Chapter 11: Revenge of the Nerds

 

"...The fog is so thick/I can't see my hands/It got much worse/Soon as I got in/And I know you're somewhere/Here in the water/It's ten feet deep/And the river won't stop/I'll tell you what's in it/When I make it across/You could make it too/If you let someone help you/But you gotta give in/And you gotta let go/Then you can begin/To come up slow/Like a desert rose..." ~The Wallflowers, "How Good It Can Get"

 

Buffy recognized the van immediately. "That's it right there."

Xander raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. Let's go."

"Buffy, wait a minute. What are we going to do if these guys are human?" Xander's voice betrayed his doubt. "It's not like you can kill them."

"I can beat them up," Buffy replied.

Xander thought about trying to talk her out of it and then decided that it was a losing battle. He was better off just following her lead. If Buffy got too out of hand, Xander was fairly sure he'd be able to talk her down.

He was almost positive.

Buffy marched right up to the front door and knocked. A pleasant-looking woman opened the door, and Xander quickly hid the tranq gun behind his back. "May I help you?"

"I'm looking for the guys that own the van parked outside," Buffy said, trying for a smile that would put the woman at ease. "It backed into my car, and—"

The woman frowned. "That Warren!"

Buffy blinked, suddenly realizing why the house looked so familiar. She had been here before when she was chasing down Warren Mears over the girlfriend-bot. "Warren Mears?"

"You know Warren?" the woman asked, obviously wondering why Buffy wouldn't have known that it was Warren's house or Warren's van.

Buffy smiled. "We met at a party last year. It's been a long time."

"Oh, okay," she replied. "Do you want to see him? I think he's in the basement with his friends."

"That would be great," Buffy replied. "I really appreciate it."

Mrs. Mears gave Xander a doubtful look. "I can show both of you down there. Or there's the other entrance."

"Why don't we use that one?" Buffy suggested. "I'm sure Warren won't mind."

She directed them around to the side of the house, and they both took off into the darkness. "Do you think they know we're coming?"

"I don't know," Buffy said grimly. "I wouldn't put it past Warren, that little sleaze. I should have brought Spike with me."

Xander looked hurt. "Why Spike?"

"Because Spike can threaten to eat them," Buffy replied with a wry grin. "I don't think that threat would carry the same weight coming from you."

Xander winced. "Probably not."

Buffy opened the cellar door with a well-placed kick, knowing that the sound would probably carry to Mrs. Mears. Hopefully the woman would ignore the noise. "Honey, I'm home."

Silence met her, and she clattered down the steps, Xander right behind her, the tranq gun held at the ready. "I know you're still here," Buffy said. "And I know what you've been up to. If you turn yourselves in, I might be persuaded not to hurt you. A lot."

Someone hit Xander from behind, but he'd been thrown around by demons. Xander might not be the toughest guy around, but he could take a hit. It was pure reflex that had him slamming the butt of the gun into the chest of the thing behind him. He heard a very human, "Ooof!" and then a thud.

"Buffy!"

"I've got it," she replied. Buffy had fought invisible assailants before. When Tara had done her blinding spell last year, she'd fought Lei-ach demons she couldn't see. Of course, that time Spike had been there yelling directions at her.

And Tara had withdrawn her spell before anyone got hurt.

Buffy had a feeling that not even Spike would be able to see these guys. It seemed they'd used their invisibility ray on themselves.

Lucky for her that they were rather inept, even when they had the visual advantage.

She could feel one of them make a grab for her arm from behind, and Buffy gave him a sharp elbow in what she hoped was his face. The crack and yelp of pain told her that she was right on the mark, and her knee found a soft target in front of her.

A grim smile grew on her face as she realized exactly what she'd hit, and Buffy reached out and grabbed for the guy in front of her. Once she figured out that she had the back of his shirt, it was easy to yank him up and lock an arm around his throat. "Okay, who am I talking to?"

"Warren." The name was gasped, rather than spoken, and Buffy eased her grip slightly. It was hard to tell how tightly she was holding him. "Warren," he repeated, a little more clearly.

"Tell your friends to back off."

"I don't—" She tightened her grip just a little. "Back off!"

"Good. I see that you might actually be reasonable. Now I want to see you guys. Make it happen."

There was the sound of scuffling, and then someone picked up the object Buffy recognized as the ray gun she'd seen them holding in the alley. The first to appear was Jonathan, and her eyes narrowed. "Jonathan."

Jonathan gulped when he realized he'd been recognized, and another boy who Buffy couldn't identify quickly reappeared. "And you would be?"

"Andrew Wells," the boy said. Then, when no one seemed to be familiar with him, he muttered. "Tucker's brother."

Buffy sighed. "Right." She released her hostage and gave him a shove. "Last one."

When all three of them were visible, she stared at them, hands on her hips. "What the hell am I supposed to do with you? And what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Warren pulled himself up straight. "We're your arch nemesis-es."

"Okay, that's lame," Xander put in. "We've had nemeses, and you don't fit the bill."

"We're evil masterminds!" Andrew insisted. "We're going to rule Sunnydale."

"Shut up, nimrod," Jonathan hissed. "Don't tell her that!"

Buffy wasn't in the mood for beating them up now. They were too pathetic for that. At the same time, she couldn't just let them go. Who knows what they'd do next?

"Buffy, look," Xander said, nodding at another weapon lying on a workbench.

She didn't understand what he was pointing at right away, but then she saw the diamond in the small chamber on top of the gun; it looked like the diamond from the museum heist. "What do you know? It looks like I've got all the evidence I need to call the cops."

"No!" Warren said, trying to rush her.

Xander shot him with a tranq before he could grab her, and Warren went down like a ton of bricks. "Does somebody else want to take a shot at the Slayer?"

Andrew and Jonathan shook their heads frantically.

"Where's your phone?" Buffy demanded.

