The two werewolves had been following them for about five blocks. Spike had caught their scent the instant they'd left the restaurant where he and Buffy had met Tara. Spike could never forget the odor of their kind because it had permeated his cell . Buffy and Tara had immediately sensed they were being tracked as well. His sister was at the ready with a spell and his wife was prepared to physically defend Tara if it came to that; Spike hoped it wouldn't.
One of the werewolves was a female. Except in this state, her human state, she was just a girl; a pregnant girl. Spike could smell the hormones pouring off her skin and hear the fluttering tick of the fetus' heartbeat. Spike wondered if the male werewolf, the boy, knew that the girl was carrying his child.
The pregnancy changed things. He didn't like hitting girls period, even if they were super strong and covered in hair. He wasn't going to be able to hit a pregnant girl and he couldn't let Buffy hit her, either.
They were traveling toward a Tarot card shop at the entrance to Highway Sixty-One, a seemingly forgotten place without windows where its services were advertised with a hand-painted, cardboard sign. The only other business was a kitschy pottery shop that had been closed at least a decade. There were tacky sculptures in the sooty windows; ghostly, unpainted cartoons that had grown gray with particulates from that unwholesome Pittsburgh air.
There was a burnt out train station across the street blighting an overgrown field and on the other side of the highway beneath an overpass was an ice cream stand, though Spike couldn't imagine ever wanting to eat one of the push up pops or paper-wrapped cones they sold.
The Tarot card shop belonged to one of Tara's friends from the Wiccan group she'd belonged to when she'd been a student at the University. On the outside it looked dilapidated, but inside was rather posh. The facade was there to keep away the non-supernaturally inclined. As they approached the rusted, metal door of the shop, it opened and the owner, Sally, came out dressed in a long, sapphire blue dress made of crushed velvet stretched over her wide hips. Sally, with her long, blonde, hair piled atop her head, was smiling at them. Will imagined her getting taken out in the fight and his stomach flopped.
He looked at his family and then grabbed Sally's arm.
“We're being followed,” he hissed in her ear.
“By Nina and Oz?” Sally asked, incredulously.
Will pulled away and looked at her face in disbelief. He turned around and saw the male werewolf waving.
“Hey Sal!” Oz said.
Will's eyes met Sally's.
“Oz has something he needs to ask you,” Sally said.
***
The five of them sat at Sally's kitchen table, showing varying degrees of interest in their cups of tea and the white, lace tablecloth. Buffy was holding Spike's hand beneath the spidery drape, smiling politely at Nina and Oz as though the werewolves were pitching them an offer to buy a time share. Sally smiled benevolently over them as she placed the steaming, pink tea pot with its swan-like spout in the center of the table. She'd vouched for Oz, which went a long way in convincing Tara that he was a trustworthy person. Sally sat beside Tara and the two women exchanged a smile.
Spike could feel his sister's thoughts. Tara trusted Sally implicitly; on more than one occasion, their hostess' advice had saved their lives, which meant Spike owed her a debt as well. He could feel that none of that meant anything to Buffy though. The instant his wife had heard about Nina's baby, she was compelled to help. Spike was the only member of their trio who still needed convincing.
“Veruca will kill Nina, it's that's simple. Once she finds out about the baby, pack loyalty won't matter. We need your help,” Oz said.
“You want us to take the bird out?” Spike asked.
“We won't do that, she's a human being,” Buffy said.
“We don't want you to hurt anybody. If it comes to that...we have ways of dealing. I need you to protect Nina and me. Specifically, to protect other people from us.”
Nina ran a hand through her hair and looked at Oz before facing the group.
“We want to leave the pack, and we're afraid if we're on our own, we'll hurt people. But you're a vampire, right Spike?” Nina asked.
Spike squeezed Buffy's hand and glanced from his wife to his sister before responding.
“Yeah.”
“Well if one of us bites you, you won't change. We can't curse you, and you're strong enough to put the hammer down if we get too frisky,” Oz said.
“We don't have a lot of money. It would be impossible to support two more people and an infant, especially on the road,” Spike said.
Buffy looked at him with her forehead all crinkled up, on the verge of saying something about her sacred, slayer duty before she remembered that no one was supposed to know she was a sacred slayer.
