Ravages of Spirit
An hour later, everyone was huddled outside the Hyperion, all jollity having been left behind at Caritas. With their departure returned the knowledge of why they had gone there in the first place, and naturally brought them back to the goodbyes that no one wanted to say. Even then, the finality of the arrangement hadn't truly sunk in until Spike dutifully pulled the Desoto up front and Tara expressed her enthusiasm about not having to take another taxi. It wasn't as though they had anything to pack; Buffy had borrowed some of Cordelia's trousers—older jeans that the Seer didn't want anymore and had yet to donate to Goodwill. They wore a little tall on her and were slightly big around the waist, but no one thought to say anything. The black cotton of Spike's shirt clung to her upper body with a sense of protection that she could get nowhere else.
Even Zack and Rosie didn't have much to take along. The demon hunter was obviously partial to a few weapons, despite the numerous reassurances that Giles had a collection that rivaled the size of a rather large arsenal. The girl had only insisted that Dr. Haller be with her; the infamous Barbies, she decided, were better left behind.
"Don't let Nikki drive you too crazy while I'm gone," Wright said with a thin grin after the Witch retreated upstairs to collect his sleeping daughter. "Trust me, if you think she's bad with supervision..."
Gunn rolled his eyes. "You're tellin' me she gets worse?"
He shrugged in turn. "What can I say? I taught her well. Be glad she likes you guys."
The other man glanced to Wesley with growing skepticism. "She likes us?"
"She likes everyone except Spike and Buffy," Cordelia offered. "Well, she doesn't really blame Buffy for anything, but being a vamp by default..."
The Slayer shrugged. "That's all right. Hell, just two months ago, that was me."
Gunn snickered. "Knowing your track record, she'll likely fall head over for Angel."
A smirk tickled Spike's lips. "Praise God. Those two bloody deserve each other."
Buffy rolled her eyes good-naturedly and jabbed him in the side before turning her attention back to the others. "Will you tell Lindsey thank you?" she asked, not caring who answered. "If you see him again...I know we didn't exactly become bestest buds, but he did help us where it counted."
"Oh," Wesley replied with a wry grin. "I'm certain we will see Lindsey again. Despite however much we try, our association with him never seems to alleviate. Even after Angel chopped off his hand."
"Angel's the one that did that?"
Cordelia nodded. "Among other things."
"Ouch," Tara commented with a frown, catching the tag as she cradled an immensely sleepy Rosie at her shoulder. The girl had been warm and snuggled in her bed, even though it was still considerably early to a group of reputed night owls, but they had to get going if they hoped to be in Sunnydale before dawn could fry any vulnerable flesh. The girl's small arms were curled snuggly around the Witch's neck, wisps of dirty blonde hair pressed to her forehead. "Not to anything specific," she clarified when everyone glanced at her curiously. It was a semblance of comfort how she failed to stutter at their sudden scrutiny. And even that would be gone soon. "I just like my hands."
Wright smiled gently and held out his arms for Rosie. The Witch scowled and shook her head, instead moving to the car after she had waved at everyone with a shy farewell.
Spike chuckled. "You're li'l girl's a bloody charmer," he observed. "She's stolen everyone's heart."
"She's one of those special kids who's actually special and not just so because their parent likes to brag."
Buffy arched a brow. "And I'm sure you never brag."
The demon hunter shrugged with a shameless grin. "Me? Brag?" He exchanged a conspiratorial glance with the platinum vampire. "Perish the thought."
Things grew silent then for a long minute. There wasn't much to say that hadn't already been said. Everything else was another cornerstone in stalling the inevitable.
Cordelia glanced up, gaze centered on Spike. "Are you sure?"
She was very careful not look at Buffy. While the two women had grown fond of each other since her botched rescue, they weren't close. They had a long road to tread before they could call themselves friends.
Spike, on the other hand, was everyone's friend. And it was going to be hard watching him leave.
The peroxide vampire exhaled slowly and glanced to the Slayer, having no such qualms. "Yeh, pet," he said. "'m sure."
"Well, then, come here, you big dope." The Seer opened her arms wide and took him into a massive bear hug. If she had possessed the strength, she would never have let him go. "Argh, you're gonna make my eyeliner run."
"So sorry."
"You know you're welcome back any time, okay?"
Spike nodded, patting her back with calm reassurance. "Yeh. An' trust me, I'll be takin' you up on that."
"We'll kick Angel out and everything." She pulled back, wiping her eyes with shades of self-irritation. Cordelia wasn't one to allow herself tears at the flick of a wrist, and the sight alone sent shards of recognition of what his leaving meant to her. "Not for good, you know. Just so you two don't kill each other."
"What happened to the group consensus idea?" Wesley demanded, though there was no ill intent behind his voice.
Wright shrugged. "I'm partner and I have one of our most valuable employees on our side. Fuck consensus."
