Seventeen
Roll me on your frozen fields
break my bones to watch them heal
drown me in your thirsty veins
where I watch and I wait
and pray for the rain
curl like smoke
and breathe again
down your throat
inside your ribs
and through your spine
and every nerve
where I watch and I wait
and you too the herd
and if you don't feel me now
sun will rise
still I'm in grief of the coming night
in the last remaining light
seven moons and seven suns
heaven waits for those who run
down your winter and underneath your waves
when you watch and you wait
and pray for the day
and if you don't believe the sun will rise
stand alone and greet the coming night
and in the last remaining light
and if you don't believe the sun will rise
stand alone and greet the coming night
and in the last remaining light
light
light
light
Gunn followed his sister down the steps, his dark eyes scanning the street below. It was quiet, almost too quiet, but that boded well for them. Anyone tailing them would be easily heard if they were on foot and a vehicle would stand out, since barely anything was moving. Lights were flickering on in apartments up and down the block, and there was an occasional pedestrian out, but for the most part, they were alone.
He let her guide their pace, knowing without asking where she was leading them. There’d been no discussion between them, nothing anyone could overhear and draw conclusions from. But he knew. He’d loosened the Velcro on his shoulder holster and unsnapped the second weapon at his side. Two additional ammunition clips weighed down his pockets, and Gunn had to hope his sister was similarly armed.
Each footstep was muffled, the snow that had been threatening all night finally starting to fall. The air wasn’t as cold, which eased only a very little of his tension. Their strides lengthened, both of them hearing the rumble of a powerful engine behind them.
“Don’t turn around.” Gunn spoke in a bare whisper, the first words since they’d left the precinct. “Keep going.”
“Do I wanna know?” Alanna didn’t break stride, didn’t even acknowledge his words by looking at him.
“No. Not really sure I wanna know.” He eased his hand inside his jacket, sliding the zipper up from the bottom. “Just keep going.”
They passed the entrance to the park, angling away to cross over the street and into the eastern part of the park. The museum and circular drive were now on their left, and Alanna led them down the hill, heading further east. “He was on Arden, just off Broadway.”
“Yeah. And the girl?” Gunn knew who it was, just wanted to be certain that she was still with him.
“Couldn’t get a really good look. But she was small.” Alanna paused, daring to shoot a look at her brother. “She was all up in his business.”
A low chuckle broke from Gunn and he shook his head. “Girl, you know he isn’t gonna even look twice at you. You’re off limits.”
“And why the hell is that?” She rounded on him, her hands on her hips and her dark eyes flashing at him.
“Because you’re my sister. And he’s a one-woman man.” He caught her arm as he slipped past her. “We don’t have time for this. Keep moving.”
“We’ll lose the truck in here.”
Gunn didn’t bother answering. They would lose the truck, but if their pursuers had any sense, they would get out and follow on foot. It would only take a moment for them to be followed; theirs were the only footprints in the newly fallen snow. Arden was still three or four blocks away, though once there, they still had to find which apartment Pratt was using.
The odds were not in their favor.
The LED display on the new bank on Broadway caught his attention as they hurried past it. So bloody fucking early. Good Christ. Five thirty-eight in the morning.
Snow had just started falling again, the flakes drifting lazily down to add to the slush already gracing the sidewalks and streets. Tracking them – if his instincts were right and someone was – would be too easy. He was serving them up on a silvery, snow-laden platter. But he didn’t stop leading Buffy onward. His instincts were far too developed for him to start ignoring them now.
Spike grasped Buffy’s hand, his fingers tightening on hers. They were exposed, walking on Broadway, but he wanted to get them into a cab as quickly as possible, heading downtown and away from their current location. At the moment, he couldn’t think of anything else but to get them to relative safety. Where that might be kept eluding him, though he tried to shield that from Buffy.
As he stole a glance down at her, he realized she wasn’t buying his silence as clarity. There were questions in her gaze; questions he couldn’t answer. Spike wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to answer them.