Oz smirked at Nina, who seemed to relax. He took the girl's hand and then looked at Spike.
“We would pay you. I'm fairly well off...when I was in high school and college I designed a few computer programs for some different companies. I get money from that,” Oz said.
“What kind of programs?” Buffy asked with genuine interest.
“Like for Boeing, some stuff that makes airplanes work, one for a video game company. When I turned twenty-one I retired and bought the tattoo parlor. It's named after Veruca, but I own it,” Oz said.
“Which will make her extra thrilled that you're moving on,” Buffy said.
Oz looked pained, grimacing at her words.
“Yeah,” he said.
Spike sighed and glanced at Buffy and Tara.
“I need to discuss it with my family. Maybe we could come by your shop tomorrow?” Spike asked.
“That's no good, I mean, we were hoping to get this settled tonight. Tomorrow the cycle starts again,” Nina said.
Buffy and Tara glanced at Spike. He knew what they were thinking without having to ask. Of course they'd protect the pregnant girl and her foolish puppy even though Spike hated putting his girls at risk for somebody they didn't know. They would because that was the right thing to do and because they were the only beings who could. Tara, Buffy and Spike nodded to one another.
“We have a place, but we need to leave right now if we're going to beat the sunset,” Buffy said.
“Thank you so much,” Nina said, embracing Oz.
Tara and Spike knew the place Buffy had in mind. They were going back to the clapboard farmhouse that had seen Spike's imprisonment, except this time, the home was technically his.
“Life's funny, isn't it?” Tara said. Buffy and Spike smiled in agreement, to the puzzlement of the others at the table.
***
Spike and Buffy sat on Tara's old bed in front of the floor to ceiling cage, watching the werewolves sleep. They had given up on playing Go Fish a few hours ago. Spike had repainted Buffy's toenails a shade of tangerine—Sunset Tango—and her feet still rested in his lap. The werewolves had spent most of the night copulating, as they had the previous two evenings. Three days of kinky werewolf sex, and the air was thick with pheromones. It was driving Spike a little wild and consequently, driving the girls a bit bonkers, too. Tara couldn't stand it after the first day. She had gone to spend the remaining nights with Fred and Gunn, taking their car with her.
At least during the day, Spike and Buffy had been able to sneak off and make love, but it wasn't enough for him. It was never enough. As soon as they were finished, Spike always wanted her again. Buffy was the only thing, besides human blood, that could staunch the constant void inside of him.
Spike lifted her feet from his lap and stretched out next to his wife They lain next to each other, she turning to rest her head on his silent chest. He could feel something troubling Buffy when she looked at the sleeping creatures. It wasn't lust, but a longing of a different kind. Buffy slid her hand under his black t-shirt, touching his cold stomach.
“You wish you could have a baby, don't you?” Spike asked.
The question sounded inordinately loud amid the snores and snuffles of their charges.
“No, I wish I could have your baby,” Buffy said. She closed her eyes.
“Without me you could. You could walk away from all this, love.”
“There's no walking away from this because this is me. Being the slayer isn't just a title, it's who I am. Beside, you're the only one I want, but sometimes I wish—” Buffy said, cutting herself off before she could say words she knew would hurt him. It was too late though, their thoughts were intimately connected.
“You wish you could have saved me.”
Buffy hid her eyes in his shoulder and nodded. Spike already knew he wasn't the man she fell in love with anymore. He wasn't a man, not really, and it broke his heart to know Buffy blamed herself.
Spike stroked her hair and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“Get some sleep, love,” Spike said.
***
Spike woke with a start, his legs tangled up in the sleeping bag, looking out from the inside of the cage again. He was shirtless, on his back and propping himself up on his elbows; his hair was likely ridiculous but there was no help for it, mirrors being a thing of the past. The basement was totally dark and Buffy was long gone. Somehow Spike knew hew would never, ever see her again and there was nothing he could do. Spike crawled along the stone floor to the pile of objects Tara had given him. Spike found the fat, blue pillar candle he was looking for and a pack of matches.
