Author’s Note: Back to post the next two chapters. Thank you SO much for the lovely feedback. It’s very much appreciated. For those who are new to the story…so thrilled to have you along for the ride! And for those of you who are still hanging in there despite the slow updates, will you marry me and have my babies? Heh. On a side note, my laptop has recently started overheating. Don’t know how long before it finally goes, so if Chapter 15 doesn’t make it up tonight (or tomorrow, either), you’ll know why.
Meanwhile, on with the show…
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
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Spike had a plan.
Or not so much a plan, really. More like a resolve to corner Buffy and find out what had caused the stricken expression he’d seen on her face. She’d been talking to Angel at the time. That alone could explain it, but something inside Spike knew better.
He could taste it, feel it. Whatever lay behind her distress, it centered on him. And the quickest way to suss out the problem was to confront her about it head on.
But, as with most things involving the slayer, he’d managed to bollox up even something that simple. In the intervening hours, Buffy had scaled new heights in avoidance tactics, cementing his belief that her reluctance to talk to him stemmed from much more than lingering anger over his earlier thoughtless outburst.
He resisted the urge to bash a hole through the nearest wall. Barely. An eye-blink away from catching her and she’d slipped through his grasp again, this time disappearing into the overheated kitchen where preparations for the upcoming lunch rush were under way.
A bit strange, that, since according to Gunn lunch was a good six hours off. But apparently the sun wasn’t the only thing on a different schedule in this dimension. Not that Spike really cared how often the locals slept or filled their bellies. If it wasn’t blonde, petite and determined to drive him stark staring mad with frustration, he wasn’t interested.
A shuttered window at the end of the hall caught his eye, filtered sunlight spilling through small cracks in the weathered wood. Edging up to the shutter, Spike nudged it open a bit, careful to keep his hand out of the light. As long as the back end of the building had even a sliver of shade to shield him, he could whip out the side door and make it around to the kitchen’s other point of entry. Buffy would never see him coming.
A familiar sardonic voice stopped him cold.
“Bad idea, Spike. Trying to corner her, I mean. Unless I’m wrong and you’ve just got a hankering to take a stroll in the sun. In that case, hey…be my guest.”
Turning, Spike aimed a scorching glare at the last person he wanted to see right now, hoping his slight twitch of surprise would be mistaken for…well…anything that didn’t admit a human Angel had managed to sneak up on him. By taking unfair advantage of his temporary preoccupation, of course.
The sight of his grandsire, casually leaning against the wall with arms crossed in a bloody I-shanshued-and-you-didn’t pose, did nothing to improve Spike’s sour mood.
“Care to be more specific?” he asked tersely.
Though his question sparked a twinge of déjà vu, Spike ignored it. This wasn’t a rain-darkened alley and they weren’t facing certain death at the hands of a marauding demon horde. This was something far more serious and he didn’t have any bloody time to waste.
Angel looked mildly amused. “Thought I was pretty clear.”
Spike rolled his eyes. “I’m not talkin’ about what you think might or might not be a good idea, you bloody idiot. I’m asking what upset her.”
“Besides you?” Angel pushed away from the wall, shaking his head as he approached. Though he looked as smug and superior as ever, Spike noticed he stopped just out of easy punching range. “I got nothin’.”
Spike regarded him skeptically. “Yeah? What were you talkin’ about then, just before she bolted? Had to be something.”
“Nothing that would have caused that kind of reaction.” Angel shrugged. “She asked about the shanshu. I told her how it came about. The change damn near killed me, but thanks to—”
“Bloody hell.” Forget the wall, he’d just bash a hole through Angel’s dense head instead. “Are you really that daft? You stupid pillock! You tell her you came close to snuffin’ it for real and forever and you wonder why she got upset?”
“I’m standing here alive, moron! Buffy knows I didn’t die. She’s not the type to get worked up over what could have happened but didn’t. That’s more your style…King of the Drama Queens.”
To think he’d been relieved to find the great twat alive and well. Lucky that feeling hadn’t lasted long. “Oh, that’s rich!” he sneered. “Speakin’ of drama, what was that about you and a dragon?”
Angel glowered. “This is about Buffy, not us. Do you think you can focus your tiny mind and stay on topic for five seconds, or is that too much to ask?”
In a flash, he was in Angel’s face. “Want a topic? Fair enough. Let’s discuss what a lovely hole your head is going to make when I shove it through that wall.”
“Not even on your best day, Spike!”
“Oooh, should I be scared? You’re all shanshued up, remember? You really think you could stop me?”
“Try it, and find out, birdbrain!”
“Maybe I will, you stupid git!”
“Great! So why don’t you stop yammering and get on with it!”
“Why don’t you stop tellin’ me what to do! You’re not the head of Wolfram and Bloody Hart anymore, you know. I’ll do it when I’m bloody good an’ ready and not a sodding minute sooner!”
Breathing heavily, they glared at each other, each poised to land the first blow. Then Angel’s tense posture relaxed, and he sighed.
“We really don’t have time for this. Look, Spike…whatever’s bothering Buffy, it hit her pretty hard. I was hoping you might know something that could help. You’re not the only one who cares about her.”
“Well, how would I know? Wasn’t the one talkin’ to her, now was I?” The words were defensive, but Spike’s tone was subdued. His earlier conviction that he was somehow to blame returned full force. But figuring out what to do about it wasn’t so easy.
