Title: Reminders 4/?
Author: Kimi
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Months after his return from Africa, Spike begins to take his unlife in hand. It's not quite the life that Buffy expected...
Spoilers: Season 7 AU, takes place after the my fic, Voices in the Dark
Distribution: Just talk to me, I'm easy. Fanfiction.net and at Chris' site "Amare, Dare, Pardonare" http://www.geocities.com/cxyzjacobs/btvsfic/chrisindex.html
Disclaimers: All Joss, all ME, all the time...
Feedback: You beta, you beta, you bet!
And speaking of betas, thanks, Chris, you wonderful brainstorming buddy, you; and Colleen, who never lets me split an infinitive if she can help it. Thanks for the superfast final read through!
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Reminders 4
"Okay, I'm sorry, but...," Buffy Summers held her stomach as a deep laugh threatened to explode out of her body once again. "Really, I..." she said apologetically, straightening her face with a supreme effort of will. She reached down to give her slaying partner a hand up. "It was just so funny. Well, it almost *wasn't*, but then it was, and..."
As he reached up to take her hand, she jerked it back, doubling over into fresh gales of laughter - and was suddenly sitting on her backside in the grass.
"Hey!" She looked a little stunned at where she found herself.
Spike looked at her with a wicked glint in his eye. "Hey yourself," he said mildly.
He reached over and quickly pushed her hair away from her face, then leaned back on his hands with a smirk. Once, a move like that would have been a step away from a caress. One of those heart-stopping moments that made her stomach clench - almost like foreplay. In fact, she thought it might have *been* foreplay more than once.
She wondered what it was to him now, since his return from Africa with his shiny new soul - just a way to get her hair out of her face?
"You know, your timing is way off," she complained. "With the vamp, I mean. And what kind of move was that anyway?" She reached over and slapped the front of his t-shirt. Dust flew into the air, sending her off into a fresh fit of giggles, interspersed with racking coughs.
Waving the dust away, Spike gave her an amused look. "Not creative enough for you?"
"Oh. Like you meant to do that," she said condescendingly.
"Did."
Buffy almost caught her breath at the old Spike. Reluctant to let him go, she tossed her hair. "Didn't."
Dusting off his t-shirt, Spike grimaced slightly. "Well, not quite like that, no. But I got the job done."
"He almost took the stake away from you! I never thought I'd say this to you, but..."
Spike gave her a disgusted look. "It was just a ploy."
Nodding her head, she said in disbelief, "A ploy."
"Well. Yeah. Give us a chance to kick back, luv. Smell the flowers," he said, indicating the fresh funeral sprays nearby. "Take a load off," he chuckled.
It was the most relaxed she'd seen Spike in months - a little off guard, eyes clear and light. Since his return, those eyes had been like clouded glass. If the eyes truly were the 'windows to the soul,' something must have gone wrong, because Spike's eyes had been a lot more expressive before, when he was an evil soulless thing. Gazing at him fondly and a little off guard herself, she mused aloud, "We should bring stuff for a picnic next time."
Appraisingly, he gazed at her from half-lidded eyes. "Patrolling *and* a picnic? How romantic," he said dryly, looking as if the shutters would close on those windows of the soul at any second.
"Not so much," she said defensively. This new Spike was so moody - not that he hadn't always been moody, but...jeez! "We used to bring chips and stuff. Well, Xander and Will did. I mostly saved the world. They did share, though. Sometimes. If the snacks held out." She tried to keep it light.
"Nothin' new under the sun then, I reckon," Spike said, relaxing again as he absently looked up at the night sky. "Or the moon."
Buffy didn't follow his eyes up, even as he sat back, continuing to look at the stars. She was looking at him - in the closest thing to natural light there was for someone like him. Sighing, she thought how it suited him: he was almost glowing against the shadows.
This was the third time they'd been on patrol this week, and she was a little worried. Oh, sure, he got the job done, but not with the old flair. He used to love to patrol with her, push it to the edges of the envelope. Show off a little. Well, a lot. Now, it was more like ... work. And 'work' that he didn't seem to care much about. She frowned.