“It’ll be fine, pet.” He tried sounding a bit more assured than he felt. When she smiled up at him, his heart constricted. No matter what the situation, Buffy always tried. She never gave up; never surrendered to the badness all around her. Just seeing her looking up at him was enough to believe they were going to make it, that he would be able to keep her safe.
“Where are we going?”
Up until that moment, Spike hadn’t a clue. He’d tossed aside the idea of going to the nearest precinct in favor of heading downtown to One Police Plaza, but he was afraid even there they wouldn’t be safe. Looking at her, Spike could only think of one thing. “We’re going home, kitten.”
“Home? How’re we gonna do that?” She bit her lower lip, eyes trained on his face. “Where is home anyway?”
“Well, not exactly home. The next best thing to home.” He tugged her close, letting go of her hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “British Embassy.”
Her nose wrinkled and she tilted her head, obviously deep in thought. “How is that gonna keep us safe?”
“Once inside, pet, neither one of us has to come out until everything’s safe.” A black SUV slowly passed them, Spike idly noted its passage, tracking it over Buffy’s shoulder.
The SUV stopped at the corner, then slowly turned onto the one-way street. His nerves, already humming, ratcheted up another notch. Without saying a word to Buffy, Spike angled them toward the street, heading toward the wooded area of the park. While it wasn’t ideal, they’d been on the street nearly ten minutes without seeing one cab go by, much less an empty one. He couldn’t take the chance of returning to the apartment – they were already out – because if that had been the bad guys, they’d been spotted. He had to keep them going.
Had to get Buffy somewhere relatively safe. Backtracking to the apartment was out. Backtracking even further to the Catholic Church around the corner wasn’t an option either. The only safe places were forward – to the Cabrini Convent on Ft. Washington Street and the nearest precinct was easily another ten blocks from there. However, there were security guards on duty at the museum around the clock.
There at least, Buffy would be safe.
Trampling through the snow, with Alanna tagging along behind him, brought back so many memories of childhood that Gunn had trouble remembering why they were out in this weather, at such an ungodly hour. The light flurries had given way to a heavier, wetter mixture and Charles began mentally berating – and second-guessing – himself.
Got no business being out here. For sure isn’t any good reason. Probably every fucker on this case but me is warm and dry. Damn that dumb-assed, pale-faced, limey sonofabitch. Should’ve listened to me the first time, when I told him to stay away from the girl.
But no. So now here I am, out here in this shit, freezing my butt off and he’s all warm and shit.
Freaking motherfucker –
A low muffled noise sounded in the air, the snow masking the direction, but Gunn knew that sound. Motioning Alanna to halt, Charles drew his nine millimeter, reflexively checking the clip. Catching her brother’s actions, Alanna did the same. They shifted slightly, angling so their backs were covered by the other. After scanning the area, Gunn moved forward, leading the way down the steep hill.
Neither one breathed.
If he hadn’t been so attuned, all his senses on alert, Spike was positive they would already be dead.
Their saving grace had been his instincts.
Once the truck turned the corner, Spike quickly guided Buffy across Broadway, looking for a spot where the two of them could head into the park. Unfortunately for them, the only breaks in the wrought-iron fencing were at each of the pathways. He could hop the fence easily, but with her broken ribs and bruises, he didn’t think Buffy would be able to.
He didn’t hesitate at the next gateway. Spike urged her into the park, heading straight for the first set of steps up the hill. “C’mon, pet, need to hurry.”
“What’s wrong?” Her voice was a bare whisper of sound in the snow, more felt than heard, but to Spike it was still too loud.
“Gotta move, kitten. Got a bad feeling.” Instead of staying on the pathway, he guided her to the right, almost backtracking. Angling them up the hill, he pushed her ahead of him. “Just keep moving, no matter what happens.”
“Spike?” She struggled for a moment, her feet slipping on the snowy grass. “Was it the truck?”
“Yeah.” He pushed her harder, his hands on her hips. “Careful.”
Too close. Still too fucking close to the street. Spike waited while Buffy warily pulled herself up and over a piece of natural granite, his eyes on the pathway. They were barely forty feet from the paved area, close enough to be seen if someone were looking carefully enough. Weak sunlight barely added to the mottled illumination from the streetlights, but it was enough to highlight the two figures moving in formation toward the pathway.
