I know this is late. I know it's very, very late and I'm so sorry. That last few months have been hell I was in a car accident and the fallout made it difficult to take time to write this and I couldn't get the tone just right. Anyway, I figured it out and the next chapter will be up in the next fortnight. If not I give you all permission to send me angry e-mails!
Chapter Twenty – the Wait
In the hundred years that he had been a vampire, Spike had never learned to wait. He suspected the slayer was much the same. They were heroes. Heroes were not patient creatures. They thrived on adrenaline—it brought out the best and worst in them, but that was what it was about. They were passionate creatures, thriving on the blood when it screamed through their veins. All this downtime was driving them insane.
Downtime meant thinking and over-thinking and that all the messy bullshit that was so easy to ignore while they were running and dodging and hiding was going to have to come front and center.
Spike rolled his neck smirking to himself.
Eventually.
If the slayer was good at anything it was denial, and it wasn’t like he was going to be rocking the boat. He knew that he should. He knew he should take a stand and all that rot. He should define what this was that they were doing or make her define it but he couldn’t bring himself to. Not when he had everything he wanted. So even though he knew this was a bad move, that he would regret this later, it was too easy to let that be future Spike’s problem.
He set himself on the mat and started to punch. Left jab, check, check, quick rally, haymaker.
They may be safe and warm now, but he could be dust at anytime, he might as well take his jollies when he could get them.
Another rally. He began to work on footwork as well, balancing lightly on the balls of his feet.
The training room had been the minion’s idea. They couldn't risk patrol, but they had to keep in fighting trim and it wasn’t like they could just go to a gym, so they set one up in the basement in the place that had been the servant’s quarters. Once that was done, Buffy had set her eyes to the rest of the house. Apparently interior design was one of his slayer’s talents.
His slayer.
Bugger.
He needed to be careful of that. Keep that quiet keep all the other worshipful endearments he was always so close to sputtering around her. She was skittish as all hell. He supposed he had his bloody grandsire to thank for that but as of now, they had a good thing going and he was still trying not to exhale funny and have her bolt.
Upper cut, rally, back fist. The bag flew off its anchor leaving Spike panting unnecessarily in it’s wake.
Deciding to leave it for now, he lit a cigarette and took a long thoughtful drag.
For a week No.9 Wilton Crescent looked much like it had a hundred years ago. It was like some sort of twisted “William” themed museum exhibition. But they had already ruined the study and within two days of declared “laying-low” Buffy had been driven to decorating. Now it was an odd jumble of new and antique furniture, samples of paint and bits of wallpaper were everywhere from wherever Buffy went during the day.
Raj had moved in officially since coming back from his parents’ house. They had been very careful to go through the motions. Raj had put the carriage house on the market anonymously and for a truly astounding ammount of money. He then insisted they interview candidates, he and the minion mostly took care of that, after a few days of that farce, Raj took the place himself. He had decided to let his parent’s house to another family which meant suddenly the rag-tag troupe had a ton of what was—in Spike’s opinion—odd-looking severe furniture. Buffy and Alex seemed to really like it and he really had little preference. He had never cared very much for how the place looked, as far as he was concerned, as long as it didn't look like the place he had known, he was alright with it.
Despite the changes, bouts of nostalgia hit him randomly. And they were not benign musings but savage, gut wrenching memories. Memories of his mother stepping just too close to him, golden eyes blazing, or a whiff of stale book dust that reminded him of the day of his baby sister’s funeral when he had escaped the ton into his father's study to cry in unmanly sobs. Or the smell of the polish Morton had used to keep all the banisters and woodwork gleaming would remind him off all the days he got up early and went downstairs without ringing for his valet and would scare the staff half to death. Even his bedroom, the room that had been his father’s room, a room he had never entered reminded him of when he was younger and he had tried to sneak in with Gordie and Charles before they had died. He tried to ignore this most of the time, but it was inevitable, and he said nothing of it to the girls or Raj.
The only place it never happened, was in the training room. It was below the stairs. He had never been to the servants quarters while he was a human. Now it was his refuge.
He stubbed out his cigarette before acknowledging her. He had known she was there for a while now, but he was studying her sense-signature. He could sense her like he could sense he slayer, but there was something off about her feel. Clearly, she was somewhere between an Aurelian and a slayer but her tug on his awareness was unique not really a mixing of both. It was like something that had been there all along but he could only just now name.
“Not nice to lurk, Min.”
Even with his back turned he could hear her eye roll.
