[Reviews - 617]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 6611 times

- Text Size +




[A/N: I’m finally getting to the heart of this story, unfortunately up until now its basically just been getting some necessary emotional stuff out of the way, hopefully, from here on out, there will be more action and less . . . reflection. Title is from Alan Beck, from his “What is a Girl?” and it just kind of sums up how I think Spike would think about his girls . . . anyway... the quotes are as attributed, and the disclaimers still prove I own nothing.]

Previously: Wesley has delivered some information and some books that may help Dawn on her stalled quest to find out how she was made and from what sources.

37. A little bit of angelshine

Every form of life is in its origin not natural, but divine and human; for it must spring from love, just as there can be no reason without spirit.
Friedrich Von Schlegel, Idea 91 in Selected Ideas

Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee,
the shooting-stars attend thee,
and the elves also,
whose little eyes glow
like sparks of fire, befriend thee.
Robert Herrick, The Night Piece to Julia



After Wesley’s second revelation of the night, Spike had gathered his little family and herded them home.

They all needed time to think.

No doubt Rupert was already itching to get into the texts, and he had a feeling Dawn was going to get snippy if they refused her access. Way he figured it, she deserved to know, and it shouldn’t be kept from her. He just didn’t think she should be alone while she looked. Someone should be there with her.

He also didn’t like the idea of her finding out she wasn’t . . . from the people she thought she was. Yeah, they’d planted the memories of her being Joyce’s, but what if she wasn’t?

Glancing in his rear-view mirror, Spike watched Dawn for a moment. She was quiet, watching the dark night roll by, her mind miles and miles away. Looking sideways at Buffy, he could see that she too was a million miles away. Reaching out with his right hand, Spike hooked it around her thigh. “All right kitten?”

Instead of answering, she moved closer, snuggling up against his arm, humming softly.

Tara too was quiet. All of his girls were lost in thought.

Breaking the silence, Spike said, “no one goes out alone, even in daylight. No one.”

If he’d been expecting an argument, he would’ve been severely disappointed. The three girls just murmured agreements. Apparently Wesley’s announcement they were being watched and videoed bothered all of them.

Hallefuckinglujah.

Spike figured it was the last time he’d ever get all of them to agree to his suggestions, especially Buffy. Girl was nothing if not stubborn.

They pulled into the driveway, silence reigning in the car. No one moved, until Dawn said “do you think that the house is bugged?” Then, “yuck. What if they have cameras in our rooms or . . . . eeeeeeewwwwwww in the bathroom?”

Buffy turned wild eyes to Spike, while Tara made a noise in the back.

“Don’t think we have to worry, ‘bout cameras rolling, probably jus’ recording devices. Should be okay.”

“Nahuh” Dawn was freaking. “Not going. I’ll sleep out here.”

“Niblet, c’mon. Don’t think they’ve gotten inside the house to plant cameras.” Spike was being patient, but Dawn’s worry was spilling over to the other two.

When Tara started to speak, Spike slapped a hand against the steering wheel. “All bloody right. I’ll go. I’ll look. If I find anything I’ll spray it, right?”

Reaching under his seat for a can of black spray paint, Spike kicked open his door and strode angrily for the front door. He really wasn’t angry with the girls more like the entire situation. He didn’t necessarily relish the idea of people watching him, taping his every movement during the day, and he could only imagine what the girls must be thinking about all of this. Yeah, he was angry, but he’d rather not take it out on the girls. They didn’t deserve this. Truly, none of them did.

Taking his time, he looked around before entering the house. As he’d suspected, there was one outside the door, aimed in, to log arrivals and departures. Leaving that one alone, Spike entered. Going methodically from room to room, he searched the whole house.

And got more and more angry with each inspection.

There were four cameras on the first floor.

One in the hallway.

One in each bedroom.

Spike sprayed around each one, gumming up the works but not touching the lenses. Hoping the wankers had gotten a good show, he cursed softly and at length. At last he came to Buffy’s room. He was not going to be happy if he found anything in here. For himself he almost didn’t care, but he knew Buffy would be upset.

Going over her room carefully, Spike found nothing. Which was good, but disturbing. Good because they hadn’t been in the house recently, and disturbing because the lack indicated that surveillance had been in place since just after Buffy died.

Heading back out to the car, Spike decided whoever it was doing the spying was going to die.


