Author's Notes: This is just something my sick twisted mind came up with, i think i need therapy.
Thanks to jack and mary for pushing me to finish.
Major thanks to spikeslovebite who beta'd for me...poor thing probably felt faint after that...lol...Thanks Tam!!!
This fic is a 
It Happened One Summer’s Eve
A Few Months Prior
“This way children. Stay together.” Keeping the hyperactive kids all in one group was more than the office assistant could handle, but the girl who usually gave the tours for the schools was out sick, so Kathy was assigned her first tour group; the 5th grade class from St. Mary’s Catholic School. “SmithKline Beecham is one of the leading researchers for medications to fight against disease and illness. We manufacture many things which include new prescription medications and over the counter remedies, like what your parents might buy if you have a fever or cold.”
“What’s that?” the boy in the blue shirt asked pointing toward the area she was currently trying to steer them clear of.
“We’re not going in that area today sweetie. Let’s go over here,” she urged, motioning for the group to follow.
“But what is it?” The boy began to insist on an answer, getting several of the children to join in his demands.
Kathy began to feel uncomfortable, searching for help in the faces of the groups’ adult trip supervisors, blushing furiously when she spotted a priest in the back of the group.
“Um, that is the section where we make feminine products,” she stammered, her face reddening.
“What’s that mean? Femin-in-ine?” the little boy in the front asked. Several parents and adults began to snicker, although none stepped up to help her end the discussion.
“Feminine. It means for girls to use. Let’s move along, shall we?” Desperate to get out of the area, she practically pushed the boy along with her, moving down the aisle.
“But what’s the big tank for?” the boy asked, refusing to give up his line of questioning.
Sighing softly, she answered him, “That’s a water tank, to make sure the water is purified before it goes into making anything. “
“You mean like Father Michael does? He blesses the water and makes it holy.” The little girl in the pink shirt and pigtails stated, looking proud of herself.
“Yes, sort of like that,” Kathy said, grateful to have the group moving again.
Father Michael and Mrs. Robinson followed behind the group, pausing as they passed the huge water tank. “You know it would be much more convenient to bless the water in bulk like that,” the priest stated chuckling slightly as he softly recited the prayer for blessing the water.
Grinning widely beside him, Mrs. Robinson replied, “I’m sure millions of women across America thank you, Father.” Both were laughing heartily as they rejoined the group.
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Present Day Sunnydale
“This conversation is over! It’s done, just leave it alone and go back home,” she yelled, the anger coloring her tone would have been enough to cower even the most foolhardy demon. Except this one.
“I’m just looking for answers, Buffy. Xander calls and tells me Riley’s taken off, Spike chained you in his crypt and offered to either stake Dru or feed you to her. Yet, you’re still alive and they’re both still not dusted, so excuse me for wanting to know what the hell is going on!” Angel screamed back, his anger building to match hers.
“It’s none of your business, you left remember? You no longer have any rights to question anything in my life!” Turning to walk away, Buffy found her path blocked by the large vampire.
“Get out of my way, Angel,” the blonde forced through clenched teeth with fire flashing in her eyes as she shoved her way past him.
Trying to get Buffy to see reason was harder than fighting a Fyarl demon sometimes. “Look lets just go stake Spike, then we can go to the Espresso Pump, get some coffee, and talk this out like reasonable people.”
Closing her eyes briefly she prayed for the power to get through this conversation without stakage. “Angel, don’t you think that if I wanted Spike dusted, I would do it myself? He made a mistake, no one was hurt…well except him, and it’s over and done. Leave. It. Alone.” With what she thought was a final note; she turned to go once more.
“So this is the way that you’re going to handle this, just ignore me until I go away? That’s very mature, Buffy. I can see why chaining you up in a crypt looked like a good option.” Not seeing the fist flying toward his face until it was too late, all the brunette could do was not yell out in pain as he went down.
“Fine, you wanna do this? Let’s share. How’s Darla? I heard she’s well and snacking on lawyers these days.” Her head tilted slightly in a familiar imitation of a bleached blond vamp.
“How do you know that? Have you been spying on me?” his incredulous tone was almost amusing, and she would have laughed if she hadn’t been so pissed.
“Oh, please, that’s more your style, isn’t it? Lurking around and spying on little girls? Waiting to swoop in and be the big dashing hero. You think the demons don’t gossip? It’s all they can talk about down at Willie’s, and then I get to see the evidence all over Dru’s face…literally. Gotten to be quite the little pyro haven’t you? ”
“What? You suddenly care about Darla and Dru? Maybe you can open a little halfway house, ‘Buffy’s Home for Wayward Vamps’. Hell, Spike could be your first patron; they don’t get more wayward than that. And those lawyers were evil, Buffy. They spend more time trying to spread death and corruption than you can ever imagine. They were the ones that had Darla re-vamped. Anything they got, they deserved.”
