Fourteen
I wanna run, I want to hide
I wanna tear down the walls
That hold me inside.
I wanna reach out
And touch the flame
Where the streets have no name.
I wanna feel sunlight on my face.
I see the dust-cloud
Disappear without a trace.
I wanna take shelter
From the poison rain
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name.
We're still building and burning down love
Burning down love.
And when I go there
I go there with you
(It's all I can do).
The city's a flood, and our love turns to rust.
We're beaten and blown by the wind
Trampled in dust.
I'll show you a place
High on a desert plain
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name.
We're still building and burning down love
Burning down love.
And when I go there
I go there with you
(It's all I can do).
Gunn watched Faith Lehane pace through the squad room, trying to gauge what she wasn’t sharing and why. Lehane had never been one of his favorite people and the feeling was entirely mutual. Her attitude irritated him.
She never followed any rules, always doing things her own way.
Yet she was a good cop.
He just didn’t like her methods.
Which explained his skeptical response to her very timely reappearance after close to ninety hours off the grid.
Even though her intel was solid and the tip about Cordelia Harris arriving at Newark was good work, Gunn still wasn’t convinced Faith was being completely honest with them.
Something wasn’t right.
Gunn rarely relied on his instincts, preferring to trust hard evidence – except this time his gut wasn’t letting him trust the hard evidence. Instinct was making his belly roil and the skin at the back of his neck crawl.
Lehane knew something.
And the only reason she’d come in was because she wanted something.
Gunn only hoped she wasn’t about to get someone killed.
His lips burned.
All through the long, slow walk back to the apartment, his lips burned where hers had touched his. He kept an eye on her, making sure she wasn’t hurting, while his mind focused on what had just happened.
Will wasn’t sure how to react. The kiss had been quick, no more than just a bare meeting of lips. Too quick for him to make an issue of it, yet he was affected enough to keep reliving it.
He tried ignoring the fact he’d wanted to sweep her into his arms and kiss her senseless. Tried ignoring it, but given that he couldn’t stop thinking about it, Will realized that was fruitless.
He wanted her. Wanted to keep her safe, wanted to keep her in his bed. But he couldn’t.
She was a witness.
She was an underage runaway.
He couldn’t keep her, but God how he wanted to.
Buffy knew exactly why she’d kissed him. There wasn’t any point lying to herself, so she didn’t bother. She’d never felt this way about anyone before. Before she’d run away, there had been a few boyfriends, but it had all been so innocent. Stolen kisses here and there, nothing more daring than that.
This was different.
Running away had changed her, forced her to grow up and deal with life in ways she’d never expected. Buffy hadn’t planned on having to fend for herself. Never believed she’d have to fight off dangerous guys in shelters or worry about whether one hiding place was safer than another.
All those endless hours of karate and gymnastics had paid off, just not in the way her parents had planned. Even then, they hadn’t helped when Angelus had drugged her.
Innocent stolen kisses hadn’t prepared her for what she’d had to do to survive the streets. Nothing had prepared her for that. Buffy had been so naively innocent, trusting – childishly so – that everything would be okay once she got to her father’s.
But that hadn’t been the case.
Though now she knew those innocent kisses she’d shared with Owen had been so very tame. Now she knew what it was like to have a man, though she still wasn’t certain she was in love. Buffy knew her feelings for Will ran very deep.
And at that moment, standing in the snow-covered cloister, Buffy needed to show him how she felt.
Even if it was only just a small part of it.
Halfway down the steps to the street level, Spike knew Buffy wasn’t going to make it any further. She’d stopped, panting shallow breaths, her face pale and drawn. Leaning heavily against him, he could feel her entire body trembling.
“Easy now, kitten.” He brushed a hand down her side. “I’ve got you.”
Buffy was unable to speak. Instead of responding, all she did was shake her head.
“Do you wanna sit?”
Again she shook her head.
“Alright, pet. What do you need?” He crouched down in front of her, his eyes boring into hers. “Can you tell me, sweets?”
A little gasp broke from her and Buffy clutched at his shoulder. “Hurts. Can’t breathe.”
“Right then.” Spike didn’t waste anymore time. He reached around her, scooping her up easily. “Hang on, pet. We’ll be home in a tick.”
He barely struggled, even though she was weighed down by layers of clothing. Buffy closed her eyes, resting her head against his shoulder. Small tears of pain seeped from beneath her lashes though she tried to hide it from him.
Spike blamed himself for her current predicament. In the interest of distracting himself, and a now futile attempt to create some distance, he’d pushed her too hard. Buffy was barely recovered from the beating Angelus had inflicted and by rights she should be still tucked up, safe and sound in hospital.
Instead, he’d taken her away from that safety and dragged her all over the city.
Once more, Will cursed himself for his stupidity.
Will stopped at the park’s entrance, leaning against the stone wall. Thankfully, the apartment building was directly across the street. Not so luckily was the sight of two parked patrol cars and an FDNY EMS unit parked right in front.
Chances were that the call could be for any one of the buildings surrounding the park, but given their location, it seemed likely they were responding somewhere in his building.
Could just brazen it out, go right up and risk running into the uniforms. . . but with my luck. . . He huffed out a deep sigh, thinking deeply. What to do. . .
The decision was taken away from him a moment later when Buffy whimpered.
“Hold on, kitten, gonna get you home right now.” Shifting her weight a little, Will waited for the light to change.
“I’m cold.” Buffy tried to snuggle closer to him. “Really cold.”
“Just a bit longer, then you can sit in a warm bath. Hold onto me now.”
They very nearly made it. The doorway was empty, though the glass doors were open to accommodate the emergency personnel and the building super was nowhere to be seen. Ducking inside, Will headed straight for the bank of elevators.
An itch developed at the back of his neck, the longer they waited at the elevator. This isn’t good.
Watching the floors tick away, the feeling of unease kept building. “You all right to stand?”
“Yeah.” He eased her down to a standing position, keeping her close to his side, his arm holding her up.
He’d just looked up as the elevator doors opened and Will inwardly groaned. Standing there, staring directly into his eyes was one of the last people Will wanted to encounter – and one of the few who would be able to see through the flimsy disguise.
Alanna Gunn had followed her big brother’s footsteps, joining the NYPD straight out of college.
Will wasn’t happy to see her.
To her credit, though, Alanna didn’t give anything away. Her only reaction was a slight widening of her dark eyes and a quick glance at his companion. She side-stepped around them, leading the other cops from the elevator.
His arm tightened around Buffy, trying to shield her from anyone else’s scrutiny. When she looked up at him in surprise, Will knew his answering smile wasn’t at all reassuring.
As the elevator closed, Will let loose. “Bloody, buggering fuck.”
His voice was barely audible, though Buffy had no trouble at all hearing him. “What’s wrong?”
He didn’t want to lie to her. “I know the female cop. She’s my partner’s sister.”
“Oh.” Buffy pulled away, resting against the wall. “What does that mean?”
“It means, kitten,” Will ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the curls, “Our cover is blown and we’re screwed.”
Thanks to all of you still sticking with me on this. I totally appreciate it. And to the person who asked if the Cloisters really do exist? They do as part of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, here in NYC. And yes, it really is that magical.