Angel answered him with a steady gaze. “Neither one of us has a great track record when it comes to handling Buffy. I’m just saying, don’t crowd her, okay? Whatever it is—”
“Whatever it is made her turn white as the proverbial bloody sheet, didn’t it?” Spike looked at Angel scornfully. “I’ve made a lot of stupid mistakes with Buffy since I woke up from that mystical coma. But I know better than to leave her be when she’s gone off about something. Girl’s got a way of taking things on herself that don’t belong there. You should know, same as me.”
“Spike.”
“When you were with her back in Sunnydale, what did you do when she got notions?” “Shrug your shoulders and shake that enormous head of yours?” he asked sarcastically.
“Spike.”
“Did you tell her she was too hard on herself and just expect her to see reason? Is that your idea of settin’ her straight? Reckon that did a lot of bloody good!”
“Spike!”
“What!”
“If you won’t let it go, then at least let me be the one to talk to her.”
Spike stared at him. “Oh, right. Brilliant thought. I’ll just toddle off and leave her to Mr. Brooding is My Favorite Pastime, shall I? Or do they call you the King of Non-Communication now?”
Instead of taking the bait, Angel surprised him. “Maybe I’m not the greatest choice,” he conceded, his voice calm. “But my guess is, whatever’s upsetting her, it’s got something to do with you. And I don’t mean the fight you had earlier. If I’m right, then which one of us do you think Buffy’s more likely to open up to about it?”
Spike frowned. “You’re not foolin’ anyone, you know. You just want—”
“Damn it, Spike!” Angel stopped short. Spike watched as he took a deep breath then let it go. “What I want is for Buffy to be okay. So do you. Now do we stand here playing dog-with-a-bone for the rest of the day, or do we try to help her?”
He hated it when Angel made sense. “Just don’t make her cry.” It was the closest thing to a concession he was willing to give, though it came out more petulantly than he would have liked.
“I’m not going to make her cry,” Angel shot back through gritted teeth.
“Have plenty of times before.”
“Well I’m not going to now! Could you just once not make things harder than they have to be? Why I ever worried about you, I’ll never know! You’re too damn hardheaded to die. I should’ve enjoyed the peace and quiet while I had a chance, because I knew it wasn’t going to last!”
The rant probably wouldn’t have ended there, but Spike’s uncharacteristic silence must have registered on Angel. He stopped, eying Spike warily. “What?”
“You were worried about me?”
Angel blinked. “What? No! I wasn’t…I wondered about you. Is what I said. Not worried. Like I would. That’s crazy.”
Spike sniffed. “Wouldn’t worry about you, either.”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
A beat of silence.
“Good.”
“I said that already, you git.”
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When Angel strolled into the kitchen and offered her a tour of the village, Buffy latched onto his arm and dragged him out the door before he could even finish the invitation. She’d welcome anything that got her away from Spike and his relentless attempts to catch her alone. She couldn’t face that yet, couldn’t deal with the guilt or acknowledge the fact that sooner or later she’d have to tell him what she’d done.
Or what she hadn’t done, like allow him to claim the ultimate reward he’d battled so hard to earn. And she knew exactly how hard he’d fought for it, thanks to Gunn, who had told her all about the big showdown between Spike and Angel. And how, according to Angel, Spike had won because he wanted it more than Angel had. And wasn’t it ironic how it all worked out, with Angel getting the shanshu after all, even though there’d been a time when Gunn and Wesley had started to wonder.
Yep. For now, at least, she was all about being Avoidy Girl.
Now, as they made their way along the crowded streets, Buffy realized news of her arrival had spread. Though the natives were too polite to openly gawk, she intercepted more than a few curious glances.
She also caught on fairly quickly that Angel was more interested in reaching a particular destination than he was in pointing out the local landmarks. Buffy thought briefly about questioning him, asking where they were headed and why he looked so grim, but honestly? She welcomed the distraction. As long as she could puzzle over this, she could hold at bay that other, more distressing development.
A few minutes later, they reached the edge of the village. Silently, Angel led her down a winding path that took them to a secluded area along the river’s edge. Once there, they settled beneath a large tree, its fuzzy-leafed branches extending out over the slow-moving water.
That’s when Angel got to the point.
“Are you gonna tell me?”
“No.”
He stared at her. “No. Just like that? You’re not even going to pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about?” He sighed, shoulders slumping. “Damn it. Spike was right. It must be big.”
“I’m not doing this, Angel. So just don’t, okay?”
“Buffy, I want to help. Whatever it is.”
“I know you do, but you can’t. So don’t try.”
“But if—”
“Angel, please. I need you not to do this. It’s not an apocalypse and it’s nothing life-threatening. It’s something I have to handle on my own, and I will. I’ll even tell you, eventually. But not now. Right now, you’ll help me most by leaving it alone.”
They sat quietly for several moments, staring wordlessly out at the river. Then Angel’s head fell back as he released a loud gust of pent-up breath.
“I seriously can’t believe I’m saying this, let alone repeating it, but Spike was right again, damn it. Here I am, letting you off the hook. You can bet you wouldn’t catch him respecting your wishes and taking no for an answer. Hell, if nothing else, he’d irritate it out of you.”
When Buffy didn’t respond, he turned to look at her. “I don’t suppose it would do any good to tell you that, whatever it is, you’re being too hard on yourself?”
She bit her lip and looked away.
“Great.” Angel shook his head. “And he’s three for three. Can someone just kill me now?”
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TBC in Chapter 15
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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.