Jonathan handed over a cell phone without a word. She dialed 911 and waited for the operator's voice. "Yes, I have information on the robbery at the museum."

~~~~~

It was late when Buffy finally got home. The police had had questions on how she and Xander had known about the nerds' role in the robbery. Xander and she had managed to throw them off with the same story they'd told Warren's mother. They had come by about a car accident and had seen the diamond.

When the cops had asked Xander about the tranq gun, he'd replied, "Well, you can't be too careful after dark, can you?"

One of the officers had laughed a little at that and let them go.

All in all, it had been a very productive evening. Buffy was a little disappointed that she hadn't been able to beat anyone up, but the nerds were behind bars where they belonged, and her friendship with Xander was back on solid ground.

The whole thing had been kind of—fun.

"How'd it go, luv?" Spike emerged from the darkness of the kitchen, bringing the scent of smoke with him. "Get the bad guys?"

"They are now behind bars," Buffy replied. "So that's one less thing to worry about."

Spike brushed her hair back. "What else are you worrying over? Anything I can clear up for you?"

"Just the usual," she responded. "I think Xander and I are going to be okay, but I'm not so sure about Willow."

Spike ran the back of his hand over her cheek. "Give her time, Buffy. She'll come around eventually."

"You don't know that."

"No, I don't. Wish I did."

"I didn't think you liked my friends."

Spike shrugged. "Not about me, is it?"

Buffy didn't want to think about what those words meant. The depth of feeling they revealed. She knew he loved her, but most of the time she could push that information aside. She could fool herself that what they had was an easy, casual thing.

What she and Spike had wasn't easy, nor could it ever be casual. It was just that she didn't particularly want to think about what it was going to be. Not when it was so good right now.

So Buffy did what she was best at in moment like these. She changed the subject. "How's Dawn?"

Spike's expression told her that he knew she was trying to change the subject, but he let it slide. "She's sleeping."

"What did you guys do?" She started wandering towards the kitchen.

Spike followed her, watching as Buffy rummaged through the refrigerator. "I made dinner, checked over her homework, that's about the end of it."

"You looked over her homework?" Buffy turned to stare at him.

Spike looked off to the side, refusing to meet her eyes. "Yeah, well, dunno how much help I was, but I checked it over."

It hit her again—how little she really knew about Spike. He was such a mystery to her. All angles and hard edges, until he revealed some soft spot. Who would have ever imagined that the same vampire who'd come roaring into Sunnydale would have turned into the guy that made sure a teenage girl didn't go hungry and got her homework done?

Buffy wanted to pull him upstairs, lead him to her bed, and never let him go. She also wanted to run away, for fear that she ended up loving him so much that she lost herself.

There was no way she could go through that again. If she had to kill the man she loved again...

"It's not going to happen."

"What's not going to happen?" Buffy asked, startled out of her thoughts. She didn't think she'd spoken aloud.

"Whatever it is you're thinkin' about," he replied. "I don't know what it is, but it's not going to happen."

A smile touched her lips, if not her eyes. "How did you know?"

"Your face gives it away every time, pet." Spike's fingers passed over the lines in her forehead, around her mouth. "You get that worried look I hate seeing."

Buffy met his eyes. "Promise me that no matter what happens you'll be on my side, Spike. Even if that chip of yours—"

He cut her off with a kiss that was half-angry, half-tender. "If you have to ask me for that, then you don't know me all that well, Slayer."

"I told you that I didn't know you." Buffy stared into her eyes. "Swear to me."

"I swear. You know I'd never do anything to hurt you." Spike's mouth came down over hers again, and suddenly Buffy was frantic to feel him, to have him inside her. It all felt too fragile, too transient. Spike could leave tomorrow. She could be forced to stake him tomorrow because of some weird Hellmouth-y thing.

She wanted him now.

Enough rational thought remained for Buffy to mutter, "Dawn" in Spike's ear. Without breaking contact, Spike spun them both around, steering her towards the back door. His hand left her breast for just long enough to turn the doorknob, and then they were on the porch, fumbling with clothing.

They slammed into the side of the house, both of them at the edge of their control. "Spike!"

"I know, I know," he muttered, not releasing her. Instead, they both stumbled down the steps.

"Dawn can see us from out here."

"Then where?"

"I don't know."

It was Buffy's turn to steer, and she moved them both deeper into the shadows in the backyard. Spike went down, pulling her on top of him. They were both trying to keep quiet, stifling gasps and moans as best they could. The darkness seemed to insulate them from the rest of the world, making everything that much more unreal.

When it was all done, Buffy started snickering.

"I didn't think it was that bad," Spike muttered.

She snorted. "It wasn't bad at all, and you know it. I was just imagining what my mom would say if she found us."

"Probably tell me to get the hell away from her daughter again," Spike replied, amusement in his own voice.

Buffy smiled. "I think she would have come around to us dating eventually."

"Is that what we're doing?"

"What?

"Dating?" Spike raised himself on an elbow. "It's just I never know with us."

Buffy was quiet. "I don't know," she confessed. "It sounds so weird to say. I mean, you're a vampire, and you live in a crypt and you've been around forever."

"I am not that old!" Spike protested, although he didn't sound terribly insulted by the idea.

"You know what I mean," she replied, smacking him on the chest. "It's more that saying we're dating or that you're my boyfriend seems inadequate somehow."

"So it's more than that?"

"It's like comparing apples to oranges," Buffy replied. "Or maybe like comparing chocolate to spinach. Because apples and oranges are both fruit, so I don't know why you couldn't compare them."

Here, in the darkness of her backyard, Buffy could say these sorts of things out loud. If they had been in her house, or at Spike's crypt, she wasn't sure she would have allowed herself to be so honest. They were in between worlds now, though, in between times. At some sort of happy medium where they could co-exist peaceably.

Buffy could just make out Spike's features. He was mostly hidden in shadow, but she could see the glint of his eyes, and the reflection of the moon on his hair. She watched as his face twisted in pain or discomfort, she couldn't be sure.

"I don't know what to do for you," he confessed. "Want to make you happy, luv. I want you—"

He stopped there, but Buffy thought she might know what he'd left unspoken. Spike wanted her to want him, he wanted to know that she wasn't using their relationship as a crutch, that when she was ready to move on, she wouldn't leave him behind.

She wanted to make him a promise. Buffy wanted to reassure him that this wasn't just a passing fancy on her part, that this would be lasting.

And she couldn't say the words. Not because she didn't want to, but because she had no idea how to make a promise like that, not when Buffy still felt as though every day was a battle to be fought. So she gave him what little she could, hoping that it would be enough.

"You do make me happy, Spike."

His smile was wistful, knowing that he would settle for that much when he really wanted so much more.

