RATING: PG
SUMMARY: Spike and Buffy are traveling to England on the same cruise ship. With Dru unconscious, will the Slayer and the vampire find they have more than a destination in common?
DISCLAIMER:Joss Whedon, the WB and Fox own the characters from the tv show Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Spike slammed the door of his cabin shut and locked it. He hadn't felt such rage since his attack on Angel- but this time he didn't have the option of beating his opponent to a blood-spattered pulp.
No, his enemy was in the next cabin- enjoying the bloody fruit basket!
Spike still found it hard to grasp the events of the past few days that had brought him and Drusilla together with the Slayer. There was that unexpected meeting in L.A.- with the Slayer on the run from the police...and Spike needing help to cope with a raving Dru. Finally, in desperation, he'd given the Slayer his credit card- and instructions to book them all a passage to England.
She had- on a cruise ship, of all things! They were surrounded by eager party-goers out to enjoy all of the festivities the unbearably perky staff could dream up- and so far their creativity hadn't shown any sign of flagging.
Oh- what did it matter? In a few days they'd be off the bloody ship. And hopefully, he'd never see that little bitch again! Tenderly, he looked at Drusilla in the bed furthest from the window. He could put up with the Slayer a few more days if it meant getting Dru safely into England. Luckily, he still had a large supply of the powerful sedative that the vampire Dalton had concocted for her.
He held the bottle to her lips; and in a few minutes, her restless thrashing had stopped. Someone knocked softly- and Spike opened to the Slayer.
"Where have you been?" he grunted.
"Getting dressed," she replied. She walked in and stood beside the bed, looking down at Drusilla.
"She's still out?" Buffy asked dubiously. "It's been two days, maybe..."
"She's fine," Spike said defensively. "Sometimes she...well, she can be out of it for a long time."
She met his eyes steadily...then nodded and left the cabin.
Before, whenever the Slayer looked at Drusilla, Spike had noted the dislike in her eyes and resolved to watch her carefully. Now, though, the dislike had faded- and something else was there. Something that offended him to the depths of his being. Something that was...akin to...pity. Pity- from the Slayer!
Pity when she looked at Dru; and even- when she looked at him!
I'll wipe that look out of her eyes, Spike vowed to himself. Even if I have to tear them out, one by one.
He sat down next to the bed; and took Dru's hand. He stayed beside her, never leaving except to feed- briefly and discreetly- on one or another of the other passengers.
By the fourth night he found himself growing restless...the Slayer's visit
almost came as a relief.
But her appearance startled him- she looked...punk.
"Is this some joke?" he demanded, grabbing her arm roughly.
She looked at his hand on her arm; then stared at him. He released her.
"No, Spike...you sound like Oliver Stone or something...they're showing the Rocky Horror Picture Show tonight...that's all."
"Oh." Spike felt a little sheepish. "I thought..."
Amazingly, the Slayer gave him a slight smile. "Don't worry, I'm not trying to get in on your Sex Pistols look- I think you have it patented!"
He felt a sudden impulse to apologize...but squashed it instantly. "Too bad," he muttered, "it looks great on you."
She looked at him...hesitated. "Want to come with?" she offered.
It was his turn to hesitate. He glanced back at Dru- an inert mass under the covers.
"Why not?" he decided. "I haven't seen that film in years."
The screening room was crowded- but a voice called them over. Buffy led Spike over to a group of young people she casually introduced as Danny, Nick, and Tina. Spike was amused to see the young men's faces fall at the sight of him.
Might be more interesting than the film, he decided. Quickly, he maneuvered so that the Slayer was seated between him and Tina, with the two boys on the outside.
He thought he'd been pretty subtle; but as the lights dimmed, Buffy leaned close and whispered, "That was mean."
Spike saw the tiny smile curling her mouth. He decided he didn't blame those boys- she was rather tempting....."pocket venus", as they used to say.
Much to his surpise, Spike enjoyed himself tremendously that night. It was actually fun to watch the film, to sit next to the Slayer, to whisper together. Twice he had to stifle his laughter at the things she said. And- it was entertaining to observe the resentment he aroused in Danny and Nick.