"Make that three against one." Gunn flashed the peroxide vampire a grin. "'Sides, the missus isn't gonna let you up here all that often."
Buffy pouted. "Hey. I'm gonna miss you guys, too."
"I know, girl. Just hassling you."
"Stop hasslin' my girl," Spike berated good-naturedly. "That's my job."
"You're not helping, you know."
"Well, he's gonna have to come back," Gunn decided. "After what we saw earlier tonight, Lorne's likely gonna try to book you once every other weekend. Man, I still can't believe you finally did Billy—"
"'S not an original—"
"Still," Cordelia intervened with a shrug, "he does sing it, and you sang it in manner of him."
Wesley nodded his agreement. "Very well, I might add."
"Thanks ever so."
A grin sprouted across Buffy's lips and she wrapped an arm around Spike's middle in a manner of such noteworthy intimacy that his throat constricted with emotion. He didn't know if she realized the little everyday things that screamed levels of her affection in ways that words could never emphasize. The feel of her arms about his waist sent ripples of pleasure across his skin; not merely for the sensation, but for what he knew brought her there in the first place.
It was a pleasant distraction from the more palpable departure that loomed over him, growing in influential strength. With every second that ticked by, he dreaded goodbye with more severity than he had ever thought to experience. It wasn't as though he thoroughly abhorred Sunnydale—well, it was, but the town had given him a list of good to coincide with the never-ending bad. There was a certain measure of chaos that his nature demanded he respect. More over, the town had seen his introduction to the woman in his arms. In many ways, the good outweighed the bad.
In many more, it didn't. Los Angeles, in the time since his arrival, had managed to create more history in a few short weeks than Sunnydale had in four years. These people were his friends; the only beings that had accepted him in the long spans of his lifetime.
It was almost like having family. And that was something he had never truly been allowed.
He didn't want to leave. Not if he was truly honest with himself.
And they weren't making it easy.
"Hey," Buffy murmured, nudging him gently. "You okay?"
Spike forced a weak smile to his lips. "Yeh, luv. Never better." He nodded to the others, clearing his throat self-consciously. "Well, guess this is it."
Wesley's brows arched. "Don't feel the need to get overly emotional."
"I jus' don' do goodbyes very well." He offered the former Watcher a dry grin. "But I do...at the risk of makin' Cordy here even more blubbery than she is now—"
"I'm not blubbery," the Seer sniveled pitifully.
Spike's eyes narrowed.
"I'm not!"
"Right. But..." A sigh commanded his throat. "You...the lot of you useless wankers..." A mutual chuckle rang through the air at the melancholy note in the vampire's tone that made them all well aware that his words were intended in the very best fashion. If not, the wealth of his feeling poured through his eyes to satisfy any such qualm. After a few unsuccessful attempts at humor, his shoulders slumped and he gave up, wrestling instead for the plain truth. "Okay, here it goes. I...you all have been bloody great. 'S been...workin' with you..." God, he hated speechlessness, and his scowl plainly told them so. "Don' make me say it!"
"We know, man," Gunn intervened earnestly. "It's more than mutual."
"I wish there was some arrangement we could come to," Wesley observed. "You have proven more than just a strong colleague, Spike. You're a vital asset to the team as well. We've grown...accustomed to your face."
The peroxide vampire smiled and decided not to continue with the unvoiced 'I almost make the day begin.' He doubted anyone besides himself and the Watcher had ever seen My Fair Lady anyway. As it was, his throat had tightened even further. Never before had he considered himself a vital asset to anything, much less been told such at point blank. It only served to make everything harder. "Thanks," he replied numbly. "The lot of you haven't been half-bad, either."
Gunn sighed dramatically and shook his head. "Man," he complained, "you're throwing our entire system out of whack."
A scowl darkened Buffy's face. "Are you all trying to make me feel guilty?"
There were a few sheepish glances traded before a congenial series of nods and mumbled confirmations swept the night air.
"Is it working?" Wesley wondered.
"Yes."
Spike snickered and rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Stop givin' my lady grief."
"That's your job," Cordelia replied with a weak grin.
"Bloody right."
The Slayer exhaled deeply, brow furrowing in thought. "Well," she said, "nothing is ever final, you know. I owe you all so much...more than a hasty decision about something like this, followed by 'end of story.' I...we'll have to talk about it."
The thought alone was enough to make the platinum vampire's eyes brighten with hope and love that would never know a limit. Even if nothing ever came of it, there was that promise of growth that he had forbidden himself from feeling. "'S a nice thought," he retorted genuinely in a manner that hardly broached his thankfulness for her consideration. "But I couldn't take you from your mates."
"So it's fair that I take you from yours?"
"She makes a good point," Gunn nudged encouragingly.
Wright nodded. "Very good."
