“We have to get to my house,” Buffy stated, slamming the weapons chest shut again and heading toward the back door leading out into the alley. “My mom – my sister – we’ve got to get them out of there before the Council shows up looking for me.” She glanced at Spike with a hint of doubt in her eyes as she opened the door. “If they’re really so dangerous…”
“They are.”
His tone was unyielding. He knew what he was talking about, and did not want Buffy to underestimate the stuffy tweed-clad men who in reality could be every bit as deadly as any demon she had ever faced.
“They’ll use whatever or whoever they can to get to you, Buffy. We need to get to Joyce and Dawn before – what?” He stopped suddenly, frowning at the look on her face.
“My friends. They’re not safe, either, then.” Her tone was flat, a statement, but her eyes were questioning, searching his anxiously.
Honestly, the safety of Buffy’s friends had not even occurred to Spike. The only ones he really cared about in this situation were Buffy, Joyce, and Dawn. But he knew that it would be impossible to get Buffy out of town and to safety if she thought her friends were in danger.
For a brief moment he considered lying – but something told him that if he did, and Buffys’ friends got hurt because of it, his Buffy could turn out to be even scarier than her alter ego.
“No,” he admitted quietly. “They’re not.”
Buffy swore softly under her breath, turning away for a moment in frustration before quickly regathering her thoughts and turning back to face him. “Okay,” she said decisively. “We need to get everybody together in a safe place and come up with a plan. Where’s someplace close by that the Council wouldn’t think to look?”
Spike thought hard – but only one place came to mind – the last place he wanted to go at the moment. But none of the Scoobies’ homes or dorm rooms were safe, and the Council would check the local hotels as soon as they realized that their target and her friends had all left their homes. It seemed that there was nothing to be done but to simply accept this cruel quirk of fate that seemed determined to bring him back to a place that had seen so many of his most painful moments.
“The mansion?” he suggested quietly, a note of defeat and resignation to his voice.
Missing it completely, seeing only the chance to protect her loved ones, Buffy’s face lit up in a brilliant smile – and the grateful look in her eyes, sparkling with happy relief, made it worth the painful trip down memory lane that Spike knew he was about to take.
“Spike, that’s perfect!” she exclaimed appreciatively. “It’s abandoned, so it won’t be listed anywhere, and they’re not familiar with Sunnydale, so they won’t know to look for it! We can go there at least long enough to come up with some kind of a decent plan.”
Spike forced himself to return her smile, though in truth he felt a little sick at the thought of returning to that place – the place where he had spent so much time being mocked and mistreated by his own family, and where just a few nights before he had relinquished control over his whole unlife – his very self – forever.
Buffy seemed too caught up in her own worries to notice his pain and uncertainty.
“Okay,” she went on, thinking out her plan as she went along. “We need to wake up Giles and have him go get the others in his car. Then you can…”
“Buffy,” he interrupted cautiously, his eyes focused on hers. “Maybe that’s – not the best idea…”
He had already determined that until Buffy had a better handle on controlling her situation, the wisest thing for him to do was to do his best to be submissive to her – to not provoke the violence within her that seemed to erupt every time he argued with her, or disobeyed her, or spoke in a way that even vaguely resembled giving her an order.
That, in combination with the fact that he knew she was just going to *hate* what he was about to tell her, made him very apprehensive to speak at all.
“What? Why not?” Buffy frowned, confused.
“Buffy – love – how can we be completely sure – well – your Watcher…he’s the one who called the bloody Council to begin with, right?” He struggled to find the right words – which, at the moment, would be any words that would not get him knocked across the room by the Slayer’s fist.
“Well – yeah – but he only did it to help. He had no idea they were going to react like *this* to – to whatever it is that’s happening to me.” Her tone was suddenly defensive, as she realized what it was that he was suggesting. “And Giles told me that he was going to be very vague when he talked to them, so they wouldn’t figure out exactly what’s going on, so chances are they don’t have a clue and aren’t even coming here!”
She stepped back suddenly, her arms crossed over her chest in a challenging way, her eyebrows raised in a question, as she concluded.
“I’m already leaving town, having all my friends leave too, because the Council *might* be after me, for some reason I have yet to be told, because you *supposedly* know what’s going on here – even though you haven’t told me yet. I’m actually taking a lot on faith, here, Spike – so don’t *even* suggest that I leave my Watcher here for those ‘incredibly dangerous’ scholar types to hurt when they find out I’m gone!”