With a scrape and a pop the match ignited. He carefully carried the fragile flame to the candle wick, pursing his lips until it caught. In the nascent firelight he saw a face, horrible in its contortion. The eyes were amber and wreathed with bulges, the grinning mouth housed stiletto fangs, the nose was ridged and the head was crowned with curling, silver hair. He fell back, then realized it was his own face in its vampire guise.
Spike woke with a start. He was in the basement of the white farmhouse where he and Buffy were watching over the pair of werewolves. There was no one else in the bed with him and the wrought iron cage was empty. He sat up and threw off the sheets, then put both feet on the stone floor.
“Buffy!” Spike shouted.
Almost before he finished yelling she was already running down the stairway. He met her halfway, throwing his arms around her and pressing a kiss to her lips. Buffy put her hands on the sides of his face and when the kiss ended she gazed into his eyes.
“Better now?” she asked.
He nodded, ashamed to have overreacted to his nightmares again. She smiled and then gave him another peck.
“Tara's here. She and Oz are making dinner. Oz was all cute about it, too, he asked if it would be alright to put garlic in the sauce,” Buffy said.
“Sounds ducky,” Spike said, taking her hand and letting him lead her up the stairs. The kitchen was bustling with activity
Nina looked up from setting the table to smile at Spike and Buffy as they came into the room. Oz waved, but didn't turn away from the stove where he was frying Italian sausage. Tara glanced over her shoulder, as she sliced onions at a white cutting board on the counter.
“Everything good?” Nina asked, tucking a paper napkin beneath a pink, china plate.
“Yeah, bad dream,” Spike mumbled. Buffy went to the fridge and took out a carton of blood.
“We were just talking about where we can go after this and I was telling them about our friend in San Francisco who can let us stay for awhile. You guys remember Zahara, the a dominatrix? She's got a nice cage and stuff,” Tara said, as she resumed chopping. Spike sank into a kitchen chair and Buffy took a mug out of the cupboard, then filled it with blood.
“For Spike's sake, I'm not going to ask how well you know that girl,” Nina said, taking a seat at the kitchen table beside Spike.
“I already know,” Spike said.
“So do I,” Buffy piped up, while she stuck the mug in the microwave.
Tara didn't answer with words, only a blush coupled with the continued slide and thunk of the knife, making Nina giggle.
“I know a guy in San Fran who would love to get me coding for him. We could rely on this Zahara chick until Nina and I buy a house, fix up it up,” Oz said, prodding the sizzling sausages.
“Oz said he could pay us a salary, so we could get an apartment,” Buffy said, watching the mug revolve through the little window in the microwave.
“Zahara said I could stay on, just me, as like her roommate,” Tara said.
The microwave beeped and Buffy took out Spike's meal. Everyone seemed to be awaiting his opinion. Buffy turned and handed her husband the cup.
“So, what do you think?” Buffy asked, a bright smile on her face.
“I think you guys talked all this out when I was asleep and you're hoping I don't want to nix it,” Spike said.
“That obvious?” Buffy asked.
“Yeah. And I don't. Don't want to nix it I mean. It sounds brilliant. We have a little money left to get started and then we have a regular gig. I can find work in the underground, the demon community is huge there, it sounds perfect,” Spike said.
Buffy squealed and gave him a hug, nearly tipping his supper.
When the food was ready, Spike took his place at the table to be polite. Spike nibbled for taste while the others ate, the five of them talking over their plans. The thought of a steady income, a windowless apartment and Buffy sounded like heaven. The promise of stability at long last swept away the last of his inhibitions. Finally, Tara could have something like a real life with an actual girlfriend. He could see the thought tickled his sister.
The topics drifted to other things, and soon the five were volleying baby names around. Nina rejected Oz's suggestions, Constantine and Tiberius, out of hand.
“Come on, Captain Kirk's middle name,” Oz said, twirling a pesky noodle on his fork.
“I like James, if you want to name him after Captain Kirk, why not go for James?” Nina asked.
“Too predictable,” Oz said.
In the end they liked the name Tara suggested for a girl, Clementine. By the time Spike started passing around bowls of chocolate ice cream for dessert, they still hadn't settled on any boy names.
