Chapter 3: ‘Conversations; Or Lack Of!’
Summary: Spike mopes and paces around, at first in this chapter. Riley (yes Riley) offers Spike and the gang a little insight to ‘soul mates’ and such.
Buffy is at home, wrestling with her own inner demons and she has a convo with Joyce. Then Dawn gets into the act later that night and Buffy realizes that her little sister is a lot smarter then she thought.
I’m beginning the chapter with these interactions between the gang members and Buffy’s with her family members. Kind of ‘Young Guns meets The Brady Bunch!’ (Okay, maybe not the Brady Bunch).
Anyway, this is the chapter where the bank robbery occurs. I think I’ve come up with a nifty way to get Buffy in town for the events on Saturday.
I hope this comes out like I meant it to: Sweet, sad a little, funny in places, yet a little exciting. There is a hinted at, but surprise twist at the very end of this chapter.
Please read and enjoy!
Chapter 3:
Spike had moped about his Uncle Wesley’s house, for hours. This in itself was enough for Angel to just about pull his gun out and blow Spike’s brains all over the fine dining table linen. Even the broody Angel Crawford could not take much more of his younger cousin’s sour mood.
“How long until Saturday?” Spike muttered at his cousin, the agitation in his tone was clearly visible.
“Oh, about five minutes closer then the last time you asked boy,” Rupert Giles hissed at his only living child. Rupert was getting a bit fed up with his son’s moody demeanor also.
“Why don’t you just go to town, buy a whore and get your release little cousin,” Angel asked in disgust. “If the little piece of skirt can’t or won’t meet up with you and give it up? Go buy it? Get a little blond and…”
“I think I’d rather give myself a good wank then pay for something second best, Peaches,” Spike grumbled as he lit another cigarette.
“Oh good Christ,” Xander Harris groaned loudly. "Do you guys have to talk about this? Now?”
“Just because you have your wife, Anya, waiting for you in Nogales, Harris,” Riley Finn snarled at his friend. “Doesn’t mean the rest of us, well, Angel excluded, have any choice in how we get our release, huh?”
“True,” Angel chuckled, “I’ve got my Darla waitin’ on me, with your Anya, Xander. I can’t wait to see my little darling again. When we get to Nogales, Arizona, I intend on…”
“That’s about enough!” Giles roared in disgust.
“Get some sleep son,” Giles ordered his only living child.
. “Saturday will come soon enough and we will relieve the Redemption bank of its monies. I hope Ethan Rayne feels this slap, way back in London. The old bastard,” Rupert finished with a hiss.
“Soul mates,” Riley Finn blurted suddenly.
“What?” Angel asked his friend and one of his best men. “What’s a soul mate?” The large dark haired Angel asked, puzzled.
“A man and a woman that’s meant to be together forever,” Riley drawled in response. “Mates of the soul,” Finn continued, “it’s what my mother’s people called it.”
“Tell me more,” Spike ordered the tall, peyote smoking young man next to him. Riley had peaked Spike’s interest, for once.
“Simple really,” Riley said with a shrug of his massive shoulders. He took another drag from his beloved peyote and blew the smoke out slowly. “My grandparents, on my dad’s side, they fled Ireland when my father was only seven or so. They came to America under some pretty shady circumstances.”
“And this is about soul mates because?” Graham, another member of the gang, asked impatiently.
“My dad grew up in a settlement, in Ohio. That’s where he met my mother, at a Shawnee village. She was only about fifteen or so, at the time,” Riley murmured wistfully. “Dad knew, the minute he saw my mother that she was his for all time. It means that they belong together, forever. It’s what the Shawnee call ‘mates of the soul’ and it’s nature’s way. You can’t fight it. The Great Spirit controls these things,” Riley explained. “I think the Great Spirit himself has found old Spike’s soul mate for him. This little skirt of a girl, Buffy Summers.”
“You smoke too much of that loco weed, Finn,” Graham grunted in what appeared to be envious disgust.