******************************* ****************************************

Giles gave Wesley fifteen minutes before the questions started. He knew they were coming, knew there was a queue of them lining up in the other man’s mind, just waiting for the opportunity to spill out. It wasn’t all that late, but Wesley had driven for a couple of hours, then had the shock of a lifetime so he didn’t figure Wesley would be wasting much time.

“Giles? “ Wesley looked up from perusing his almost empty glass of scotch to face the older man. There was a look of infinite patience on his face, which Wesley took as a sign to go ahead and ask those questions.

“How is she really?” It actually wasn’t the first question on his mind, but it was one of the pressing ones.

“A lot better than when she first returned. We’ve still no idea what dimension Willow pulled her from. When she . . . . when Spike first found her, she was unable to speak and he said she looked starved.” And, Giles added mentally, hadn’t looked much better when he’d first seen her hours later.

“Spike mentioned that he found her. I would imagine it was a bit of a shock for both of them.” Fidgeting with his glass, he continued, “Buffy appears a bit skittish.”

Was more of an observation than a question, but Giles felt compelled to respond in any case. “I’m taking it as a positive sign that she will accept and initiate physical contact with anyone. Her first couple of days back she shied away from nearly everyone.”

“A bit understandable. She seems to be comfortable around Spike.” He stared pointedly at Giles, waiting for confirmation of what his observations had led him to surmise.

Well, Giles thought, might as well start here and now. If I’m going to do this, support them, then it means with everyone – especially outsiders, people like the man in front of him for one. “It is rather understandable. Spike has . . . . done more for her in the last few months than anyone.” Giles waited a moment, letting that sink in, then added his own thoughts on the matter. “He took a beating for the sake of Dawn, at the hands of Glory that, well, had he been a lesser man, it would have killed him or, at the very least, broken him. He withstood abuse that I have personally never before witnessed. And,” he took a deep breath, “he never once gave Glory the information she was looking for.”

“He protected Dawn.” This was something he hadn’t heard. “When did this happen?”

“Shortly after Joyce passed away. It was, I believe a turning point.” Giles thought back, realizing his words were the actual truth. Spike’s beating had been a turning point, it marked the instant when both he and Buffy had started taking Spike seriously, and not just thinking of him as a pest.

“After he did that, instead of running and leaving us to face Glory alone, he stayed, fought beside us, no hesitation within him at all about it. Buffy asked for his help and Spike came through.” Giles left out most of the details, they weren’t all that important. “I honestly am not certain how we would have gotten through the summer without him. He patrolled, most nights alone, took care of Dawn and generally redeemed himself right before my eyes.”

“All this without a soul.” Wesley got up, heading to the bottle of scotch Giles had left on the counter. “Amazing.”

“I’m coming to realize that Spike is a . . . unique. And that perhaps, in his case, having or not having a soul might be immaterial.” Going back over some of Spike’s prior actions, as he’d done more than once over the past few weeks, Giles was convinced something in Spike’s make-up set him apart from other vampires, set him apart even from Angel. It was as far as Giles was willing to go. Anything else he had to say should be said first to Spike and secondly to Buffy.

Wesley was about to say something else when the phone rang.


******************************* ***************************************


He’d escorted the girls inside, closing and locking the door behind him as he made his way through the house once more. Double checking the back door, Spike saw the light blinking on the answering machine and thought about ignoring it. Dawn and Tara had headed up the stairs, but Buffy was waiting for him, sitting on the bottom step. He wasn’t particularly tired, but he knew the girls had to be exhausted.

Hitting the play button on the machine, Spike did a double take when Angel’s voice sounded in the darkness.

At first he didn’t listen to the message, his aggravation blocking the words. Exasperated with himself, Spike hit replay, this time determined to listen. As the machine cycled back to the beginning, Buffy wandered into the kitchen. She stopped, hearing the voice and the in
nocuous message, then kept walking toward where Spike stood leaning against the stove. Without hesitation, Buffy walked right into his chest, pushing her way forward, forcing his arms to circle around her.

“Think he’s just checking?” Her voice was muffled against his chest, but he heard her clearly.

“Dunno pet.” He didn’t want to get into the tangled complexities that made up his relationship or non-relationship with Angel anytime soon. There wasn’t much love lost between them, and no doubt the girl in his arms would further complicate things.

“I meant it earlier, you know. I don’t want to see him.” She nuzzled her face against his chest.

“Have to face him sooner or later.” Whether he meant alone or not never came up, because as the message ended, Spike reached for the phone hitting Giles’ speed dial number.