“So, that gives you the right to act as their judge, jury, and leave your family to be the executioners. Very nice, Angel; the powers must be so proud of their champion,” she spat, eyes rolling at the man she once thought of as the love of her life. It seemed they had both grown and changed in ways they hadn’t thought possible while away from each other.
She stood for a moment, waiting for the pain to set in at that thought, but it didn’t come. She watched him pacing back and forth, muttering to himself, trying to work out an argument that he thought would get through to her. Suddenly it all seemed like such a total waste of time and energy and she turned and walked away.
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She just didn’t understand but how could she? She hadn’t seen the things he’s seen, dealt with the things he had to endure, and had no clue of his pain. Pacing seemed to help collect his thoughts. He had to find a way to make her understand. He didn’t want to do the things he had done, the situation just got out of control. It’s not like he brought Darla back. Hello? Evil lawyers at work, and how did the accusations come back to him? He was the one looking for answers. Riley getting bitten and taking off; Spike’s newest unhealthy obsession. These were the questions that was supposed to be answered, his life wasn’t supposed to come into the conversation.
Turning back to face her and demand the answers he wanted, he was stunned to find her several blocks away just stepping into her front yard. Damn it! When had she left? The Buffy he knew would never have walked away from him while he was trying to talk to her. The Buffy he knew would have been ecstatic to see him, welcome him with a kiss and hug, desperate to unload her troubles onto him, allow him to sooth and comfort her.
Things had been different the last time he visited, though. She was more distant, less welcoming. Although he had put it down to the new boyfriend at the time, seems that whatever the change was, it had stuck. Oh, well, he would stick around for a while, spend some quality time with her and she would be back to the old Buffy in no time at all. He just had to get her to listen to reason. They could go stake Spike together, she could cry on his shoulder about Riley, and then they could move past all this foolishness.
He moved quickly down the street in an effort to catch her before she entered the house. He had no desire to have a confrontation with Joyce as well as her stubborn daughter. Luck was not with him as he heard the door click shut; the noise loud in the quiet of the evening. Looking around, he discovered Joyce’s car gone. He could only hear one heartbeat inside the house as well. Determined that he was going to make Buffy come to her senses before the night was over, he walked back to the front porch. After several tries ringing the door bell, as well as repeated knocking, his anger renewed. He reached for the doorknob, giving a sharp twist and hearing the lock break with the rough handling. Quickly, he moved toward the stairs and the sound of running water.
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“Stupid…jerky…uh…vampire!” How dare he, come back in her town and try to tell her what to do about her vampire. He had two of his own back in L.A. he should be worrying about instead of trying to stake the one with a chip, the one harmless to humans. His vampires didn’t have chips. No, they ran around eating people…apparently with a new craving for lawyer.
She moved around the bathroom started the water running for a hot bath, gathering towels and bubble bath as she went. “I bet Spike would never eat a lawyer. He would probably be all, ‘No love, I never had a taste for lawyers, they tend to be a bit stringy, get stuck in my teeth and their blood always runs just a little colder,’” she imitated badly. “Ugh! Listen to me; he’s got me so mad I’m thinking in Spike-isms.”
It had been such a bad week. Things had just continued to get worse since the incident in the crypt. Spike had backed off a bit, thankfully, although she could still sense him in the shadows while she patrolled. Actually, that part was kind of comforting. He had been watching her back since before he had revealed his feelings. If she hadn’t been so busy living in denial, she would have had to acknowledge the truth long ago. He followed her, stole her slays, and well…made a general nuisance of himself because he cared and wanted to be near her. It was almost sweet in a creepy kind of way.
She had ruined her new boots slaying a really gross slime demon that just had to fall her way when he went down after she cut off his head. Her mom and Dawn had gone out of town to visit her aunt over the weekend and of course she couldn’t go. Oh, no, couldn’t risk leaving the hellmouth unguarded. She had tried cooking the night before and had ruined one of her moms’ favorite pans in the process, which would probably come out of her allowance, and that meant she wouldn’t be able to replace the ruined boots. Slaying was a vicious circle.
Running into Angel tonight had just been the icing on the cake. She had just finished her period the day before, was still not feeling all that peachy, and of course not so fresh. She didn’t even want to think about vamps and the enhanced smelling. Maybe that was why Angel was acting more erratic than usual and being not a little scary in his obsession with Spikes newly announced affections. She didn’t want him to have more temptation than was necessary, so she reached under the sink for the box labeled ‘Massengill’ and placed it on the counter.
