Story Notes:
(Disclaimer! I do not own the Buffy The Vampire Slayer: Movie, Tv Show, Comic Books, or Characters!)
I don't care, I don't bloody give a damn. That's what Spike told himself as he picked up Dru's unconscious form. It's what he told himself when he saw The Great Forehead back the Slayer into a corner. What he continued to tell himself when the git raised his sword, taunting her. A horrifying thought struck him without his permission, the berk was gonna kill her. That wasn't the shocking, strike you down on the spot, part. No, the part that rubbed him the wrong way is that he didn't want her dead. Not by Angelus' hand while he tells her how alone she is. Not while she's stewing in pain from that sort of betrayal. The sort of betrayal that comes from still loving someone who doesn't give a lick about you. He's been there, done that, got a niffy set of fangs for his trouble. What will Goldilocks get when the dust settles? Better yet, what the bleeding Hell will happen to the rest of the world if Peaches comes out on top? He supposes he could swoop in and dust the ponce after he offs the girl. The window of opportunity being as Angelus takes a mo to soak in his 'victory'. Or maybe he'll do the unthinkable. Maybe he'll whisk her off somewhere to break her, then turn her. Make Dru a little sister. He always was a sick twisted bastard, and that's saying something coming from a fellow vamp. His Grandchilde no less. The thought of Peaches taking his fierce strong-willed Slayer, and turning her into some dependent fledge who's gone completely carrot top makes his blood run colder than it already is.

She doesn't deserve that, and if he's being completely honest with himself, she doesn't deserve to die before her rightful time either. He vaguely registers that he thought of the Slayer, Buffy, for a split second as his. He files that away for later, when everything's not a high stakes game of who gets to die. He looks down at his Dark Princess; he doesn't have much time. He has to make a quick decision that rests on whether or not he cares about the Slayer. About what happens to her that is, it's not like he actually cares about HER, as a person. It's not like he's bothered to look past the Slayer persona to see the amazing woman underneath. The way she tries, the way she- oh bollocks. Fucking Hell! God bloody damn it! Damn it all.. William The Bloody, The Slayer Of Slayers, Spike, cares about some teenage bird. Not just any teenage bird, God forbid, but the one and only: Buffy The Vampire Slayer. Wasting not another mo, he runs to the corner of the room. Gently placing his Sire down in hopes she'd be safe here from whatever the Hell's about to come from this very stupid decision. Racing head first into the fray was his specialty, so that's exactly what he did. He unfortunately didn't get to enjoy the look of complete surprise on Angelus' face as he tackled The Brooding Wonder to the ground. "Turns out she's not as alone as you thought, huh Peaches?", Spike had taunted. The game plan was simple, distract the poofter till the Slayer's back on her feet.

Then they could go from there. It would've been selfish of him to get all the good hits in without thinking to include her. "If this is about Dru, you can have her.", Angelus offered after getting a particularly hard punch to the gut. He spoke as if he was doing Spike some huge favor. As if he was a saint just doing his daily good deed. It made The Slayer Of Slayers feel like a charity case. Made him want to see The Brooding Arse as dust in the wind even more than he did before, if such a thing were possible. He dove for the sword he dropped when Spike tackled him. The Slayer beat him to it, slicing at his hand with her own sword. He reeled back, and had to focus all his energy on not getting decapitated. "Dru's not yours to give away, you wanker. She's mine!", Spike exclaimed while picking up the discarded weapon. Now it was really two on one. Without the sword he just would've been in the Slayer's way. "Do you really still believe that Willy, after all this time? Don't you remember our little lesson?", Angelus sneered as he continued to mostly dodge the duo's attacks. He had cuts on his face and hands, his clothes starting to become tattered and shredded. "Drive him back!", Buffy ordered before kicking the poof through the doorway. Back to the room where Drusilla was. He followed her instructions, they were winning after all. He hoped she had some sort of game plan of her own up her sleeve. The light of his unlife was bound to wake up at some point, and he'd at least like to keep one of his girls out of the rest of this fight.

