Twelve
By late afternoon, Spike had almost completely recovered from his injuries and the decision was unanimously made for them to continue on, as soon as the sun was low enough. A rough estimate had them getting to Sweet’s place within an hour, though that was only if they didn’t encounter any more obstacles. But Buffy wasn’t holding out much hope of that. In fact, if it wasn’t for bad luck, they wouldn’t have any. She watched quietly while everyone got ready to leave.
Spike was moving, very slowly, with nowhere near his usual grace. The skin of his hands was abnormally pink, the flesh still healing. Dawn was nearly glued to his side, and strangely enough, so was Anya. Perhaps it was a demonic solidarity thing, maybe it wasn’t. Buffy couldn’t tell. It did comfort her, though, knowing that Spike would protect her sister. Knowing he would be there had helped her make the decision to jump all those months ago. And though it helped then, she suddenly wondered if maybe it allowed her to take some foolish chances.
Her reverie was cut short when Spike thunked down a makeshift shield in front of Dawn. Nothing more elaborate than a bent and twisted garbage can top, it brought an unwilling smile to her features. “Stay close, half pint. An’ in case you don’t, keep hold of this.”
Dawn picked it up, grimacing at the weight. “Do I have to?”
“Yes.” Three voices rang out in unison, while Tara’s voice sounded as an echo. “Better safe than sorry, petal.”
A deep sigh shook the teen as she nodded her head. “You people are weird.”
“Weird love is better than no love.” Buffy half smiled and headed out the door. “Let’s go, people, we’ve got a rescue to pull off.”
They filed out the door behind her, with Spike and Giles bringing up the rear. He had barely cleared the door when one of the girls started whistling “Heigh Ho” and he called out, “No dwarves, animated or otherwise.” Spike waited a beat before adding, “No sodding munchkins, either.”
Before they hit the alley leading back to the main road, Tara’s clear voice rang out. “We’re on the one road, sharing the one load. We’re on the road to God knows where. We’re on the one road, it may be the wrong road, but we’re together now who cares? North men, south men, comrades all. Walking, run fast, long and never fall; we’re on the one road, swinging alone, singing a Slayer’s song.”
“Oi, you. ‘Nough of that bleedin’ Irish rebel song. Shut it.”
“How is that an Irish rebel song?” Dawn turned to look at him.
“Real lyrics ‘ll tell you that.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Trust me, sweetness, it’s a rebel song.”
Xander hadn’t seen any of the minions, not even Cyd had been around once he’d woken up and gotten dressed, and now he was stuck in the room, waiting. He didn’t know what he was waiting for – rescue – because he really didn’t want to think about the alternatives.
He had hope, though, that his friends were coming to rescue hm, because of what Cyd had said earlier. He wasn’t sure who was on the way, probably Willow and Buffy, and maybe Spike, but. . . he couldn’t imagine Buffy allowing Dawn to come. Although if Anya insisted on traveling with them – well. Xander slumped down on the bed, heaving a deep sigh. If. . .
Buffy really wasn’t in any shape to mount a rescue and Spike wouldn’t care. That left Willow and Anya as the only two who would be pushing to get him back. And that was great, except Anya didn’t really trust Willow and Willow still didn’t like Anya. A partnership between the two might result in yet more disaster.
Still, he couldn’t imagine Buffy not coming to his rescue, despite the devastating truth. Xander didn’t normally indulge in introspective thinking, he relied on Willow for things like that. However, given that it had been Willow who pushed relentlessly all summer long, Xander wasn’t sure his reliance on Willow for deep thinking was a good thing. Something had gone seriously wrong. Buffy should have been trapped in a hell dimension – according to Willow.
Except – that wasn’t reality.
Buffy had been in heaven, enjoying her eternal reward. If what she’d sung during their first encounter with Sweet was true, then they’d been wrong – very wrong – by bringing her back. They’d hurt her even more.
No wonder she’d been distant and out of it; not wanting to patrol or jump right into anything.
Xander dropped his head, staring at the pattern of the rug beneath his feet. Willow had been wrong. They all had. Nothing was right – not any more. He sighed, realizing he was going to have to figure out some way of making it up to his friend – some way of making it right.