After everyone finished eating, Spike went outside to enjoy his ritual of having a smoke and watching the sun set. He welcomed the time to gather his thoughts alone. Spike walked out the front door, letting it slam shut behind him. He saw the last pink streaks in the sky fading and the blue sky was deepening to black.
Before he could even take the pack from his jeans' pocket, Spike picked up her scent. Veruca's skin had the bitter tang of grapefruit along with ink and salt. Before her words got out, he heard her pulse pounding a rage-filled tattoo. Veruca was looking up at him from the base of the stairs.
“I can smell them. You can't keep me away from Oz,” Veruca said, tears skidding down her face.
Buffy and Tara had been at the sink, helping Nina with the dinner dishes when they sensed Spike's alarm. Buffy set the towel down on the kitchen counter and told Nina to stay put. Buffy went outside, slamming the screen door behind her; Tara lingered at the threshold, mouthing a spell that would repel Veruca.
“We have a visitor,” Spike said.
Buffy passed by Spike and walked down the steps.
“Listen—“ Buffy said, extending her hand toward the intruder.
That was all the provocation Veruca needed. The girl leaped at Buffy, transforming into a werewolf as she moved. It all happened so fast that Spike was hardly able to process what he was seeing. A flash of dark hair, growling and crunching. As the reddened snout with its saw blade teeth rose from his wife's chest, the odor of Buffy's blood saturated the air and Spike 's face shifted.
He was upon the wolf, fangs bared. Distantly, Spike heard Tara calling his name, but it held no meaning. Spike gripped the creature's body with both arms and legs. He bit into its neck, his pointed teeth ripping through layers of fur, fat and muscle. He let the coppery, hot lifeblood pour into his mouth. The wolf diminished in size until it became a girl again. Spike was straddling the naked corpse of Veruca. Her blue eyes were glassy; most of the skin and meat on her throat were gone, leaving exposed bone. He crawled over Veruca's body toward the pungent aroma of Buffy's blood.
Tara was there, holding Buffy and sobbing. He hadn't even seen his sister leave the house, let alone notice before that she'd been trying to tend to Buffy's wounds. His wife was hurt so badly that she looked as though she'd been dipped in red paint. Her skin hung in ribbons across her neck and shoulder. Her blonde hair had a clump of clotted black blood near her ear. Spike scrambled over to them.
“Give her to me, I've got to turn her,” Spike said, reaching for Buffy.
“No, Billy, you can't,” Tara said, she was rocking back and forth and Buffy's limp hand was scraping along the grass. Spike noticed Buffy's eyes were closed and while Tara's heart was beating wildly, Buffy didn't seem to have a pulse.
“For fuck's sake Tara, she and I agreed that's what I'd have to do if she was mortally wounded. We decided—“
“Can't you feel it, Billy? She's dead, she's already dead,” Tara said, her head bowing over Buffy's body. Tara's narrow shoulders shook and her wailing had a suffocated quality. Spike stared for a moment and then tenderly took Buffy from Tara's arms, as one might pass an infant. He cradled the still form of his wife and began to cry. Soon his agony was rattling his whole body; the power of his grief looked capable of wrenching loose his bones.
Neither he nor Tara noticed when Oz and Nina ran outside. The couple stood apart from the devastation as they took in the death around them. Nina immediately ran to the bushes near the porch and threw up. Oz stood solemnly, his eyes on Spike and Tara grieving over Buffy before finally looking at the corpse of his former lover. He walked over to her and knelt, closing Veruca's eyes before he went to tend to Nina.
Spike finally let Tara take Buffy away so that he could dig her grave. He picked the spot in the back yard where tall grass grew beneath a willow tree. Oz had offered to help, but Spike had refused. He could barely look at the man without feeling an overwhelming desire to kill him, even though it wasn't really Oz's fault that Buffy had died. Oz could feel the danger wafting off of Spike, so he carried Veruca's body to a secluded place in the woods and burnt her corpse before the vampire would be forced to see it again.
Spike gouged at the plot for hours making a proper hole. Nina and Tara were talking inside the house. He could have listened if he'd wanted to, but Spike concentrated on the sound of metal hitting the earth and the long strands of willow leaves whispering against each other with the breeze. He watched the wooden handle gripped in his pale hands and tried to ignore the scent of Buffy's blood. When he was finished, Spike went back toward the house.