"Very, very good."
It was Wesley's turn. He shrugged after he realized that all were looking at him expectantly. "I would add my encouragement, but I thought it would be highly redundant."
That didn't rest well with Cordelia, who pouted petulantly when her desire was not instantaneously appeased. "It's not like Sunnydale is that far away."
"Watch it," Zack warned, holding up a hand. "That argument can be used for either side." He turned to Spike with a wane smile. "We really better be going."
"Yeh. I jus'..."
"You're not getting away this easily," the Seer argued decisively. "We won't give up until you're on the payroll."
"'Preciate the sentiment, luv."
"It's not all sentiment." She turned to Buffy with shades of weary defeat. "You...you take care of him, all right?"
The Slayer smiled gently and nodded, despite the mock-offended look that overcame her companion at the notion that he needed a keeper. "Don't worry, Cordy. I know what I have."
"Good." The Seer hesitated at that, then offered a genuinely warm smile. "You're not as lame as I remember."
"You're not as bitchy."
"I can be."
Buffy grinned. "I don't doubt it."
"Good. You shouldn't." The brunette tilted her head considerately. "We could be friends, you know."
Gunn nodded. "Girl, you got some real muscle. I'm all down with the Slayer stuff and whatnot, but damn. It's gonna be rough adjustin' to you not being around."
Her eyes narrowed. "You haven't even seen me in action."
"Really, you haven't," Spike agreed. "She's bloody poetry in motion."
The other man shrugged easily. "All the more reason to come back, is what I'm sayin'."
"We don't need a reason like that."
"It's better than none." He favored her with a sincere smile and nodded as if to articulate his respect. "It's been fun gettin' to know you, Buff. You're everything he said, plus some."
A smile rose to her lips and she shifted self-consciously from one foot to the other. "Gee," she said, "you guys make it sound like we're never gonna see you again."
"With another apocalypse potentially on the home front, one can never be too sure," Wesley observed.
"Touché."
Spike nodded and wrapped an arm around the Slayer to steer her toward the car. "Speakin' of," he said. "We better be headin' out. Don' burn the place down or what all without my stunnin' guidance to keep the lot of you from makin' right asses of yourselves."
"Don't worry," Cordelia replied. "We'll have Angel back, soon."
He smirked in turn. "All the more reason to head out now rather than later."
"Well, if he doesn't come back 'cause of his guilt trip, you owe us one vampire," Gunn observed. "Any volunteers?"
Wright snickered. "You really don't mind pushing it, do you?"
"Not even a little bit."
He chuckled his appreciation before turning to face the whole of them. "I would say goodbye," he noted, "but I'm gonna be back soon, so there's really no point. Go in, kick some ass, get out. The norm."
"Sounds reasonable," Wesley agreed.
"Just don't take too long," Gunn added drolly. "We don't wanna have to deal with your little sis-in-law solo longer than needed, if you catch my drift."
The demon hunter smiled. "She's actually all right if you give her a chance to be. She learned right alongside me everything she knows. Give her something sharp and tell her where to aim it. That oughta keep her happy."
Cordelia offered a wane smile and stepped forward. "You sure this isn't just a clever way to escape?" she jested, ignoring the slightly shrill note in her voice that suggested there might be truth to neurotic accusation. "I mean, you get the world's most popular vamp, Rosie, and a bail-on-Nikki card. You're really coming back?"
He looked at her for a long minute as though contemplating the proposition.
It was evidently a beat longer than she had anticipated. The Seer furrowed with defense. "Zack!"
A wide grin broke across his rugged face, and he leaned in to kiss her breathless. "I'm coming back," he promised with a wink. "Gotta be here for all my girls, right?"
She made a face at him. "Whatever."
"Right." He nudged Spike to the car, and the vampire followed without any sense of whimsy. The hunter in turn took position at the back passenger side door and nodded his acknowledgement. "I'll be back."
"So you keep saying."
"I will be."
Spike snickered wryly and shook his head, breaking in a beat to wave. "Bye," he offered blandly. "Have fun, keep busy, don' die, an' all that rot."
"Yeah, man," Gunn retorted. "Love you, too."
"Aw, Charlie. I din't know you cared!"
The other man rolled his eyes. "God, it's gonna be worth it to get rid of you if only to not hear that—"
"See yah later, Charlie," Zack interceded with a wink, causing a roar of jovial approval to zest through his vampiric companion. "You too, Wes."
"Good luck," the Watcher offered in turn.
Spike and Buffy disappeared into the Desoto with a final wave before the goodbyes grew out of hand with sentiments of continued poignancy that no one wanted to dwell on. Wright turned to Cordelia and winked on the same note, nodding with his familiar cocky leer.
"I'll be back," he promised one last time. "'Cause I love you."