Oh fucking Hell! What was WRONG with him?! He only has one girl and she's perfectly safe at the mo. Buffy- the Slayer, isn't his. This slip of the tongue- mind thing is getting ridiculous. "Because I remember it with perfect clarity. You were still a sniveling little fledge in love with his Sire. Writing crappy poetry about how she hung the moon, or something else as stupid.", the tosser started recalling. Spike's eyes just about popped out of his skull. Of course he remembered, no matter how much he'd like to forget. He clenched his jaw before doubling his efforts. Didn't want the Slayer to hear about this, to think less of him. "I remember how you went on and on about how much she meant to you. How she was yours and you were hers. You were forever! Ha, how pathetic. I almost dusted you myself right then and there out of the embarrassment of being related to you.", the berk carried on. He managed to knock Buffy's sword out of her hand as Spike faltered. The bastard was trying to get inside his head, throw him off his game. He couldn't let that happen. He tossed his temporary ally his sword, he didn't need it. He was a weapon in his own right. He'd just have to be mindful of her swings. Angelus had a sword again, fan-fucking-tastic. "I couldn't of course, it was my job to raise you after all boyo. My job to teach you how to be a real vamp. Dru was way too soft with you, and she clearly still is. Why else would you align yourself with my former lover? Or has it become a habit of yours at this point? Always chasing after my sloppy seconds.", he goaded.

If Spike wasn't completely livid before, he certainly was now. That wanker didn't get to take the credit of molding him into the big bad he is today! He did that himself, with a lot of time and hard work. Sure his Grandsire gave him a big push. Set the standard that he'd have to top in order to be what his Dark Princess wanted, but he's the one who persevered. "I still remember how sad, helpless, and absolutely heartbroken you looked when you walked in on me fucking Dru. Like a school boy finding out his crush is dating someone else.", Angelus laughed. Spike grabbed his wrist, snapping it and catching his sword before it hit the ground. The poofter howled in pain before the Slayer threw him up against Acathla. They closed in on him. "You can take what you want, but nothing is ever truly yours. What do you think Dru'll do when she wakes up and realizes you've helped take away her Daddy? She may not be mine, but she's most certainly not yours. Haven't I proved that? I was away for how long; you took care of her for how long?", he reminds Spike. To his horror he sees that damned statue unhinge it's jaw. A portal starting to form in it's place. Great, he's screwed, they're all utterly sodding screwed. Unless they can manage to close that portal, they'll be knitting tea cozies in Hell with the Old Ones. He raises his sword, but hesitates. With a sinking feeling he knows the vamp's right. He'd been second best for all of his life, and that rule of thumb apparently extended to his unlife.

Dru'd never choose him, not over her sodding Daddy, like he said. He knows it's not her fault, Angelus made her like this. Twisted her mind so all she could see was him. I'm not gonna cry, not in front of Buffy, and definitely not in front of this waste of space. He repeats that to himself like a mantra over and over again, his eyes still go misty. "Yet she still threw herself at me the first chance she got. You're her babysitter, nothing more. Oh, and if you're thinking of setting your sights on Buff, don't bother. Even if I weren't in the picture, she'd never go for someone like you William. You're beneath her, isn't that right babe?", The Great Sodding Mother Fucking Forehead drives home. It's the final nail in the coffin. Spike deflates, barely even holding his sword up at this point. If he lost his Sire over this he'd have nothing, he'd be nothing. He feels like Buffy's his, for some unknown reason, but she's not. Not even close, in fact she'd probably dust him and a sleeping Drusilla as soon as this was over. Everything Angelus said was too cutting, too personal, hitting too close to home. Knowing him it was on purpose, maybe to even get him to switch sides. Or perhaps to finally break him, so all he could do was slump to the floor in defeat. He certainly felt like doing that, saving the world be damned. Then he felt a hand encase his own. Whipping his head to the side, he made eye contact with Goldilocks. She gave him an understanding half smile before slowly lowering his arm.