As soon as he got out of this mess, he was going to try.
They hadn’t been on the road for long, only about a half hour when Spike noticed the first of Sweet’s minions tracking their progress. Moving forward through the group, he grabbed Buffy and pulled her aside. “Got a tail, Slayer.”
A deep sigh broke from her. “Seriously? Didn’t they get the message last night?”
“Guess not.” Spike watched as the girls passed them. “About six ‘f them pacing us.”
“Just pacing?” Buffy grimly nodded at Giles, then motioned him to stop. “Should we keep going?”
Spike blew out an unneeded breath, his eyes focused on the opposite side of the street. “Reckon so. They don’t appear to be eager to do more ‘an jus’ watch for now. Best keep movin’ while we can.” He paused, scanning the area. “‘Sides, not really the best location for it.”
Both Buffy and Giles watched as Spike visually tracked the minions. “Could scout ahead . . .”
His next words were interrupted by a shriek from Dawn. Before either of the other two could react, Spike was off, his coattails flapping behind him. A second shout had Buffy moving. Giles caught up with them moments later. Willow was slumped against a building wall, blood trickling from her nose, while Anya hovered close. Tara had her arms wrapped around Dawn, who was sporting vicious bruises all over her arms and a nasty looking one on her cheek. Buffy and Spike were holding their own against the minions, so he moved to help Willow.
With Anya’s help, Giles managed to get the woozy red-head to her feet. Another shriek had him whirling about to see that several of the minions had gotten past Spike and Buffy and were attempting to separate Dawn from Tara. As he hesitated, Spike dispatched one and he launched into attack, shoving Dawn aside.
Buffy defeated her opponent, then rushed to protect Dawn. Spike was battling the last two minions, his foot planted firmly on the chest of one while he pummeled the other. It didn’t take him more than two punches and the first was done. His attention dropped to the second and he merely smirked and stomped heavily on its head. A wild grin broke out on his face and Buffy shook her head. Tara caught the looks passing between the two and so quietly that Buffy almost didn’t hear her, began to sing. “This is a man who thinks with his heart, his heart is not always wise. This is a man who stumbles and falls, but this is a man who tries. This is a man you'll forgive and forgive, and help protect, as long as you live . . .”
Buffy stared at Tara, then she stole a quick glance at Spike. His grin had dimmed only a little bit; he was checking Dawn for any injuries while she batted away his hands.
“C’mon, bit, let me see.”
“I’m fine. Seriously, Spike, I’m fine.” She whirled around as he brushed dirt off her back. “Stop!”
Tara stepped closer to Buffy, her voice pitched so that none of the others could hear her. “He will not always say what you would have him say, but now and then he'll do something wonderful.” The knowing expression in Tara’s blue eyes had Buffy stealing a glance at Spike, watching while he tended to Dawn’s injuries. “He has a thousand dreams that won't come true. You know that he believes in them and that's enough for you.”
“God, Spike, will you just stop mothering me!” Dawn pushed him away, then looked at Buffy. “Would you call off the vamp?”
“Want me to do it?” Buffy raised her eyebrow, taking a step toward the two. “Seems like he’s doing a fine job.”
A knowing smile, almost bordering on a smirk washed over Tara’s features. “You'll always go along, defend him where he's wrong and tell him when he's strong, he is wonderful.”
Spike threw an odd glance Buffy’s way, one she had a little trouble interpreting; but going by what Tara sung next, she understood it. “He'll always need your love . . .”
The following words were so soft, so heartfelt, that Buffy couldn’t do anything but gape at the other blonde. “And so he'll get your love. A man who needs your love can be wonderful.”
Unlike every other day since his kidnapping, Xander was left completely alone, without any other being to distract him from the passage of time. Or the increasingly desperate thoughts. He wasn’t comfortable with being alone, having to deal with the thoughts inside his head. His thoughts just kept circling around and around the same subjects over and over. It was making him dizzy.
Which explained, in a way, why he was grateful when Cyd finally made an appearance. Seizing upon the distraction, Xander pestered the shape-shifter for any information it had. “What’s going on?”