That was it. He had shut himself inside the car before the frozen look of astonishment had time to fade from her eyes. The engines were revved when she shook herself to her senses, and they had pulled away at an uncanny speed before she could scream her fury at him for his random revelation.
Gunn and Wesley, however, found the matter entirely too amusing.
"Trust him to pull a stunt like that," the former appraised, shaking his head.
"Bloody priceless," the Watcher agreed. "You all right, Cordelia?"
She didn't answer. She was staring at the abandoned path where the Desoto had sat just seconds before.
"Cordelia?"
Nothing. Then a slow, pensive blink. She turned to him with an arched brow.
"Everything all right?"
"All right?" she repeated incredulously. "All right?! That little sucker didn't even let me...I swear I'm gonna..." She stopped herself before a tangent could erupt from her lips, flexed her hands mechanically, and flashed a brilliant smile. "Oh yeah, I'm all right. But he's so gonna get it when he comes back."
"Yeah," Gunn retorted. "I'll bet."
"And not the good kind of 'get it'."
"Oh, I know. I learned not to cross you a long time ago."
She smiled and they turned as one back to the hotel.
The hotel that was emptier now than it had been for weeks.
"All right, guys." Cordelia brazenly tossed an arm over either of her colleagues' shoulders, falling into comfortable syncopation. This was what they did. This was what they were good at. The world on their heels at all times. And it never ended, despite the calls for home. "What's next?"
Oddly enough, they wouldn't have it any other way.
The highway was a dark blanket of endless wet pavement, glimmering to the occasional brilliance of selective streetlights. She didn't know when it had rained— possibly on the outskirts of town while they were kept at Caritas. Either way, it didn't seem to matter. All that mattered now was the road ahead. The one that irrevocably led home.
Home.
"Jodi Foster who was in Silence of the Lambs with Anthony Hopkins who was in Howard's End with Emma Thompson who was in Much Ado About Nothing with Kenneth Branagh who was in Love's Labour's Lost with Mathew Lillard," Wright proclaimed proudly, sitting back and shooting a triumphant look at Tara.
Spike's eyes flickered with lazy amusement to the back. "You do realize," he drolled, "that two of the flicks you jus' named were adaptations of Shakespearean plays."
The demon hunter shrugged easily. "Your point being?"
"That you're a wankerish poof."
"Hey, you knew what they were, too," the other man retorted. "I wouldn't be calling anything black, Mr. Pot."
"Are you insinuatin' what I think you're insinuatin'?"
Wright grinned. "Well, I am now, thanks to your paranoia.
Buffy shook her head with a short laugh. "You two are impossible."
"Yeh," Spike agreed. "We're gonna drive Harris up the wall."
"Everyone's gonna be so glad to see you," Tara voiced from the back, absently stroking loose strands of hair from Rosie's eyes and nodding at the Slayer. The child was still fast sleep, leaning on her father and emanating the occasional snore, but no one could deny the attention she beckoned to herself. She was a beacon of warmth in everything she did; it was impossible not to be drawn to her. "Dawn and Joyce...they've been so worried. And Giles..."
A long, forced sigh slithered through Buffy's lips and she offered a weak nod of similar regard. "It will be nice to see them," she said.
And it was true. Mostly.
True all except for the spool of dread that she had managed to push aside for the past few days. The same that was growing now with influential persistence that she couldn't abide. Her entire gut constricted with premonition.
As if sensing her sudden mood swing, Spike flashed her a concerned glance and reached over to squeeze her knee with intimate reassurance. Buffy felt her insides melting at the mere power of suggestion. She knew he loved her; he said it with practically everything he did. Every look he gave, every touch he indulged, every everything that made him who he was. It was easy to be with him: easier than she would have ever suspected. And she loved him completely in turn. Their relationship was casual and heavy on the same chord. He was the first man that had ever been in her life as a friend and a lover. He was the only one who wanted both sides—all sides—to her. The Slayer included.
He was the normal she had always wanted. The normal she thought she had with Riley, but didn't. Riley had loved her and wanted to play the friendship card as well, but the Slayer got in the way. The Slayer foiled their relationship. The Slayer was what separated her on the axis from ever having that craved normality. And now she had it with the least normal man on the planet.
"Buffy, luv?" he asked gently. "Are you all right?"
She blinked herself to the present and reassured him with a forced smile. The look of concern failed to dissipate from his eyes; he clearly didn't believe her, but nodded all the same, turning his attention back to the road.
They were going back. To Sunnydale. The town that was still there after all that had happened. To the life she had known for so long, yet seemed so detached from. Her room would be the same. Her walls would still flourish with all those teeny bop posters she had never gotten around to removing. Her bed wouldn't have changed. Her clothing would still be there, and she was willing to bet Mr. Gordo was nestled by the pillow where she had left him the morning before Darla and Drusilla blew into town and knocked her routinely stable, if not a little bizarre, life fully out of whack.