Stepping in front of him, she draws her own sword. She was saving him from having to risk Dru's wrath. Well more of her wrath than he'd already have to deal with for pulling a stunt like this, by ending her ex honey herself. Either that or she wanted all the glory of being the one to save the day. Though to him that didn't seem very likely, she wasn't the selfish sort. Quite the opposite actually. She's the sort that gives and gives, lets others take until there's nothing left. He knows what that's like all too well. Her sword pierces Captain Forehead right below the ribcage. He looks surprised, git probably didn't think she had the stones to do him in. Spike wasn't a hundred percent sure she did either, but any concerns he had were alleviated as he watched Angelus get sucked up through the now closed portal. The Slayer staggers back, tears streaming down her face as she furiously tries to wipe them away with her hands. He doesn't think about it, about any sort of repercussions, as he approaches her. He gently brings her in close, protectively wrapping his arms around her as she collapses into him. She clenches his shirt in her fists with all she's got as she lets out the most heartbreaking sobs. He rubs her back as he encourages her to let it all out, reassuring her that she's safe now, that everyone's safe. He couldn't tell you why he does it. He's so used to coddling and comforting his Dark Plum, it's probably just second nature to him.

The only flaw in that's that he couldn't see himself doing anything remotely close to this for some stranger, or worse yet any of Buffy's chums. His unbeating heart clenches painfully as his bird shakes with exhaustion and grief. It's then he knows he's doing this because he can't stand to see her in this much pain, or in any amount of pain for the matter. He wants her to be happy, to smile so brightly that the entire building looks like it's been lit up by twenty floodlights. "Let's get you home, love.", he whispers in her ear. That only makes her cry harder. Spike cringes. Bollocks! Five minutes in and he's already screwing everything up. "I don't have a home, not anymore.", she says dejectedly. Bloody Hell, did something happen to the Slayer's mum? She never said anything, and they were just over there. Surely something couldn't have occurred in such a short amount of time. He hugs her tighter as her cries start to die down into hiccups. "Is your mum-", he begins to asks before Buffy steamrolls right over him. "She's fine, kinda. Well, nothing's really fine anymore. She kicked me out.", she reveals. Spike would've reeled back in shock if he wasn't being held in place by an upset girl. He wants to prod, find out what happened, but he thinks better of it. She's been through so much already the past week. Hell the past twenty-four hours, his questions'll keep. He nods instead. "You want a ride?", he offers after a mo of silence.

She reluctantly detaches herself from him, wiping her stained cheeks one last time. He feels cold as he drops his arms. He didn't think he'd ever feel cold again, seeing as he's a vamp who isn't really affected by temperatures. He hates it, and what he hates even more's that he's standing there like a ponce missing her warmth while she's not even a foot away. "A ride to where?", she asks once she's pulled herself together for the most part. He shrugs his shoulders, trying not to immediately regret his offer. Being in an enclosed space with both her and Dru for any amount of time sounds simultaneously like Heaven and Hell. "Wherever you wanna go.", he promises. Balls, this was not good. She looks like she's seriously considering his offer. It makes him feel both excited and nervous. It makes him want to take things one step further, offer her a spot in Dru and his' road trip. Right, like that'd go over real well with either of the birds. Has he gone completely over the bend barmy? "Okay.", she simply agrees. This is a mess, a mess of his own creation. He bets the Powers That Like To Constantly Fuck Him Over are having a right laugh at his expense. He awkwardly shuffles in place before nodding resolutely. He made his bed, now he's gotta lie in it. He walks over to Dru, she's still out cold thankfully. At least he's got that going in his favor. It wouldn't do well to have her lunging at the Slayer from the back seat.

Wait a tick, back seat? Was he really gonna throw his Sire in the back, like a sack of potatoes, while Buffy snuggled up to him in the bench seat up front? Well, there wouldn't be much- any snuggling, but she'd still be next to him. He'd still feel her presence, her warmth, inches away from him. All he'd have to do is reach out, slide her over, and- he quickly shakes his head. There was no way in Hell anything remotely similar to that would be playing out. He carefully holds his Wicked Plum in his arms again, throwing an apologetic glance in the Slayer's direction. As if there was a chance in Hell she'd forgotten about the Seer. He almost did, multiple times, and boy does that make him feel like a useless wanker. She wordlessly follows him out to the DeSoto. "Would you mind popping open the back door for me, pet?", he requests while cocking his head to gesture towards it. She wordlessly complies. He places Dru across the back seats, brushing a stray hair away from her face before straightening back up. He closes the door, opening the front passenger for the cutie next to him. "Um, thanks.", she tells him as she's sliding into his vehicle. "No problem.", he dismisses as he's quick to shut her door. He tries to look calm and indifferent as he makes his way to the driver's side. She's watching him, he can feel it. He wonders what she's thinking, what she thinks of him in this very mo. He gets in, starts the engine.