So, when Spike woke up the following evening, he felt an eagerness for the Slayer's knock on the door. Then he saw her- and his jaw dropped. She was wearing a little black dress- very little.
"You're not wearing that?" he asked at length.
She looked disappointed. "Don't you like it?
"Like it? There's not much of it to like! Where'd you get it?"
"There's shops downstairs...didn't you know?"
"But where'd you get the money?" Realization dawned. "My credit card!"
Buffy blushed. "I still have it, but, don't worry...I'll give it back to you."
Spike noticed she didn't say WHEN. Still, watching her appreciatively as they exited the cabin, he decided he really didn't mind too much. Because...whatever she'd paid for that dress...it was worth it.
At the sight of Spike, Nick and Danny looked sullen; but Tina smiled happily. Mischievously, Spike made up his mind to monopolize Buffy all evening. When Danny leaned over to invite her to dance, Spike was just a fraction quicker. Buffy looked surprised; but followed him onto the dance floor.
Just as they reached it, the music changed from something loud and fast to something slow...plaintive. Spike was startled; his first impulse was to walk away, but he wasn't about to do that while those two wankers were watching.
Tentativly he reached for the Slayer. She felt warm...so warm in his arms...he wondered, idly, if she had ever danced with Angel.
Almost unnoticeably, the distance between their bodies diminished. The carefully maintained space was gone, and they found themselves pressing against one another- moving more and more slowly until they were completely still...gazing into one another's eyes.
The music stopped- still they didn't move. Finally, Spike wrenched away from the Slayer- and strode out as if an angry mob was pursuing him...instead of one small girl with velvet skin and luminous eyes.
In the cabin he paced restlessly; pausing only when he heard voices in the next room. He listened carefully- ear up against the door. Surely that was...a soft laugh? Had the Slayer brought one of those boys back with her? Not that he cared, Spike told himself. He didn't give a damn if she slept with every chap on the ship...except, of course, it might disturb Drusilla?
He raised his fist to knock; then was stunned to hear...a low moan? He kicked the door open.
The Slayer's cabin was empty, but the television was on...a young couple in a clinch, THAT'S what he'd heard. Spike felt more than a little foolish.
"Spike!" Buffy emerged from the tiny bathroom...wearing only a towel. "What's the matter? Is Drusilla..."
Dru's name brought him back to himself. "She's fine," he muttered. "Could you turn that down?"
"Sure, sorry." Buffy walked over to the set and adjusted the volume. As she turned away...he noticed the towel slipping slightly...
"I've...got to get back to Dru," Spike said desperately. He locked the door behind him and leaned against it, eyes closed.
Had she...was it possible she'd noticed the effect she had on him?
"God, " he grunted through clenched teeth, " could this trip get any more embarrassing?"
Spike was determined not to leave the cabin again; but on the last night, he wavered. He held off until almost midnight- then went to find the Slayer.
Buffy studied the lock- she could pry it open easily enough....a quick squeeze would close it again, sealing off the door to the pool. It was a lovely pool...lit only by the stars outside the glass doors. Swiftly she shed her robe and dropped her towel on a nearby deck chair.
She eyed the dark water thoughtfully.
Spike replaced the lock on the door to the swimming pool, closing himself inside with the Slayer. What was she up to, anyway?
He could see her standing at one end- slim and straight in the tiny purple bikini HE had paid for. Then- his eyes widened in disbelief as Buffy slipped out of the suit and tossed it on tope of her robe and towel.
Spike was fascinated. "God," he thought, "no wonder Angel..."
There was a small splash as she dived gracefully into the water.
Just for an instant, Spike was tempted to join her- despite the fact that he couldn't swim. Instead he settled down next to her clothes- and waited.
He didn't have to wait long...Buffy came swimming back, was just about to hoist herself out of the pool- when she spotted him and froze.
"Spike!" she sputtered, " How...how long have you been there?"
"Not long," he responded, enjoying himself hugely. "Having a nice swim, are we, pet?"
Buffy looked at him uncertainly. "Uh...I'm having a serious nudity problem here."