“Maybe,” Riley chuckled in response, “but fact is? Angel, and Harris there? They’ve found their soul mates and I think Spike has too. Like I said, you can’t fight the way of nature, or the Great Spirit. Who, by the way, is as much to my mother’s people as your God is to your folks. Their ways demand as much respect as yours. Besides, you never can fight God or nature Graham and you never will.” Riley shrugged his shoulders again and settled back into his chair.
“Thanks mate,” Spike muttered in gratitude to the big hulking man. Riley Finn had gone up a notch or two in Spike’s opinion since a few hours before.
Buffy paced about her parents’ simple but cozy farmhouse. She had been ‘restless’ since her meeting with William Galvaston earlier that day. Finally, after everyone but Joyce Summers had shuffled off to bed, Buffy cornered her mother at the kitchen table. There was a lot Buffy needed to talk to her mother about and it could no longer wait. Pride, embarrassment and tact be damned!
“What’s troubling you Buffy?” Joyce asked her daughter quietly as she mended Hank Jr.'s torn best Sunday shirt.
“Mama,” Buffy stammered nervously, a bright red blush on her pretty face. “I was wondering,” the daughter began as she joined her mother at the table. “About you and Papa,” Buffy continued as tactfully as possible.
“What about us,” Joyce asked matter-of-factly as she broke the mending thread, with her blunt teeth. While Joyce retied the thread to another blunter needle, she eyed her oldest child, warily.
“I just wondered, well…” Buffy found it difficult to continue on. As much as she loved her mother, this was just a little too private to even share with her.
Joyce Summers sighed heavily and tossed the still unfinished shirt onto the wooden table before them. She leaned back in her chair and stared at her golden daughter with affection.
“You want to know how it is between your father and me, right. Or, more importantly, how it was? When we first met?” Joyce didn’t have to hear Buffy’s response; she felt it in her very heart and soul.
“Yes,” Buffy whispered softly. “I need to know how things were, then. How things are, and were, between you and Papa. If you can remember that far back that is?” Buffy shot her mother a hopeful look.
“Well,” Joyce laughed loudly, “it wasn’t so very long ago that your father and I met, Buffy.” It was Joyce’s turn to shoot Buffy a ‘look’ of sorts. “Your father and I were barely sixteen when we met, dear. Seventeen when we married.” Joyce raised a fair brow at her oldest.
“I know but…” Buffy’s voice trailed off as she glanced away from her mother, her idol for the past seventeen years of her life.
“What is it, dear?” Joyce suddenly asked, gently. “Do you want to know how it is between a married man and woman? Or how it should be? How it was between Daddy and me? Truly?”
“You two,” Buffy mumbled in reply, her face a bright red. “How it was between the two of you, I mean,” she trailed off timidly.
“Well, your father and I were lucky honey,” Joyce murmured with a satisfied grin. “We ‘felt’ that way, at least the way I think you mean, from the start. When we first met each other? Hank Summers blew into my hometown and somehow sought me out, right away. He took work with my father, your grandfather. I still believe it was to meet me, no matter what your dad says.”
Joyce smiled widely and closed her blue eyes in memory. “Your father wheedled his way into my life and my heart, from the beginning. We both had ‘those feelings’ for each other, right off. Still do really. Is that what’s bothering you Buffy? Do you not feel that way for Caleb?”
“I don’t think I do,” Buffy answered, honestly. “I had hoped I might have developed ‘those feelings’ for Caleb, but now? I am not so very sure I ever will.”
Joyce sighed again and shook her fair head, “then I guess you had better re-think your marriage to Caleb Montgomery dear.”
“How can I humiliate a man like Caleb by breaking off our engagement Mama?” She glared at her mother in stunned disbelief at her suggestion.