They're already down the street before she asks, "Can we swing by my hou- where I used to live, before we go? I have a few things I need to pick up real quick.". He turns the car around without hesitating. "Of course love, take your time.", he responds. God, he sounds like such a Nancy Boy, but he doesn't think she'd go for his usual Big Bad attitude right now anyhow. Things have shifted, haven't they? Sitting here with her sure as Hell feels different than it would've before this bloody truce. Before the bloody battle of all battles even. "Why are you doing this?", she prompts. Ain't that the question of the year? He doesn't rightly know, and he doesn't want to go looking into it for too long. He has a hunch he won't like the answer. "What, you mean giving you a lift? It seemed like the least I could do for-", he deflects until the spitfire in the seat over cuts through his crap. "No, I mean, why are you being so nice to me? Ang- The Bringer Of The End Of The World is gone. You've got Drusilla back, and neither of you are gonna be dusty tonight, as a part of the truce. You could've just left me back there, so what gives?", she brings up as we turn into her block. We come to a stop in front of her former place of residence. She doesn't move, waiting for some sort of explanation. He fully plans to bluff his way through a half arsed lie. It's not like he can tell her the truth, or any part of what he's been feeling since he decided to save her instead of toddling off.

She'd surely take back her no staking clause with a look of disgust plastered over her face. "I don't leave behind the people I care about.", is what he says instead. His eyes bug out at the admission, he nervously looks away from her piercing green eyes. Any minute now, he'll be shot down. Not that this was some sort of confession, this isn't the time or place for such things. It's just how these things go. Expressing any sort of sappy sentiment results in a swift kick to the balls, verbally or physically. "You care about me?", she confirms. Her voice filled with awe, or maybe it's confusion. Spike being the helpless romantic that he is, is viewing this with rose colored glasses. Not that this has anything to do with his romantic feelings for her. He doesn't feel that way about her to begin with! He risks making eye contact, her gaze is searching. He gulps before slowly nodding. It dawns on him that he might be the only one at the mo who gives a shit about this wonderful woman in front of him. Mum's kicked her to the curb. The poofter said she was all alone or some rot, so her gang of Scoobies probably aren't waiting for her at the Bronze for a celebratory glass of soda. "I do, don't know how or why, but I do.", he admits. Even in the dark he can see her eyes shine, and he swears he'll slam his skull in one of the DeSoto's doors if he makes her cry again. "Is that why you came back for me? That, was you coming back for me right? Not just you wanting to finish A-", she starts rattling off.

"Believe you me, I certainly didn't make a U-turn for that sorry sod. Even if it would be just to stake his sorry arse. The thought of him killing you didn't sit right with me if you must know. Now run along and gather your things, before the neighbors call the fuzz and complain about a sleek suspicious vehicle lurking on the street.", he reassures her. She laughs, the sound's music to his ears. He'd pat himself on the back if he thought he could get away with it. He might just do that after she sneaks in. "Well we can't have that now can we, and I think you mean old, clunky, suspicious vehicle lurking on the street.", she jokes. Buffy's joking, and laughing, with him. Disgust or loathing nowhere to be found on her beautiful face. Maybe things haven't gone completely pear shaped after all. "Oi! You watch your mouth, my baby's a classic!", he defends with a smile. She gives him a smile of her own, accompanied with a playful roll of her eyes, before darting off around back. She leaves the passenger's side open. Probably so when she's running back she doesn't have to fiddle with the handle. Her mum's not home, her car's not in the driveway, but you can never be too careful. She could return home any minute, and in that case they might need to make a quick getaway. Sure she kicked her daughter out, but who knows how she'll react to the news of her offspring booking it outta town with a couple of vamps. Speaking of, he turns around to lay eyes on his savior. The reason for his very unexistence.