“Rupert. Angel called looking for Oxford. Let ‘im know papa wants to make sure his chick is safe and sound in Sunnyhell.” Buffy never moved from his arms, her own wrapped around his waist, as she held onto him. “Right. Taken care of.”

A pause while Giles said something, then “we’ll suss it out in the morning.”

He hung up, absently resting his hand on her shoulder. “Watcher figures Angel is being nosey. Won’t come with Oxford, but will call jus’ to make sure. Bloody ass. Mus’ think we’re all stupid. Like he doesn’t know Oxford’s cell number . . . “ Spike’s voice drifted off into nothing as Buffy slid her hands underneath his tee shirt.

“What’s with the sudden Oscar?”

“Who?” Spike was confused.

“You know, Oscar the grouch. . . . mean little green guy, lives in a garbage can? Furry green . . . “ there was a touch of amusement in her voice now, as her fingers made swirly patterns on his lower back.

“No sunshine, don’t know.” Unconsciously, he began bunching up her shirt, sliding his thumbs inside her jeans waistband.

“It’s a kid show, sesame . . . never mind.” Pausing a second, Buffy looked up at him. “Angel, right?” Was all she said, was all she needed to say.

They both knew it was because of the phone call Buffy just wondered if he was going to admit it. When he did finally speak it wasn’t exactly what she’d expected.

“He was here, y’know. After. Dunno who told him the bad news, but by then I was half living here – Niblet wouldn’t stop crying – near two days before Tara sent Rupert to come get me – we hadn’t . . . . put you to rest.” Tightening his arms around her, then breaking away, Spike sat her down on one of the stools, then began pacing around the small kitchen. “Poofter, Oxford and the cheerleader all show up, night before, wanting to know why I was here, like I was less than them. Giles gave Angel what for – askin’ him if he’d give up LA to stay here and protect Dawn – bloody jackass couldn’t say yes. Couldn’t even answer ‘im.”

He kicked the stove, “not even for your m’mory would he do it. Watcher said he didn’t trust him – tha’ he trusted me to protect her, like you did.” He didn’t, wouldn’t look at her. “An ‘n all this time, knowin’ you were gone . . . knowin’ money was tight . . . knowin’ Dawn was all alone, that bleedin’ son of a bitch ne’er once called, not even to be nosey.”

Spike stared out the window, not seeing anything, unaware he’d started crying. “And now you’re here. Safe ‘n one piece, an’ now the opportunistic bastard calls? Now he wants to know how we are? Jus’ because Oxford comes to visit?”

His clenched fist rested against the counter, poised to pound into the counter top. Still he wouldn’t look at her. “So much for . . . . god, there were nights, when only thing keepin’ me from waitin’ for the sunrise was my promise to you. Only thing keepin’ me on m’feet after battlin’ to keep her safe. . . . “

His voice fell into a harsh whisper. “Jus’ don’t wanna lose you kitten. Jus’ got you back . . . . can’t . . . “ his voice was so low now that Buffy strained to hear it. “Can’t go back to before – before . . . . need you kitten, don’t . . . want to lose you again.”

When her arms came round his waist, one hand reaching for his clenched fist, Spike jumped, moving to wipe his face, to hide his tears from her. Her warm fingers pushed hard against the outside of his fist, easing away some of the tension. Almost of their own accord, his fingers opened, then his hand rotated, so their fingers entwined, clasped together. Urging him wordlessly to turn around, Buffy reached up with her other hand to wipe away his drying tears.

Her words were just as soft as his had been and just as full of emotion. “Angel left me . . . never once asking me what I wanted or needed. He always gave up too quickly. Riley wasn’t any better. Wanting me to be something I wasn’t, couldn’t be. Neither one gave me a choice -- they decided what was best.”

When he started to speak, she placed a finger over his lips, just holding them closed. “Now its my turn to choose. My turn to . . . if I wanted Angel, I would’ve called him, told him I was back. If I wanted Riley, I’d find a way to get to him.”

Opening her arms wide, she looked into his eyes. “ Who do you see here? Spike . . . you . . . the one thing I know for sure is, you won’t leave, probably not even if I asked you too. You’d stay then, pestering me, wearing me down until I took you back.”

Taking a deep breath, Buffy said, “I need you. I need you, Spike, not Angel, not Riley – you. I want you . . . here, with me, as part of my life.”

So it wasn’t those three words, not yet, but, Spike thought as he swept her up into his arms, didn’t mean they weren’t there waiting to be said.





You must login (register) to review.