“How can you marry a man you don’t truly love?” Joyce countered evenly. “If you do? Go ahead and marry Caleb, knowing you don’t share the obvious feelings he has for you? You’ll make each other miserable, mark my words girl. Perhaps if you took council, with the Reverend Snyder first? Before you speak to Caleb about this? On Sunday, after services at church?” Joyce offered the advice with a smile, but Buffy knew her the wise woman was deadly serious about this.
Buffy groaned, inwardly, but continued to gaze at her mother’s lovely face. She knew the older woman was right, that she had better re-think this whole Caleb thing and quickly. It would be difficult, near impossible, to try and explain her worries to her fiancé. However, it had to be done, and soon.
“No,” Buffy shook her blond head, “not Sunday. Saturday morning, that is if Papa can drive me into town. Caleb is taking me to town, in the late afternoon, to have supper as usual at the café. I will ‘talk’ with Reverend Snyder in the morning; get a feel for how I should discuss this with Caleb.”
“Good,” Joyce nodded soberly at her daughter. “I have to tell you Buffy,” she continued with hesitation. “To be honest, I never felt this engagement of yours, to Caleb, was the right thing for you. Frankly, there’s something not quite right about Caleb Montgomery. I just never had the courage to voice my opinions on him to you. Not before this.”
“It’s all right, Mama,” Buffy whispered as her body visibly shivered at the thought of her Saturday conversation with her fiancé. “To be honest,” she added in a mumble, “I agree. There is something off about Caleb. I only hope he understands when I ‘talk’ to him on Saturday.”
Buffy lay in her small bed, wide awake after the conversation she had just had with mama. It had to be well after midnight, but she found that she just could not close her eyes and rest properly. Even though there was the usual amount of work around the farm to do tomorrow.
Just as she was about to force herself to sleep, Buffy heard the soft, gentle voice of her little sister, Dawn. “Buffy?” Dawn called from her own bed in the shared room, “you’re not going to marry Caleb, are you?”
“Go back to sleep Dawnie,” Buffy ordered her sister in a gentle tone. “It’s not for you to worry about this honey.”
“I know,” Dawn whispered, “but I love you Buffy and I want you to be happy. Please don’t marry Caleb, Buffy. Please. I don’t like him very much and never have. He’s a bad man, deep inside. I know it.”
“Dawn!” Buffy gasped. "You must not say that about Caleb Montgomery. Just because I am getting nervous about marrying him, does not mean any of us should say he’s bad.”
“Well, he is a bad man,” Dawn countered, stubbornly. “I’ve seen him, looking at you Buffy, kind of funny. Not with love, not like mama and daddy have for each other. Caleb looks at you, when you don’t see him do it, like a wolf or something. A mean, a nasty old wolf at that!"
Buffy did not respond to her sister’s observations, at least right away. She was too busy considering what the wise little twelve-year-old was actually getting at. Dawn was right. There was something dark and sinister in the way Caleb felt about her, Buffy. Something in the way he looked at her, at times, that had frightened Buffy.
Of course, Buffy had passed off Caleb’s ‘adoration’ as natural desire and yes, even lust for her. This was to be expected in a man, wasn’t it? For him to look forward to the wedding night and all of the passion it was supposed to afford him? It was just that with Caleb, Buffy sometimes felt that this lust or desire as it were, went beyond the normal where they were concerned.
Caleb stared at Buffy as if he did not just want to make love to her. No, it was something more then that, she was sure. Almost as if Montgomery wanted to possess Buffy completely. Possess her body, her mind, her very soul and being. To top it off, Buffy had come to a startling realization. Caleb Montgomery was harboring a dark, sinister personality underneath his proper, respectable outer shell.
‘Almost as if he is two different men,’ Buffy realized in shock.
“Does your change of heart have something to do with that handsome man, Buffy?” Dawn’s question broke into Buffy’s reverie.
“That stranger, at the ‘social’ last Sunday? The one with the pretty blond hair?” The younger girl began to giggle, uncontrollably, surprising Buffy to no end.
