CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Spike’s spit take would have left Xander green with envy. Buffy wrinkled her nose as she aimed a sour look at the spattering of blood now decorating the wooden tabletop.
Spike was too busy sputtering to notice. “What did you say?” He gaped at her.
“I think you heard me,” Buffy ground out, teeth clenched.
Wiping his chin with the back of his hand, he studied her with a bewildered gaze. “Heard it. Just don’t believe it. Why would she say somethin’ like that?”
“I don’t know, Spike! You tell me. She looked me straight in the eye and told me how much she ‘enjoyed’ having intercourse with you,” Buffy accused, making vicious air quotes with her fingers. “Just like we were BFF’s or something.”
Spike stared at her for several beats then started to giggle. The harder she scowled, the more out of control he became. Buffy wanted to punch him and tried hard to remember why she didn’t do that anymore. Instead, she sat there seething, waiting for him to stop.
Only he didn’t. And finally Buffy got fed up waiting. Pushing up from the table, she whirled about, ready to storm off to her room…or the portal…or anywhere that wasn’t here.
“Verbal!” Spike choked out.
She turned back, still scowling. “What?” More of a demand than a question.
“It was verbal intercourse, she meant. Talking. She liked talking to me.” He sailed off into a fit of giggles again.
Buffy glared at him suspiciously. “That’s not what she said.”
Rising, he circled to her side of the table, invading her space in a way that, in another place and time, might have left her feeling a little lightheaded. But annoyance had rendered her immune. Totally. Absolutely positively.
“But it’s what she meant. Made the same mistake myself once, when she said as much about Wesley. Though the way things were heading between them, probably would have made it there eventually.” He looked into her eyes, his gaze steady and earnest. “The only hand I ever laid on her was a fist when we were trying to judge how much of a threat she was. I swear.”
“Oh.” Buffy fought to keep her ferocious frown, but she could already feel it transforming into something else. Something that…oh no. Please, no.
“Buffy?” His voice caressed her. “Why are you acting like this?”
“Like what?” Oh god. She was. She could hear it in her voice. She was pouting.
“Like…” He cocked his head. “…a jealous girlfriend.”
Well, duh. She snorted, refraining from pointing out the obvious. She was tired of beating her head against a wall named Spike. Let him work it out for himself.
“Only…not your ordinary kind of jealous. It’s more than that. Almost like…like you…”
It was the dawning light of wonder in his eyes that pushed her off the last ledge. The past few days she’d tried how many times and in how many ways to make him believe she really loved him, and this was what finally did it?
Fine. If that’s what it took to get it through his thick head…
“All right! I’m jealous, okay?” She threw her hands up. “Is that what you want to hear? It doesn’t matter that you didn’t sleep with her. That just makes it worse! I’m crazy jealous. I’m so jealous I want to scratch her eyes out as soon as we get back home! Not punch her or toss her across the room or even gut her like a Kushnar demon. No, I just want to scream at her and bitch-slap her silly…scratch her face and pull her blue hair out by the roots! Do you know how stupid that is for a slayer? How girly and pathetic it makes me feel? But I don’t care. When I looked at her, I saw someone who meant something to you. Even if it’s not really her anymore. I saw someone you talked to, who gave you something I couldn’t…or wouldn’t. I know it’s not reasonable and I know it’s wrong, but there it is. And that whole Angel punching-bag thing? I totally get it now.”
Not until she stopped to draw breath did Buffy notice how taken aback Spike seemed. Then he blinked once, giving her yet another head tilt, his gaze suffused by a warm glow.
“That right?” he drawled softly. But it didn’t sound as knowing as it should have, and there was no sign of his patented smirk.
Buffy rolled her eyes, and with a sigh torpedoed the last of her pride. “Let’s just say, if jealousy were the Super Bowl? I’d be the new dynasty.”
