"It's not missing, Spike," Buffy corrected. "We both know where it is."
The sun was low in the sky; Buffy guessed it was nearing two in the afternoon, and she was looking forward to setting camp for the day. The steady rocking of the wagon had worked its way up her spine, causing her neck to stiffen and the beginning of headache.
"Not sure of that yet, now are we?" Spike had the decency to look away from her skeptical look.
Buffy grimaced, shaking her head. "Where else would it be? You said yourself that it couldn't fall out of that pocket and Katie was the only person that their hands on that coat other than you. Face it, Spike. That skanky, frontier ho-bag has our magic coin."
"Yeah. . . " He sighed, keeping his eyes focused on the landscape. "She does."
"Damn right, she does, and we're gonna get it back, and then I plan on playing a game of kickball with her ass."
"And how you gonna do that, Buffy? Go up and demand it back? She stole the thing; she's not gonna just hand it over to you. And you accuse someone of something like that in this day and age, you better be able to back it up with proof. How are we going to prove she has it?"
"Fine,” Buffy reluctantly conceded, whipping off her sun bonnet and mopping her brow with it. “You're so smart, how do you plan on getting the damn thing back?"
"Tit for tat." Spike shrugged.
Buffy’s brows drew together in puzzlement. "Her tits are what?"
Spike sighed, darting a glance at her. "We do to her, what she did to us. We steal it back."
"Oh, okay . . .” Buffy frowned. “But how? Where would she have it? It could be anywhere."
"Way I figure it, it's gotta be in one of two places.” Spike slapped the reins and the horses let out a whinny and sped up a bit. “In her wagon, or on her person. We'll have to split up and search—"
"Oh, oh, can I guess which one of those places you want to search?"
His eyes shifted to her again. "Makes sense for you to take the wagon and for me to—"
"Take her?"
"Will you shut yer yap for just two seconds?" He slapped the reins again; this time the horses tossed their heads, showing their annoyance with Spike’s rough handling. "She and I, we've already talked, we know each other a bit. You can search the wagon while I keep her occupied and try to suss out if she has the coin on her."
"Oh, occupied.” Buffy nodded, looking away, suddenly very interested in the rumps of the draft horses that were now pulling them up a slight incline. “Is that what they called it back then?"
"You got a one track mind, luv.” The ex-vamp raised a brow, a small smile quirking the corners of his mouth. “And it leads right into the gutter.” At her look, he continued in earnest. “I'm not interested in that bint, Buffy. She's not my type. And even if she were, I have enough on my hands with—"
"Me?" Buffy looked over at him, locking eyes until at last he looked away. She continued staring at him, though, studying his profile, watching as his Adam's apple move against the collar of his shirt. For the first time, she noticed the fine lines that etched the skin around his eyes, showing more clearly that his face had tanned under the harsh sun.
He glanced back at her, opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it, and at the last minute turned his eyes to the landscape. After a few minutes—her eyes still burning into his skin like the afternoon sun—he pulled up on the reins, his now calloused fingers moving the leather reins from one hand to the other.
When their eyes met again, he refused to back down from her gaze. This time it was Buffy’s turn to look away, a hint of pink coloring her cheeks as she looked down at her hands. "We do it tonight?"
"Time's a wastin'.” He nodded. “Best get to it and get that coin back."
Buffy took another furtive glance at her surroundings, making sure that no one could see as she moved along the side of Katie Monroe's wagon, hugging the shadows cast by the low hung, setting sun. She moved as stealthily as one could in a long skirt, trying not to make too much noise as she climbed quickly into the back of the wagon.
Spike had barely waited for the sun to begin its descent behind the trees when he sent her on the mission to search for the missing coin. It wasn't as if she'd never done any breaking and entering before, but now, in the darkness of the wagon, she realized how difficult this was going to be. She'd give her eye teeth for a flashlight. Hell, she'd even settle for of those little ones like Dawn kept on her key chain.
Carefully, Buffy moved further into the wagon, her eyes slowly growing accustomed to the darkness. It was just a bit larger than her own, but was equally as packed to the gills with wooden boxes and barrels, barely leaving enough floor space to maneuver.