~~~~~

"You could have let me help, you know," Tara said with some amusement as she looked around Spike's apartment. It wasn't much, but it was better than the crypt. From a human point of view, anyway.

Spike shrugged. "Wasn't much, and I had to move everything after sunset anyway. Clem helped."

He was beginning to appreciate the merits of having an apartment. With the money from his treasure trove, he'd managed to not only pay rent on the apartment, but also to get cable. Spike had even managed to get a package that included football coverage—just in time for the World Cup. There seemed to be some definite advantages to living above ground.

Well, not quite above ground, since it was a basement apartment, but it certainly wasn't your average vampire's lair.

There was a part of Spike that wondered what exactly he was doing, and if he wasn't being an utter fool, turning his life upside down for a girl who had no idea what she wanted.

On the other hand, he had a place that Buffy probably wouldn't mind Dawn visiting now, as well as cable and a consistently working microwave. Not to overlook the fact that no one in the demon world knew where his new place was, save for Clem. Spike had been getting a bad feeling recently, as though he was being followed. Having a comfortable hideout was probably a very good idea.

"The place looks nice, Spike," Tara complimented him. "I think Buffy will appreciate it."

He shook his head. "You sure about that, Tara? Doesn't seem like..."

"This shows Buffy that you're trying," she said.

Spike laughed shortly. "And what about her? I know she feels somethin' for me, but I don't know that it's anything more than just a—what did Anya call them—orgasm friend?"

Tara giggled. That definitely sounded like Anya. "I don't think Buffy's the kind of girl to have an 'orgasm friend' without there being a little something more involved. Just be patient."

He snorted. "Patience is not something I'm good at."

"Then now is a good time to learn," Tara responded.

Spike let that go. He might not like exercising patience, but being with Buffy was forcing him to learn. He knew he couldn't push too hard, not when they were moving forward a little bit at a time. Spike had the feeling that if he just held on a little longer, Buffy would come to him of her own accord. They'd manage to find that place in the middle.

If living in an apartment would speed the process—as Tara seemed to think it would—then Spike would do it.

Recalling manners long-buried, Spike asked, "Do you want a cuppa?"

"That would be nice," Tara replied.

The silence that fell was soothing, rather than awkward, a reversal of a familiar scene from the previous summer. On occasion, Tara would stay behind from whatever Scooby meeting was taking place to look after Dawn. Since Spike was trying to stick close to the girl, they would sometimes wind up hanging out together by default.

Spike didn't think they had much in common besides a concern for Dawn, but sometimes worrying over the same person was enough to form a bond. It had turned out that they had a bit more than Dawn in common, however. They both liked a quiet cup of tea, and it seemed Tara had a taste for imported beer that Spike wouldn't have suspected. The gentle witch appealed to a side of him that Spike didn't let many see.

They spoke idly of Tara's classes. Spike found himself amused by her sly commentary on some of her professors and fellow classmates. She was a sharp one, with a sense of humor that had him chuckling out loud more than once.

He was almost disappointed when Tara announced that she had to leave. "I'm supposed to be meeting a study group in fifteen minutes," she said, regret shading her tone. "Thanks for the tea, though."

"Anytime, pet," Spike replied.

They looked at each other, the silence becoming awkward for the first time that afternoon. "If you need anything..." Tara offered.

"Same here," he quickly replied.

She reached out to touch his arm, giving him an encouraging squeeze. "I'll see you around, Spike."

Spike flipped on the television once Tara had gone, knowing that it would be a couple of hours before he could meet Buffy. He was supposed to meet her for patrol, and then she had suggested they go back to her place to watch a movie with Dawn.

He was feeling rather cheerful about the prospect when a knock on the door startled him. Spike hadn't told Buffy where he'd moved yet; he was saving that for a surprise while he was out on patrol with her.

Opening the door, Spike got a sinking feeling. "Willow."

Her eyes were black with anger—and power. "You had to mess with Tara, didn't you, Spike? It's not just Buffy that you're turning against us."

"I think you've done that well enough on your own," he shot back, knowing that angering her further was probably a bad idea, but unable to help himself.

She smiled coldly. "That tongue of yours is going to get you in trouble, vampire," Willow warned him. "Maybe it's time to shut you up."

 

Chapter 12: Silence Is Golden

 

"If I am silent then I am not real/But if I speak up then no one will hear/If I wear a mask there's somewhere to hide...Did you hear me speak/Do you understand/Did you hear my voice/Will you hold my hand/Do you understand me/Won't someone listen/Nobody gets in/My body's a temple/But nothing is simple/Silence is golden/I have been broken/ Something was stolen/Safe in my own skin." ~Garbage, "Silence Is Golden"

 

"Buffy!" She was just about to lock the front door when she heard Xander calling her name. "Where are you headed?"

"I was just going to patrol," she replied. "What's up?"

Xander hesitated. "I just thought I'd see how my favorite Summers women were. Is Dawn around?"

"She's coming back later, after she's done studying with Janice." Buffy frowned. "What's up, Xander? Is there something wrong?"

Xander shook his head, giving a short laugh. "No, everything's fine. Why would anything be wrong?"

"Maybe because the Magic Box is closing in about fifteen minutes, and you and Anya have been joined at the hip for the last month?" she suggested.

Xander shrugged uncomfortably. "Yeah, well, appearances can be deceiving."

"What happened, Xan?" Buffy asked. "I thought things were going really well with you guys."

"They were," he said quickly. "They are. It's just that vacation we had—it was pretty bad."

Buffy winced. Xander had told her about what happened, but she hadn't been inclined to give him much sympathy at the time, and their fight had cut the conversation short. She still wasn't feeling sorry for him, but at least the tension between them had eased up a bit.

"Why are you marrying her, Xander?" Buffy asked quietly.

He looked hurt. "I know you guys haven't ever really understood why I'm with Anya, but—"

"This isn't about Anya," she said impatiently. "This is about you. Why are you marrying her? Is it because you love her enough to spend the rest of your life with her, or is it because proposing seemed like the thing to do at the time?"

Xander looked like he'd been hit. "Buffy—"

"I'm not asking to be mean, Xander, but this is a lifetime commitment. Sure, maybe it doesn't work out, but if you don't know that you want to spend the rest of your life with her, call the whole thing off now." Her eyes were intense. "If you call it off now, Anya will be hurt, but you might be able to salvage your relationship. If you wait..."