Her attitude shattered as quickly as it had developed when she saw the flash of fear in his eyes at her rising anger. Or at least – it *had* been rising. Until it was smothered under the weight of a massive load of guilt.
She quickly closed the distance between them, her expression softening with compassion and remorse, as she put her arms gently around him. She felt him tense up at first when she touched him – but then slowly relax again as she made no move to hurt him – just held him close to her.
“I’m not gonna hurt you if you do, though,” she added softly, her tone revealing that she knew his fears which he had tried to conceal.
He lowered his head slightly, his eyes averted in shame.
She raised a hand to tenderly touch his cheek, gently tipping his head back up to meet his eyes. She saw such confusion and uncertainty there – it was simply heart-breaking. Having no words – knowing that he would not, either – she did the only thing she knew to do.
She kissed him.
Slowly, thoroughly, she used her mouth to reassure him where her words would not. As she kissed him, her mind gently probed at the edges of his thoughts and emotions, trying to get him to open up to her, to allow her to read the things in his heart that he could not put into words. And hesitantly, he yielded to the gentle pressure she was exerting, opening his mind to her and allowing her to see the tumult of emotions that he could not describe.
She could have pushed him. She could have forced through his walls and seen whatever she desired, with or without his consent. The one-sided nature of the claim would have allowed it.
But it would only have broken him again – and that was not what she wanted.
As it was, and quite by accident, she still saw more than he had intended for her to see – though she did not reveal that she had seen it. She only responded to his openness, his vulnerability, by opening her heart to him as well – showing him that she truly did care for him, and meant him no harm, and would never hurt him again as long as it was in her power to stop it.
When she finally broke the kiss, he met her eyes, love and devotion shining in his own. Her smile was warm, reassuring, as she said softly, “I know you’re worried about trusting Giles – but – I’m putting a lot of trust in you here. I *do* trust you. And I know it sounds absolutely idiotic to even say this, but – when it comes to Giles – I need you to trust me, too. I know that’s hard – but please try. I *know* that if Giles did give them information that ended up making them come after me – it was by accident, and with good intentions. He’s defied the Council for me before, and he’s not really on good terms with them right now, because of me. I can’t just leave him here for them to find him, if they’re really as dangerous as you say there are.”
He did not think she was making the right choice. And she was right – trusting her at all came very hard to him at the moment. But he nodded slowly in resignation, accepting her decision.
This was *her* bloody show, after all. It wasn’t as if he really had much choice.
“Okay – I’m gonna wake up Giles, and send him after the others – and I want you to go to my house and get Mom and Dawnie…”
He frowned. “And where are *you* going to be?” he asked.
She smiled at the note of protective concern in his voice, reaching up to touch his face again, pulling him down for another kiss before replying quietly, “I’ve just got some things I need to do. To get the mansion ready, if we’re gonna be staying there overnight. That sort of thing.”
He nodded slowly. He felt that she was telling him the truth – and yet, that there was something she was *not* telling him, though he couldn’t fathom what it might be.
“Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath in preparation as she stared with grim resignation toward the door leading into the store.
“Let’s go wake Giles. He is *so* not gonna like this!”
The Watcher had certainly not been pleased by what they had to tell him – not one bit.
But then, Spike thought darkly as he made his way up Buffy’s front porch steps, he had not been all that bloody thrilled to tell him, either.
Buffy had insisted, and Giles had blustered about for a few minutes, telling Buffy that Spike probably was making it up, probably knew nothing about the Council at all, that the Council were no danger to her and would never do anything to hurt their own Slayer.
At that point – he and his argument had lost their credibility completely with the Slayer, as a moment about a year earlier when she and her mother had both nearly been killed because of the Council’s underwhelming concern for the well-being of their Slayer came to her mind.
She had proceeded to take over the conversation at that point, telling Giles that if he refused to help her, she would take Spike and her family and leave town, and he would have no idea where they had gone – though she much preferred that he would help her.
In the end, Giles had agreed to go along with her plan at least long enough to get everyone to safety and hear what Spike had to say.
“This had better be good,” she had whispered to him as Giles had headed out to his car.
“Good” was hardly the word for it.