Tara was on the front porch, kneeling beside Buffy's body. She'd sewn a sheet around the corpse to give her sister-in-law a small measure of dignity. Spike scooped up his wife's remains and carried the white bundle around the back, toward the empty place he'd fashioned. Tara trailed behind him as he walked through the yard. She could see the faint outline of his body, with his blanched hair and his burden the most distinct elements against the dark night. The humid air was close and it was too cloudy for stars. Tara was the first to interrupt the drone of the crickets as they stood on the edge of Buffy's grave.
“I put her in her wedding dress. She said it was what she wanted,” Tara said, dully.
“Good,” Spike said.
He hopped down carrying Buffy. Spike laid her on the ground, setting her head on the dirt with a gentle reverence. His fingertips lingered on the outline of her jaw. Spike jumped up, displaying the preternatural agility that reminded Tara he wasn't human anymore. He didn't look at his sister as he lunged for the shovel, snatching it up and shoving the silver blade into the mound of soil he'd displaced.
“You should see her, Billy, before she moves on.”
Spike scooped up some earth and threw it over Buffy's corpse.
“What do you mean, move on?”
Tara sniffed and hugged herself.
“Her soul is in a sort of purgatory right now. We can still see her, but when she moves on, she becomes a feeling.”
“What does moving on mean? Where's she moving on to?” Spike asked, hurling another shovelful into the pit.
“Her afterlife. She'll go to heaven or be reincarnated or you know, cease. It's different depending on what you did in this life. No one knows what happens.”
“You said we'd be together, Tara,” Spike said, all his muscles twitching as he clutched the wooden handle.
“We will, I mean, when we die, we'll be able to find each other again and we'll always have a sense of her, but we can't touch her or talk to her like before. You can't bind her in that place, Billy. “
“Wouldn't be holding her up for very long.”
Tara gasped.
“Suicide is—“
“For the living. You forget I'm immortal, love, trapped on this plane of existence forever and ever? There's no other way I'll ever see her again. And there's nothing to keep me here besides you. Can't ever love someone else. What kind of creature would have me? I'll tell you what. A thing like Veruca, another monster like me—“
“You're not a monster, Billy.”
He grinned, his teeth a pearly flash in the darkness, then Tara heard the sound of metal hitting dirt as he turned away.
“Oh, but I am. You and Buffy were just keeping it in check. Not now, though. Without her I can't control the blood lust—“
Tara heard the earth fall as he turned the shovel over.
“I can help you.”
Spike stuck the blade of the shovel into the ground at his feet.
“No, you can't. A sister's love isn't what I need. She was the only thing, she was everything,” Spike said.
“So you're just going to leave me?” Tara asked, her voice raw and pitched up.
“You can't...you don't want to be here for what's coming, love. I'm going to give them their prophecy, gonna show them they can't—“
“No!” Tara yelled. She grabbed her brother, hugging him as though her embrace could keep him from going. He didn't return the gesture, but he didn't push her away. He stood, like a dead thing, as she cried. Tara knew what he planned to do; the hate and despair he felt was overwhelming to her.
“Billy, please,” Tara sobbed.
Spike put his hands on her arms and shook her slightly.
“Look at me, really look,” he said.
She snuffled as she withdrew slightly to gaze at his face. His demon was on display; the grotesque ridges deforming his features and the amber eyes blotting out the familiar blue.
“Billy is dead, he has been for awhile. Now it's time to bury him, too. I don't want you near me anymore, understand?” Spike asked.
“No.”
Spike pushed her, sending Tara back a few steps.
“You can't stop me, love, unless you want to do it with a stake. I'm going to see every one who sold her out dead,” Spike said, snatching up the shovel again.
“No,” Tara said, moving toward him with imploring, outstretched hands.
But Spike was past listening. He turned away from his sister to finish his work.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I'm so sorry this took such a long time to publish. I had an ending in mind when I started the story that didn't seem to fit when it came time to write it down.
Chapter End Notes:
Please let me know what you think, good or bad. Comments are treasured!