Buffy left the end of the sentence hanging, but she knew Xander understood what she meant. "I don't know, Buffy. I love her, and the plans..."

"It's not too late to call things off, but you need to be sure about this, Xan. If you're not, you're both going to be hurt worse down the road." Buffy gave him an encouraging smile. She found the expression easier to come by these days.

Buffy figured that was progress. It had become easier when she pulled off the mask.

"I have to get going," she said. "I'm meeting Spike for patrol."

Xander managed not to make any kind of comment. Instead he just nodded, backing off the porch. "Be careful."

"Sure thing," she replied, then set off to find Spike.

~~~~~

When Spike awoke, he had a raging headache. He thought it might be from the chip, since he vaguely remembered trying to toss Willow out of his apartment, thinking that escape would be his best option. He'd known he didn't stand much chance against her—both because of her magical power and because she was human—but he'd given it a shot.

He could feel a bruise rising along one side of his face, and he swiped at the blood from his lip. Spike's internal clock was telling him that he was late meeting Buffy for patrol, and if he didn't want her angry with him, he needed to get a move on.

It took him longer to reach his crypt than it would have if he hadn't been so stiff. Buffy was standing outside, waiting for him, impatience in every line of her body. "Hey, luv, sorry I'm late."

"Try not to keep me waiting next time, okay, Spike?" she asked.

Spike was disconcerted by her tone of voice. She hadn't spoken to him in that manner for months now, and while he was late, it wasn't by more than ten minutes or so. "I ran into some trouble. Willow—"

"Let's go."

She cut him off, turning on her heel and stalking off into the cemetery. Spike stood stock-still for a long moment, trying to figure out what exactly was going on. Realizing that he was allowing her to get quite a head start on him, he jogged to catch up. "Is something wrong?" he asked, grabbing her arm to slow her down.

Buffy yanked her arm away. "Is that all you ever think about, Spike? Getting into my pants?"

"That's not what this is about!" Spike shot back, hurt, especially since it was one occasion where he hadn't been thinking about sex. "What the bloody hell is your problem?"

"You! You're my problem, Spike! If you would just go away, my world would be a much better place."

He backed off a step. "You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do. It's been fun, you scratched an itch, and now we're done. If you didn't see that, then that's your problem."

Spike backed up another couple of steps. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Everything had been going so well. Buffy had seemed to be coming around. What the hell had changed in 24 hours? "Buffy—"

"Get out of my sight, Spike."

Hurt, reeling, enraged—Spike snarled back, "Fine, Slayer. Don't come crying to me the next time you need a fix." He stalked off, wanting nothing more than to find something to kill.

And maybe a bottle of something to numb the pain.

Spike went hunting first, carefully avoiding the areas that the Slayer usually hit. He didn't understand what he'd done wrong. Had one of her friends gotten to her? Or maybe it had been this way all along? Maybe the Buffy who had told him that he made her happy was a lie. Except that didn't make any sense. Why would she lie to him about something like that? They'd always been honest with each other—at least when it came to how much they hated each other.

Spike probably wasn't paying quite as much attention to his surroundings as he should have been. He was turning his conversation with Buffy over and over in his mind, trying to figure out what exactly he'd done.

"Just the vampire we were looking for." The voice came from right in front of him, and Spike's head shot up, his stomach dropping as he realized that he was surrounded. He cursed himself silently for not paying attention. "You are going to make us very rich."

Spike glanced around the group. They were all demons of indiscriminate parentage. He recognized a few from Willy's, but he knew none by name. There was no reason for them to come after him for cheating at poker or any other game of chance. "And how am I going to do that?" he asked, playing along.

"Haven't you heard?" one of the other demons growled. "There's a price on your head. Of course, we don't need much incentive to kill a traitor."

Spike reached for a stake. It was the only weapon he had on him, since he'd planned on picking up another at his crypt. His weapons collection was one of the few things he hadn't moved yet. "Don't think it's going to be easy," he replied with a feral smile.

"Who said we were looking for easy?" a third asked. "We're looking for fun."

He disappeared beneath the pile of bodies that suddenly rushed him. And Spike had thought his evening couldn't get worse.

~~~~~

Buffy watched Spike go, trying to figure out what just happened. His face was bruised, and his lip was split, so she asked him what was wrong. He hadn't answered. Thinking he was in one of his moods, the Slayer had thought to start patrol, figuring that Spike would open up eventually. Instead, he'd grabbed her arm hard enough to bruise, and when she shook him off and asked him what was wrong—again—he'd stalked off into the night.

All of it without speaking a word.

Buffy was too irritated with him to really give much thought to Spike's silence at first. She figured it was just Spike being Spike. He could be as touchy as she was sometimes. Once he got it out of his system he'd come around again.

It was Spike, after all. That's the way he was.

Except that he didn't show up the next night, or the night after that. On the third day, Buffy's worry finally got the best of her pride, and she went looking for him at his crypt. There was no sign of the vampire, but she found indications of a struggle that worried her. Most of his things were gone, and she wasn't sure if that meant he'd left town, or if he'd had to leave suddenly.

Buffy stood outside his crypt, the crisp January breeze playing with her hair. What was she supposed to do now?

After a moment's thought, Buffy decided that the only person who might understand would be Tara. Even though she knew that Willow and Xander could be helpful, they hadn't been very supportive about her relationship with Spike. She was afraid that they would start going on about how unreliable Spike was, and no wonder she couldn't find him.

Buffy couldn't bear to hear it.

"Hey, Tara," she said, when the other girl opened her apartment door. "I'm sorry to come over without calling, but I can't find Spike."

Tara frowned. "You can't find him? How long has it been since you saw him?"

"Three nights ago," Buffy quickly replied. "We met for patrol, but he was silent, and really moody. I thought maybe he'd gotten into a fight, because he was looking a little beat up, but when I asked him about it, he just took off. I thought he'd be back once he got it out of his system, but he hasn't shown up, and he's not at his crypt. In fact, his crypt is completely trashed and most of his things are gone. I didn't know what to do, so I thought I'd come see you, but—"

"Buffy, slow down," Tara advised, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Did you check his new place?"