Not sure how long she had before Katie's return, Buffy quickly searched all the likely places the coin might be hidden. It didn't take her long to realize how pointless the search was. There were, literally, dozens of places the coin could be squirreled away; under or in different kegs of flour, sugar and corn meal, beneath or inside the feather tick, or even under the wooden slats of the wagon's floor.
However, just as Buffy was about to give up in frustration, her eyes landed on a large, wooden trunk, pushed to the front end of the wagon. She made her way over to it, sinking to her knees to pry open the leather straps holding it closed. As she lifted the lid, the metal hinges moaning their complaint, a musty, sweet smell of roses wafted up to her nostrils. She blinked, stifling a sneeze as the cloying smell seemed to infuse the entire interior of the wagon.
"Holy potpourri, Batman," she mumbled, waiving her hand in front of her face to disperse the scent. As carefully as she could, she picked through the clothing stored within the trunk, moving aside assorted blouses, skirts, and dresses.
Her hands lingered on the beautiful fabrics—all made of bright silks and satins—their texture felt soothing and cool against her roughened skin. These were certainly not the clothes of rancher’s widow and Buffy found herself once again regretting that she hadn’t just decked the redhead when she’d had the chance.
She tried to swallow down the jealousy that rose as lump in her throat. Unbidden, the image of Katie and Spike, wrapped in each other’s arms, played across her mind’s eye. It wasn’t rational; hell, it wasn’t even sane, these feelings she had for the ex-vampire. She shouldn’t care whom he held, or kissed. And yet she did care. He was slowly breaking down the emotional walls she’d built to protect herself, and she didn’t know how to stop him. She didn’t know if she even wanted him to stop.
The sound of laughter—probably from the large communal fire pit in the center of camp—pulled Buffy from her musings, and she glanced around nervously. It had grown even darker and she knew time was running out if she wanted to find the gold coin and make her way out of the wagon without being caught.
She'd dug her way nearly half to the bottom of the trunk when something caught her eye. Raising a brow, she drew out a bright red and black stripped satin corset, its lace ribbon falling in tangles across her arms.
"Now I know where they got the phrase merry widow," Buffy grumbled, holding the garment up to her body to gauge the fit, its generous cups far exceeding her proportions. Rolling her eyes, she tossed the corset back into the truck and continued searching for the coin, only finding more lingerie.
Slamming the trunk closed, she stood, hands on her hips, and surveyed the wagon with a pout and a glare. Just as she was about to push up her sleeves and have it again, this time with a willingness to ransack the place, she heard the approach of soft footsteps.
Darting to the front of the wagon, Buffy ducked down behind a large flour keg and several smaller kegs of ground corn meal. She drew in a breath and held it, fearing that even the slightest noise might give her away.
The canvas curtain that covered the back opening to the wagon rustled, and she saw a dainty hand move through to grasp hold of the wooden backboard. Buffy gritted her teeth, screwing her eyes shut, preparing to leap from her hiding place and run like hell if she had to.
"Mrs. Monroe, I was wondering if you could spare me a minute of your time?"
Buffy tensed at the first sound of Spike's gravely baritone, but relaxed when she realized he was drawing Katie away from wagon. Staying silent and still, Buffy watched as Katie’s hand disappear, listening as she moved away from the wagon a short distance.
She waited a moment, her muscles relaxing gradually, then moved cautiously towards the wagon’s opening. Gingerly, she lifted the coarse canvas flap and peered out. It was dusk now, but still lighter than it was in the wagon, so she could clearly see Katie, who stood about five feet away. Thankfully, her full attention was on Spike, who was smiling at the redhead in a way that made Buffy’s stomach muscles clench and the pangs of jealousy nip at her heart.
She mentally shook herself; she didn’t have time for this nonsense. It was irrational for her to be angry at him—she knew this. He was only doing what they had both planned for him to do – work his charms on Katie and try to find their missing coin, at the very least giving her time to search the woman’s wagon for the missing gold piece. Whatever her feelings for the ex-vampire were—and they seemed to change as quickly as the seconds on a clock—he’d made it clear last night that his focus was on getting back to Sunnydale circa 2000 and, more importantly, back to status quo between the two of them. Her priorities should be the same.
