Many apologies for the long delay since the last update. Between work and some pesky health issues, there hasn’t been much time for writing. But for those of you who are following it here, please know that this story has not and will not be abandoned.
At any rate, if you’re still along for the ride…yay! Many, many thanks. And a special thank you to the amazing super beta pennydrdful, who made this chapter far better than it would have been without her.
Also, to refresh your memory so you don’t have to go back and read the earlier chapters…
SYNOPSIS: Buffy gets a mysterious summons from Giles that takes her to his estate in England. There, she finds Spike who, along with Illyria, was teleported out of the NFA alley in the midst of the big battle. Only hitch is, he’s in an unexplained comatose state, which may or may not have something to do with the infamous Shanshu prophecy.
Buffy finally figures out the quickest way to wake him up. (Any guesses as to what that would be? Heh.) But Spike’s a little pissed off that Buffy put her life at risk to do it, and Buffy’s pissed that he’s pissed. So…surprise, surprise…they’re not really talking to each other the way they should be. Which makes rescuing Angel and Gunn from an alternate dimension just a wee bit tricky, but those stubborn kids are gonna give it a shot anyway.
Shortly after arriving in the alternate dimension, the two get a little…um…distracted. Then Buffy says something stupid and Spike says something stupid and…well, I think you can see where this is heading. And then things really heat up...literally...when that pesky NFA dragon shows up. But that's nothing compared to what happens once Buffy finally tracks down Angel. It's deja vu with the Angel kissage, though Buffy's heart isn't in that relationship anymore. But good luck convincing Spike of that when he sees them and storms off. So this time it’s Buffy who’s chasing after Spike, but that doesn’t work out so well, and now they’re at a bit of a stalemate…
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
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A loud peal of laughter assailed Buffy’s ears, threatening to draw her gaze to the far corner of the dining hall. It was the largest and busiest room in the sizeable tavern where Angel and Gunn had taken up residence, though mostly empty now. The early morning breakfast rush had ended, leaving all four dimensional interlopers little to focus on but each other.
Except, as far as some people were concerned, she and Angel might as well have ceased to exist.
Buffy grimaced into the plate of half-eaten food she’d been toying with for the past half hour or more, gritting her teeth as she refused yet again to sneak a quick peek. Gunn’s hearty laughter had sounded nonstop ever since he and Spike had settled in for their little catch-up session, excluding her and Angel more by oversight, perhaps, than design. Nonetheless, Buffy felt decidedly fifth-wheelish and she didn’t care for it one bit. She suspected Angel didn’t either.
To be brutally honest, it was a little disorienting not being the center of attention for a change. And while she didn’t really begrudge Spike his unexpected camaraderie with someone who wasn’t…well…her, she also couldn’t help being a bit disgruntled by the whole situation.
Here she sat, trapped in a Bizarro World where Spike was suddenly Mr. Popularity and the one thing she’d once wanted most in all the world sat right across the table from her, presumably hers for the asking, if she so chose.
Which, it turned out, she didn’t.
God, she was so fucked up.
Lifting her head, Buffy sighed, determined gaze deliberately sliding past Angel’s as she stared over his shoulder, studying the anonymous back of a lone traveler hunched over a nearby table. Her run-in with the drunken villager the previous night had revealed that the inhabitants of this dimension were human in appearance, indistinguishable from Spike, Angel or herself except for their homespun clothing and chocolate-colored skin. Still, despite their humanoid similarities, all three of them stood out here like neon lights in a pitch-black room.
Gunn, however, was a different story. He fit right in, not so much because of his skin color as the easy way he wore the native clothing and the way he seemed comfortably at home in this foreign environment.
Not like Angel, Buffy noticed, who still clung to what he must have been wearing when he was sucked through the portal. His LA clothing showed obvious signs of wear and constant repair, to the point where he looked strangely frayed, just one step above a well-dressed beggar. Even without his lighter skin, he would’ve seemed out of place. Gunn had clearly settled in, choosing to make a life here, but Angel had remained a visitor.
A well-liked visitor, though, judging by the warm treatment he received from villagers stopping in for a morning meal or early liquid refreshment, not to mention the travelers who lodged in the rented rooms upstairs. Throughout the course of the morning, Buffy had a chance to observe the new Angel in action -- laughing, joking, seemingly content even as he held himself apart. It was an odd contradiction but one that seemed to work for all involved.
Too bad she couldn’t say as much for her own situation.
After the frustrating confrontation with Spike, Buffy had returned to the spot where she’d first encountered Angel. By the time she’d retrieved the abandoned sword and weapons bag, an unusually subdued Spike had caught up with them. She’d ignored him, turning instead to follow Angel through the door of the tavern and leaving Spike to trail along behind.