"What new place?" Buffy asked.

"His new apartment," she replied. "He didn't tell you?"

Buffy had to blink back sudden tears. "Spike moved, and he didn't tell me? Did he not want me to know?"

"No, Buffy!" Tara assured her. "He moved for you. I think he wanted it to be a surprise, so you'd have some place to go that wasn't your house and wasn't a cemetery. Plus, I think he believed you'd feel better about Dawn visiting him there."

Buffy shook her head. "Then where is he, Tara? Surely he'd let me know if he was in some kind of trouble, right? I mean..." She rolled her eyes. "Oh, who am I kidding? He'd probably want to figure it out on his own, and is neck deep in trouble. Maybe if we go check the new place. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," Tara replied. "I'm a little worried now, too."

~~~~~

Spike was neck deep, all right, but it was mostly in sewage. He'd managed to escape from the demon horde by the skin of his teeth, barricading himself in his old crypt and then escaping into the tunnels below. Although the subterranean parts of Sunnydale were well traveled, Spike was pretty sure that no one knew the tunnels as well as he did, and he'd used that to his advantage.

If he'd been able to make it to his new digs without being spotted, Spike could have hidden out there quite nicely. Every time he came up above ground, however, someone spotted him, and he had to turn tail and run. He couldn't get to the Slayer to tell her what was going on, and his cell phone had been broken during one of the fights.

In essence, he was completely buggered.

Spike felt like a rat in a maze. He couldn't emerge from his hiding spot in the sewers without risking a fight and a dusting, he couldn't call Buffy, and he didn't even know if she cared enough to come looking for him. It had been days since he'd had anything to eat, and he was starving.

He hadn't been in this much trouble since Prague, and in a way, this was worse. Spike couldn't pass for human, not when he was flammable, and so there were no crowds he could disappear into. If he could get to Buffy, if she cared enough to help him, Spike knew he stood a chance, but those were both big ifs.

He was hungry, tired, and filthy, and it didn't look like his unlife was going to get better anytime soon. The only other option was to make a dash for it, try to steal a car or other means of transportation, and get out of town.

But that would mean leaving the Slayer, and that wasn't something Spike was quite prepared to do.

~~~~~

Willow had waited for three days. She had expected Buffy to come to her as soon as the Slayer realized her pet vampire was missing. Willow had practiced her concerned-friend speech in her head a dozen times. She would commiserate, and offer to find Spike with a locator spell, which would then fail. Willow would have to tell Buffy that Spike was either dead or had left town, and then she would comfort her.

It was supposed to have been the perfect plan.

Even if Spike remembered what she'd cursed him with, there was no way he could tell Buffy. Buffy wouldn't hear anything that came out of his mouth, and Spike would only hear what he most feared to hear. It was a perfect curse, and Willow was certain that no one would ever find out.

As an extra measure of protection, she'd asked around and found a way to put a contract out on Spike. It had been easy to create the illusion that she had lots of money. The cash would even stand up to close scrutiny, at least until they tried to spend it. Willow wasn't too worried about that, however, because they were just demons. They couldn't go to the cops and turn her in for counterfeiting, just like there was no way she could get into trouble for taking out a contract on Spike.

Willow really didn't care whether the demons succeeded in killing him because if Spike wanted to live, he'd leave town.