“I’m half evil. It’s my birthright.”
“Well, your technique sucks.”
“Are you doubting my evil cred?”
He glanced over at her disbelievingly for a second.
“You don’t have evil cred, bit.”
Her grin was triumphant. She was waiting for that reaction. She knew what he was going to say sometimes before he said it. She had known him less than a fortnight and she thought she had his number.
“Wanna be the pot or the kettle?”
He chuckled inwardly and allowed a begrudging smile. He had rather walked into that one, but he knew it was coming. He had reconciled wearing the white hat the second he took the slayer’s hand months ago.
Didn’t mean he was going to let off that easily.
“I’ll have you know that I—”
“She texted me.”
Spike’s mouth shut of its own accord with an audible click. He had to look away. His fingers, usually so precise, shook a little when he lit a cigarette.
“She wanted to know how my homework is going.”
It wasn’t what he was hoping for, both of them knew it.
“Offer to help, did she? Because I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”
“I’m doing trig, Spike.” Alex said invading his line of sight. “She asked me about math. Math! And she’s all apprehensive and also she made the appointment for the latest possible slot that the place was open. Y’know, waited for it to basically be sundown.”
“She said she wanted to do this alone.” He kept his tone as even as he could but it wouldn’t fool eagle-eyed mini-me. He wished she had inherited just a little of the slayer’s obliviousness. He hated how bitter the words tasted in his mouth.
“And when exactly did you start taking orders from her?”
She had known he was going to say that just like she knew how much it hurt him not to be there. She had countered too quickly even with her Scooby blood. He didn’t have an answer for her, at least one that didn’t sound pathetic.
“Since you two got all fleshy.” She finished accusingly, as if she hadn’t just prodded an extremely tender spot.
“Well, that’s just indelicate.”
“She wants you there, she’s afraid to ask.”
“She sent you the message.”
“You don’t know how to use your fucking phone!”
“Language, bit.”
She stared at him for a long moment looking unsure whether she should laugh or be offended.
“Seriously? You say “fuck” all the time!”
“I’m near a hundred and fifty and you are fifteen.”
She didn’t say anything in reply, just glared at him. Her arms were folded across her chest and her head was cocked to one side, one eyebrow arched. Spike wondered if this was what looking in a mirror was like.
Finally, she spoke. She sounded disappointed.
“She wants you to be there but she won’t ask. You know it. She can’t not be stupid about this stuff. You can.”
For a moment he just said nothing. He was puffing away at his third cigarette, the whisp-y smoke was carried away through some phantom vent. Finally he groaned in defeat. He turned his heel and headed out the door. She followed after him trying not to be smug
“You know where it is?”
She was failing miserably.
“Yeah.” He growled over his shoulder. He caught sight of her shit eating grin just as he was about to walk up the stairs. He knew that look. He often wore that look. Suddenly a lot of the Scooby’s stake happy behavior towards him over the years made a lot more sense.
*****
Paper trail. Paper trail. Paper trail. Paper trail.
Buffy sat in the infinitely soothing office muttering that mantra over and over under her breath. Low enough that the receptionist couldn’t hear her.
This place was so upscale that the receptionist looked like she should be on a runway and not behind a desk, typing. Buffy wondered, idly, if she was actually typing or if she did that to seem busy and discreet. If she, Buffy, were to sneak over behind her would it just be gibberish on the computer screen?
The image in her head was less funny than she thought it would be. Nothing was really funny, nothing would distract her from what was about to happen.
She knew needed to be here. She was here in the UK legally. Her name was Annabeth Pratt and she was going to be a mom and being a mom meant getting a check-up and having that check-up logged into some kind of computer-y system-y thing. Because she was part of the system-y thing and was definitely not in hiding. Raj had told her all about this. Hide in plain sight. She was not the slayer. She was just a ritzy socialite expat coming in to get that first check-up; nothing to see here.
She sat stiffly on the buttery yellow couch. Though the entire atmosphere was that of relaxation and calm, she sat ramrod straight, ready to bolt, robotically sipping the mineral water with raspberries that the ridiculously good looking assistant had given her.
Everything smelled like ylang-ylang. The place felt more like a spa than a doctor’s office. This was what the most upscale gynecologist in London had to offer it's clientele. Trying to get an appointment here was like trying to get Lakers tickets at the superbowl. Or something like that. Raj had made a reference Spike and Alex seemed really impressed by it and Buffy was too nervous to have him explain it.