Spike slowly shifted his attention from the sky to his partner, as if sensing a change in her. "No rest for the weary, pet."
Groaning at the reminder, she threw herself back on the grass in frustration.
Spike stood up and put a hand out. Suspiciously, she caught his eye and with a determined nod, took the offered hand, putting all her weight on it. At the last minute, she jerked him down. He landed on her hard, driving a small woof out of her body. In a flash, she was straddling him, hard, green eyes filling his vision.
"Now look what you let me do," she said, taunting him in a deceptively soft voice. "There's a change, since Africa, and if you don't start paying attention, you're gonna get staked. You need to be training with me, getting your moves back, not sitting in front of the TV."
His eyes turned a dark, stormy blue, narrowing in anger, embarrassment, and a touch of desire. Now that was more like it. She held her breath, not wanting to disturb the moment.
Then it was over, like she'd imagined the whole thing.
He threw her off gently. "Pfft," he said with none of the heat she'd just seen in his eyes. Rolling to one side, he put some distance between the slayer and himself. "Just a bit off, luv. Nothin' a little practice won't make right."
"So? Train with me." She said, pulling her elbow up under her, so she was in a half-reclining position. Considering her next words carefully she went for a humorously worded challenge. "I need a sparring partner, and I can so kick your ass right now. It'll be fun!"
Spike came off the ground in a fluid motion, eyes flashing. "I am not fighting with you."
Eyes widening, Buffy stared. "I said 'sparring!'"
"Fine. I'm not 'sparring' with you," he said with a shrug, reining in his temper. He turned to go. "Think we're done for tonight, Slayer. But we do need to check out some not-so-likely nesting spots tomorrow night."
Leaving Buffy sitting on the ground, Spike headed off toward his crypt. She realized her mouth was hanging open and shut it with a snap.
What in the world was she going to do with him? Everything set him off. One minute, they'd been laughing and maybe headed toward who knew what else, and the next, he was back behind that wall of his.
Now, they'd knocked down walls before - been pretty good at it. But that really hadn't turned out so well, had it? Buffy got up, brushed herself off and headed home, frowning all the way.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Buffy was right, and Spike knew it. He was off-balance, out of kilter. Not up to the usual slash and burn standards that kept his Slayer alive and him undusted. He decided a little solo work might do some good - put him back on the front lines. And that nest he had mentioned might be just the place to start. He could at least go check it out - with no one and nothing distracting him.
As he moved alone through the dark, the night began to whisper to him, telling its tale. He slipped through the trees, using short cuts he doubted even the slayer knew about. His movements became more his own, more under his control. Obviously, the time had come to take back his life - or at least begin fitting it into the new parameters his recent acquisition had caused him to 'suss' out over the last months.
He was nearing the caves, wondering just what types had set up housekeeping there since his departure last spring. He never patrolled there regularly, preferring to save it for those times he needed more of a challenge. Never brought Buffy there. It was his place - a place where the odds were usually against him. Many times it was a mob mentality of hatred and fear, the kind of thing that had challenged him in humans when he'd first been made. This was as close to it as a vampire who could fight only demons could get. It was enough.
The caverns were cool and quiet, the soft drip of water and the chink of falling pebbles here and there the only sound. Spike was beginning to despair of any action at all until he neared the fork that followed the outline of the old Initiative underground installation.
Being in this place always caused a bout of usually unwelcome introspection. Maybe it was the reason he patrolled there so seldom. But tonight, he was almost eager. The insertion of the chip had started him on the road that had led from 'there' to 'here.' He smiled ruefully - interesting road that. More like an undiscovered path he had blazed on his own. Who could have known that the quest for The Gem of Amarra would lead him to another quest - for a soul, this time - after almost a hundred and a half years of joyfully ignorant vampiric existence?
He slowed his silent progress to cock his head, catching a hint of sounds that didn't fit. Lengthening his stride, he headed for the nest.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Buffy closed the front door to her house with a loud slam and stalked into the kitchen. It was late, she was hungry, and something else was wrong, but she wasn't quite sure what it was.
Okay, that was a lie. She knew exactly what else was wrong. A long time ago, she'd told Spike she could never love an evil soulless thing like him.