And Buffy would come back to her friends, where she belonged. Willow only had the Slayer's best interests in mind. Getting involved with another vampire was a very bad idea.

~~~~~

Buffy didn't have to break into Spike's apartment. Tara had a spare key that Spike had given her, just in case he'd lost his. "I'm sure it was just until he told you about moving," Tara said when she caught a glimpse of Buffy's expression. "He really did this for you, Buffy."

As soon as she walked inside, she could tell that he had. It wasn't that the place was all that nice. The furniture was all second-hand and threadbare, maybe a little ratty. Spike had moved his bed, though, and it sat on top of the rugs he'd put down in the lower level of his crypt. He'd sworn that they weren't stolen, but that he'd gotten them cheap from a demon who had received the wrong shipment.

There were a few posters on the wall, and when Buffy peeked inside the fridge, there was beer and blood as well as bottled water and juice. What she didn't understand was why Spike had disappeared so suddenly when he'd obviously had plans to stick around.

"Buffy!" Tara called urgently, bending over to look at something on the floor.

Buffy hurried over to her friend's side, peering down to see what she was looking at. "What's that?" She dipped her fingers into the powder on the floor, rubbing it against her thumb to get a sense of the texture.

"It's salt, the sort we use for binding circles."

Buffy frowned. "Spike doesn't like magic."

"I know."

They looked at each other. "What are you thinking?" Buffy asked, a note of dread in her voice.

"I don't know, Buffy," Tara replied. "If Spike didn't put this here, then someone else did." She frowned, thinking hard. "You said it's been three days since you saw him?" When Buffy nodded, Tara went into the small kitchen, glancing into the sink. The mugs she and Spike had used were still there. "I think the last time Spike was here was when I was. It was still afternoon when I left."

"He was late meeting me, and his face was bruised," Buffy said, a light beginning to dawn. "You think someone came here, after you left, and attacked him. Do you think that's why he was acting so strangely?"

"I don't know, but it's probably the best theory we have." She shook her head. "Why don't you stay here? I'll go back to my place and get what I need for a locator spell. Maybe if we find Spike, we can figure out what's going on."

Buffy cast a doubtful look at the fading light coming through the small window, set high on one wall. "Are you sure you want me to stay? It's going to be dark soon."

"I'll be fine," Tara said. "I'm pretty good at taking care of myself these days."

Buffy let her go, glancing around the apartment. Spike hadn't been there long enough for the place to smell like him yet, and Buffy found herself missing his scent. Missing him. She wanted him so badly right then, with a longing that took her breath away.

She loved him.

The thought hit her out of the blue, the kind of epiphany that can stagger a person with its force. The sort of thing that turns your world upside down in the space of a moment.

Buffy didn't kid herself. She didn't love him like Spike loved her. The possibility was there, and she cared for him deeply enough that the thought of losing him scared her nearly to death. Buffy somehow thought that Spike's love was a different sort.

But she was getting there. He might end up teaching her how to love like that—so fiercely that you could accept everything about the other person, even their faults, and love them anyway. Drusilla had said that vampires didn't love wisely, but that they loved well.

Maybe that should be Buffy's motto from here on out. Even if Spike wasn't the wisest choice of boyfriends, she could love him well. She could embrace his darkness and tug him back into their own kind of twilight. This apartment was proof that Spike could change. Well, Buffy could change, too. She'd show him.

But first she had to find him.

A clumsily wrapped package, sitting on a makeshift bookshelf caught her eye. Buffy walked over, picking it up and shaking the box, hearing the sound of metal hissing across cardboard. It was jewelry, and unless she was greatly mistaken, it was her birthday gift.

Buffy knew that she shouldn't open it, but her birthday was only a couple of days away, and there was no telling whether or not they'd find Spike by then. Besides, she was insanely curious.

Feeling a little guilty, and ruthlessly squashing the little voice that told her she shouldn't be doing this, Buffy pulled off the paper, smiling when she opened the box and pulled out the necklace. An oddly shaped pendant hung from a gold chain. She cupped her hand around the pendant, trying to make out the details, but it was worn with age.

Buffy wondered if perhaps this wasn't from the treasure Spike had fenced. Apparently he'd kept a piece for her, and she couldn't resist trying it on. The chain was long, so that the pendant hung between her breasts, and she tucked it into her shirt. When she found Spike, she could apologize for snooping, but until then she'd wear it to keep him close.

 

Chapter 13: Finding You

 

"...I've been thinking everyday about you/Don't fit anywhere into my life, but that's okay/ 'Cause I think I might be right for you/And because of that, I'm not scared at all/And everyone says I'm crazy/And everyone says I'm a fool/Would you meet me by the water tonight/'Cause I'm ready to break all the rules/Please don't leave me standing/With my heart in my hand/I can't last here/I'm breaking down/And no one understands why I got here..." Rachael Yamagata, "Meet Me By the Water"

 

Anya cleaned the glass on the front counter methodically. She wanted to get married, but she nursed a growing fear that Xander didn't anymore. It wasn't anything he said. Instead, it was the way he seemed to spend time with anyone who wasn't her, his unenthusiastic responses to the wedding plans, his near-continuous distraction.

What if he left her? What if Xander didn't want to marry her? What if this whole thing had been one gigantic mistake? She'd seen enough situations like this to know that it never ended well.

The door over the bell rang, and Xander walked inside. "Hey, An."

"Hi."

There was a long, uncomfortable pause. Anya remembered how easy it had been when they didn't have their memories. Thinking she was Giles' fiancée had been simple if only because there had been no fear. At least, not about their relationship. They had yelled at each other, and Giles had conjured up a whole mess of rabbits—well, that had been her fault—but it had been nice in an odd sort of way.

She loved Xander, but right now she was terrified that he was going to break her heart.

"I think we need to talk," Xander stated, his dark eyes troubled.

Anya took a deep breath, bracing herself. "What about?"

"It's about the wedding. I think we need to call it off."

She grabbed the counter with both hands. "Call off our wedding? You don't want to marry me?"

"Not right now," Xander replied. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You don't want to hurt me?" Anya repeated incredulously. "What do you call this?"

Xander winced. This wasn't going the way he'd expected it to. "I love you, Anya, but I think we're rushing into things. Maybe we could just take some time to be engaged first."

"What? Why would we need time, Xander?" Anya demanded. "We've been dating two years! Is this your way of telling me you don't want to be with me? Or was I supposed to figure that out when it took you months to tell your friends that we're engaged?"

Xander frowned. "That's not the way it is. Buffy—"

"I don't care about Buffy! It's always about Buffy, isn't it? She's always going to come first. If we get married, that's the way it's always going to be. You'll be rushing off to save Buffy, and you won't even think about your wife."

"That's not what this is," he protested. "I just think this is moving too fast. We could slow down a little bit."

"So you can what?" Anya threw her towel down on the counter. "So you can wonder what you're doing with an ex-demon? Don't think I haven't noticed the way you talk about Spike. You and Willow are always talking about how horrible he is because he's a vampire. Does that apply to a former vengeance demon?"

"Anya, you know that's not how I feel about you! I'm not ready to get married."

"Well, either get ready or break up with me," Anya challenged him. "Because I'm not waiting around forever."

Her heart was breaking. Xander really didn't want her. Anya didn't know what he wanted, but it obviously wasn't her. He was calling off their wedding because he didn't want to be with her. She wished it were just a bad dream; that way, she could wake up next to him, secure in the knowledge that he loved her, and make him chase her nightmare away.

Anya didn't wake up, though, and Xander's next words destroyed whatever hope she had that it would all go away, that he just had a case of cold feet. The magazines she'd read had said that ultimatums were bad, but Anya needed to know. She had to know if he wanted this wedding as much as she did.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and then he left, the bell jingling again as she burst into tears.

~~~~~

Spike heard the footsteps before he saw anyone. He grasped his broken bottle tightly—he'd lost his stake in the second fight, so it was the only weapon he had. His nose wasn't much good here, not when the smell of rot and decay filled his nostrils until nothing else could get through.

"Okay, now this is gross," Buffy stated. "Why did you have to come here?"

Her voice wasn't much of a reassurance, nor was the disgusted look on her face when she got close enough for him to see her. "I know you're not real happy with me right now—" Spike began, thinking that he could get his apology out of the way immediately.

"Why would I be happy with you?" she asked. "My boots are completely ruined, wading around in this muck. Not to mention the fact that you moved without even letting me know. Are you really that interested in getting rid of me?"

"No," he shot back. "Although I thought you were pretty hell-bent on it."

"On what?" Buffy asked, bewildered.

"Getting rid of me."

"I don't want to get rid of you." She glared at him. "I told you that you made me happy."

Spike sneered. "An' right after that you told me I was nothing but your sex toy."

"I did no such thing!"

"You did, too!"

"When?"

Spike stayed stubbornly silent, and Buffy answered her own question. "Let me guess. That last night we saw each other, right before you ran off into the night."

"I did not run," he replied. "I took off after you started acting like an uptight bitch."

"If you didn't look like shit, I would so slap you right now," she warned him. "I didn't say anything to you, not like that. You were silent, and then you ran off when I asked you what was wrong."