“Dawn! How can you say that?” Buffy hissed in mock surprise, “I never even spoke to that man!”
‘At least not until today,’ Buffy added guiltily.
“You didn’t have to talk to each other,” Dawn continued to giggle merrily. “Just the way you two were looking at each other? That did all the talking for you! I’m surprised that old Caleb didn’t catch on to that! Course, Caleb is a bit thick in the head and…”
“Dawn! That’s enough!” Buffy used her best warning tone to her little sister, but she had to giggle herself. Just a little.
Once the two girls had calmed down a bit, Dawn scurried out of her little bed and hopped into Buffy’s. Buffy clasped the younger, beloved girl, to her, tightly.
“You know, you are pretty smart Dawn. For a little squirt that is,” Buffy chuckled softly as she stroked Dawn’s long dark hair.
“I’m not a squirt Buffy!” Dawn hissed back defensively. “I’m near as tall as you, and you’re five years older then me!”
“I know,” Buffy sighed deeply, closing her eyes. “You’re not a squirt honey. You’re a very wise, beautiful young lady, who’s growing up much too fast for my taste.”
Saturday had finally come to Redemption and Hank Summers had driven his oldest daughter to town. If Buffy’s father was a little surprised or confused by this repeat trip to town, in a weeks time? He said nothing about it. Buffy assumed her mother had spoken to Papa in some way, warning him to keep his questions to himself.
Buffy would be eternally grateful for her mother’s wisdom and advice.
The ‘talk’ with Reverend Snyder had not gone very well, sad to say. When Buffy vocalized her worries and concerns about her upcoming marriage to Caleb, one of the reverend’s best friends? The short, small framed minister had frowned and voiced his disappointment in Buffy.
At the moment, Buffy was hurrying to Willow’s little white framed house. The Osbournes lived in town, of course, their lovely little home was nearly attached to Willow’s parents’ house next door to them. Buffy was aware that Daniel would be at the bank, as usual, this Saturday morning. She needed to talk with Willow as soon as possible.
Willow would support Buffy’s decision regarding Caleb, no matter what it might be. Papa was at the feed store, conveniently, so Buffy was free to discuss her problem with her best friend.
Spike rode, stoically, atop his horse, Midnight. The all black stallion was the closest thing to a best friend that Spike had. Except for his cousin, Angel, that is.
It was Saturday morning in Redemption, Nebraska, and Spike, his father, Rupert and big old Angel were on their way to the bank. To rob it, that is. Graham, Xander, Riley and the others were already in town, prepared to join the three riders at their target, the Bank of Redemption.
As they rode along the main stretch of town, Spike glanced over at his imposing father, Rupert Giles. His dad had always been a bit of a puzzle to Spike really. At home, in England, Rupert had been a well-to-do man of means. Rupes had been a scholar and natural born poet really. Spike supposed that’s where he got his own love of the book from.
Now, however, Rupert had transformed himself into a hardened, almost brutal outlaw. Spike knew, of course, that it was the horrors of the past that had caused his dad to change himself into the man he had become today. Just as those same horrors that had plagued his father? They had helped change Spike into an outlaw and nomad also.
Out of the corner of his right eye, Spike caught the tell-tale flash of honey blond hair. ‘Buffy,’ Spike realized in surprise. ‘Oh good Christ,’ he groaned inwardly, ‘this can’t be good. She’s here? Here and now? She’ll know,’ he reasoned sadly. ‘Once we’ve robbed the bank? She’ll never give me another thought again. There'd only be feelings of hate and disgust, after today.’
Pushing his disappointment aside, Spike glared straight ahead and followed his father’s horse the rest of the way to the bank. Sure enough, Graham’s ugly horse was tied to the hitching post across the street, while Xander’s was hooked to a pole a bit further down. Gunn was no where to be seen, but that wasn’t unusual, the man could hide like no one else. Riley sat on a bench outside a saloon, complacent as always, almost asleep against the wall.