"Really?" Spike pretended surprise. "I'd be a bit more careful, pet...you wouldn't want to get arrested for indecent exposure, would you?"
"Spike! This isn't funny!" Buffy was getting angry. "You're sitting on my clothes."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Spike got to his feet, not bothering to concel a grin. He held out the bikini top. "This what you're looking for? Maybe you should have kept it on? Though I have to admit," he said thoughtfully, "it would have been a pity if you had."
"Would you just hand it over?" Buffy gritted her teeth.
Spike considered. "What...not even a please?"
"Give me that, you...you Norman Bates!"
"Ooohhh, rather rude, aren't we, pet? I think you should consider the error of your ways." Spike settled back on the deck chair.
Buffy's eyes narrowed dangerously. "If you don't hand over those clothes, I'll...I'll..."
"Yes, pet?" Spike asked encouragingly.
"I swear I'll stake you the first chance I get!"
"Why Buffy, I'm hurt," Spike said sadly. "Threats...when our relationship
was developing so well?"
He got to his feet, head bowed in sorrow...and headed for the door,
scooping up her things on the way.
"Spike!" Buffy's voice was an outraged wail. "Where do you think you're going?"
"Why, Slayer, you don't seem to like having me around," Spike explained, plaintively. "Don't want to stay where I'm not wanted."
"No...you can't!" Buffy gasped. "You're not leaving me here...like this?"
Spike struggled to keep a straight face. He hadn't had such fun in years. "Pet, I didn't know you cared," he said wickedly. "Well...if you were to ask...very nicely..."
"Spike," Buffy wailed, "I'm freezing."
Spike chuckled. "Then, I wouldn't stay in that water any longer, love."
Buffy took a deep breath and tried to hold on to her temper. "Will you please hand me my clothes?"
"That's better." Spike took a step toward her- then paused. "And- I'm sure you regret threatening me with a stake?"
Buffy swallowed, then nodded.
"Maybe...you should apologize," he suggested.
Buffy's teeth were beginning to chatter. "Okay...I...apologize! Now, give me those clothes."
Spike shook his head regretfully. "You don't really sound very sorry, pet. Perhaps you should prove it? I was thinking...it's been years since I had a good backrub..."
Buffy stared at him in stunned disbelief.
"Are...you...seriously...suggesting I give you a backrub?"
"It would be nice," Spike sighed.
"Get Drusilla to rub your back, you..."
"Say no more, pet." Spike turned toward the door again. "Enjoy your swim."
"Stop!" Buffy looked nearly blue with cold. For a moment Spike nearly relented.
Then he was shocked to hear her say, "Fine. I'll do it."
"That's better, love." He dropped the clothes on the chair- then turned his back. Quick as a flash, evidently fearing he'd change his mind, Buffy streaked from the pool and fumbled frantically into her robe, her numbed fingers barely able to manage buttons and snaps. In seconds she was ready and stalking toward the door. Still chuckling, Spike followed her.
"My backrub," he reminded her as she unlocked her cabin.
"Give me fifteen minutes," she snapped.
In his own room, Spike collapsed with laughter. Then he noticed Drusilla was stirring slightly. He held the bottle to her lips and watched while she drank. She settled back into her dark oblivion. Spike felt a twinge of guilt. She never travelled well- but still, he forced himself to ask whether he was deliberately drugging Dru, so that he'd be free to spend more time with the Slayer.
Surely not! But then- why did he feel a little thrill of anticipation when he knocked on her door?
Buffy had showered and changed; her hair was still damp. He grinned at her; it was such fun to tease the Slayer.
"Here all right, love?" he stretched out on her bed.
"Oh, all right!" Buffy capitulated. "But I wish..."
"What, pet?"
"I wish I didn't always keep my promises," Buffy admitted.
Spike propped himself on one elbow to look at her sympathetically. "Me too. It would sometimes be convenient not to. Well...shall we get to it?"
Buffy raised one eyebrow. "Aren't you going to take off your shirt?"
Spike hesitated; caught the sarcastic expression on her face, and unbuttoned the shirt. He tossed it aside; and lowered himself back onto the bed. "Anything to please, Slayer, " he said, clenching his jaw.