"No, I tried to tell you that Willow tried something on me, and you said you didn't want me around."

"Willow?" Buffy asked, her voice very quiet. "She did magic at your new place?"

"Yeah," Spike replied warily. He was now officially completely confused. This was the Buffy he'd been spending his time with, not the girl who had treated him so cruelly the other night.

They both realized what that meant at the same time. "Bloody hell," Spike muttered. "She did something to me. She—"

"She did some kind of spell," Buffy said. "But why isn't it working now? Did it just stop? And why are you hiding in the sewers?"

Spike leaned up against the wall, relaxing a bit. "To answer your last question, someone put a contract out on my unlife. Every time I go anywhere but the worst part of the tunnels, I have demons coming after me, usually in packs. Escaped one such mob without much room to spare."

Buffy shook her head. There was something about this that didn't make sense. It was too much of a coincidence that Spike would get cursed one day, and then wind up getting chased down by a bunch of demons. While the evidence might all be circumstantial, it was pointing back at Willow.

"You need to get out of here," she stated. "My place will be safe enough for right now, until we figure out what's going on."

"What more needs figuring?" Spike demanded. "Your little friend did something to me."

Buffy shook her head. "Don't. You know I didn't have anything to do with this, so don't take your issues out on me."

"Then don't cover it up."

"Who threw Willow out of her house?" Buffy asked angrily. "She won't get away with it, if she is responsible for this. I can promise you that. Right now, though, you look like you need a shower and something to eat."

"Not necessarily in that order," Spike said.

She gave him an incredulous look. "Are you kidding me? You're not sitting around in my house like that. Come on, let's go."

Spike followed her, knowing that staying close to the Slayer was presently his best bet for staying alive, even if that idea annoyed him. He hated thinking that he'd gotten in over his head. Just once, he'd like to come out on top.

"You know, if you'd drop that bottle, I might be tempted to hold your hand."

"It's the only weapon I've got right now."

"Who was it that told me a vampire always has his weapon?" Buffy asked. "Besides, you've got me."

Spike dropped the bottle.

~~~~~

Buffy set the cooling mug down on her nightstand, turning down the sheets. This wasn't the first time Spike had spent the night, but it was the first time he'd been there when she'd felt this way. Like she knew she didn't want to live without him.

Not that she couldn't live without him, mind you. Just that it would really suck.

Spike stepped out of the bathroom, steam following him in a cloud, a towel draped around his waist. "You were in there a while," Buffy teased. "I was beginning to think that you'd drowned."

His expression didn't change, and he didn't speak. Buffy frowned, wondering what exactly was going on. "I brought your blood up here. I thought we both could probably use some sleep."

Spike's hand tightened on the towel, and they stared at each other for a moment. Then, he whirled, heading for the bedroom door. Buffy got in between Spike and the exit, and stopped him by grabbing his arm. This time, she kept quiet, going over to the nightstand and pulling a pad of paper and a pen out of the drawer. She quickly scrawled, "What did you just hear me say?"

Spike stared at her, wariness in every line of his body. Buffy thrust the paper and pen at him, watching as he read her note and then scribbled his own. "You said you didn't want a thing like me in your bedroom."

"I didn't say that," she wrote back.

Buffy didn't dare curse. She wanted to, but she was too afraid that Spike would hear something completely different. Buffy wracked her brain, trying to figure out what had changed in the last hour or two. Not that long ago, they were having a perfectly nice conversation, and everything had seemed okay. Now, Spike looked ready to run again, and Buffy didn't know what to do because he wasn't talking to her.

She'd never realized how much she liked to hear him talk. Buffy missed his voice.

Looking around the room, she tried to figure out what had happened earlier to open up the lines of communication again. Buffy spotted the necklace sitting on her dresser, and she quickly rose to put it back on again, keeping her back to Spike so he wouldn't see what she was doing.

"Let me guess," Buffy said. "Now you can hear me."

"I could hear you just fine a minute ago, pet. It was the words that were bugging me, not the silence. What changed?"

"This," she admitted, pulling the pendant away from her chest so he could see it. "Tara and I were worried, so we checked out your new place. I found the box, and I figured it was probably for my birthday."

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Your birthday isn't for a couple more days."

"I didn't know when we would find you." Buffy shrugged. "Besides, it looks like this is helping, so I'm thinking snooping was a good idea."

He wasn't convinced you could generalize a rule that snooping was good from scanty evidence indicating that it had been beneficial in this case. "So when you wear that, you can hear me, and I can understand what you're saying. Is that it?"

"Maybe it prevents someone from being influenced by magic," Buffy suggested thoughtfully. "That would explain it. My words don't get twisted, and I can hear you." She took it off and handed it to him, wondering if it would work the other way around.

Spike raised an eyebrow, knowing what she was suggesting, and he put it on. It didn't take but a minute to figure out that it only worked one way.

"Darn," Buffy said, as she put it back on. "I guess that means that it won't actually disrupt the curse itself."

"It's probably meant to allow a person to see through illusions. I've heard of that sort of thing existing before, but I've never run across anything like it." Spike gave her a sour look. "Which would seem to indicate that magic is involved, and I only know one person who might be responsible."

Buffy sighed. "Drink your blood, Spike. And, yes, Willow looks like the likeliest suspect. I'll call Tara tomorrow, and we'll see what we can do to clear this up."

He downed the blood obediently, although his acquiescence had more to do with Buffy's obvious concern than anything else. The Slayer had cared enough to break into his apartment and come looking for him, to go through the worst part of the sewers and heat up his meal. Spike found the whole experience rather novel, and incredibly reassuring.

Spike put the mug down and glanced at her. "Buffy?"

"What?" she asked. She'd already slipped in between the covers, and she was obviously waiting for him to join her.

"You really meant it?"

"Meant what?" Buffy was trying not to get too impatient with him. Spike had had a couple of very trying days, after all.

"That I make you happy."

She sighed. "Let me put it this way. The idea of you not being around scared me. A lot."

Spike dropped his towel on the floor and climbed in the bed next to her, his hand tracing the curve of her breast. "That right?"

Buffy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Spike had to be exhausted, but vampire stamina was something else, that was for sure. "I missed you," she admitted softly, tracing his cheek with her hand. "I was worried about you."

A smile touched his lips. "Yeah? You do know I wouldn't have given up, right? If those soddin' bastards hadn't come after me, I'd have pestered you 'til you let me in again."

She drew his head down, kissing him, her touch lingering, gentle. Buffy wanted to tell him about her epiphany, about what the thought of losing him did to her stomach, but she couldn't. Not yet, anyway. Actions would have to do.

Spike rolled so that she lay sprawled, half on top of him, and buried his hands in her hair. Buffy's hands were busy tracing the lines of his face, stroking his shoulders, his arms. "I know," she finally said, when she came up for air. "You're not the guy that gives up." A teasing glint entered her eyes. "You're like one of those terriers that doesn't know when to let go."

"Hey!" he protested. "You callin' me a dog?"

"What if I am?"

Spike flipped them so that he was on top, his hands capturing hers and holding them still. "I might have to do something about that, then."

"And what would that be?"

Spike held her wrists with one hand, his other beginning to touch and tease. "Tit for tat, luv. You tease me, and I tease you."

Buffy didn't mind a bit.