Trying to get her metaphors straight was giving her a headache, it was like she couldn’t keep a thing this big in there and entertain other thoughts while it was still in there. Her brain was too full of this thing. This baby thing and if it was a baby or if it was real and human and healthy and there were too many feeling associated and too many questions that made her feel protective and horrible at the same time. It was just too big so despite the headache she was going to try and put something else in her brain. Like the superbowl; or maybe something easier like shoes.
Paper trail. Raj had said that they needed a paper trail. Paper trails meant that they were people who existed and not people on the run, so they had to act normal even if normal felt very, very exposed. The receptionist—her name was Arabella or Donatella or Belladonna maybe? Probably wasn’t watching her, she probably didn’t notice anything was weird, all she probably saw was jittery young woman which was normal for a first time mom, but Buffy still felt like she was doing something wrong. She had forgotten something obvious that made her stick out horribly and everyone but her could tell she was a huge fraud. And Stellabella would remember her as that girl who totally stuck out because of the thing that was obvious and when Genesis tracked them down she would be able to point her out and then she would be screwed. They would all be screwed.
Buffy glanced over fearfully and felt her heart stop. Gabriella was not sitting and typing and looking serene. She was gone.
Suddenly everything was pushed up on the Buffy panic timeline, she had been in cahoots with Genesis the whole time! What if the water was drugged? How could she had been so stupid? She had waited until the receptionist had taken a sip before she drank hers but maybe it was some kind of toxin that you could build up a tolerance to and she was—
She felt a hand on her shoulder and was in battle mode before she even realized it. Graciella jumped back startled.
“Mrs. Pratt?”
“Yes?” Buffy said weakly jerking out of fighting stance and trying to look casual.
Her name tag said Isabella.
She looked sympathetic—just bordering on pitying. Buffy felt herself relax the tiniest bit. She thought Buffy was nervous because of the baby.
“Mrs. Pratt, Dr. Barrow will see you now.” Isabella said kindly.
Buffy nodded still unable to form full sentences.
“It’s perfect normal to be nervous. Everyone is for their first appointment.” The receptionist said as she turned to lead passed a mahogany door to the exam rooms. “You haven’t gone mad, even though you think you have.”
Buffy felt the knot she had tied herself into relax just a little bit more. She was stupid to have texted Alex. She could do this, all she had to do was get through—Buffy felt herself stop even though she was telling her legs to go forward. Isabella had opened the door to the exam room and sitting in the middle of it with a much prettier cushion than Buffy had ever seen on one before, was a metal slab with stirrups for her legs. It was the same kind that she had been placed on in that place. The light got very bright suddenly, washing out all the colors in the room, a loud buzzing in her ears. It was the same buzzing of the fluorescent lighting and the machines.
Suddenly, she couldn’t make herself move, it was like whatever connection her body had to her brain was severed. Somewhere far away Isabella and someone else was trying to get her into the room but she was the slayer and though Isabella was a head taller than her, there was no way she was going to be able to do anything.
The buzzing got louder.
Now Buffy couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t get her air in her lungs, it was like her chest had hardened and every breath was trying to break through. Any air she was getting felt like sand in her body, heavy and grainy. All at once the buzzing turned into a pounding in her ears. That was her heart going so fast she couldn’t understand how it stayed in her chest.
There were black spots in front of her eyes, and she could feel her vision start to narrow and blur.
She was going to die. She was going to die right here and no one would ever get to her.
All of a sudden the hands on her shoulders got stronger. Too strong no way twiggy little Isabella could be the one who was holding her like this.
“Beth? Sweetheart?” his voice was clipped and William-y.
Spike was holding onto her shoulders and speaking to her very calmly.
“Breathe for me, love, c’mon. slowly.”
She felt someone release her guts and she could breathe again. Just barely though, every breath still felt like it was a knife in her lungs.
“Take five seconds, pet, inhale, hold it. Exhale.” He turned away from her speaking to someone else. “Like that, doc?”
“Yes, Mr. Pratt.”
Buffy felt herself start to calm down. She was sitting on the floor in the hallway, Spike was looking at her alarm palpable in his blue, blue eyes. His eyes were dark blue not ice-blue like she always assumed. She had no idea how she had come to be sitting on the floor.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get here earlier, sweetling, I was caught up.” He was saying. His voice was too quiet for the others to hear him, but it was still soft and Williamy. She wasn't sure if she liked it better than the rough, Spike drawl.
Buffy couldn’t make herself reply just yet she was concentrating on her breathing.