She's always been very hot and cold about things, and one could argue that there's no telling which way she'll swing when she comes to. Spike on the other hand, knows better. She'll be upset, angry, and she'll take it out on the Slayer along with himself. Providing that Buffy's still with them when it's time to face the music. He sure hopes she is, but also very much hopes she isn't. The only way that's ending is in tears. Dru'll try and rip her limb from limb for revenge. Buffy'll be forced to try and stake her. Where will he be during all of this? Watching from the sidelines, having to figure out when or if he should step in. It's not a matter of choosing between them. He can't let his birds kill each other, end of story. He doesn't know how he'd cope if it came to that. Maybe bringing Buffy along for the ride was a piss poor idea, but he can't bring himself to care too much. Not when she's smiling at him the way she was a mo ago. He turns his attention back towards the house when he hears a noise. It's Goldilocks, hauling arse back to the DeSoto. He takes a quick glance around. Did he somehow miss her mum arriving home while he was stuck in his own head? He doesn't see or hear any extra commotion. She must just be antsy to get back on the road. Not that he blames her, he's not feeling too comfortable waiting around here like a sitting duck either. She hops in, dropping a duffel bag at her feet, before shutting the door behind her.

"Drive.", she commands. Oooo, bossy little thing. He starts the engine up, and they peel out of there. He cuts across town till they make it onto the highway. "So, where to?", he finally breaks the silence. He really doesn't want to ask. As soon as he's got a destination, they're on borrowed time. He can't make their time together, in this odd little bubble of peace, last forever. Doesn't stop him from wanting to prolong the experience all the same. "I don't know, was thinking maybe L.A. or something. Where are you going?", she says with a shrug. It's just his luck that she'd pick someplace that's in the same sodding part of the same sodding state. Not just someplace, L.A, Los Angeles, The City Of Angels. He just can't escape the tosser or the giant shadow he casts, can he? He grips the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white. He thinks about turning the radio on to calm his nerves, but then he'd run the risk of waking Drusilla up. It's such a short ride, why waste most of it trying to keep his girls from starting their own civil war. Not that they're his, either of them. "South America.", he states. Which is far away from her, he reconsiders his answer. He's sure Dru'd get a kick out of L.A., plenty of valley girls to snack on. Plenty of young, tan chits. With bouncy shampoo commercial blonde hair, and fierce green eyes. With smiles that could melt the polar ice caps, and laughs that could thaw the most frozen of hearts.

Suddenly snacking on valley girls didn't sound so appealing. "Sounds nice.", she vaguely compliments. He looks over at her, she's fiddling with one of her duffel straps while staring out the window. He's never seen anyone look more beautiful. His head falls back into his seat. What, the ever loving fuck, is wrong with him? Did his brains get scrambled during the battle? Did Angelus' lot of shite he was trying to spoon-feed Spike somehow muck his mind up? He's always known she was beautiful, but that was an unspoken fact he never thought about. She's always been everything he's been fawning over tonight. So what the Hell's the difference? That he's acknowledging it? That they're not trying to kill each other? That they're even, dare he say, being friendly? Maybe this'll all go away when they're back to hating each other. Problem is he doesn't want this to go away, he doesn't want to hate her. Doesn't want her to hate him. "You're welcome to join us.", he blurts out before he can think any better of it. Could he be an even bigger idiot? What kind of offer is that, you wanker? Come away with us to another continent, where we'll all live happily ever after! Is he very stoned? "Do you actually mean that? Do you really want take me with you, or do you just feel sorry for me?", she huffs. Great, she doesn't believe him. Granted, he doesn't very well believe himself either. His mouth has officially detached itself from his brain. He's no longer in control of the rot coming out of it, but that is what he wants all the same isn't it?

"Course I mean it, said it myself earlier. I don't leave behind the people I care about. As for feeling sorry on your behalf, I've got nothing to feel sorry for. You're still alive and kicking, the world's all right as rain. You're free now, got nothing tying you down. No uppity Watcher looking on in disappointment as he tells you what to do. No fake friends playing pin the blame on Buffy whenever life gets too tough for them to handle. The world's your oyster, you can do whatever you want. Be selfish for a change, live life. Sounds like a pretty good deal to me.", he proclaims. If he's feeling sorry for anyone, it's himself. He knows Buffy's gonna turn down his offer once her head clears up. Even if she agrees now, she'll never make it past Mexico. When she goes it'll just be him and his Black Goddess, provided she doesn't hightail it outta dodge as soon as she realizes what he's done. He's not sure who he'll miss more, and doesn't that leave him with a bitch of a headache. "All I've been is selfish lately, I don't blame them for blaming me.", Buffy whispers. He's not completely sure if that was directed at him, or if she was thinking aloud and forgot about his vamp hearing. "How so, ducks?", he pries anyway. Cause from where he's standing, she just sacrificed the ex love of her life for the good of world. Fell out with mummy dearest just for being the Slayer, for continuing to help people. How her mates have the gall to feel anything but grateful towards her is beyond him.