For the first time in days, her defenses crumbled and she saw Angelus has he had been. And her body ached with the thought of it.
It was the non-reality she had warned Wright about. And it was coming back.
Because soon, the reality she had left behind would be back as well. And her two worlds would collide on a battleground of showdowns. In the car were those she had with taken with her. Buffy the Vampire alongside her two sires, one in deed and the other in action. With the love of her eternity, the vampire that none of her friends approved of. The same that they didn't know because of their own prejudice. The prejudice she had instilled in them years ago.
Seeing them would make everything even realer than it had been. The scatterings of her life gathered in a field for the wind to play with. Her duty. Her never-ending duty. The calling that was supposed to relieve her with death. And Glory. Always Glory.
Always tied back to the same old.
This one fight wasn't in her anymore.
And still, there was Spike. Funny how the name had changed for her. The name, the view, the feeling behind it. No longer did she see him as a vampire; it amazed her now that she had ever. But the memories were there. Watching his approach with the customary role of the eyes, the quick-witted bash at his intellect and competence, always seizing the opportunity to accuse him of some fictitious crime with an equally fictitious motive. Ignoring him when he tried to help her. Hitting him when it pleased her to do so. Seeing him for the crime he committed rather than the man he was. And yes, while the monster part of her man was something she would always have to remember, she had seen true monstrosity now. She had been commanded to scream under its influence.
Spike had none of that in him. That was as clear to her as anything ever had been.
And he had become so important to her in such a short amount of time. She had never pictured herself a particularly needy woman when it came to men, and while the notion itself was distasteful, there was no other way to appease her senses. Without him, she would survive. That was what she did best. Survived. But her life would be something she didn't want it to be. It would harden her top to bottom.
She had barely escaped her relationship with Angel with the better of her emotions, and that hadn't even been love. This was.
The Buffy that had been taken from the safety of her routine would never have allowed Spike to touch her the way he had. To talk to her like a person. Like he mattered. The Buffy of Before would have resented the notion that he could ever mean any more to her than another potential dust-pile. She had already hated him for being there when no one else was, for listening when no one else would. For sitting on the porch with her in tacit comfort while she cried for her mother. For consoling her on a patrol when life was catching up with her. The Buffy of Before would never have made love with him the way she did. Never have let him see the love and respect she had glowing behind her eyes and similarly never known the same behind his. The Buffy of Before would have cheated herself of the real thing.
And now they were going back to where the Buffy of Before lived. The dread constricting her being doubled its influence. Though the notion impossible—so far beyond what she thought to feel that even the thought made her hate herself—she hoped to whatever it was that the Buffy of Before stayed in the past where she belonged. If Sunnydale had any dictation over what happened in her life, by sheer ambiance alone it might demand the return of everything she had left behind.
For her sake, for Spike's sake, she couldn't let that happen. She couldn't hurt him the way she had. The thought alone made her sick. He was the man she loved, and she would protect him from whatever it was that decided to utter a menacing word.
Even if it was herself.
Oh God.
It couldn't become like that. She forbade it. The man at her side had fought long and hard for her. To prove himself where he shouldn't have needed. Their relationship was not going to be hidden in shadows. He would not be her guilty pleasure. She would not let her intimidation dictate what she told her friends. Buffy was in love with Spike, and whoever didn't accept him didn't accept her, either.
A shudder curled her spine.
He had given up so much. His friends. Those that did accept him. The unlikely alliance he had formed with everyone at Angel Investigations. The friendship and affection he carried for Cordelia. The teasing humor he enjoyed with Gunn. The bookish intellect she had watched him secretly employ with Wesley. And Wright. The man in the backseat who was animatedly discussing the principles of a good football game. While she didn't know the whole of their relationship, she knew enough to understand that it had begun on unstable ground only to form into a true friendship. She hadn't known Spike to have any male friends, much less close ones. And while he jested at the notion that Zack favored him above all his other chums, she knew he was secretly thrilled to be viewed as so invaluable. To be that important to others—not because of what he was or what he could do, but for who he was.
He was giving up so much for her. Friends. Acceptance. All factors owning into his personal happiness.
Buffy bit her lip in thought, settling back against the seat wearily.
It wasn't fair.
"I spy with my little eye something that begins with an 'R'," Tara was saying when she finally snapped back to the present.
"Rosie," Wright and Spike answered in virtually identical monotones.
The Witch blinked as though it was surprising. "How did you—"
"Because you've been lookin' at nothin' else since we left the bloody hotel," the vampire retorted with a wry grin, flashing another glance into the rearview mirror. "I can see you, you know. The entire backseat of my car does pick up a reflection."
Tara pouted and sat back. "Cheater."
"Oi! How'd I cheat?"