Buffy watched as Spike tilted his head, a smile curving the corners of his mouth. He appeared totally fascinated by whatever the woman was saying. Moving behind the canvas flap, Buffy strained to hear their conversation.
“That is so kind of you, William.” Katie’s soft, southern drawl perfectly matched her wide, doe-eyed gaze. “Not having a man around, has been so very, very hard.” She plucked at Spike’s sleeve, and Buffy’s eyes narrowed as Spike took her slender hand and held in between the two of his.
“Oh, please,” Buffy hissed under her breath, “give me a break.”
Spike frowned, squeezing Katie’s hand. “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but your husband, how did you lose him?”
“Lose him,” Buffy snorted. “More like he made a run for it first chance he got.”
Katie ducked her head, pulling her had free and turning away from Spike. “Oh, it was, ah, consumption.”
“Constipation?” Buffy mumbled. “What a way to go.”
Spike rested his hand on Katie’s shoulder. “Consumption? I thought you mentioned it was sudden.”
Katie glanced quickly over her shoulder, catching Spike’s eye for a moment before turning back. Her hand came up, shaking to cover her mouth.
Buffy rolled her eyes. “And the Academy Award goes to … skanky, lying bitch for her role in I am Such a Ho-bag”
“It was sudden.” Katie’s voice shook and she wiped a tear off her cheek. “The doctor said it was . . . unusual. But Henry never had a very strong constitution.”
“I see.” Spike pursed his lips, regarding the woman with a skeptical eye.
Katie turned around in time to catch his look. “Do you … have you had experience with that terrible disease?”
Spike’s eyes darkened, and Buffy moved even closer to the opening to watch him. “Yes, I have. My mother.”
Buffy blinked, watching Spike closely. Was this true? Had his mother really suffered and died from a terrible disease? Or was he just telling Katie this in hopes of her opening up more to him?
“Oh, William, I’m so sorry,” Katie moved toward him and took his hand in hers again.
It was Spike’s turn to move away, pulling from her grasp to move further away from the wagon. The increased distance made it was harder for Buffy to see his face, but she could hear the deep timbre of his voice, a bit more husky than usual. “Was a . . . long time ago.”
“But I can see that it affected you.” Katie moved up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Well, can’t take care of someone suffering that way and not be affected,” Spike said, glancing at the woman. “Guess you know that though, yeah?”
Katie pulled her hand back, her eyes meeting his. After a moment she nodded, then looked away. “Yes, yes, I do.”
Spike watched as she walked toward the communal camp site. She paused at the perimeter, watching the families gathered by the fire. Taking the opportunity, Spike glanced over to the wagon, catching Buffy’s eye, and signaling her with a quick wave of his hand to get, while the getting was good.
There was a part of her that wanted to stay, wanted to hear more of this conversation. She’d never really known much about Spike before . . . well, before he was Spike. He knew all there was about her; all about her family, friends, lovers. But what she knew about him was only what she had read in books that Giles had shown her. Mostly the grisly tales of his time with Angelus, Darla, and Dru as they cut a swath of destruction and murder across Europe.
To be honest, it had never crossed her mind to ask about what he was like before he'd been turned. He wasn’t that man any longer—or so Giles had said—so what difference would it possibly make? But the more she got to know Spike, the more she wondered if perhaps the Watchers' Council had it wrong. She could tell by his voice, by his face and eyes, that he was telling Katie the truth. And this fact made her curious as to what else of William was still there, in Spike. What other secrets could he be hiding?
Before she could ponder it further, Spike jerked his head in the direction of their own wagon again, imploring her to escape while she had the chance. She nodded, then made her escape, quickly moving to the far side of the wagon and racing away as fast as her feet would carry her.
She hated leaving Spike there, but now there was nothing for her to do but wait until he returned. Hopefully he could get Katie to either confess, or make a misstep that would lead them to their coin. In any case, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know how far Spike would go to make that happen.
To Be Continued