"This whole thing is all my fault. If I hadn't slept with- he wouldn't have lost his soul. Ms. Calendar wouldn't be dead, Kendra wouldn't be dead. The world wouldn't have almost ended, my friends wouldn't be hurt and hanging out at the hospital. Giles wouldn't be going through the five stages of grief, and my mother wouldn't be- she wouldn't have..", she trails off as it becomes too hard for her to speak. She's collapsed in on herself again, her head tucked between her knees. Her loud sobs echoing in the enclosed space. Spike leans over to slide Buffy over, so she's resting against him. He wraps his arm around her shoulders as she melts into him. She unfurls, dropping her head on the crook of his neck. She even goes as far as to burrow into his duster, using it like a protective blanket. Her right hand absentmindedly stroking his chest. It looks like he did the thing he swore he wasn't going to do, allowed what he was sure would never happen. Him and the Slayer are cuddling up front while he drives. At least now he has a justifiable reason for doing so. The overwhelming need to protect the strong yet fragile girl at his side. She is just a girl still, isn't she? Turned seventeen a little bit ago, a teeny bopper. She should be out having fun, making dumb teenage decisions. Not crumbling under the weight of the world. He thinks it's a strange concept, being understanding and sympathetic towards a Slayer.

One he's been trying to kill for quite a while no less. He supposes Buffy's the exception. It's okay to care about the wellbeing of someone you don't plan on killing anymore right? It's okay to be mad at the world, and all the insipid humans in it, for breaking this effulgent creature's spirit right? Oh, God, please no... EFFULGENT?! Effulgent? The only birds he's ever associated with that word was that cold bitch Cecily, and his barmy poodle Drusilla. The women he's been in love with at one point or another. It looks like he'll be adding his spitfire of a Slayer Buffy to the list. He's chilled to the bone at this revelation. He wants to pump the brakes, pull over, and run far far away. He'd throw up right now if he could, he'd contract a fever and pass away on the spot if that were an option. How the in bleeding Hell did he get here? Is he that much of a simpering sod that he falls for any woman he interacts with on a regular basis? No, that's not right, he never felt a damned thing for Darla. Thank the Gods for that. He's been around other women before: human, vampire, demon, you name it, he's probably come across it in his years of unexistence. He must be a complete ponce with a yen for pain and women who'll never return his affections. One could argue that Dru's come a close second, but has she really? Just because you shag someone, doesn't mean you love them. It takes him a mo to realized he's completely wandered off again, right after Buffy unloaded a bunch of personal baggage no less.

He once again felt like a right git, like a bad bad man who doesn't know how to treat his girl. She wasn't ever going to be his girl, and wasn't that a kick to the balls. When did he start wanting that, wanting her? He'd wanted her from that first encounter, when he first laid eyes on her dancing with her mates. He always thought that want, that hunger, was for their inevitable dance. For his inevitable victory. Has he just been in blind denial this entire sodding time? He chances a glance down at his girl, she's staring off through the small hole in the black paint. "Erm, I'm sorry love, my mind wandered off without my permission. Didn't mean to leave you hanging.", he apologizes. She slowly nods, and it doesn't look like she's going to say anything. "What were you thinking about?", she asks him. What did he know of course? The chit's always kept him on his toes. "Oh nothing much, just how stupid and ungrateful your lot is.", he brushes off. He's sure that'll get her fired up and ready to defend her Scoobies. She stiffens a bit, but doesn't make any moves to untangle herself from him. He's relieved, and can't help but think about how utterly screwed he is. "They're not, they have every right to-", she starts justifying. Spike can't be bothered to listen to one more minute of this rot. "Like Hell they do! That dumpster fire wasn't even your fault!", he exclaims indignantly. He feels her pulse jump as soon as those words leave his mouth. He can smell even more oncoming tears.