“Mrs. Pratt? You had a panic attack, nothing to worry about.” Another voice said from above her.
Spike helped her to her feet and she turned to face a kind looking woman in her 50’s with silver hair and red lipstick. She looked impossibly chic. Buffy felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment.
“Isabella went to get you some tea.” The woman—Dr. Barrow—said. “I’m Dr. Barrow. It looks like we are going to have some work to do.”
“Work?” Buffy felt herself stammer.
“Panic attacks and stress like that are not good for your baby.” Dr Barrow said. “But you did do a bang up job of picking a place. Hop on up and we’ll see if he or she is in distress.”
“Distress?”
“Mrs. Pratt? Are you alright?”
Buffy was putting everything together in her mind. The Doctor’s words were becoming hard to understand, it was like everything was tilting and shifting and she couldn’t get to her feet.
“Spi- William, I can’t go in there.” She managed to get out.
“Mrs. Pratt?”
With conviction she didn’t know she had Buffy picked herself off the floor and basically sprinted out of the doctor’s office ignoring Spike’s cries after her.
She was outside on the street before she could make herself relax. Spike had shot out of there right after her and grabbed her hand tugging her into an alleyway.
“Summers, what the bloody hell was that about?” he demanded. Despite his harsh tone, he pulled her into the circle of his embrace, cupping her cheeks to get a good look at her face. “Pet? You scared me, I—”
Buffy had wrenched herself away from his grasp and backhanded him so hard his head snapped to the side.
“Bitch!” he exclaimed. “What the bloody hell was that for?”
“I told you not to come!” she said angrily.
He gaped at her.
“Are you insane?” he demanded. “Woman, I peeled you off the sodding floor of that office! Are you telling me that you didn’t want me to come?”
Spike shook his head trying to shake away the fuzzies that accompanied her blows. After the initial shock, he registered the thunderous look on Buffy’s face, but more importantly he could see just how upset she was and maybe not all of that was aimed at him. She was shaking with the effort of keeping herself enraged. He softened instantly.
“Oh, pet, I—”
That was apparently not what she was looking for because the second he took a step towards her she sent him flying to the back of the alley way. She hadn’t hit him hard enough to do any significant damage, but once he had gotten up she was gone.
*****
The door to No.9 opened abruptly and then slammed shut.
Downstairs, Alex looked up from her perch on the kitchen counter. It had been loud enough that Raj heard it as well.
“That was quick.” She said frowning thoughtfully.
She and Raj waited for Spike and Buffy to burst in all glow-y and parental with a picture of blobby fetus and a new-found bond but the footsteps went upstairs and somewhere on the second floor Alex heard a door slam. She flinched.
“Upstairs?” Raj asked.
Alex nodded.
“Weird. Wouldn’t think the doctor’s office would be a major turn on.” She said.
Raj smirked at her.
“Doesn't take much with those two though does it?” he said.
Alex lobbed a kernel of popcorn at him from the bowl in her lap. He dodged it artfully and snagged a handful.
“One set of footsteps meant he was carrying her.” He taunted.
“Gross.”
“Oh, stop pretending you’re not thrilled.” He shot back instantly. He was standing in front of the stovetop waiting for the kettle to boil.
Alex cracked a smile. “It’s hard not to be. It was sort of a forgone conclusion for me that they would get there eventually.”
Raj shook his head. “They’ve been together since I’ve known them. I can’t really imagine them as enemies.”
“Only heard stories.” Alex said with a shrug. “But I’d imagine you replace all the shagging with fighting.”
"All the shagging?" Raj replied aghast.
Alex rolled her eyes. "Shut up."
The kettle started to whistle and Raj set about fixing the tea. Neither of the Englishmen ever let Alex or Buffy do this part--although Raj was training Alex. He was enumerating the steps as he poured the liquid in the bone china cups when they heard the front door open again followed by a set of heavy footsteps. This time they approached the staircase to the kitchen.
“Spike?” He questioned with an arched eyebrow.
Alex jumped off the counter and looked concerned.
“Better fix a third cup.”
Moments later Spike burst into the room he was clearly checking if Buffy was around but he relaxed when he saw she wasn’t there. He threw himself into one of the chairs. Without ceremony, Alex set the cup down in front of him.
“She went upstairs a couple of minutes before you got here.” She said answering his unspoken question. “What happened? Did you miss her?”
“No. She had a panic attack at the doc’s.” Spike said wearily. “then was all piss and vinegar afterwards. Threw me into a brick wall for coming after her. Thanks for that by the way.”