Spike cursed softly when he noticed that every light in the Summers’ home appeared to be turned on. He could hear the raised voice of an agitated teenage girl, could see the shadows of Joyce and Dawn as they stood in the living room, Dawn punctuating her nearly frantic words with emphatic hand gestures.
Joyce seemed to be trying to calm her, from the low, soothing tone his enhanced hearing could just barely make out – but she was obviously a bit scared herself.
*Ooookay…so much for them sleeping right through and never knowing you were gone…right, then…into the lion’s den, mate…*
With a visibly trembling hand, he reached out and knocked softly on the door.
A mere moment later it was flung open, before Joyce could caution her emotional youngest daughter, who did not seem to care at the moment that this was Sunnydale, and literally *anything* could be on the other side of her front door.
Spike had no time to prepare an explanation or a defense before he was faced with a tearful, red-faced, hopeful, terrified Dawn Summers, standing before him, holding onto the door she had just opened.
For a long moment neither said anything, just stared at each other. Spike opened his mouth to speak, then realized he was not sure what to say.
And then Dawn’s eyes narrowed, as an expression of fury that seemed to be carried down through all generations of Summers’ women – one with which Spike had become familiar with in many ways – came over her face.
Fortunately, the tears of relief and fear streaming down her face as she spoke took the venom from her string of threats.
“Oh. My. *God*. Spike, you are so completely dead. Like deader than you already are. Like you are going to so wish you were *really* dead by the time I get done making you dead! I can’t believe that you would…”
“Spike?” Joyce pushed past her daughter as soon as she realized that it was him, before he could react at all, enveloping him in a tight hug that surprised him with its strength. “Oh my God, you’re all right! We thought – we had no idea – we thought maybe Buffy had…” She pulled away from him, looking him over carefully, still holding onto him as if she was afraid that if she did not, he might disappear again.
“You *are* all right, aren’t you?” she asked, her keen eyes narrowing as she made out the nearly faded bruise on his cheek where Buffy had hit him in the training room.
With any luck, she would simply assume it was a remaining trace of the bruises from that morning in the kitchen. She had no true understanding of vampire healing, as far as Spike knew. He nodded slowly, holding her eyes – and his breath, as he waited to see if it would work. It should; the bruise was almost completely gone.
Almost – but not quite enough.
Joyce’s lips quirked upward on one side in a skeptical little half-smile. “Good,” she said quietly, her tone revealing that she did not believe him at all. “Now get in this house.”
Bloody hell.
She was using her “angry mom” tone – and although he was well over a century old and capable of tossing her across the room if he took the notion – it was still quite effective.
“Joyce,” he began quietly, surprised at the slight break in his voice. “let me explain…”
“I will most definitely ‘let you explain’, Spike,” Joyce replied calmly, taking him by the hand and leading him to the living room sofa, sitting down and patting the seat beside her as she smiled up at him expectantly. “In fact, I kind of think that’s all you’ll be doing for the next hour or so…”
He surprised her when he pulled his hand gently but firmly out of hers, shaking his head emphatically. “I will explain everything,” he reiterated slowly, firmly, holding her gaze to assure her that he meant it. “But not here. Joyce – we have to get out of here. Now.”
The expression on Joyce’s face changed in an instant, from anger to concern, as she realized immediately that there was more to this situation than she was aware of.
“What’s happened?” she asked softly.
“There’s no time, Joyce. You’re in danger here, and we have to move quickly. I’ll tell you when we get there. No sense telling the story more than once,” he replied with a weary sigh.
“Where are we going?” Joyce asked, rising from the couch, waiting on his response before moving again.
“Someplace safe. And you may not be able to come back here for – a few days, at least…”
Joyce did not question. Although, at times like this, she had her doubts about Spike’s judgment when it came to placing himself in dangerous situations – she trusted him completely with her own safety and that of her daughter.
“Dawn,” she said quietly, heading toward her room. “Go to your room and pack.”
Dawn stared at her for a moment, before looking at Spike, seeing the worry and resolution in his eyes – and without a word of protest or question, she headed up the stairs to her bedroom.
And Spike sank down on the sofa with his head in his hands, snatching at what little bit of rest he could get, and what might be the last for a while – as he waited for them to return.
[Reviews - 1135]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | 
Chapter or Story
Has been viewed 2903 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story - Text Size +