As they’d entered the tavern’s dining area, Buffy had spied an older couple and two young women prepping for what turned out to be the breakfast rush. The older woman had halted, quickly wiping her hands on the apron fastened around her plump waist.
“Angel-kushla, there you are. The wood is running low. Quickly now, before my besmin comes to a boil.” Spotting Buffy and Spike behind him, she stopped, cocking her head as she regarded them in a birdlike fashion. “We have new travelers, I see. From far away. As far as your land, I think. These are your people, kushla, yes?”
“These are my people, yes.” Angel nodded, smiling at the woman. “They came here looking for us – me and Gunn.”
A soft gasp sounded behind her and Buffy turned to find one of the two younger women in the room staring at her, eyes large and stricken. She was small and slender, with thick black hair pulled back in a loose bun. When their gazes locked, the girl’s expression turned hostile. Before Buffy could even blink she’d whirled around and vanished into what had to be the kitchen, the mouthwatering smells emanating from that direction leaving little doubt.
Buffy frowned a little at the girl’s strange reaction but shrugged it off, at the same time mentally admonishing her growling stomach to mind its manners. Then she turned her attention to the third woman in the room. This one was slightly older than the other girl, maybe by as much as five years, with longer hair that fell in glorious waves almost to her waist. The shorter ends curled softly around shapely shoulders, framing a face that could only be described as stunning. Though her dress was modest, it couldn’t hide the voluptuous curves that all but screamed “buxom barmaid,” nor did it detract from her large, dark eyes and full, sensuous lips.
Even Buffy could appreciate how striking she was. Until she realized those alluring eyes were fixed squarely on one person in the room – Spike. Spotting the predatory gleam in the woman’s gaze, she glowered. Then frowned even harder as Super Slut threw back her shoulders, thrusting those generous breasts forward in what was clearly a brazen bid for Spike’s attention.
Which Buffy had no doubt they were getting, in spades. She could picture him in her mind’s eye, head tilted, lips curved in that slow, sexy smirk she knew so well. But she didn’t look behind her to check. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his ogling. Not after what he’d said to her.
Or…not so much what he’d said, but when. After everything they’d been through, she’d finally found the courage to declare her undying love, straight out. To offer up her heart and soul and make herself vulnerable in a way that had never come easily to her. And Spike had thrown it all back in her face with that stinging taunt about The Immortal.
How the hell did Spike even know about Paulo, anyway? That traitorous dweeb Andrew must have told him.
Spike knew how much his rejection had to hurt. She’d done it enough times to him during those dark days in Sunnydale. A part of Buffy couldn’t blame him for giving her a taste of her own medicine. For wanting to get back at her, just a little. But it only proved that they hadn’t come nearly as far as she’d hoped. Maybe they never would.
Maybe, it really was too late for them.
But she shoved the thought away, rejecting despair in favor of feeding her anger. Why did Spike have to be so hardheaded, and why did his timing always suck? And, okay, yeah…she had a history with Angel that was hard for him to ignore, but she’d tried her best to explain all that to him. His constant insecurity, even in the face of her open declaration, was really starting to grate.
Didn’t matter. The Cleveland hellmouth could freeze over before she’d make the next move. Let the local trollop set her sights on Spike. She’d be cool as a cucumber.
Unless the ho actually had the nerve to touch him, and then Buffy would have to kill her.
A door in the back of the room flew open, bringing all homicidal thoughts to a screeching halt as a tall black man appeared in the opening. His arms were weighed down with a load of firewood.
“Noticed you were about out of cooking wood, Reema. Thought I’d take care of it for you seeing as that lazy, good-for-nothin’ roommate of mine was too busy chasing after wild vorgnars to take care of his chores.”
Gunn flashed Angel a wicked grin then halted, eyes widening. His smirk vanished, replaced by a look that could only be described as dumbstruck, as his gaze left Angel’s face, passed almost a foot over her head and zeroed in on Spike still standing quietly behind her. Then the grin was back, only about a hundred times more brilliant. Without a word, he dumped the wood on the nearest table and pushed past both Angel and Buffy to envelope Spike in a massive bear hug. The two embraced, in a manly sort of way, all hearty backslapping and big smiles.
“Blondie Bear, my man!” Gunn pulled back, clapping the vampire on the shoulder as Spike grimaced briefly before returning the grin. “Thought for sure those bad-boy demons had done you in, but I must have been wrong ’cause here you are just as solid and sorry lookin’ as the last time I saw you. Damn, but it’s good to set eyes on your ugly mug!”
“Prettier than yours, Charlie boy.” Spike retorted, gripping Gunn’s forearms to mirror the hold the larger man had on him. “And I’m not the one who was bleedin’ his guts out all over the concrete. Reckon it’s you who shouldn’t be here. Can’t say as I’m surprised though. Don’t think I came all this way just for Angel, do you? Knew you were too stubborn to kick it.”