Spike pushed Buffy behind the boulder, his hand covering her mouth. “Stay put.”
In the next instant he was gone, leaving her alone.
He’s not fooling me. He’s worried. And that’s scaring me.
Buffy had looked up at Spike the instant he’d swung his arm over his shoulder and known something had just gone very wrong. And the sinking feeling in her gut was telling her it was connected to the black SUV that had just crawled past them.
She hadn’t really want to ask him, so she’d kept her mouth shut, letting him do all the talking. Until they were inside the park, when she couldn’t help herself anymore. Buffy had to know, had to understand what was pushing him, just to make sure her own instincts weren’t off.
Lying in the bed all alone earlier hadn’t given her the peace she’d needed. The elusive, ethereal peace she’d found inside the Cloisters had completely dissipated, leaving nothing but wariness and fear behind.
Spike’s apprehension and frightening display of temper hadn’t done much to help her either, and though she felt safe with him, Buffy wasn’t entirely sure he was safe. She trusted him, trusted him more than she trusted anyone else, but he was dangerous. The emotions he was evoking in her weren’t good – especially since she was fairly certain he didn’t reciprocate them. She was just another witness, just another underage hooker . . . but how she longed to be something else.
Too many jumbled and crazy thoughts had careened around inside her head for her to rest easily. Sleep had been fitful and full of horrible dreams, each one worse than the last. Eventually she’d just given up on sleeping, content to listen to the faint sounds of the city and the hush of the night lull her into some sort of quasi-sleep state. Buffy couldn’t pinpoint the moment when she’d become aware of him in the other room, instinctively knowing he wasn’t asleep either. She could feel him thinking about her. Feel his presence through the plaster walls, her nerves on end from his agitation.
The soothing sounds of the shower hadn’t eased her mind any.
She’d gotten up and dressed while he’d been in the shower; his restless agitation communicating itself to her, awakening her own fairly-well developed instincts. Buffy wanted to run, to get away and she could feel that same desire in Spike, even through the walls and space between them.
Buffy had counted the minutes after he’d left the shower, knowing that sooner, rather than later, he’d be coming to get her. She knew it the way she knew her name. They weren’t spending another night in the apartment.
He pushed her forward, urging her up the steep hill. The tensile strength of his grip kept her steady, kept her from falling to her knees on the slippery slope, and Buffy was grateful for his support.
“Spike?” The shift of her attention cost her, as her feet began to slide precariously on the grass. His fingers dug in, holding her upright and Buffy dared to glance back at him before moving again. “Was it the truck?”
His grimly voiced answer was enough. Buffy didn’t want to know anymore, so she clamped her jaw tight and pulled herself up and over a huge rock that was blocking the way. She was out of breath and a sharp pain in her right side let her know that the ribs weren’t nearly healed enough for this excursion. Buffy panted, fighting the groan of pain threatening to emerge from her lips.
He pushed her down, nearly smashing her face against the rock, his hand covering her mouth, cutting off her gasp of surprise. “Stay put!”
In the next instant she was alone.
The thumping of her heart was the only sound she could hear, the pulse beating strongly at her throat and Buffy realized it was straining so hard because she’d stopped breathing. Spike was halfway to the street, and though she couldn’t see clearly through the snow, Buffy thought she could see him draw his weapon. Movement to her right at the park’s entrance had her gasping in fear, when she caught sight of two figures hovering there.
Oh god. He . . . oh. Be careful. Please, be careful.
Buff watched as Spike got level with the figures, though it appeared they were unaware of his presence. Her fingers gripped the cold grey stone, as she dared to inch her way forward to get a better visual.
The moment seemed frozen, the three men less than fifty feet down the hill from her, and Buffy didn’t realize what had happened until the air shook with the echo of a single gunshot.
I know, I know. Feel free to berate me all you like. I deserve every word of it. But thank you for sticking with me all the same. More will follow. Hopefully soon.