Vowing to take a relaxing bath, get a good night sleep, and deal with Angel in the morning, she started to undress. Reaching for the box on the counter she opened it and removed one of the bottles, taking off the plastic and tossing it in the trash as she moved across the room.
Suddenly the door flew open, shocked and startled, Buffy whirled around to face the intruder. Pointing the bottle at her unknown attacker, she held the bottle like a weapon, squeezing it tight until it exploded over the dark haired vamp standing in the doorway. She clutched at her chest trying to calm her heart rate, only to watch in horror as her former lover began to smoke, his eyes wide and questioning.
“I only wanted you to be reasonable, Buffy,” Angel gasped as he began to disintegrate, leaving only a faint burnt smell and a small pile of ashes in the middle of the bathroom doorway. Not knowing how long she stood staring at the ashes, Buffy finally snapped out of her daze enough to gather her clothes back up and redress.
She ran to her room and grabbed a small tin before returning to the scene of Angel’s demise. Taking the broom and dust pan from the small linen closet, she began to gather his ashes. She tried to block from her mind who she was sweeping up and placing in the tin. Her grandmother had sent it to her for Christmas, filled with cutout sugar cookies, and she really hoped that she had remember to clean the crumbs out after it was emptied.
With the lid snapped shut, she bolted out the door and down the stairs, not knowing where she was running to, just that she couldn’t stay in the house any longer. She ran, clutching the tin to her chest, tears running down her face. She slowed when she felt the familiar tingles of her newest bleached blond admirer. She whirled in several directions trying to get a fix on his exact location, before he finally stepped out of the shadows and into the dim glow from the distant streetlight.
“What’s with the tears, love? Heard you and the poofter arguing earlier, but I didn’t think it warranted this kind of angst.” As he moved closer she held out the container, trying to communicate in actions what her mouth could still not express. “What’s in the biscuit tin, love? Your mum made cookies, or was it you and you’re wanting to test them out on someone who won’t actually die from your cooking?” the vampire teased, hoping for a break in the waterworks currently streaming down the slayers flushed cheeks.
Still unable to respond, Buffy shook her head wildly and held out the container once again. Taking the container gingerly he paused before opening it. “Nothing’s gonna jump out and bite me right? No springing stakes or exploding bottles of holy water?” he asked, his smirk fading as she began to cry harder and cover her mouth with her hands, shoulders shaking from the force of the sobbing. “Don’t cry, love. Look, I’m opening it. Just gonna take a peek and see what the fuss is all about.”
Once the container was open, his confusion just seemed to grow. The slayer was crying over a little dirt? Wait, no, not dirt. Vamp dust. She was crying over vamp dust. He recalled the argument he had overheard in the street earlier, when both parties were too consumed in their own anger to notice he was in the vicinity. Remembering the warm feeling he got from hearing the slayer call him ‘her vampire’.
Looking down at the round tin, things started to click into place. “You staked the poof?” his eyes widened as his face took on a look of disbelief and not just a little shock. “No, you didn’t stake the poof?” At her negative shake of her head. “Then how did he end up in the nice little compact canister? It’s very cute by the way, what with the little flowers and butterflies on it.”
The crying was becoming more of a hiccupping sob as she tried to calm down enough to tell her tale. “We were...fighting….and he wanted…dusting…and Dru…and-and Darla…and the…lawyers…and biting Riley.” The weeping was building once again and he knew if he didn’t distract her soon, he would never get the whole story.
“Angel wanted to bite Riley?” he asked, barely suppressing a smirk as he saw her eyes flare with irritation. One thing he did know about his slayer was how to rile her up.
“No, you idiot! He wanted to stake you!” she blurted out, not realizing her annoyance had ceased most of the crying. “We were fighting…and I walked off…I went home to take a hot bath. He followed me, but I was already in the house. I…I just ignored him when he rang…the doorbell, and then he pounded on the door…but I didn’t feel like dealing with him…I figured he would just leave. I went upstairs and got ready…for my bath. Spike, are you listening?” as she watched his eyes glaze over at images she was unknowingly creating in his mind.
“Oh, sorry, slayer, please go on,” he stated trying to focus on anything except the vision of Buffy striping down to nothing, running her hand sensuously over the bath water, testing it for temperature. Shaking his head to clear his mind, he was determined not to screw this up. The slayer needed him right now and he was resolved to be exactly what she needed. Then he could go home and have a real good laugh and a toast over the dusting of the poncy bugger.
“Well, I was in the bathroom, and I was getting ready to…um, well…do girly stuff. You know, like girls do.” At his raised eyebrow she stopped the question she could see he was getting ready to ask. “Just trust me; it was girly stuff. Okay, Spike?”
