A/N: I feel like I’ve been a little hard with Giles in previous chapters. This first little bit is there to let the readers know that the Giles in my story isn’t really a bastard – he just truly cares what happens to Buffy.
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Part Eight
Giles thought Buffy looked rather pale as she packed her suitcase. Unaware of his presence, she hummed an off-key melody to herself. Watching her from the doorway, he found himself smiling despite the unpleasant situation in which they’d found themselves. Giles wanted nothing more than to mend their relationship, but this business with Spike was making that difficult. It was adding additional weight to the strain of their already deteriorating friendship, not to mention upsetting her trust in him. Giles didn’t want that. He loved Buffy like a daughter – something he would never have in the real world – and that self-ordained responsibility was not something he took lightly. Even if his choices hurt her, his true intent was only for her well-being. He hoped she understood that.
Tossing a pair of socks in her suitcase, Buffy glanced up and spotted him. Her voice was wary when she greeted him, as if she didn’t know exactly what to expect. “Hey.”
“Hello,” replied Giles, striving for a gentler tone he hadn’t used with her in a long time.
She looked away, busying herself with packing as she spoke. “Look Giles, I don’t want to fight anymore. I just-”
“I don’t either,” he cut in. “I still have more to say on the matter, to be sure, but I don’t think this is the time to say such things, as we’re both weary. For now, I’ve just come to give you this.” He held out the amulet, carefully nestled in a handkerchief. The center jewel caught a glimpse of sunlight from the window, causing Buffy to flinch. “You’ll want to be very careful with this artifact. It’s older than it looks.”
She accepted it gingerly. “It’s …warm.”
“That would be the presence of Spike’s soul, I imagine. It’s stayed that temperature consistently since it’s been in my keeping.”
She ran a thoughtful finger over the harshly cut lettering encircling the jewel. “I’ll be sure to take care of it,” she replied as she folded it in the handkerchief and carefully placed it in her overnight bag. When she noticed that Giles was still lingering at her side, she smiled tightly and said, “Is this the part where you tell me repeatedly to be careful and not to trust certain vampires, ensouled or not?”
He glanced down at his feet almost apologetically. “You do understand why I’m hard on you at times, don’t you?”
She shrugged. “Look, I get the whole father figure routine, and really? It’s nice to have someone like that around.” When she looked at him, it struck him anew that her once softly rounded cheeks were gone. The face that smiled up at him was leaner and stronger than he remembered. “I’m not a little girl anymore, Giles. I love and respect you, but I need to figure some of this stuff out myself.”
Giles returned her smile sadly and slid his hands into his pockets. “Have you ever looked at Dawn and felt helpless, watching her make all the mistakes you made long ago?”
“Sometimes. But how else would she learn?”
“When was it exactly that you became so sensible?”
“Well, I have been watching Oprah with Andrew. Lots of life lessons to be had there.”
“Ah,” he said with a chuckle. “Well, that mystery is solved.”
“Giles, I’m not going to make the same mistakes that I did when I was sixteen,” she added. “Trust me on that.”
He nodded, and they exchanged smiles, comfortable in each other’s presence for the first time in many months. Buffy took the opportunity to breach a rather sensitive subject. “So, um, since we’re having this nice little surrogate father-daughter chat thing, do you think I could ask you for a favor?”
“Dear Lord, this can’t end well…”
“Do you think we could take your car to L.A.?” she asked nervously.
Giles gaped at her. “Are you mad? Absolutely not.”
“Please? How else can we get there if we don’t take your car? Xander needs his to go back to the hospital later. Don’t you want to get this over with?”
“Can’t you take your mother’s monstrosity on wheels?” suggested Giles, scanning her sunlit bedroom helplessly as if the peeling wallpaper contained the answer to his problem.
“It died last year,” she replied as she folded a tank top and placed it in her suitcase. “We never had the money to get it repaired, and no one ever drove it anyway.”
“If I can be completely honest without fear you’ll turn your wrath on me, I’m not certain I want my car in the hands of someone as reckless as Spike.”
“I could drive it,” Buffy suggested brightly.
Giles grew pale. “Erm. Well, maybe I should give Spike the benefit of the doubt in this situation…”
“I’m not that bad of a driver…”
“Tell that to our insurance company,” said Dawn as she entered Buffy’s room. “After she got in that accident before she had her license, they refused to cover her.”
Scowling at her sister, Buffy turned to peer at Giles sheepishly. “I’ll make sure Spike takes extra good care of it.”
“I admit, I’m more worried about him taking care of you than my car,” replied Giles gently. “Buffy…”
“Spike and I are going to be fine,” she cut him off. “If something goes wrong – and it won’t – I can handle him. He knows that, and he’s not going to do anything stupid.”
Giles shook his head in defeat. “I’ll get my keys and give them to him myself.”