“Ford and Holden must be inside the bank already,” Angel grunted.
“Well, that’s how it works, isn’t it?” Rupert growled unnecessarily. “We’ve done this over a dozen times Angel,” the older man continued gruffly. “It's always worked before. Why change things?”
Angel looked a little stunned at his uncle’s verbal slap, but said nothing more. The trio rode up to the bank and tied their horses, loosely to the hitching rail in front of it.
“Well, let’s get this over with,” Rupert ordered harshly. “Ethan Rayne’s money is just waiting for us.”
Spike’s thoughts traveled back to Buffy and what she would think about him when this was over. He felt his heart break into a million pieces, but he still followed his father and cousin into the waiting bank.
Angel was holding a gun to Daniel Osbourne’s red head, while barking orders to the rest of the men in the bank. Spike was always amazed that the bank employees and the customers never ever seemed to see this coming.
As he stood, his gun pointed at the bank manager, some bloke by the name of Travers, Spike thought about how bloody stupid these people really were.
‘Nearly ten blokes,’ Spike reasoned silently, ‘and pretty disreputable looking blokes at that,’ he continued his inner musings. ‘Nearly ten dusty blokes stroll into the only bank in town, almost at the same time and these locals never catch on, beforehand that is.’
This always puzzled Spike, completely. You’d think that someone, sometime in one of these towns, would catch on. That a little bell would go off in somebody’s head, in warning that is.
“Don’t even breathe,” Spike hissed at Travers as he cocked his gun and glared at the older man.
“Wouldn’t think of it,” the manager stuttered anxiously in reply.
Rupert Giles tossed Graham and Holden some bags of money. Xander grinned, amicably, at a male bank patron that he held captive with his own gun.
“Nice weather,” Xander observed to the terrified man with a friendly grin. The frightened young patron just nodded in agreement.
“You won’t get away with this O’Connor,” Daniel Osbourne stated defiantly. “If that’s your real name, anyway.”
“It’s not,” Angel chuckled in response. “It’s actually Angel Crawford and that’s my uncle Giles and his kid, Spike. Oh, Osbourne,” Angel continued evenly, “be sure when word of this gets back to that fuck, Ethan Rayne in England. Make sure he knows exactly who pulled this off and made it out of the state with his lousy cash. Be sure to let old Joseph Masters, back in his big fancy mansion in New York know too. Wire him right after you’re finished breaking the news to Rayne.”
“Oh, I will,” Daniel whispered harshly in reply.
“Let’s just shoot this moron!” Graham barked hoarsely as he pointed his gun at Daniel Osbourne. Graham was always itching to shoot ‘somebody’ somewhere.
“Back off, Graham,” Spike hissed with menace. “The man’s just doing his job. If you want to kill something, go back to Alabama and take out the bastards that burned your family’s farm to the ground!”
Graham gave Spike a contrite, but angry look. The truth was; neither man could stomach the other one. They merely tolerated each other.
“We’d better get moving Angel,” Gunn offered. “This is takin’ way too long, isn’t it?” The handsome black man glanced nervously at the bank’s front door.
“He’s right,” Rupert added off handedly, “this is taking way too long. Ford, Holden, take off first. We’ll follow, as usual and ride south, out of this bloody town. “Let’s get moving and…”
Suddenly, the front door of the bank flew open and Sheriff Wilkens burst into the room. He was followed by two deputies and Hank Summers of all people.
“Drop the guns boys,” Wilkens growled as he raised his own rifle at Angel and Rupert.
“Fuck you!” Graham roared as he fired a shot right at the law man’s chest. Wilkens never knew what hit him.
Buffy was sipping tea, with Willow, in the front parlor of the Osbourne home. She had been spilling her heart and soul out to the red head for the last half hour. Willow had merely listened, nodded her head in sympathy, but said nothing in response to Buffy’s heartfelt outpourings.