Alex glanced back towards the stairs worriedly. “So you’re telling me you don’t have any news of my little sister.”
Spike shook his head. Raj joined him at the table.
“Did she break character?” he asked nervously.
Spike sighed and shook his head. “No, she didn’t say much. It was the real kind of panic attack, the hyperventilating and actual physical bloody symptoms kind not the scoobie slang kind. Not much talk, made a bit of mess though, don’t think we can go back there. I made something up about a traumatic experience in the States and they were sympathetic-like but she shot out of there pretty fast.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that, mate.” Raj said reassuringly. “Dr. Barrow’s clientele is 90% coked-up party girls and BAFTA winners. I think she’s handled her fair share of crazy.”
“D’you think next time we can try getting her pissed?”
“To give the kid fetal alcohol syndrome along with the in utero PTSD? Good plan.” Alex said taking the seat next to Spike.
“Not the time, bit.” Spike snapped a little too harshly. Alex jerked back. It was clear he was worried and a little bit out of his depth. Which was not a common thing for a century old Master vampire. “I suppose women have been having babies without doctors and hospitals for generations.”
That seemed to pique Raj’s interest.
“Actually that’s a thought.”
Both Alex and Spike arched their eyebrows. Raj was taken aback at how identical the gesture was.
“What are you sayin’, boyscout?”
“No Doctors.” Raj answered. “I could try and find her a midwife, I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner. we could have her here, have a home birth arranged. Might be hell on the wall paper but--”
“Right we just get an un-vetted stranger to come here?” Alex demanded. “Will she bring a knife to bury in the yard to cut the pain?”
Raj rolled his eyes. “We can’t risk something wrong with the child and doctors are not an option.” He looked pensive. “I know some people to ask.”
“It won’t look suspicious?”
“Please, American socialites do all sorts of mad things. And midwives aren’t uncommon.”
Spike still looked skeptical but Alex looked a little more convinced.
“Actually that sounds like that could work. You should bring it to Buffy.” She said to Spike. He nodded but didn’t get up. “Like now. You should probably go check on her.”
“Don’t think she’s in the mood, bit.”
The damphyr shrugged. “are you saying it would be stupid to go and try and talk to her?”
He narrowed his eyes and then nodded.
“Funny, that.” She said flightily. “Not something you so much have a problem with. I’ll be in the training room.”
She gave him one last meaningful look and was off.
Spike sighed and glanced at Raj who was texting on the bulky brick of a phone he carried around all buzzing with the excitement and muttering things like, ‘can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner.’ The vampire drained his own cup. Just as he stood to go see about the slayer. But before that, he paused, something occurred to him.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you—for all this.”
Raj’s head popped up, eyes wide. He looked like Spike had just punched him.
“I—er,” he was desperately searching for a witty retort or a quip but words were utterly failing him. “It’s nothing.”
“S’not.” Spike said simply. “And I appreciate it. You always have a place in my book, Raj.”
Spike never seemed to call anyone by their real name so hearing it now startled Raj. And neither men were wholly comfortable with shows or proclamations of gratitude and affection. The vampire let the moment land and then quickly ascended the stairs hoping he was making the right decision, but then Alex was right. He didn’t care if it was a stupid thing to do, Buffy needed him and that was what mattered.
*****
Simon Zhang had just finished preparing himself dinner in his brand new kitchen in his brand new apartment. Months ago this amount of luxury would have seemed impossible, but now thanks to the Project it was almost enough for him to not constantly feel terrible about the work he was doing.
He sat at the gleaming, never before used table about to tuck into his chicken when his computer ticked on of its own accord. It flashed a black screen with green writing. Despite no identification it was clear who was trying to speak with him.
R U Alone?
Simon shook his head. God, Raj was such a tosser.
U can always join in, baby.
He wrote back without hesitation, knowing that Raj would be able to read any reply somehow.
I told U we don’t need a Password. Safe word, maybe?
Zebra fish
Been thinking about this hav u?
Suddenly his phone rang, despite the fact that he was alone and he had checked his apartment daily for bugs he still jumped at the shrill sound.
“I don’t suppose you know a midwife?” Raj asked without niceties or preamble. “I’ve asked Bettina but she doesn’t know any independents.”
“Is this for the slayer?”