Gunn responded with a rueful smile. “Came pretty close to doing just that. Lucky for me, they have some kick-ass healers around here with some pretty strong mojo. Not to mention, some of the best-looking nursemaids you ever did see.” He turned his head to wink at the older woman, the one he’d called Reema, standing next to a silent man Buffy assumed was her husband.
Reema wagged her finger at Gunn as she giggled like a teenager. “You are a very brash man, Charlie-kushla. I don’t know why I put up with you. Probably because my Tondor forgets to say such pretty things to me now that we are both old and gray.” She turned a mock glare on the big man beside her. Taller than Angel, he looked every bit as taciturn as the ex-vampire had when he’d first come to Sunnydale, and Buffy instantly pegged him as the strong, silent type.
Until a gleam appeared in his eyes and his arm circled his wife’s shoulders. Leaning down, he whispered something into her ear that Buffy didn’t catch, but whatever he’d said was enough to send Reema into another giggling fit as she raised her apron to cover a blushing face.
The good-natured teasing continued as Buffy and Spike were officially introduced to the family that had taken in Angel and Gunn. They learned that Tondor had come across the two unconscious men on his journey back from a neighboring village. Lifting them onto the bed of his wagon, he’d transported them straight to the Lupwa, a trio of aging healers who practiced their art in a small compound just inside the big woods. But as skilled as they were in the healing arts, it had taken more than herbs and powdered concoctions to save Gunn’s life. The mortal wound he’d suffered had required magical intervention.
“We’re lucky the Lupwa are as good at casting spells as they are at stitching up cuts and making poultices.” Angel explained some time later, as he and Buffy sat together before the dining hall’s massive hearth. Spike and Gunn had retreated to a far corner of the room for some male bonding, enjoying the ample breakfast Reema had insisted on serving them. Buffy, without much of an appetite, had politely accepted a plate. But instead of joining Spike and Gunn, she and Angel had moved to a small seating area where he was quickly bringing her up to speed.
“It’s not something they do a lot, though. Magic, I mean. More of a last resort kind of thing. To them, magic is a sacred trust that can only be used to save a life. Anything else is considered blasphemous.”
“In that case, I’m guessing you didn’t ask for their help in getting back home.”
Angel responded with a faint smile. “Good guess. It wouldn’t have been fair to put them in that position. Not after everything they did for us. Besides, I knew you’d show up here sooner or later. Spike, too, if he made it out of that alley. Which I figured he would. Even when he dies, he’s too stubborn to stay that way.”
Too stubborn to stay dead and too…something…to let her know. Buffy glanced away. “Yeah. So it seems.”
Tired of going round and round in her head wondering exactly where she stood with Spike, Buffy told that nagging inner voice to take a hike and instead let her gaze wander. It didn’t take long to zero in on the younger woman who had previously fled into the kitchen. She now stood in the open doorway, hands planted on her hips as she glared belligerently at Buffy.
Buffy glared back. What, exactly, was Little Miss Sunshine’s problem anyway?
“It’s Gunn.”
She looked at Angel, whose gaze had followed hers. “Huh?”
“It’s not me she…” He leaned closer, eyes searching her face. “Meesa knows you’ve come to take us back. She’s fine with me leaving, but Gunn…not so much. She’s probably wishing you out of existence right now. She can’t though,” he added quickly. “Wish you away or anything. No magic powers.”
“Oh.” Buffy smiled faintly. “That’s a relief. Guess I can’t blame her. It hurts. Being the one left behind.” She let her gaze lock briefly with Angel’s before finally giving in and seeking out Spike’s bleached-blond head. “Or left in the dark.”
A fresh burst of raucous laughter punctuated her words. She watched Gunn’s shoulders shake with the force of his mirth as Spike leaned back in his seat, regarding the taller man with genuine amusement and what looked suspiciously like affection.
It was odd seeing Spike so at ease, so unguarded and open. Buffy had never known him like that and it sparked a stab of envy so strong it took her breath away, leaving her with a dull, aching feeling in the pit of her stomach. She’d never observed Spike with a male friend before. With any friend, really, outside of Clem, who technically qualified, but still…
It was a concept she had a hard time wrapping her head around. Hardly surprising under the circumstances, since it felt like she’d been stuck in a constant state of confusion ever since learning Spike was alive.
Taking a deep breath, Buffy turned back to Angel. “So what’s up with the everybody-speaking-English thing around here?” Though she could still see Spike out of the corner of her eye, she kept her gaze firmly fixed on the man across from her. “Just listening to them, you’d never know we weren’t in Kansas anymore, except for that kush-thingie Reema kept saying.”