She jerked her head toward the doorway where they’d last seen Nareetha. “And now there’s this one…the one who didn’t cost you your destiny. The one who’s not afraid to put it all out there. And I’m not talking cleavage, even though that’s totally what she was doing. What I mean is…she knows what she wants and she’s not afraid to…to admit it. To go after it. To risk looking like a fool or getting her heart broken. Assuming she has one,” she muttered.
Turning back to the table, she dropped onto the bench she’d just vacated. Spike settled next to her, unusually silent. Which was just as well, because now that Buffy had started, she couldn’t seem to stop.
“And about Fred? I think I get how you felt that night we found Angel. I mean, I got it. But now I really get it. You had something special with the person she was before…and it hurts. She was there for you in a way that I wasn’t. As much as that bothers me, that’s never going to change. Any more than Angel being my first. So if we’re going to make this thing work, I think we should make a deal. I’ll put up with you getting all spastic about Angel as long as you don’t expect me to make nice with the God King Formerly Known as Fred. Or any other female living in the same hemisphere as you. Except for Dawn…and Willow…and maybe Mrs. Hudson. Though I’m not entirely sure about Mrs. Hudson. I think she’s kind of taken with you.”
Looking up at him, she scowled. “Stop grinning.”
“Can’t help it. Always did like you in green.” His voice, low and breathy now—a little growly, too—sent tiny tingles down her spine. She watched as he reached out, fingers resting on the table next to her hand. Close, but not quite touching. “And as far as my destiny goes, you didn’t cost me anything, love. Nothing I can’t live without.”
She stared at their not-quite-joined hands. “Is that what I am?”
“Come again?”
“Your love?” Her voice was small.
“Course you are.” The fervency of his words helped soothe that still-raw wound. “Buffy…I know you’re hurt I didn’t come to you straight away, or let you know I was back. And, yes, I’ve looked at a woman or two since then, but none of them were you. None of them ever could be. That part hasn’t changed. Never will. Reckon you’d know that by now.”
Slowly, her gaze rose to meet his. She didn’t try to hide anything--her love, her insecurity. “I thought I did, but ever since you woke up, you’ve made it kind of hard to know for sure. And our first night here, you said you’d finally let go.”
His voice was still soft and low. “Got a hard head and a lot of hot air. Makes me say stupid things. Takes a bit of pounding for some things to sink in. Think you’d know that, too.”
The look in his eyes made it hard to think, while the slow sweep of his lashes—down, then up—left her almost mesmerized, tempting her to reach up and kiss his eyelids closed. But something else niggled at her.
“What you said…just before the raiders came. You really believe I have a super-power fetish? That I…get off…on all the death and danger?”
His gaze softened even more. “Course not, love. Nothing wrong with wanting someone who’s a match for you, but that’s not what you’re about. And nothing wrong with liking what you’re good at. But that’s not what you’re about either.” He sighed. “Truth is, I’m a right sodding bastard when I’m scared. You may not have been so far off the mark with that ‘insecurity complex’ thing.”
“Inferiority, you mean,” she reminded him.
He gave her the eye. “No. Bloody well not inferior to the likes of them. Just have a hard time remembering it sometimes, is all.”
Buffy looked down at his hand where it rested on the table next to hers. Feelings welled up in her so hard and fast she couldn’t wait to be touching him. She slid her hand into his, strong fingers curling around hers.
“I’m not good at talking about stuff,” she admitted. “I never have been. I can skewer one of those Tank-thingie demons without chipping a nail, but…” Her voice trailed off and she shrugged. “I don’t just lay my heart out there. Once, maybe, but now… not so much.” She gazed at him, hoping he could see it in her eyes. “Lately I’ve been trying to change that. I was hoping you’d noticed.”
“Noticed. Just too stubborn to believe.”
“But you do now, right? I mean, you talk about being scared, but you’re the most fearless person I know. Especially when it comes to taking chances. Putting yourself out there. Letting yourself feel. Never giving up.”
He huffed softly. “Not so fearless anymore. Said it yourself. Soul tends to do that.”
“Spike?”
“Yeah?”