Buffy gasped at the sight of the scars on his back. "What happened to you?"
His whole body tensed; but his voice remained even. "New to you, Slayer? That is the result of a flogging in an English prison. Outlawed now, of course. Nice souvenir, hmmm?"
She said nothing- then, with a touch as cool and gentle as a snowflake, she began rubbing his shoulders.
Spike felt himself relaxing; the feeling as so good...but the questions hun in the air between them.
At last he said, "Aren't you going to ask me why I was in prison?"
"Yes. But I was trying to think of a tactful way."
He gave a short, harsh grunt of bitter amusement. "Oh Slayer...I don't think tact is your strong suit. I killed a man."
He was sure her next question would be "Why?" but instead she asked, "Who was he?"
"His name was Malcolm Hale; he was my stepfather."
Memories flooded back; he never opened that particular door anymore. But some impulse made him continue.
"My mother was...well, very pretty and very...fond of men. One of the men she was fond of was Lord Rothmere; so that resulted in me. He married her off to a chandler in North London...and that resulted in my sister, Elizabeth. I called her Lizzie.
The chandler was a bit feckless; but not a bad old stick- happy enough when he was in gin. He didn't take much notice of us. My mother, I think, hated us both...me because My birth had ended her liaison with Lord Rothmere; and Lizzie because she was so beautiful.
Lizzie and I were very close...I swore I would always look after her. But then...when I was eighteen, the chandler died. And my mother married her current lover, Hale."
So intent on his story...he didn't notice the tremor in his body. Buffy did; but her hands kept stroking his tense muscles.
"My life changed...Lord Rothmere's steward turned up and arranged for me to go to Oxford. I was a clever boy; and the opportunity seemed...a gift from heaven."
He turned his head to look at her. "Have you ever been to Oxford, Slayer?"
Wordlessly she shook her head.
"It's beautiful," he said tonelessly. "I've been so many places- but never one I loved the way I loved Oxford. It hasn't changed much- more traffic, that's all. It's still...so beautiful."
For a moment he said no more- lost in his memories. Then...
"I was worried about leaving Lizzie; but she wrote often and seemed happy enough; and I...well, for the first time in my life I felt I belonged somewhere. I was a bit lonely...but there were the letters from Lizzie. And then- suddenly...the letters changed."
He paused; and Buffy knew instinctively he was coming to the part off his story that was hardest for him to deal with.
"I told myself there was nothing really wrong...until the letters stopped coming entirely. I was frantic...I couldn't get leave to go to London, but I left anyway....by then Lizzie had been missing for nine days! Nine days...and my mother had done nothing. NOTHING!"
He clenched his hands, fighting for control.
Buffy said softly, "You'd better tell me the rest, Spike. Did you...ever find Lizzie?"
Spike's voice was harsh with remembered pain. "I found her...in some filthy hovel in the worst part of London. I got her to a doctor, but it was too late. She was...pregnant, and she'd tried to...rid herself of it."
Her hands tightened on his shoulders. "I'm sorry."
He didn't seem to hear her. "It was Hale, of course. He'd raped her, ne night when he was drunk. She was...too ashamed to tell me..." he looked at Buffy through tortured eyes.
"That night...I killed Hale," he said flatly. "I beat him to death with my bare hands."
"So...you went to prison," she said quietly.
Spike shrugged. "It seemed at first I'd hang; but there was his lordship...so I was transported instead. I spent four yeas in a penal colony; and every day I thought about Hale and wished I hadn't killed him so quickly. Finally I escaped.. for a whole year I managed to stay just ahead of the law...until one night in Sydney. It was then that I..."
"What?" she probed.
" I met a vampire, of course." Spike's voice was surprisingly bitter. "I was cornered in an alleyway- no way out...then I saw the bodies....and Angel came walking toward me."
He drew in his breath sharply; and looked at her in amazement. "Why did I tell you about that? I...never told anyone...before."
With a quick gesture he caught hold of her hair, forcing her head back.
"If you ever tell anyone..."
"I won't," she said quietly.