"You forget that we don't have the comfort of a no reflection policy," Wright observed.
"Yeh, Zangy, aren't you s'posed to be on my side?"
The other man snickered. "Whatever gave you that idea?"
"Lorne did, actually," the vampire replied. "Said I'd already managed to conquer the bloody impossible. Got a righteous anti-vamp demon hunter to play the part of my best mate in My Life As A Sodding Sitcom alongside my girl, the now vampiric vampire Slayer who, beyond my yen, actually loves me back." He flashed her an affectionate smile that she returned best she could. There it was; that spark of concern once more. However, he did not dwell on it. Something in his eyes forewarned that whatever he wanted to say was best kept for when they were alone. "I won over Peaches's pals an' have a standing invite to crash their party, an' I got to be the hero for once."
"That's what he told you?" Tara asked.
The Cockney shrugged. "That was the jist. 'E basically whapped me upside the head an' told me it was real. Get bloody used to it. Guess I kept expectin' to wake up." He glanced into the rearview mirror again. "'E have anythin' to tell you an' Cordy?"
Wright shook his head. "No. Well, nothing I understood."
"Bloody figures."
"I think it might've been something akin to you and me getting identical tailored blue suits and going around on a perpetual Mission from God."
The vampire barked a laugh at that. "Sure thing, Elwood."
"God, have you seen every movie there is, or what?"
Spike offered a lazy shrug. "What can I say, mate? A hundred years an' a bloke gets bored."
Buffy fidgeted a bit at that but said nothing. Her companion glanced at her again; no words were exchanged, though no one could deny the concern burning in his eyes.
"You think we can pull off at the next exit?" Tara asked suddenly. "Potty break for us mortals?"
Wright's eyes widened as though he realized that he had been overdue for one as well. "I second that motion."
"Yeh, sure thing." The peroxide vampire tossed Buffy an amused glance and rolled his eyes playfully. "Sodding ninnies."
She shrugged in turn. "Hey, when you gotta go, you gotta go."
"Amen, sistah!" Zack commended.
"And I gotta go," Tara agreed. "As soon as possible would be preferable."
Spike cast a weary eye to the upcoming mileage sign and didn't bother to suppress the groan that rose instinctually to his lips. "We're less than a half hour away from Sunnyhell," he complained. "Can't you two...y'know...hold it?"
"Hold it?" they echoed in horrified unison.
Buffy placed a neutral hand on her sire's wrist, earning a long look of concession. "Right," he grumbled. "Right. The two of you are lucky the lady's got a heart of bloody gold."
"Thanks Buffy!" Tara chirped.
The peroxide vampire smirked. "Yeh, thanks."
"Oh, hush. I haven't been dead as long as you have; I remember the pains of needing to go."
He grinned dryly. "Ah, well. Could use a bloody nightcap, anyway. Figure I need to be good an' sloshed before I try to face the Scoobs, right?"
The reminder sent more shivers across her skin, but she forced a smile all the same. "Oh yeah. There's a good impression. 'Hey, Mom? Remember the drunk, instable vampire that used to hang around and steal all our little marshmallows? Yeah, he's my boyfriend now.'"
Spike adapted the most ridiculously adorable façade of giddiness. "'Boyfriend,'" he repeated merrily. "I bloody love that word."
"You're such a dork," Wright complained.
"This comin' from the bloke who jus' used the word dork. How old are you again?"
Buffy's nose wrinkled and she twisted in her seat to look at him. "Yeah," she agreed. "That was a freakishly good impersonation of my sister."
"I don't care. He's a dork." The demon hunter shook his head. "I can't believe you're the same vampire I did so much reading on."
Spike waved a hand dismissively. "Books are overrated."
"They said you were one of the most dangerous vampires in history."
He began to reply before he caught the tag, and his eyes lit up like a child's on Christmas. "Really?" he demanded. "They said that 'bout me?"
Wright snorted. "Yeah. Sure. Right under 'infinitely pussywhipped.'"
"Zack!" Tara admonished.
He shrugged lazily. "What can I say, sweetheart? Goes with the territory."
"I believe I've been insulted," the Slayer observed.
"That's it," Spike grumbled. "'m rippin' your testicles off an' shovin' 'em down your throat."
"Hey! That's not nice!"
"Well, apparently, I'm not nice."
Zack rolled his eyes. "Yeesh. Mr. Snippy."
Buffy and Spike exchanged a long, amused glance before simultaneously imploding in a sea of rich chuckles.
"What?" the demon hunter complained. "I don't get it."
"Bloody hell, you've become Mr. Cordelia incarnate," the vampire gasped, laughing still.
There was an uncomfortable pause. "I have not."
"The next time we see him," Buffy added, "he'll be wearing heels and reading those magazines that she sent him all over downtown LA to find."
"I hear that, luv."