“Keys? Where are you going? Nobody said anything to me,” said Dawn, glancing at the overflowing suitcase in surprise. Buffy told her about the L.A. trip, and Dawn’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “You’re leaving? That’s so not fair!”
Giles cleared his throat and backed away towards the door. “Excuse me. I’ll leave you two alone to, um…” Leaving his sentence unfinished, he quickly shuffled out of the bedroom.
“What about what we talked about yesterday?” continued Dawn angrily. “You said we could leave the Hellmouth.”
“No,” corrected Buffy, “I said I would think about it. And you were talking about a permanent relocation. Spike and I are only going to be gone for a few days at the most.”
“Then take me with you. I can’t stay here anymore with all these people. I’m going crazy.”
Before Buffy could reply, Spike entered the bedroom, wearing a troubled expression. “Any idea what Rupert wanted? He asked to see me when I passed him in the hallway. Said he had to get something first. Didn’t like the sound of that.”
“He’s lending us his car,” replied Buffy. “He probably just wanted to give you the keys.”
Spike’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but he said nothing more on the matter. “Sun’s almost set. All packed, then?” he asked, woefully observing the gigantic suitcase and travel bag weighing down the bed. “Didn’t know we were gonna be gone for a year or two.”
“No high maintenance jokes, please. I haven’t even packed my shoes yet.”
“Oh, for the love of…”
“You could use my suitcase for them,” fumed Dawn as she crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s brand new – never been used, seeing as you never take me anywhere.”
Spike glanced wearily at the two sisters, ducked his head down, and busied himself with zipping up the overflowing suitcase.
“Fine, go pack already,” said Buffy, throwing her hands up in resignation. “Spike, Dawn’s coming with us.”
Dawn’s face broke into a bright smile, but when her eyes shifted over to Spike, that feeling of joy faded a bit. She suddenly realized that accompanying Buffy on this trip meant she would also be in close quarters with Spike – and there was still a world of awkwardness there.
Spike nodded in reply, not meeting either pair of their eyes as he hefted up the heavy suitcase. He sulked out of the room without a word.
“Is he mad at you or something?” asked Dawn quietly. “Or me?”
Buffy shrugged as she fished in her closet for shoes. “Me, more likely. I don’t think he’s thrilled at the prospect of seeing Angel. It’s not like I asked if it was okay with him.”
“What’s going on exactly? With the amulet and Angel, I mean. No one’s really told me much.”
Buffy sighed and pushed her hair out of her face as she stood, one arm full of shoes. “You should ask Spike that. It’s not really my place to say anything.”
“I don’t think he wants to talk to me.”
“I’ll bet he’s probably thinking the same thing about you. He asks about you all the time, you know.”
“Yeah, right,” Dawn scoffed, kicking her toes at the ground.
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Peeking out from the safety of the curtains, Spike watched what little he could of the last beams of sunlight trickling down the horizon. As much as he loved this time of day – when the sun was gone, but the sky remained somewhat blue – he felt unsettled and discontent. The prospect of seeing Angel alone was enough to seriously make him consider whether Buffy was worth it all. Of course she was, he knew – but did she really have to include the Foreheaded Wonder in their affairs? Angel could have given her that information over the phone, but he chose to ask Buffy to L.A. instead. The grand intervention on Buffy’s behalf was already underway. Spike doubted that he was on the guestlist by choice, and he knew what was coming next. He would be made out as the soulless killer who could never deserve what Buffy had to offer while Angel donned puppy-dog eyes and a quivering lower lip. Spike could almost hear Barry Manilow cooing in the background, ready to seduce his Buffy with promises of an ideal future that was both impractical and impossible to achieve. His grandsire was a master of manipulation when he wanted to be.
Granted, Spike had to admit he was a manipulator, too – but he’d never used Barry Manilow against an innocent mind, so who was the real villain in this scenario?
Then there was the matter of Spike’s soul, the reason for making the trip in the first place. He did want it back – but not for the same reasons Buffy did. He felt the soul belonged to him, like it completed him. In contrast, Buffy wanted it in place as a safeguard. Considering her past with Angelus and her job title as Slayer, he couldn’t blame her for thinking that way – but couldn’t she see that he was different? Why was it so important to her sense of safety that his soul be in place? Sure, he’d screwed up more times than he could count, but he had changed – and most of those changes had nothing to do with the soul and everything to do with his love for her. Regardless of what she said, Spike knew that Buffy didn’t understand that, deep down. It went against everything she’d been taught.
While part of him did want the soul back, he’d be lying if he didn’t admit he was having second thoughts. How would Buffy react if he told her that? She couldn’t possibly comprehend what a weight it was, or how it tortured him. Spike shook his head in frustration, feeling as if he was between a rock and a hard place.