Cyd ignored him at first, focusing solely on going through the closet. When it started pulling out various bright colored garments, Xander realized he wasn’t going to get any answers. Adapting quickly, he asked, “What’s on tap for tonight? Leiderhosen? Hey, how about some nice nifty Hawaiian shirts? Gotta go with the Magnum PI look, if I have a choice. Or. . . oh! How about some Miami Vice. I could go for the suave casual look.”
It was his over exaggeration of the last couple of words that finally caught Cyd’s attention. “No prints. Solids only. And you might look good in a light colored suit, but. . .” The demon eyed him critically. ‘It would work for the day time, but, this is a night club. And Sweet likes his . . . his people to dress accordingly.”
And that pretty much ended that discussion. Holding out a suit jacket with a wide lapel and matching pants, Cyd tersely ordered hin to get dressed.
The fit was perfect, and this time he couldn’t complain about the choice of shirt. Or tie.
In fact, when he finally looked at himself in the mirror, Xander was completely okay with Cyd’s choices.
Which just meant that it probably wouldn’t last.
That last attack must have been a last ditch effort, because the remainder of their walk was uneventful, save for the constant humming and the occasional outburst into song. Even Spike succumbed, humming along when Dawn burst into a second rendition of “Heigh Ho”. She teased him about it, not giving up until he growled at her.
Despite her general air of distraction, Buffy kept her attention on the two of them. At one point their combined antics brought a smile to her usually somber features. Tara caught the look on Buffy’s face and found her own attention ensnared by the teasing between Spike and Dawn. The teenager had absolutely no fear of the vampire, boldly flicking his ear or slapping his arm. It was a lot like watching siblings who really loved each other, only playful rivalry between them. Not even before her mother had gotten sick did Tara have that kind of relationship with her brother.
It didn’t ring false either. Spike wasn’t feigning his amusement, nor was he faking his affection. He clearly loved Dawn – just as he clearly loved Buffy – though obviously not in the same way.
Tara watched them, focusing on the vampire and the Key, rather than focusing on her own relationship. It was a lot easier.
There was no mistaking Sweet’s base of operations when they finally stumbled upon it. Every 1930s and 40s movie musical cliche was represented. Arcing floodlights split the night sky, noise and light spilled from the interior out onto the sidewalk, while a queue of cars disgorged gorgeously dressed patrons. The women were festooned with fur and feather boas, long slinky dresses and sparkling jewels, while most of the men wore tuxedos.
Half a block away, Giles called the group to a halt. “Before we rush in, without a plan, I believe we should take a moment to formulate one.” He resisted removing his glasses, though it was a near thing.
“Why do we need a plan? Our plan should be we go in and rescue Xander.” Anya’s voice rose with each word, until Spike and Giles were both wincing.
“Think the local strays all heard you, pet.” Spike shook his head dramatically, further making his point about the ex-demon’s tone of voice.
“Sorry.” Anya huffed, then looked longingly at the club. “I just want him back. He’s been gone for so long and only D’Hoffryn knows what Sweet’s been doing to him.” She paused, looking Spike straight in the eye. “What if he doesn’t want to give me orgasms anymore – what then?”
There was dead silence for a minute, then four voices spluttered something unintelligible simultaneously, while Dawn shook her head and rolled her eyes.
It was Willow’s voice that rose above the others. “How about we worry about a rescue plan before we focus on the reunion part. Okay, Anya?” Though her words weren’t in any way nasty, her tone of voice left no doubt about her feelings.
Tara’s horrified, “Willow!”was drowned out by Spike’s low growl and Giles’ own exclamation.
Willow, somewhat chastised, grudgingly mumbled an apology to the former demon, which the other girl ignored.
“So have you got any ideas?” Buffy focused on Giles, effectively tuning out the conversations around her.
Giles paused a moment before answering her. “We are, none of us, dressed for posing as patrons of Sweet’s establishment. I would also imagine that his staff is well known to him.” The Watcher paused again, letting his gaze sweep over the listening Scoobies. “I suggest we at least make an attempt to blend in.”