She looked down at their joined hands. “You knew it was the prophecy, all along. You just don’t want me to feel responsible.”
“You’re not responsible, love. Prophecies are tricky things. You should know. But they have a way of coming true no matter what we do. Thing is, they don’t always tell the full story, do they? Like that first time you died. Prophecy said you would. But you didn’t stay dead, did you? And you still beat The Master.”
She nodded slowly. “Okay. Point made and taken.” She met his searching gaze. “Except for one thing. ‘One girl in all the world,’ remember? Only not so much anymore.”
“Buffy—“
“You keep pretending it doesn’t matter, but it does. I know it does. It was yours, Spike. It belonged to you first. Your destiny. And no matter what you say now, I know you wanted it. It wasn’t meant for Angel. It should’ve been you.”
Buffy was too preoccupied to realize they weren’t alone anymore. Spike must have been, too, because the soft, throat-clearing sound behind them clearly startled him as much as it did her.
Breaking off, she turned…
“Angel.”
She didn’t know how long he’d been there, but it must have been long enough. His expression was a little too neutral, his stance a little too stiff. Rising, she took a step forward.
“Angel, I—“
“Sun’s down. If we want to have any chance of finding that portal still open, we need to go.” He glanced away then back. “There are some goodbyes I need to make. We’ll meet out front in five.” Then he was gone, striding toward the kitchen door.
A sharp pang shot through Buffy as she watched him go. She’d hurt him. Again. It was the last thing she’d wanted, but she didn’t know how to make this easier for him. Nothing between them had ever been simple, even when she’d thought they were meant for each other.
She’d been wrong about that. Maybe she was wrong about the prophecy, too. But her gut feeling and basic logic told her she wasn’t, no matter what Spike might want her to believe.
Looked like she was on a roll. Robbing Angel of his hope. Depriving Spike of his destiny. She couldn’t do anything about Angel, but…
“If you want to go after him…” Spike’s soft voice rumbled in her ear. “Won’t hold it against you.”
In a single fluid movement, Buffy turned and threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging his head down to hers, plundering his mouth with wild abandon. It took less than a heartbeat for him to respond as he caught her up against his chest, hands splayed possessively across her back, returning the kiss with equal fervor. She lost herself in the sensations—tugging harder, pressing closer. Wanting him everywhere—on her, around her, inside her.
Then she broke off the kiss, both of them panting hard, clutching harder, foreheads touching. Pulling back just enough, she stared into his eyes. Letting him see. Making sure he knew. Then she leaned in again, lips caressing his, this time slow and soft and filled with all the things she found so hard to express.
He responded in kind, the tenderness between them bringing her close to tears. When they parted again, she gazed up at him.
“No,” she answered quietly. “Really don’t.” And melted in the warmth of his slow, sweet smile.
Gunn’s amused hail made Buffy jump. “Hey, Blondie Bear! You two lovebirds coming or not?”
Spike closed his eyes, letting out a shuddering sigh. “Picked a hell of a time, Summers.”
She bit her lip. “I know. Sorry.”
He snorted softly then raised his voice, though his eyes never left hers. “Yeah, Charlie Boy. We’re coming.”
------------------------------
“You sure you’re not coming?” Spike asked Gunn. It was the third time he’d posed the question. He knew the answer, but now that they stood in front of the portal, he felt compelled to ask one last time.
“”Yes. I’m sure,” Gunn said, as if speaking to a hard-of-hearing, 90-year-old grandmother. “I told you. Got my reasons.”
He couldn’t resist. “And would one of those reasons be about 5-foot-2 with big brown eyes and a mum and dad who think mighty highly of you?”
Gunn shrugged. “Could be.”
Spike eyed him curiously. “Don’t know why you’re playin’ it so coy. Not like it’s a big secret.”
Gunn answered with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah? Look who’s talking, Mr. Get A Room Already.”
Spike answered with his own quirked eyebrow. At the same time, he cast a sideways glance at Buffy, who waited a short distance away, discreetly out of earshot, as first Angel then Spike took turns saying their goodbyes to Gunn.