"W-what did you just say?", she whispers in disbelief. She lifts her head up to look at him, shifting so she's sitting up instead of leaning on him. He keeps his eyes on the road, it wouldn't do if they ended up totaling his baby. Sure it'd be an extra stop and detour, but at the cost of the DeSoto's health. He shrugs, hoping to not look as nervous as he feels receiving Buffy's undivided attention like this. "Said it's not your fault alright. If you had known having a roll in the sheets with Captain Forehead would've meant his soul toddling off for an extended vacation, you'd have never done it. It's not bloody fair for anyone to throw any blame your way. You're just as innocent as the rest of them, if not more so.", he reassures her. Her tears that she'd been valiantly holding in during his explanation finally spill over. She shakes her head, looking so lost yet hopeful at the same time. "But everyone said- I'm definitely not the innocent party in this. He was my boyfriend, I was the one who-.", she denies. Oh for God sakes, just what have the holier than thou white hats been saying to her? "Sod whatever those tossers said! You were in the dark just as much as they were. That gypsy woman should've been forthcoming. Your Watcher should've been looking out for your well being. Your chums should've stopped green lighting that abomination of a relationship, not to mention been supportive when everything went tits up. Lastly, Peaches should've known better. He'd been with that bleeding soul for how long, and didn't think to do a bit of research? He should've never been your honey to begin with.", Spike passionately rants.

Buffy's stock still, eyes rimmed red and wide with shock and annoyance. Tear tracks drying down on her face, her hair slightly tousled. She still looks absolutely stunning to him. Yep, he's definitely fucked six ways to Sunday. "Our relationship was NOT an-", she starts huffing. Well, it looks like her groupies aren't the only ones who did a number on her if she thinks what happened was okay. This was gonna be a long hour and a half. "I don't mean that because he's a vamp, soul or no soul, and you're the slayer. If that's what you were wondering. I'm sure that's what your Scoobies were always hung up about if they ever had any reservations. I'm talking about the fact that's he's what, two hundred and seventy-one years old give or take? While you're coming in at the ripe age of seventeen.", he clarifies. That only seems to push her buttons even more. The fire in her eyes is back, she throws her hands on her hips. She's glorious, and he knows he's in for it now. "I'm well aware of the age gap, I've done the math. It's not like he was two hundred and seventy-one or whatever when he was turned. It's totally fine.", she dismisses. TOTALLY- so they should just throw away all those extra years of experience and time the berk's walked this Earth because he doesn't look like a wrinkly old timer should they? "Maybe not, pet, but he has been around for that long. He has the unlife experiences of someone that age, cause he is that age. May not look it, but that's the facts.", he throws out there.

She crosses her arms, getting real pouty about this. He zero's in on that lip that's calling out to him. He returns his attention to the blacktop stretching ahead of them. "You're being really unfair and uncool about this.", she whines. He just barely holds back a snort of disbelief. He doesn't think she'd appreciate it too much. "Fine then love, let's play this by your rules then. Let's only count the human years, sod all else. The poof was twenty-six when he was turned, I remember that much. You're still seventeen. So we've got a man in his mid to late twenties trailing after a teeny bopper. An underage girl, since last I checked you're still a kid here till you're eighteen. Even then you're still a teenager for a couple more years.", he amends. She flounders, opening and shutting her gob like a fish out of water. Her arms go slack. "But-", she tries to object. Spike wasn't having any of it. "To make matters worse, you got together a couple of years back yeah? Fifteen year old with a twenty-six year old? Now that's in poor taste, even for The Great Forehead.", he carries on. The Slayer's looking more and more flummoxed by the mo. "Yeah but-", she jumps in once again. He's not done though, not until she sees his point. "I know right, I'm still being so 'unfair' and 'uncool'. So since we knocked you back two years, let's do the same for ol Peaches hmm. Let's swipe off a couple of years for him, pretend the old cunt got to him earlier. Now he's twenty-four, mid twenties. You're fifteen, early to mid teens. Sorry to say this Blondie, but no matter which way you toss the double headed coin, you're never gonna get tails.", he drawls.

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