Simon knew that had to be what Raj was asking for. He wasn’t sure why he asked anyway. He felt the small ever-present knot in the pit of his stomach tighten. Suddenly the apartment seemed like a stupid thing to be happy about. He always felt guilty that he was a part of something that could do something as horrendous as what the Project did. Even if he was working against them he still ran their tests and analyzed their data. And cleaned their test tubes.
“For Buffy, yes.” Raj knew how he felt about this. Simon appreciated the lack of snide comment. He knew his friend was going against his very nature for that.
“Would this midwife have to know about…” Simon lowered his voice instinctively. “vampires?”
“That would be preferable, but then maybe we steer clear of the kind that think essence of nettle will purify the room and an elixir of a bezoar will prevent preeclampsia.”
Simon shook his head, the word midwife did tend to bring up those images, the woman he had in mind, however was not that kind of midwife.
"I know someone."
“It would be against the edicts of NHS.” Raj warned.
“She won’t care about that.”
“Seriously? And this isn’t some sort of witch doctor is it?”
“It’s my aunt.”
The line went quiet a while.
“Your aunt? I don’t know about getting your family involved.”
“She can handle this.”
“Simon, this is not exactly an easy thing I’m asking. If Genesis get their hands on her—”
“She survived the Red Army and the Cultural Revolution as an educated woman, Raj, they finally drove her out with the threat of bureaucracy. I’ll run the neonatal testing, she’ll do all the er… heavy lifting.”
Over the line, Raj sounded immeasurably relieved.
“Thank god. She can’t go to a doctor.” He confided. “They tried today. Disaster.”
The knot in Simon’s gut tightened. She couldn’t go to a doctor because of what they did. What he did.
“I’ll speak with with her.” He said finally. “you will bring this to them?”
“No.” Raj said. “You will. I think it’s probably time you met.”
*****
Buffy’s bedroom was a seldom used place. It was just another one of the bedrooms upstairs, it held her clothing but she slept in his room. IT was probably good for her to have her own space though, Spike wasn't going to begrudge her that.
He knew she could sense his presence before he entered so he paused before letting himself in. She was curled up on the bed, watching the rain outside her window. He expected her to order him to leave but she didn’t say anything. Spike suddenly wished he had brought her something hot to drink. That would have been the comforting thing to do.
Bugger, if he hadn’t already bollocksed this one up. he was about to awkwardly go downstairs and make some tea or hot cocoa, but she spoke.
“I’m sorry I hit you.” Her voice was level but flat.
“Not the first time, pet.” He took a step into the room. When she didn’t protest and approached the bed and sat on the end.
She kept her eyes on the view outside.
“I wanted to go alone because I wanted to know that I could handle it by myself.” she said. “I wanted to know that I could do what it took to take care of fetus.”
“Fetus? tell me that’s not the final word on the name.”
That made her smile a little.
“You aren’t in this alone, Buffy.”
She finally looked at him. “I know that. I’m not dense. I know I don’t have to, but I wanted to. I have always been able to rely on myself. Strip away my friends and my powers and god, I don’t know what else. I could still do it. I could do anything. Not anymore.”
Spike felt his blood boil. There was nothing in the world that could make him hate those doctors more but seeing Buffy like this, affected like this on a level he could not protect her from was as close as it could come. Unsure if it was the right thing to do he climbed into bed with her and pulled her close. She didn’t protest. They sat in silence for a while and for once, Spike knew better than to try and say anything. She would tell him when she was ready. Outside the window true night had fallen and the rain was petering out.
That gave him an idea. She needed to feel like herself again. He got up suddenly and pulled her to her feet.
“Get up.”
“Spike, what are you doing?”
“C’mon, Summers, we’re going on patrol.”
Her eyes widened, he could see how much she wanted to do that. She was a fighter, a hero, she didn’t wait well. Waiting was hell on her spirit already battered from their ordeal.
“We aren’t supposed to go. We agreed.” despite what she was saying it was clear she was eager to go. The sudden reappearance of the gleam in her eye told him he had done the right thing.
“Fuck it, Slayer, we’ll take the train to some place tucked out of the way. What we need is a spot o’ violence. I’m sure even the Minion is antsy.”
“Yeah, she’s dealing with mean girls at her school.”
“Guh, Spare me the details yeah?” he rolled his eyes but he was smiling, Buffy headed off to change already with a bit more spring in her step. It had been so obvious he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner. then belatedly because he was distracted by the prospect of a good rough and tumble, something occurred to him. “Wait, are there boys at this school?”
Buffy laughed and lead him downstairs calling out to Alex and Raj to get ready. She didn’t answer his question.
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