Buffy began to slide slowly along the railing of the bridge, her hand moving inconspicuously into her tote bag, her eyes never leaving the figure circling the front of the car, a wide grin on his face.
"Slayer! What a lovely surprise, finding you in the middle of nowhere."
Buffy continued to move backwards as he approached. Her searching hand grasped around a stake and she yanked it free of the bag. In a blindingly swift move, Spike grabbed the hand that held the stake and pinned it behind her back. Successfully blocking her attacking knee, he shoved her against the railing, bending her ever so slightly backwards.
"And here I thought we were bestest of friends," Spike said with a hint of menace in his voice.
Buffy gasped at the dizziness that flooded her, her ears filling with the sound of the water rushing over the dam thirty feet below her. She knew that if she managed to push him away, she could easily topple over the side. Going against every instinct she had, Buffy forced herself to relax.
"Sorry, Spike. Reflex action," she quipped in a shaky voice.
The grin returning to his face, if not to his eyes, Spike slowly pulled her away from the edge of the bridge and released her, taking a step back. Buffy immediately attacked, plunging the stake towards his chest. Barely managing to sidestep instant death, Spike flung himself towards his car. Spinning around, his demon at the fore, he backhanded his attacker, sending her flying into the railing.
The pain surprised her. It had been over a month since anyone had hit her. Memories of the last fight she had been a participant in swamped her and Buffy sank to her knees, facing the moonlit river. Silently she began to cry as the dam inside her broke, freeing the emotions that were always there under the tightly controlled surface.
"Get up," Spike growled harshly from behind her. Buffy ignored him, waiting, nearly praying for the death she hadn't had the courage to seek out. "Don't die on your knees, girl!" A clawed hand dug into her shoulder and jerked her to her feet. Turning her, Spike raised his hand, preparing to slash her throat. At the sight of the tears leaking from her closed eyes, the torment in her expression, he let her go, his face morphing back to normal. "This just won't do," he muttered petulantly. "It isn't fun if you don't fight back, pet."
Buffy's eyes flew open to stare at him. The humor had returned to his eyes as he leaned back against his car, arms crossed over his chest. Why wasn't he killing her? She swallowed hard and muttered through her tears, "Get it over with, Spike."
"Can't do it, luv. Right now you're too pathetic to kill." He made a tsking noise. "Sloppy attack, giving up way too soon, tears...Not much of a slayer, are we."
The sarcasm in his voice was almost enough to make her angry, but that emotion had become so foreign to her she let it be overwhelmed by the pain and guilt she lived with. The tears continued to flow as she wrapped her arms around herself, trying not to think or feel anything.
"Slayer, this is getting really pitiful."
"Stuff it, Spike," she choked out. As a sob broke from her, she spun on her heel and continued across the bridge, eyes downcast. She was aware the instant he fell into step with her.
"So, where are we going?" he asked conversationally.
Blinded by tears, Buffy stumbled only to be caught up against Spike's firm, lean body. Instinctively she began to struggle, but he held her tightly and swung her into his arms. As he strode back the way they had come, Buffy broke down completely, sobbing noisily. All the pain, guilt and grief she had bottled inside her for months poured from her and she clung to Spike. Pressing her face into his chest, she clutched desperately at his shoulders, wanting, praying for everything to just end.
"That's it, luv; let it all out," he murmured in a gentler voice than she had ever thought he could possess.
Gently Spike settled her in the passenger seat of his car, firmly disentangling himself from her grasping hands. By the time he had gone around to the driver's side, Buffy had curled into a little ball, her face buried in her knees as she sobbed.
Turning the key in the ignition, Spike found his eyes wandering to her huddled form. As the engine revved to life, he sat back and watched her, wondering why he hadn't killed her. His line about her being pathetic had been accurate, but since when had that stopped him? Most of his victims sobbed for their lives.
Maybe it was because she hadn't been sobbing for her life. He had seen mortals with death wishes before. Her's might be unspoken, but it was there in her feeble attack and break down. The slayer wanted to die.
So, again the question, why was she still alive, sitting beside him in his car?
That last night, the hesitant alliance they had made, the mutual desire to rid the world of Angelus...had there been something else hidden in their sarcastic, sniping hatred of each other?
He knew hate. What he was feeling was no where near it.
For the last several months his hatred had been reserved for his sire. His only thoughts about the slayer had been rather automatic--that Angel should just get on with it and kill her. He really hadn't cared whether she lived or died; he just wanted something--anything--to take Angel's attention away from Dru.
Thoughts of Drusilla brought too much pain and Spike shook himself from his revery. "Where to, pet?"
Slowly Buffy looked up at him. Tears were still sliding down her wet cheeks from her red eyes, but the hideous sobs had ceased. Rubbing her hands over her tangled, damp hair, she mumbled her address and directions to him. Spike pulled the car back into the minimal traffic and headed north.
As Spike drove, Buffy began to pull her scattered thoughts together, trying to understand what had brought her to this moment--sitting a foot away from her worst enemy, letting him drive her home. And, why hadn't he tried a little harder to kill her?
Why hadn't she tried a little harder to kill him?
Gently brushing the tears from her cheeks, Buffy glanced at him from the corner of her eye, taking in his strong profile as he easily guided the car with one hand, the other one propped in the open window. Why was he being nice to her?
Their truce had been temporary, a necessary alliance to bring down...Buffy's mind skittered and she swallowed hard, forcing the rampant emotions back down inside her. For a month she had survived by not thinking about him, not feeling anything about him but low level ever present pain and guilt. She wondered why the bad emotions crept through her barricades, but nothing good could escape. She had felt no joy, no pleasure since leaving Sunnydale.
Spike's presence had freed something inside her that she didn't want to feel. She could live without the joy if she never again felt the agony of loss that had consumed her for those few minutes on the bridge.
Now, slowly, she was growing cold again, stamping out all hint of emotion. Apparently, she would survive another night, but not if she allowed herself to feel anything but residual emotions. Allowing herself to truly feel would allow the grief to drive her mad.
Spike pulled up in front of her dingy trailer on a weed-filled lot and stopped the car. "Hmm, this is certainly a downgrade in choice of residences."
Buffy ignored him and slid from the car, walking up the gravel drive to the door. She knew Spike was following her, but pretended he didn't exist as she dug her key out of her bag and unlocked the door.
"Gonna invite me in, pet?"
Slowly Buffy turned to face her nemesis and found him grinning evilly at her. She gave him a cool, controlled look. "I'm not that stupid."
"Oh, c'mon. Here we are the only vampire and the only slayer in this dinky little town in Kansas, for Hell's sake. It'd get really dull if one of us killed the other, don't you think?"
"We're mortal enemies, Spike. That's what mortal enemies do."
CONTINUES