"I'll kill you," he finished, ignoring her promise.
She met his hard stare; and merely nodded. She never knew what impulse moved her then.....but she suddenly reached out for Spike, pulling his head against her shoulder.
For an endless moment his body was completely rigid- and then the tension left him, and he began to cry. His arms closed tightly around her and he strained her to him- and she felt her own tears spill over.
She held him until his tears stopped...until he raised his head to look at her. And then, his eyes were devouring her face as she fearlessly lifted her mouth to his.
The kiss was shocking- shattering to both of them.
He lingered..his mouth on hers hungrily...then, with a viloent wrench, he tore himself away from her. He stood there, staring into her tear-stained face...fighting the urge to hold her again.
He bolted for the door.
All day long Spike lay beside Drusilla, forcing himself to hold and caress her. She was as unresponsive as one of her own dolls.
He knew when the ship docked; knew when the sun slipped beneath the horizen. Carefully he arranged Drusilla in the padded box in which she travelled.
A knock at the door admitted the Slayer; with a crewman bribed to help. The hired car was ready and waiting...he placed Dru's box in the trunk and slammed it shut.
"Drop me off in Piccadilly Circus," the Slayer suggested.
Spike thought she sounded a bit subdued; but her face was a mask and revealed nothing. Neither of them mentioned the kiss...
Suddenly he couldn't bear to see the last of her.
"Slayer," he nerved himself to say, "I could...show you around. Show you London, from a native viewpoint."
Buffy shook her head. "Bad idea, Spike. When we teamed up, ...that was a necessity. When we became shipmates...that was a...convenience. But- if you take me sight-seeing, well...that's a...date."
He had to stop in traffic; she smiled at him, opened the door...and stepped out into the street. He watched as she walked away...the traffic started moving...
And then- he saw that she'd left his credit card on the seat.
With a sudden wrench, he pulled the wheel over hard; and left the car half-straddling the curb.
"Buffy!" he shouted. She was almost out of sight...just turning the corner.
He ran after her.
He rounded the corner and stopped...there was no sign of the Slayer.
He glanced around wildly. "Buffy?"
Nothing. "Buffy...if you can hear me...don't leave. Please...I need you."
"Need me?" Her voice came from above...she swung down lightly from the window ledge above his head. "You tried to kill me!"
"It's what I'm supposed to do," he retorted, "remember?"
"And- you sent the Order of Terraka after me!" she continued.
"Well- you pulled a church organ down on me! Put me in a bloody wheelchair...if we're holding grudges!"
Both Spike and Buffy were oblivious to the small crowd of interested spectators they'd collected.
"You... almost got me expelled from school," Buffy accused.
"Well, your mother hit me with an axe!" Spike yelled.
A stout man in a corduroy cap nudged his wife. "Mother-in-law trouble....always the way, in'it?"
A red-haired young woman touched Buffy's arm sympathetically. "You know, love, they're all like that," she said earnestly. "And...he is cute; I don't wonder you fancy him. Why not forgive and forget?"
"Well." Buffy looked Spike up and down. "Maybe you're right...after all, it's nothing we can't work out."
"That's the spirit," the stout man said approvingly. "Give 'er a kiss, mate; you'll both feel a lot better."
Spike stared at the crowd. "Uh..."
Buffy smiled sweetly. "He's shy."
She took his arm. "What shall we do about Drusilla?"
"I don't know, " Spike admitted, "but I'll tell her...God! I forgot...I left her in the trunk!"
He grabbed Buffy's hand and they started running back to the car...just as the tow truck hauled it off down the street.
"Damn!" Spike exploded. "Now what?"
"Now it'll cost you a bundle to get it back," Buffy said philosophically. "I'll get it in the morning."
Spike picked her up and kissed her hard.
"I don't know yet what'll happen," he said, still holding on to her. "I'll have to tell Dru...I owe her that. And...we...we still are a vampire and a Slayer, you know."
Buffy smiled; and kissed him back. "Like I said before...nothing we can't work out."
Spike grinned at her. "C'mon, love, " he said happily, "and I'll show you London."
The End