“Fine, slayer, don’t get your knickers in a twist, just trying to get the facts. Go on, then. Finish your tale of woe.”
“So, I was in the bathroom holding this bottle-,” she started but was soon interrupted.
“What kind of bottle?”
“It was just a bottle! Do you want to hear this or not?” Buffy sighed loudly, knowing she couldn’t keep it a secret forever if she was going to figure out what the hell actually happened. Snatching the ashes back from him, she took several calming breaths, trying to figure out how to say what needed to be said. Damn it, this situation was going from horrendous to catastrophic.
She glanced away, knowing if she was looking at him she would never get it all out. “Okay, so, he burst in the room, and I screamed and squeezed the bottle and it exploded all over him and he started to smoke and then he just dusted,” she finished quickly, taking a deep breath after her long confession. She waited a few moments for his response, looking up at him when none came. “Well?”
“Well, love. The first thing I want to say is; remind me never to sneak up on you while your doing ‘girly things’. Second, what were you doing with holy water in the bathroom, because that’s the only thing that could cause the type of reaction you’re talking about?
“But that’s just it, it wasn’t holy water!” she yelled in frustration.
“Then what was it, Buffy? It sure as bloody hell wasn’t soda pop!” the vampire growled back.
Whimpering slightly, she decided there was no way she was going to be able to get out of this without telling him what it was he wanted to know. Mumbling under her breath she confessed the truth.
“What was that, love?” he asked, leaning forward, straining to her what she said only to encounter more mumbling. “Still didn’t catch it, you were holding a what?”
“A douche, I was holding a douche alright!” she screamed; face flaming red when she realized what she had done. “Oh, God,” she whispered, hiding her face behind her hands awkwardly, while still holding the tin.
“Bloody hell!” The vampire stumbled backward until he hit a tombstone, plopping down without his usual grace. “A douche? The ponce got dusted by a bloody douche?”
Suddenly the laughter bubbled up until he could no longer contain it. The hilarity of the situation was unlike anything he had come across before. His whole body was shaking from the chuckles. He fell off the grave marker onto his back with his legs sticking straight up in the air, resting against the stone, and still he laughed, only stopping when he heard Buffy’s sniffle that alerted him that the tears had begun again.
“Oh, love, don’t’ cry. I’m sorry. I’m a right bugger I am,” he said, scrambling to get up from the ground. “Come on, we’ll work this out. There’s got to be an explanation. We’ll find it, or at least you and the scoobies will, that’s what you lot do, solve the mysteries and take down the bad guy. You did it to me enough times, I should know.”
“It’s just all so screwed up. I mean; who would make a douche out of holy water, or bless a douche? It’s sick!” she cried, burying her face in his duster.
Cautiously he placed his arms around her, patting her on the back in awkward comfort. “There, there, Slayer. We’ll take the rest of the …um…evidence to Red and see if she can find any other explanation for this.” Spike cringed slightly when she lifted her head to reveal the mess his beloved duster had become though her tear fest. “Come on, Slayer, do you want me to walk you home?”
“No! I mean, I don’t want to go back there just yet. I feel like I need to do something, I don’t want to leave his ashes in a cookie tin. It seems to disrespectful. I think I’d like to go somewhere…somewhere nice, to scatter the ashes. Does that sound too corny?”
“Nah, love, it’s not corny at all. I think I might know the perfect place, a little seaside cove not far from here. The Desoto’s down the block, I can drive you if you’d like.” He moved away slightly waiting for the refusal that he knew was coming; she would never allow him to intrude on what she must look at as her last minutes with the grand poofter.
The words, “That would be very nice of you, Spike. Thank you.” shocked him to the core and he almost stumbled before catching himself and recovering his bravado.
“Yeah, well…don’t spread that around too much, you could ruin a bloke’s reputation,” he smirked, leading her out of the cemetery. His grin widened when he saw her mouth tilt upward in the beginnings of a smile. He was determined by the end of the night he would be a full fledged smile out of her.
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Pointy Cove
Stepping out of the vehicle that had definitely seen better days, she breathed a sigh of relief. She was sure that if she had actually been able to see where they were going, she would have fainted at his driving skills- or lack thereof- long before they had reached they’re destination. Looking around and spotting the sign by the road, she turned back to her companion. “Pointy Cove seems appropriate, live by the point, and die by the point…or in this cause a hygiene product.” Her face fell as she was faced with the events of the night once more.