“Kushla. It means ‘dear one,’ or…close enough.”
Buffy nodded. “Good to know. Did you teach them?”
“What?”
She gave him a look. “English.”
“Oh. No.”
“Then how come they’re speaking it?”
“Don’t know. They just do. They always do. Pretty much every dimension I’ve been in. I guess it’s a thing.”
“A thing?”
“Yeah, one of those things you can’t explain. It just is.”
“Oh. One of those things.”
“Yeah. One of those.”
They both fell silent. Then Buffy forced a smile.
“Is it me, or did this conversation just turn wicked awkward?” She sighed as Angel looked down, staring at his clasped hands. “Yeah. Thought so. How much did you hear?”
At first, she thought he wouldn’t say anything at all. Then he cleared his throat and met her searching gaze.
“Enough to know you’ve decided to come out of the oven.”
“Oh.” She’d figured as much, though she really hadn’t wanted him to find out that way.
“Yeah.” He shook his head. “You and Spike.”
“Yeah. Me and Spike.”
“You…love him?”
She nodded slowly, despite the fact his gaze was fixed on something across the room. “Really do.”
Angel was silent for a moment. Then he looked at her. “You told him that.”
Buffy sighed and nodded again. “Too late, I think. I keep telling him and he keeps not believing it.” She shrugged, looking down. “Not that you can really blame him. I didn’t say anything until about five seconds before he died. Now I’ve got a second chance and I still can’t get it right.” Slumping forward in her chair, Buffy covered her face with her hands, trying to rub away some of the tiredness in her eyes. “I totally suck at this whole love thing, you know?”
When nothing but silence greeted this observation, it suddenly struck Buffy – the complete inappropriateness of what she doing. She lifted her head to meet Angel’s veiled gaze, instantly contrite. “I’m such an idiot. Angel, I’m sorry. There’s no way I should be talking about this with you.” She thumped the tabletop with a frustrated fist. “God, could I get more self-involved? Why can’t I just—?”
“Buffy. It’s okay.” Angel placed a calming hand over hers.
She searched his face then shook her head, biting her lip. “Thanks. But it’s not.”
His lips curved in a faint answering smile. “No,” he agreed. “But I can deal.”
“I didn’t mean to mislead you. Really. When we talked that last time. I just didn’t realize…”
“Buffy. It’s okay. You don’t have to say it. The second you took off after him I knew. And if that idiot grandchild of mine wasn’t so damned hard-headed, he’d know it, too.”
“Angel, I am sorry. Really, really sorry.”
“Don’t be. We had our time. It didn’t work out. Nobody’s fault.”
Though his voice was low and steady, she could see the sadness in his eyes. She leaned forward, her gaze never leaving his. “You’ll always matter to me. You know that, right?”
He gave her a faint smile. “I know. But let’s…not talk about it anymore. Okay?”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Okay.” She glanced away a moment to givr them both time to recover. When she turned back, his face was composed, brown eyes regarding her but giving nothing away now.
She exhaled slowly. “So. Human. That must be…I can only imagine what you must have felt.”
He nodded. “There aren’t any words, really. I knew it as soon as I woke up. The difference was…” He trailed off then gave a short laugh. “Took me a while to calm down. Tondor thought he’d rescued a crazy man. He and Reema were sure the fever had addled my brain. I kept running around yelling ‘Shanshu!’ and hugging people.”
Buffy couldn’t help but smile at the unlikely image until something he’d said struck a chord of familiarity. “Wait…fever?”
“Yeah. I was unconscious for a few days. Ran a pretty high fever. Tondor tried to get the Lupwa to magic me awake, but they wouldn’t do it. Said there were higher forces at work and it would be wrong to interfere. Had to let the process run its course. Good thing, huh? Who knows what would have happened if they’d tried to bring me around too soon.”
“Yeah,” Buffy agreed faintly, a cold lump settling in the pit of her stomach. Her stricken gaze sought out the blond vampire across the room.
At that exact moment Spike looked up, as if sensing something, brilliant blue eyes locking with hers. His head tilted and his expression sobered. He was clearly caught off guard by the distress he must have read on her face.
“It might have ruined everything,” she whispered.
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Author's Note: Originally posted this a few nights ago, but I must have messed up 'cause it disappeared. Home sick today, so I'm posting it again. I have another two chapters ready to go, but I'm heading back to bed to lie down for a bit. Be back as soon as I can with the rest. Hope you enjoyed!
TBC in Chapter 14
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Author's Chapter Notes:
This is currently a WIP written in response to a Spuffy Kinkathon challenge. The story requirements were as follows: The requested kink was hurt/comfort. Three other requests were to show Spike reluctantly biting Buffy, include Dawn and/or Xander in the story, and set it anywhere from Season 5 to Post-NFA.