But he would do it. For her. God help him, he would do anything for her. It was pathetic, he knew, but he didn’t care. Buffy gave him purpose, which was something his inherent nature did not provide. She gave him a reason to better himself – just for her – not for anything he stood to gain aside from her happiness and trust in him. Where there once was only a raging bloodlust and a painful desire to love something but not really knowing how, now there was something to love – something pure and worth fighting for. That was what made him different from the innumerable, single-minded vampires that populated the earth: he wasn’t content with blood alone. He never would be again, now that he’d tasted the beginnings of true acceptance. Yes, he would get his soul back for her. And if he had to go L.A. to do it, so be it. Hell of a lot closer than Africa, though he doubted he would find the locals as amiable. Angel was going to be a significant obstacle.
Spike suddenly sensed a presence behind him, pulling him out of his thoughts. He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling when he realized who it was.
Giles cleared his throat and held up a set of keys. “If you so much as scratch the paint, I will personally scatter your ashes about the face of the earth.”
Spike smirked. “A proper funeral? Rupert, you spoil me. So what’s the catch?”
“No catch, but I do expect you to act responsibly on this trip. I’m placing a lot of trust in you right now. If Buffy is correct, and the chance to do the right thing is what you need, then this is it.” Giles handed over the keys and looked Spike dead in the eyes. “You come back with your soul in place, and you will have done something no other vampire in history has ever dared to do. Not even Angel.”
“Got my soul once before. Doesn’t that count?”
“Considering your propensity to rush blindly into rash decisions, I doubt you knew what you were getting yourself into,” Giles replied. “But if you choose to restore it now, fully understanding the pain that comes with it – well, that would be something remarkable in my book. You bring her back to me, unharmed in every sense, and then you and I might be able to reach a personal understanding.”
“Don’t know how much I care about a personal understanding,” said Spike, pocketing the keys. “But I’ll bring her back.”
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The sky was completely dark by the time they pulled out onto the highway. Spike had the car going 80 miles per hour in less than five seconds, ignoring the girls’ pleas to slow down. His dark mood had worsened by the time all their luggage had been loaded, and it spread through the car like a shadow. An uncomfortable silence settled in, especially when Dawn put on her headphones and pulled out a GameBoy, leaving Buffy and Spike free to talk on their own.
Buffy watched him out of the corner of her eye, wondering what song was going through his mind as his thumbs drummed on the steering wheel to a tune only he could hear. “Mad at me?” she asked in a low voice.
Spike roared past two cars before he replied. “Not mad.”
“What then?”
Spike shook his head in response, which Buffy knew to mean that he was lying and really was mad at her. She didn’t have the energy to care and chose to let him brood in silence. It occurred to her that Spike was every bit as moody with the soul as he was without it. Having Angel and Spike together was going to be a barrel of laughs. She just hoped everyone survived it. Having Dawn around was probably a good idea, Buffy decided. Her sister might help the boys to behave themselves.
Buffy eyed Spike with annoyance as he pushed the car past 100 mph and honked at a slower moving vehicle in his way.
Who was she kidding? Spike wasn’t going to behave himself for anyone.
“So,” began Dawn loudly, unable to hear her own voice over her blaring Discman. “If you guys are having sex again, does that mean I get my own hotel room? Because … ew?”
Buffy clamped a hand over her eyes. “Is the concept of tact completely lost on you?”
Dawn popped her gum loudly in Buffy’s ear. “Pretty much.”
“I was hoping we could stay with Angel. He has that whole hotel, you know. It’d be way cheaper than staying somewhere else. So yeah, there will definitely be separate rooms.”
Dawn looked scandalized. “You and Spike sleeping together under Angel’s roof? I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“We’re staying with Angel?” sputtered Spike, suddenly interested in talking. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“It’s kind of the obvious thing to do, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, I’m sure he’s just giddy at the thought of me sleeping down the hall from him. He’s probably got one of those skeleton keys that lets him into every room – gonna murder me in my sleep. Mark my words, he’s planning to be dancing on my ashes come morning. You ever seen him dance, Buffy? Enough to make a grown vampire dust himself. Man, I can’t believe this…”
“There’s no real reason for him to try to hurt you. I didn’t tell him anything about your … situation,” said Buffy, carefully sideswiping the issue of Spike’s soul, which Dawn knew nothing about.
Spike blinked at her curiously. “He doesn’t know?” Buffy shook her head in reply as she frowned deeply at the speedometer.
“Doesn’t know what?” echoed Dawn.
“Nothing,” answered Spike and Buffy in unison.
Glancing up from her GameBoy, Dawn smirked mischievously. “Ten bucks I figure it out before we hit the city limits.”
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The roadside diner was so hazy with smoke, Buffy didn’t even scold Spike when he lit up a cigarette while she and Dawn ate dinner. At least the nicotine seemed to calm his nerves a bit, and he became more amiable as the meal went on – though he did make a terrible fuss when he heard the country music blaring from the crackling speaker system.