Spike had dropped down into the passenger side seat with the door hanging open, after helping her from the monstrosity he called a car. She could hear the distant noise of radio stations as he flipped channels searching the signals for something…well, she wasn’t sure what. Turning back when she heard him stop at one song and turn the volume up, raising an eyebrow at his selection.
“What? It’s bloody appropriate if you ask me.” The song carried in the wind, and seemed to echo in the small inlet.
“I guess you’re right. Um, I’m just going to go over here, and um…say goodbye, I guess,” her voice was barely a whisper.
“Take all the time you need, love. The wind is just right. Whenever you’re ready he should sail into the sky like a bird. He would like that, poncy bugger that he was. Flying above us all like the angel he was supposed to be,” he assured her, kicking the dirt beneath his feet as he fidgeted in discomfort from speaking before thinking it out first. The bloody awful poet always seemed to come out at the most inopportune times.
“That was really nice, Spike. Much better than what I was going to say. Kind of makes the whole ‘ashes to ashes, dust to dust’ thing seem kind of lame,” she stated blushing lightly.
Spike shrugged apologetically. “You can use it if you want, just don’t tell anyone I said anything nice about, peaches. Everyone would think I’m going soft or something. I’ll just give you a little privacy,” as he moved back toward the Desoto.
“I seem to be saying this a lot tonight, but thank you, Spike.” Turning quickly she moved toward the water. She could still hear the song playing softly in the background.
All we do crumbles to the ground though we refuse to see
Dust in the wind, all they are is dust in the wind.
Yes, she supposed it was appropriate. Quietly saying her goodbyes, she felt the tears sliding down her cheeks once more. She had always thought he would be around forever. It was a hard lesson to learn that sometimes forever wasn’t always in the cards and the best you could hope for are lots of good times in between the bad, and cherish the memories. That’s all she would have of him now, the memories, but with her family and friends, even ones that she hadn’t counted until tonight, she would go on to make other memories, new good times. Life would go on. Opening the container she tossed the contents in the air, watching in fascination as the wind seemed to grab hold of them, raising them higher in the air, the ashes swirling. It was like Spike said, flying in the air like an angel.
Slowly moving back toward the car, she saw him stand, waiting for her to join him. “All done, love?” he asked, his concern shining bright in his eyes.
‘Yes, sometimes all you have are the moments, and you have to hold onto them for as long as they last,’ she thought. Nodding, she placed her hand in his as he assisted her into the passenger seat. “Yes, let’s go home, Spike.”
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Magic Box the next night
Willow’s face was just as red as Buffy’s by the time she hung up the phone with the LA group. “Well, they’re all really shocked and upset. It seems Angel fired them all recently and they hadn’t had any contact with him in a while, so they had no idea he was even here.”
“Great. Just great. Not only did we have to tell them I accidentally killed their ex-boss, we had to tell them how it happened. Can this night get any worse…or more embarrassing?” Buffy tossed the tissue that she had used to dry her face to join the pile covering the center of the table. Dropping her head into her hands, she exhaled loudly. “I need to go slay something, let off all this tension. Where did Spike go? He said he would patrol with me for a few days until I get my head right again.”
Xander stood quickly moving toward the training room door. “He went out back to smoke. I’ll get him, Buffster. You just relax for a few more minutes.”
Exiting the back door of the Magic Box, he found the blond vamp sitting on the large crates behind the building. “Buffy’s ready to go patrolling, Spike.”
“About bloody time. Did they get things squared away with Angel’s bunch?” he asked as he finished of his cigarette.
“Yeah, all squared away.” Xander shuffled his feet, looking as though he wanted to continue. Spike watched silently, knowing eventually the boy would blurt out what he wanted to say. “So…Angel got douched, huh?” his face breaking into an amused grin.
Spike couldn’t hold back the chuckle that escaped. Truth be told, he was sure he would have lost it long before now if he hadn’t been aware of just how much it would hurt the Slayers feelings. “Yeah, should have seen it coming. A man that uses that much hair gel wouldn’t get killed by normal means.” Both men broke into hysterical laughter as the door to training room opened.
Buffy leaned out and called softly, “Spike, are you ready to go?”
“Yeah, pet, be right there.” Noticing the dark circles under her eyes, he moved to pick up his cigarettes off the crate and follow her as she started back into the main shop.
“You realize I still don’t like you, right?” the younger man asked as he trailed behind Spike through the doorway.
“Sure thing, Harris. Still don’t like you either,” the vampire replied with a smirk.
“But we can still laugh about this together, right? Mutual hate notwithstanding,” Xander asked looking concerned.
“You bet your arse we can.” Spike slapped the carpenter on the back as he closed the door behind them.
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and that's it...the end of this insane bunny....hope you enjoyed...now give me some lovin'....rofl
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