~~~~~

Dawn knew she was risking an eye-full by sticking her head through Buffy's door the next morning, but she didn't care. Her sister had promised to bring Spike home, and Dawn wanted to see if she'd managed it.

Relief hit her like a tidal wave as she saw Spike's familiar head poking out from under the sheets, obviously nestled close to Buffy.

The Slayer had acted like she wasn't concerned when Spike hadn't come back to the house with her to watch a movie. She had told Dawn that Spike was in a bad mood and had walked off in a snit, but the younger Summers wasn't sure she bought it. Even if it were true that Spike hadn't been in the best of moods, he had promised Dawn that he would be there, and Spike never broke his promises. Or if he did, there was a very good reason for it.

When he didn't show up the next night, or the next, Dawn was even more certain that something bad had happened, and Buffy had finally decided to do something about it. She wished it hadn't taken Buffy so long to figure things out, but the Slayer was as stubborn as the vampire.

It looked like everything was going to be okay now, though. Spike was back, and in Buffy's bed. If they had been fighting, they had apparently made up.

Dawn found a note from Buffy on the kitchen counter. "Dawn, please pull Spike's clothes out of the dryer. He'll need something to wear today. Also, whatever you do, don't say anything to him. Something funny is going on. If you want to talk to him, you're going to have to write it out."

She frowned. That was just weird, even for Sunnydale. With a sigh, Dawn went downstairs and grabbed Spike's black jeans and t-shirt as she'd been asked. Even though she usually couldn't tell one black t-shirt from another, the clothing looked more worn than it typically did. There were a couple of holes in the t-shirt, plus a large rip in one knee of the jeans, and they both looked stained. Dawn wasn't sure what could stain black fabric, and was pretty sure she didn't want to know.

Having folded them neatly, she went back upstairs and put them right outside of Buffy's door, just as her sister was opening it. "Oh, thanks, Dawn. I was just going to grab those."

"Is Spike still sleeping?"

"Like the dead," Buffy said, although her pun fell rather flat. "I just wanted to put them in the room where he could spot them when he woke up."

"What's going on?" Dawn asked in a whisper. "Why did he disappear? And where did you find him? How did you find him?"

Buffy shook her head. "Just a second," she cautioned, putting the clothing inside the room and then stepping back out into the hallway. "Let's go downstairs."

Once Buffy had gone to the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee, she felt a little more ready to tell the story. She told Dawn about going to Spike's new place, then about Tara doing the locator spell and her search of the sewers. "Once I found him, I convinced him to come home," Buffy explained.

"What about the demon hit-men?" Dawn asked avidly. "Did they find you?"

Buffy shrugged. "We ran into a few. I killed a couple and then I let the other two go."

"Why?" Dawn demanded. "They'll just come back again!"

"No, they won't." Buffy wore a very self-satisfied grin. "I made sure they knew that if anyone laid a finger on Spike in the future, they'd have to answer to me."

"That's not going to solve the problem," Dawn pointed out. "You're going to have to figure out who set the whole thing up, and then maybe kill them."

Buffy sighed. "I realize that, Dawnie, but last night was not a good time to try something like that. We still have to figure out what Willow did to Spike."

"So you think that it's Willow?"

"Who else could it be?" Buffy took a sip of her coffee, looking angry and upset. "I don't know what to do, though. I could yell at her, or threaten to never talk to her again, but I'm not sure that would solve the problem."

"That's because Willow doesn't understand what we need from her," Dawn observed. "She thinks she has to be this bad-ass Wicca, and in reality, we just want Willow."

Buffy nodded. "That's pretty much it in a nutshell. I just don't know how to get her to see reason. Until we do get this straightened out, though, no talking to Spike, and no hanging out with Willow."

"You said I could write Spike," Dawn pouted.

"Write all you like," Buffy replied. "But whatever you say to him, he's going to hear the worst possible thing."

Dawn pouted. It wasn't fair. Spike was the guy she liked talking to whenever there was a problem, and now she couldn't even do that. It was like somebody had built this huge wall between them.

It really wasn't fair.

~~~~~

Xander couldn't believe what had happened. All he'd wanted was to put the wedding off for a while; it wouldn't even have to be for that long a period of time. Instead, he'd taken Anya's ultimatum and broken off their relationship.

What had he done?

He loved her. Xander was certain of that much, at least. He just didn't know that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. What if their marriage came to mirror his parents'? What if he ended up like his father? If he found Anya irritating before the wedding, what would she be like after they were married?

Xander needed to talk to somebody. When he'd called Buffy's house, Dawn had answered the phone and told him that the Slayer was out looking for Spike. Willow wasn't answering her phone at the dorms. There was no one.

No one except for the bottle of cheap whiskey.

It came to Xander, about halfway through the bottle, that if he wanted to avoid acting like his father, not drinking might be a good place to start. That maybe the best idea would be to pour the rest of the liquor down the drain and go off to find Anya—talk until she understood what he meant, and let her talk until he got a handle on what she wanted, too.

He'd discarded the idea in the next moment, since he was already pretty drunk and in no shape to be going anywhere. It was easier to keep drinking, to let the numbness blanket him, to forget the sound of her crying over the closing of the Magic Box door.

For tonight, it was easier to give in to the pain.