"I have not become Cordelia incarnate."
Tara scowled and covered Rosie's ears precariously. "Shh!" she hissed. "Sleeping child!"
Wright shook his head facetiously. "Don't worry about it," he replied. "That girl can sleep through anything."
"'S a good thing, too," Spike observed, pulling into the first fill-up station he saw off the exit ramp. "Buffy an' I can get kinda noisy."
"We know," the two in the back echoed together.
The Slayer merely flushed and didn't say a word. Her lover shot her a winning smile and everyone piled out of the car. The doors hadn't even had time to shut before Wright and Tara took off for the indoors in search of the much-needed facilities.
Buffy crossed her arms and seized the opportunity to stretch her legs. "You getting gas?" she asked, leaning onto the hood of the car.
Spike shrugged. "Might as well. We'd make it to SunnyD all right, but 's gonna need it here before long."
She must have gone rigid at the mention of their destination again, for the next thing she knew, she had been pulled into a protective embrace, soothing hands gently caressing her temples and neck. The sound of her own name reverberated with endless comfort through his chest, tickling the air with the full richness of his baritone before she realized that he was addressing her.
"Hmmm?"
"Sweetheart, talk to me. What's wrong?"
Buffy stilled. "What makes you think there's anything wrong?"
"Well, there's the fact that I've got eyes," he replied simplistically. "Even ears, 'f you can imagine that. Oh, an' there's that pesky li'l knowin' you thing I got goin' on. Plus, 's bloody obvious."
Her nose wrinkled. "How obvious?"
"So obvious that 'm willin' to wager that Zangy an' Glinda's bathroom break's gonna take a lot longer than planned, seein' as I rather doubt they needed to go that badly to begin with."
"They set us up?"
He shrugged. "'S jus' a guess. I think whatever 'business' they have to do inside coulda waited a half-hour. Bugger li'l things like comfort. Zangy's a demon hunter—he's trained for self-control. Tara fancies a bit of hocus-pocus every now an' then. You do the math." The cool comfort of his palm found her cheek, sweeping through her hair once more as his lips caressed her forehead. "Jus'...talk to me, baby. Please. We can't start this now. Tell me what's wrong."
A sigh trembled through her body. There was no sense hiding it. "I'm afraid."
"Yeh, that much I got." He kissed her forehead again, lingering a little longer this time. "'S it Glory?"
"No. I...it's everything." Buffy's eyes drifted shut and she allowed herself to rest against him. Against the fullness of his unvoiced protection and the completion of feeling. "It's becoming real again. Everything's becoming real. The closer we get..." She sighed. "I'm afraid of Sunnydale."
He paused for a second to digest that one and opted to rumble a humorless chuckle. "There's a bloody first."
"Not the town, Spike. The everything that goes along with it."
She felt him stiffen again, trying to decode her meaning and coming closer than anyone else in his position ever would have. The ripples of strength he poured into her were worth more than anything she could have been given, and she wondered if he knew that. "You're afraid of what the Scoobies will say," he murmured into her hair. "'Bout you an' me...an' us."
"The vamp thing will be blamed on you."
He shrugged. "I expected it."
"It's not fair."
"Luv, you din't turn you into a vampire."
"No. And neither did you. Zack did."
He snorted. "That won' fly with the lot of 'em, an' you know it. He kinda lacks the essentials—for instance, fangs an' a nasty aversion to sunlight an' crosses. Plus, he has a pulse."
"And even if he says he's responsible, they won't buy it."
"No, baby, they won't. But s'all right."
Buffy shook her head against him. "It's not. It's not all right. Nothing ever..." She paused to catch herself, everything rushing to her mouth at once. "I might have changed, but they won't. They never will. They'll always hate you, and they'll never shy to tell you how much. And I can't stand that. You and me and the 'together' thing, it's great." She felt his smile without needing to see his face. "It's more than great. It's...I love you."
"I love you, too. So bloody much."
"Enough to do this?"
Spike frowned. "Do what? I'm not followin'."
"This. You, me, Sunnydale. You and I have never done the 'you and I' thing in Sunnydale."
There was a long pause. "I might be a simpleton, but I think even a bloody rocket scientist would have trouble followin' you around that bend, luv. Are you sayin' you think I won' want you when—"
"No. Not that." She shook her head and cursed her lack of eloquence. "I'm taking you away from everything you want."
"Are you takin' me away from you?"
"...No."