Finally, Willow began to offer her advice when she was interrupted by loud screaming and commotion outside of her front door.
“They’re robbing the bank!” A man wailed in horror. “A dozen of them, at least!" It’s the Crawford gang, I’m sure of it!”
“Oh my God! Daniel!” Willow yelped, fearfully, her face was more ashen then usual. The red-haired woman leapt up from her chair, spilling the hot tea down the front of her pretty dress.
Buffy jumped up after her, trying to grasp her friend’s slim arm. She was attempting to stop Willow from rushing out into the street and down to her husband.
“Willow! The baby! No!” Buffy screamed as she followed the quick-footed Willow out of the front door.
“Daniel!” Willow screeched again in terror. Buffy watched in horror as her dear friend fled through the little white gate of her front yard.
“Willow!” Buffy squealed again, following the red head out of the yard and into the street.
Both women froze in place, suddenly, as they watched a thundering herd of horses, headed their way. The entire ground shook with the pounding hooves of the hard ridden animals.
“The robbers,” Buffy gasped in shock as she stood, helplessly, next to Willow. It was when the first of the outlaws had ridden a little closer to Willow and herself that Buffy saw ‘him.’ She would recognize that silver blond hair anywhere.
“Oh my God!” Buffy gasped again, suddenly feeling even more ill then a moment ago. “It’s William,” she whispered, stunned. “He’s one of them!”
“Go inside,” Buffy ordered Willow, gruffly.
“But, Daniel,” Willow began…
“Go! Now Willow!” Buffy screamed harshly.
“Nice job Graham!” Angel hissed at the man riding next to him. “You have to go and shoot the fucking sheriff!”
Angel could barely be heard over the noise of their thundering horses or the screams and shouts of the townspeople. It always amazed him that a few brave morons in these towns actually had the balls to come out and watch them ride out. Almost like it was some kind of rare entertainment for the idiots!
“Oh fuck!” Spike roared as he caught up to his cousin. “Buffy,” he spat when he caught sight of his blond angel, just up ahead.
Spike was stunned when his cousin pulled up on the reins of his horse and slowed, just a bit. He could barely hear Angel’s voice over the mayhem about them, but he did, somehow.
“You want her?” Angel actually smirked at his cousin evilly. Angel was staring off at Buffy who still stood, frozen in place.
Spike just nodded, completely puzzled by where this conversation was going. And at this time in particular.
“Then take her,” Angel shrugged as he spurred his horse into going faster. “We’ll need a hostage anyway. Thanks to that moron, Graham. If the law man back there dies, cousin? They’ll hang us all, for sure. We might as well swing for something really important. Like a pretty girl, eh?” The black-haired larger man chuckled wickedly at his little cousin.
Angel kicked his horse’s huge flanks and rode ahead of Spike, who took about one second to ponder his cousin’s words. The blond outlaw slowed Midnight, briefly, just long enough to make up his mind.
When Spike reached the place where his Buffy stood, motionless in shock, he slowed Midnight to a near stop. Without a word, Spike leaned over and clasped his little angel with his left hand and gently as he could, yanked her up onto his horse. After he deposited Buffy onto Midnight’s saddle, he wrapped his arms about her tiny body, still hold of the reins.
With a quick, urgent kick to Midnight’s ribs, Spike spurred his beloved steed on. He followed the rest of his family and gang out of Redemption. Buffy, he noted, never said a word, she just sat, stone still in front of him as he spirited her out of town.
A/N: I hope that wasn’t too unrealistic or corny. I tried, really.
Anyway, next chapter Buffy will ‘say’ plenty to Spike. I assure you!
Thanks for reading and please review, spufette.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks to everyone reading and the lovely reviews.
My daughter told me to post this chapter, now, and keep my fingers crossed for a lot of readers interest in it, and lots of reviews.
Thanks again.
My daughter told me to post this chapter, now, and keep my fingers crossed for a lot of readers interest in it, and lots of reviews.
Thanks again.