After we got him patched up he came back with us. Needed a place to lie low, he said. Word on the streets is that the Senior Partners aren’t happy with any of Angel’s gang. That’s why Angel dropped off the radar. He said he’d drop us a line every once and a while, but we haven’t heard a thing since. And Illyria, she – ” She stops and peers at us. “You heard about Fred, right?”
“No.”
“Yes.”
I glare at Dawn. “Wait, how do you know?”
“Cause I haven’t buried myself up to the ears in the slaying business like you have,” she tosses back.
“Fred,” Faith says. “Big brain, skinny as a toothpick? Darling Delta accent?”
I am so confused. Delta – wha? “Uhh, maybe…”
“Nice girl. Got her body taken over by some sort of god by the name of Illyria. Anyway, if you see a blue chick about yea high with a stick up her ass, that would be her.”
Behind her, Robin nods. “She just kind of pops in and out as she pleases. We don’t mind her too much,” he says. “It’s becoming rarer and rarer.”
“Oh. Okay. Don’t be surprised by sudden blue girl. Check.”
At my side, Dawn suddenly cracks a huge yawn. I can sympathize. I rub a hand up and down her back. “I think it’s time for me to go to bed. It was a long flight. You look like you’re heading that way, too.”
She mumbles something unintelligible and nods sleepily. Faith takes that as her cue and stands up, setting the half-empty bottle onto the coffee table. “Right. We’ll finish playing catch up in the morning. C’mon, I’ll show you to your rooms. It’s a big place. We got plenty of extra.”
Robin steps around her, smiling. “Buffy, Dawn, despite what Spike might have you thinking, it is good to see you both again.”
I look at him. He and Spike must’ve made their peace if they’re working together side by side. If it’s good enough for Spike, then it’s good enough for me, too. And just like that, the block that I had put up around Robin Wood is gone, and I remember how good a guy he is. I can’t help but return the smile. “Hey, yeah, you too.” I pull him into a hug.
He and Dawn exchange hugs, too, and we follow Faith down the hallway, Robin and I carrying the luggage. Faith gestures to the various doors lining the hall. “Those are you two, that’s bathroom, that’s us, and Spike wanted the room in the basement. Even if it is cold and tiny as hell.”
I try not to roll my eyes. Of course he did. One way or another, he always ends up below ground.
“Clean sheets are on the bed, towels are in that closet.” She points to a tiny door by the bathroom. “And if I get any more domestic I’m going to give up Slaying and start sellin’ ass.”
Robin shoots her a look that would’ve been a rebuke if it weren’t so half-hearted. I get the impression that he’s heard this line way too many times. Dawn snorts with laughter and now I do roll my eyes. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Faith will always be Faith. Robin nods at us. “Goodnight, ladies.”
“Night,” we call, as everyone breaks.
“I get the bigger one,” Dawn whispers at my side.
“What? Who says?”
“I do. I just called it,” she singsongs.
Grumbling, I reach for a doorknob, then stop and turn to look at Faith’s retreated back. “Hey,” I call. “Should one of us go after Spike? Or does he come back on his own?”
She glances over her shoulder, giving me an odd look, without breaking stride. “Always does. You know that.”
I stare at the door she disappears behind. Right. He always comes back. Except when he came here. With a sigh, I grab my suitcase and say goodnight to Dawn.
Five hours later I jerk awake. The urge to go track down Spike is overwhelming. I don’t know why. He clearly had no interest in seeing me. If nothing else, he made that perfectly clear. But does that stop me from leaving my warm cocoon in search of my vampire? Nope.
It’s quiet. Everyone else is probably fast asleep like normal people. Careful not take to make any noise, I slip out of my room and pad barefoot along the hardwood floors, heading towards a door I saw earlier. It looked like a basement sort of door. Reaching it, I pull it open, immediately greeted with essence of basement. A mix of exposed pipes, concrete and coolness that seems to be a universal thing for basements.