Both she and Angel had been conspicuously quiet on the ride out. Angel had taken the seat next to Gunn, leaving the back of the wagon to Spike and Buffy. Spike knew why his grandsire was brooding, but he couldn’t quite suss out the reason for Buffy’s preoccupation. She’d given Angel a remorseful glance when they’d first met up again, but Spike would bet his Sex Pistols “Kiss This” CD that her silence had nothing to do with Angel’s hurt feelings. More than likely, she was still fretting over the Shanshu prophecy.
Turning his attention back to Gunn, he smirked up at him. “Word of advice. Try not to go pissin’ on any furniture, you hear? Might decide they don’t want you anymore. Then we’d be stuck with you again.”
Gunn’s gaze narrowed. “Remind me why I’m not gonna be missing your sorry ass?”
For a few seconds, they exchanged glares. Then, as he had with Angel, Gunn pulled Spike into a giant bear hug that perhaps lasted a second or two longer than either would ever admit. They separated, nodding without speaking. Spike moved past Angel to stand next to Buffy, and all four of them turned to face the shimmering portal, where faint ripples against the dark were all that marked the spot.
Upon their arrival, Spike and Buffy had shared a silent look of relief to find it still active. But as Spike was all too aware, this could change at any moment. The power fueling it could wane, leaving them stranded here for an indefinite period of time. Or worse, leave them forever lost between dimensions.
Gunn seemed to share his concern. Backing off a bit, he looked first at Angel, then Spike, then Buffy. “Better hurry. And be sure and keep to the trans-dimensional path. The way Angel and I went in, we were damn lucky we didn’t get stuck in there.”
Spike snorted. “Hardly likely, Angel being teacher’s pet and all. Not how The Powers reward their great and mighty champion, is it?”
“Are you done yapping yet?” Angel snapped. “Can we go now?”
Spike opened his mouth then closed it. Truth was, the whole snarking-at-Angel thing had suddenly lost its appeal. It was just no fun kicking his grandsire while he was down.
Raising his hand in a farewell gesture, Gunn jerked his head toward the shifting patch of darkness. “Last one into the magic portal is a rotten demon egg.”
Angel stepped forward, stopping long enough to exchange a silent look with Buffy. When she nodded, he turned and dove head first into the portal. A brief flare of light marked his entry, accompanied by a roaring sound similar to an erupting geyser. Then nothing but quiet and darkness again.
Spike felt Buffy’s hand slip into his, their fingers locking together. She stared up at him with an expression he couldn’t quite make out. Then she smiled, reached up to give him a soft, brief kiss and tugged on his hand. He nodded. Together—hands still joined, side-by-side—they took a running leap into the portal…
…and slammed into chaos. As he had the first time through, Spike found his senses bombarded. He held tightly to Buffy’s hand, even though he couldn’t see her, or anything else—only flashing swirls of light as he hurtled through the void. A rushing sensation assailed him from all directions, though he couldn’t feel himself moving, while a tremendous sense of pressure tore at him from inside and out.
It lasted forever, but was over in an instant. A bright light in front of him beckoned, drawing him inexorably forward. As the light touched him and the chaos began to wane, he felt Buffy’s hand pull away, just before a strong shove propelled him head first into the light.
He hit the floor with a hard thud, landing on his back, one arm flung across Angel’s leg. Around him, he could see the faces of Giles and Xander and Illyria, along with a whole passel of slayers he didn’t recognize.
The swirling portal still loomed above him. But before he could move, a loud whoosh filled the room as it winked out of existence.
They were home.
But without Buffy.
-----------------------------
TBC in Chapter Twenty-Three
[Reviews - 146]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | 
Chapter or Story
Has been viewed 1934 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story - Text Size +
Author's Chapter Notes:
Author’s Note: Last chapter for now. A little silliness, a little action, a little angst and a big heart-to-heart. As always, comments and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated. Hope you enjoy!