"Then I don' see what the problem is." He pulled away slightly so he could meet her eyes. "Buffy, bein' in Sunnydale's not gonna change how I feel. I've felt this way for a long bloody time. Long before my relatives decided to muck with your life. I went to Wanker Investigations for one purpose: you. I got you. Hell, I got you in ways I never bloody thought possible. I'm a happy bloke." He paused in thought—the sort of silence that did not lend time for interruption. "Your mates won' be happy with this. I know that. They won' be happy that you're suddenly room temperature an' definitely when they figure out who's at the blame-end of that nightmare. They won' like that you love me, especially when news 'bout me bein' chipless hits the streets. 'S that what you're worried about, pet? Me an'—"
"No. I told you...as far as the chip goes, I trust you." She smiled gently. "You've gone to some pretty incredible lengths to keep me from getting hurt, Spike."
"An' you'd be hurt 'f I hurt someone else."
"You're a smart cookie."
"This 's what I'm sayin'."
Buffy looked at him for a long, complacent moment before her smile faded and she glanced down, nibbling thoughtfully on her lip. "And when the day comes that that's not enough?" she asked softly. "I have forever, and that's what I want with you. The fulltime commitment thing. I know that. And hey—talk about gun-jumping. We haven't even been together that long and I already want the full shebang."
"I—"
"But I'm not the long-haul girl. Everyone in my life has been pretty adamant on letting me know that." Without realizing it, her eyes had filled with tears, and she sniffled in vain, trying to turn to keep him from seeing what was plainly there in front of him. "I have forever to live, Spike. And forever's a pretty long time to be alone. What happens when you resent me for keeping you from what you want? What happens when you realize that I've done nothing but held you back? What happens when you don't love me anymore, and you leave me like everyone else?"
That was it. She had officially rendered him speechless. The look on his face was enough to attest to that. Morally shocked and offended, almost betrayed. As though she had spat and staked him, then bathed in his ashes.
When he finally did speak, it was with anger. The sort of anger that was protecting feelings and love too strong for words. "You. Daft. Bint."
"Don't. It's a valid question."
"The hell it is."
"Spike—"
"I don' know what you make of me, Buffy, but I am not one of the tossers you've known in the past. You say it's forever for you? It's bloody well forever for me too." He snarled unpleasantly, eyes threatening to go yellow at the mere implication. "God, you're infuriatin'. You really have so li'l faith in me? That I—"
"I'm not—"
"The long-haul girl. Yeh. Heard you the firs' time. An' you know what? Bull bloody shit. I was with Dru for a fucking century. You think anyone ever thought of her as a long-haul girl? An' what I felt for her was a bloody fraction compared to what I feel for you." He shook his head, seething in irritation. "Vamps aren' s'posed to be monogamous, luv. I am. Always bloody well have been. An' I don' do somethin' 'f I don' want to. 'F I'd wanted to stay in LA, I would've. Simple as that. You couldn't make me move 'f I din't want to. The only place I wanna be 's with you, an' 'f you don' get that by now, I don' know what to do." He paused and shook his head, laughing humorlessly. "An' here, you'd think I'd be the one worried that you don' take our relationship as seriously as I do. Unbloodybelievable. I love you, Buffy. I love you too fucking much to ever give you up. There's no place you could go that I wouldn't find you, an' no place that I wanna go without you with me. Bugger your friends, bugger my friends. They have nothin' to do with us. I won' let them intimidate me as long as you keep up your end."
"I—"
"Meanin', we do this, 's together. I'm not gonna be workin' for shit here while you sit back an' kick up your heels." He shook his head with conviction. "'S real, baby. Everythin' that happened 's real. But I won' let you go through it again. I'd wrestle the devil himself 'f it meant I could make it all go away. I can't. But I'm here. An' I'll do whatever it takes."
The underlying story in his eyes told her everything needed to know and more. There was something about a person's eyes that refused to hide anything of importance. He was like that; in words and passion. Perhaps had he the means, he would conceal what he felt. He couldn't, and she wouldn't have him so. There was a difference between knowing what one said and meaning it—he had them both.
And it dawned on her without anything else at all. The knowledge that she had been searching for since before she knew what it was that she needed.
This was it. Despite whatever happened from here on out, this was it. This was her it. The reason the others had left her layered with the understanding that she had never experienced the crucial it before. She had now.
He was still on his tangent when her eyes sparkled with the full of comprehension. With knowledge. He even got in a few muffled words after she pulled him to her and ravaged his mouth with everything she felt, tasting the full of him without abandon. It only took a second; he moaned into her with the rawness of feeling, sampling everything there that she had to offer. His. All his. The first means to an end either had ever known.
Strength now. They could do this. They could face the past and start a future. They could know heat in the middle of a winter storm. For all that was behind them, there was only the ahead to look to.
Spike pulled back and smiled into her eyes, caressing her cheek. "'The changes that she brings are without respite,'" he quoted softly. "'It is a necessity that makes her swift; an' for this reason, men change state so often.'"
The words were hauntingly beautiful, but they were kissing again before she could question their origin. It didn't matter. Another time.
The weight of penance bought with peace.
It began now.
To be continued in Chapter Forty-Seven: Bring on the Rain...