Spike sighed, his eyes meeting the other man’s; however it was Dawn’s voice that broke the mostly puzzled silence. “So how do we do that?”
“We have two options. We could waylay several of the patrons and switch garments with them. Or we could produce the proper attire magically.”
Everyone exchanged looks.
Without waiting for input from anyone else, Willow held out her right hand, saying “Convertere vestimenta.”
Instantly, everyone’s attire changed. Giles and Spike looked like they wouldn’t have been out of place beside Fred Astaire and the girls all looked stunning. Willow had given them all beautiful dresses, putting Tara in a heavily beaded halter topped pale blue gown with a fake fur wrap. Her own dress was a vibrant purple, with flowing open sleeves and a very low back.
Anya’s strangled gasp had them all looking at her. Her dress was a dark almost blood red and she looked wonderful, except for the look on her features. “Aaaahhhh! Get it away!”
She held a wrap by the tips of her fingers as far away from her body as she could. Her continued panicked shrieks filled the air. “Take it! Get it away from me!”
“What’s wrong?”
“Anya, calm down.”
“Get it off me!”
“Please stop shrieking.”
Finally, Spike grabbed the fur from Anya and sniffed at it. “Red . . .”
A smirk and wicked twinkle in the red-head’s eyes gave her away. “What?”
Buffy looked between the three, clearly not following. Anya was barely coherent, unable to explain and it was clear Willow wasn’t going to admit anything, which left it to Spike to explain. And he did, with an economy of words. “Rabbit fur.”
Horrified gasps from everyone, including Giles, filled the air.
“Really, Willow? That’s so not cool.” Dawn took the wrap from Spike, draping it over one pink ruffled shoulder. “It’s bad enough I look like a pink fluffy merengue, but this is just really mean.”
Pinching his nose, Giles shook his head in agreement. “Rather childishly so.”
Dawn’s dress was almost merengue-like, with ruffled, pouffy short sleeves, a peplum waist and three rows of ruffles lining the hem. Its only saving grace was the very pale, barely there hue of pink. Otherwise it was very nearly over the top.
“‘S not so very bad, Niblet. Remember lots of women favored this style, though it is a bit much.” Spike nodded his approval, taking in all of the flounces. “You’ll do.”
Anya, having regained her composure, glanced down at her relatively plain gown and asked the vampire, “What about the rest of us?”
Her gown was easily the plainest – only the color giving it an edge. The red set off the ex-demon’s coloring well, but it was the low back and rear bow detail that made the dress somewhat memorable. That, and the gold and crystal hairpiece she was wearing.
Despite himself, Spike whistled softly as they all presented themselves for his approval.
They were all beautiful, from the overly virginal Dawn in the pale pink, to Anya in sultry red; but it was Buffy who caught his eye. Her dress was a shimmery emerald green, with deceptively simple flowing lines. The material shimmered even under the dim street lights and he swallowed heavily – until she turned around. In the front, the dress had low gathered fabric that joined in a knot at the junction of her thighs, but it was the back . . .
Thin straps held the confection over her shoulders and a thin gold chain with a sparkling yellow diamond adorned her neck. The back was bare to her waist and the chain’s length hung between her shoulders, a matching gem hanging just above the small of her back.
His slow, in-drawn breath as she turned away from him drew everyone’s attention, although only Buffy was aware what his reaction was for.
“Let’s get going, people. Xander won’t rescue himself.”
“Indeed.”
Liner Notes:
On The One Road: off the album Let the People Sing, released in 1972 by the Irish rebel group, The Wolfe Tones; words and music by Derek Warfield, Brian Warfield, Noel Nagle, and Tommy Byrne.
Performed by nearly every traditional Irish group, at numerous Fleadhs and festivals throughout Ireland, the US, Canada, and everywhere else there are Irish rebels about.
Something Wonderful: from the musical, The King and I; music and lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein II and Richard Rodgers, debuted on Broadway in 1951. Sung by Dorothy Sarnoff on Broadway, she was replaced by Terry Saunders, who reprised the role in the 1956 film. Covered by such notables as Barbra Streisand, Dame Shirley Bassey, Bernadette Peters, and Liza Minelli.