“I can’t believe this music,” grumbled Spike as he lit his third cigarette in twenty minutes. “Bloody awful. Moodier and more self-indulgent than Angel, even.”
Buffy smirked as she speared a forkful of salad. “Kinda like you, huh?”
Spike shot her the evil eye and blew smoke in her direction.
Ignoring him, Buffy peered despairingly at her sister’s choice of dinner. Dawn was dipping hot, gooey French fries into her chocolate milkshake. She popped the combination into her mouth with a look of bliss.
“That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen,” said Buffy in revulsion.
“It’s so good,” insisted Dawn with wide eyes. “You’re totally missing out.”
“She’s right,” said Spike, stealing a fry and dipping it into Dawn’s shake. “Stuff’s brilliant.”
“Hey!” protested Dawn. “Get your own!”
“Why do that when I can just eat yours?” he asked with his mouth full, smirking as he reached for her plate again. Dawn smacked his hand lightly but had an affable look glinting in her eyes when he got away with a few fries anyway.
Buffy smiled curiously at the two of them, wondering if she was seeing a hint of their old camaraderie return. The thought made her feel happy and relieved. Pursuing a relationship with Spike would be much easier if Dawn was okay with it. Sensing a moment or two alone might further the mending of their friendship, Buffy pushed her salad away and announced she was going to the ladies’ room before they left. True to form, Dawn refused to abandon the rest of her French fries to join her. She remained behind with Spike.
“So when did you lose it?” asked Dawn conversationally through a giant mouthful of food.
Spike tipped his coffee cup up, draining the last grainy drops before he asked, “Lose what?”
“Duh, your soul.” When she saw the surprised look on Spike’s face, she added, “What, you didn’t think I’d notice? Told you I’d figure it out.”
The empty coffee cup hit the table with a clank. After a moment, Spike dug a crumpled ten-dollar bill out of his pocket and tossed it over to her. “Clever girl. How’d you know?”
Dawn stuffed her monetary reward into her jeans. “You look me in the face now, for one thing. Buffy knows it’s gone, right?”
“’Course she does. Why do you think we’re going to L.A.? Isn’t for pleasure, believe you me.”
“Buffy said something about that wonky amulet you wore in the Hellmouth. You guys needed to do some research in Angel’s library or something.”
“Or something,” said Spike, fingers tapping on the table anxiously. “My soul’s nestled up all snug in that sodding thing. Gotta figure out a way to get it out.”
Dawn studied him inquisitively. “So you actually want it back? You’re the weirdest vampire ever, you know.”
He shrugged and looked away. “Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don’t.”
“So why the rush to do it? You seem fine. If fact, I think you killed more people when you had the soul. Maybe you should just leave it in the amulet.”
“Funny,” deadpanned Spike. “Buffy thinks it’s important. Doing it for her, same as the first time I got it. Love’s bitch, remember?”
“How could I forget?”
“Makes her feel safe, she says.” He sighed and brought his cigarette to his lips for a long, thoughtful drag. “Guess I can’t blame her.”
Dawn dipped another fry into her shake and said nothing.
“Guess you feel the same way, yeah?” he asked.
“Doesn’t really matter what I think or feel,” she answered, not looking at him. “We’re not friends anymore.”
“No. Guess you’re right about that.”
Dawn watched his shoulders slump and a dejected look form on his face. “But my sister loves you, so I’m willing to get along if you are.”
He eyed her carefully. “Like to get along with you, too, pet, but I’m afraid you’re wrong about that first bit. Your sis doesn’t love me. If you’re looking for a reason to put up with me, you’re going to have to find another one.”
“Please,” scoffed Dawn. “You’re either really stupid or kinda dense.”
Spike cocked an eyebrow. “Isn’t that the same thing?”
“I’m just sayin’…”
But before they could continue the argument, Buffy returned, wiping her wet hands off on her jeans. She wore a troubled expression, as if the restroom she’d just emerged from had disturbed her greatly. She gestured towards Dawn’s diminishing plateful of fries. “Come on, eat ‘em or leave ‘em. We’ve got to go. If we head out now we can be in L.A. in an hour.”
Spike blew a long trail of smoke from his lips as he stood. “Oh, good-ee…” He dropped a few bills on the table and tugged on his duster.
Scooping the rest of her dinner into a napkin, Dawn smiled proudly. “Looks like you owe me ten bucks,” she said to her sister. “I figured out that Spike’s soul went poof.”
Buffy glanced at Spike, a surprised look on her face. “You didn’t tell her, did you? She really did figure it out?”
Spike nodded, and Dawn grinned smugly. The two of them exchanged winks when Buffy resignedly handed her sister a ten-dollar bill.
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To be continued.
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