I already know he’s not down there, but I try anyway. “Spike?” I whisper. If he was down there then he’d probably hear me before I even opened the door. No answer. Like I said, he’s not there. And still – I don’t turn around. My foot finds the first unrefined wooden step and quickly takes the rest after I fumble for the light switch.
The inner workings of the house aren’t quiet as exposed as I expected; it’s finished, if barren. It branches out into three sections: a largish TV room, a laundry room, and then a bedroom with a full bath the size of a large closet.
The bedroom isn’t as barren as the rest of the other rooms. It has the necessities. Bed, nightstand, chest of drawers, a sword leaning in a corner. Yup. Necessities. Touches of Spike include candles, a pile of books, and a dirty, red-rimmed mug. My nose wrinkles. “Gross.” I glance over the books. The titles look like something from Giles’ collection. All brand new. All stolen, too, more than likely.
All totally not what I would expect him to be reading.
I look around. No windows, no watch. No way to get a clue on the oncoming dawn. I make my way back up the stairs. Glancing at the clock, I frown. Six AM. Outside, the sky is still thoroughly dark. The sun should be coming up soon, right? When does the sun come up in the winter? Every sunrise I must’ve seen over the years completely flies out of my head. I struggle to remember mornings in Sunnydale. But maybe Cleveland’s different. They could be different. I mean, they’re really far apart –
“Buffy?”
I jump and spin around to find Robin standing in the shadows. My hands fly to my chest and my heart feels like it’s going a mile a minute. “Jesus, don’t do that.”
An incredulous look comes over him. “I apologize. I didn’t think the oldest Slayer in history would be so easy to sneak up on.”
I give him a dirty look. “I was distracted. And don’t say it like that. You make me sound all… old.”
He laughs softly and I remember why I went on that date with him. “I could tell. You were staring out that window like it holds the answers to life.” He steps up beside me, his voice low and teasing. “I mean, there are an awful lot of trees out there.”
I slap him lightly on the arm. “Shut up.”
Faith’s voice sounds behind us, “Everyone’s getting up early today, I see.” We turn and I can tell by the look on her face and the way she’s cupping one fist in her other hand, like she used to do when she was nervous, that she remembers the date Robin and I went on, too.
Robin leaves my side and moves to wrap his arms around her from the side, kissing her on the temple. “Spike’s not back yet. She’s worried.”
“I am not worried.” I wonder if it sounds as weak to them as it does to me.
At that, some of the edges leave Faith’s posture. “Blondie’s not back yet? S’odd.”
“You said he usually came back by morning.” I point at the now steadily paling sky. “It’s light out.” I try to sound matter-of-fact. No, I’m not fretting over a guy I haven’t seen in two years who died very abruptly after I told him I loved him. Not at all, why would you ask?
Robin trails off to the kitchen while Faith lingers a moment. “Don’t worry, B. He’s a big boy. So he stayed out one night. I’m sure he’s just sleepin’ it off somewhere. Now c’mon. Robin found some amazing coffee the other day.”
I turn to glance once more at the window, suppressing images of where, and with whom, he might be ‘sleeping it off’ with. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s it.” Slowly, I head to the kitchen, trying to focus on the smell of brewing coffee.
“You gonna tell me what this is about? Or do you just fancy a round of slap and tickle?”
Spike’s voice is defiant, and he makes a show of tugging at his bonds. Muscles flexing, fangs flashing.
Doesn’t want them to know. Can’t let on that he’s getting nervous. Because he can’t see a damned thing through whatever they wrapped around his eyes. So thick he can’t tell if the lights are on or off. Because for all the show he puts on, whatever they have him strapped up with hasn’t given one inch. Because he can’t smell anything but the metallic, chokingly strong substance they held to his nose the second they grabbed him. Because, even though he can hear, they aren’t saying a single fucking word.
He can hear them moving about. The rustle of cloth, the slide and click of doors. Breath. But they won’t say a word.
And it scares him. The silence is the worst. The more he strains to listen, the more their blood rushes in his ears.