Fine time to wonder if she might have been wrong, what with the new, re-souled model just a few blocks and headstones away. What they'd had - that complicated mix of attraction and repulsion, fire and ice, wrong and right - seemed painlessly simple compared to what was going on right now.
Earlier, it had taken everything she had not to kiss him when she saw that angry look in his eye. Kiss him and scream 'welcome back' at the top of her lungs.
She was sorry she had ever pushed him back into patrol. The problem was that attempting to return to the old routine had taken their new dynamic and tossed it right back into its old context. Suddenly, she was comparing 'old' Spike with 'new' Spike - often finding that she preferred the borderline 'evil' she'd known, to the 'good' that she didn't always understand.
First, he was so quiet. That was just plain weird. The snarky, running commentary was mostly a thing of the past now. She laughed ruefully in silence. The very thing that used to make her insane - had made her want to knock the hell out of him - was one of the things she missed!
And he kept his own counsel. Once he'd run ideas across her like he had his hands - impatiently, restlessly, incessantly. These days? Not big on the communication. You could almost see him mentally filing things away for future reference, like he needed more information before he could talk about it.
He was becoming...something more than he was before.
Opening the refrigerator door, she stared at the contents without seeing any of the pizza boxes or Styrofoam containers.
'Spike' was a subject she tried to avoid thinking about, preferring to take it a day at a time. But days had stretched into weeks, and now months, and she was no closer to any answers. While he seemed perfectly content with letting the chip fall where it may.
Damn chip.
If it hadn't been for the chip, he'd have been dust years ago, right? Surely, she'd have gotten lucky sooner or later. And that way she'd never have known what she was missing.
Which was 'him'.
Oh, sure, he walked like Spike (sometimes) - even talked like Spike (when he talked) - but there was another level to him now. As if there hadn't been enough of those already!
He was trying to deal with all these new feelings and ideas, and she was totally in over her head, unable to help - and even worse, more than a little impatient with it all. Which was really horrible. Gee, evil demon goes off, faces unthinkable trials, wins a soul, returns triumphant, and the damsel turns her perky little nose up? How self-absorbed was that? He'd been a lot more understanding of her after her resurrection, and he'd been an undead evil fiend.
Closing the refrigerator without getting dinner, she sighed and headed toward the stairs. She was beginning to think she wasn't a very nice person.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Spike rounded a corner and almost wound up smack in the middle of the nest. He raised an eyebrow in disgust. It looked - and smelled - like a locker room. A locker room complete with rotting meat. What a bloody mess!
Three vamps were sitting around a makeshift table playing poker. He couldn't tell what was in the 'pot,' and he didn't particularly care. Two more were fighting over what CD they were going to put in the boom box that was sitting on an old skeleton of a sofa. The last vamp seemed to be chained to the wall, unconscious. A large heavy wooden paddle lay nearby. He felt a surge of anger.
God, how he hated frat rats! Rugby shirts and polos. Bright colors and khaki pants. Fashion victims, each and every one. And each one of them sitting around in gameface - bunch of lazy gits!
Smirking evilly, Spike sauntered into the room, twirling a stake in one hand. His hair had gotten longer. Long enough that it curled at the white blond tips. His long sleeved black tee-shirt was tight, outlining hard muscle from the 'massing up' he'd done from his Buffy-induced force-feed diet. Oh, and he had been exercising. A bit. He looked dangerous. He *was* dangerous - and extremely brassed-off.
The effect was lost on the preoccupied vampires. Spike let out a disgusted breath. Where was the challenge, the excitement? Executions just weren't his cuppa. Needed to stir things up a bit.
"Well, bloody hell! Wake up, you wankers!" he said in frustration. "What is SunnyD comin' to, that you lot could still be undead and kickin'? Slayer's gonna hear about this." He pointedly looked around. "And you call this a nest? I know slugs live better!"
Belatedly, the five vamps guiltily rounded on the Big Bad, mouths open in shock at their discovery. Seeing that the odds were on their side, they relaxed. Five to one was a chip shot.
Spike swaggered deeper into the den. The three around the table backed off slightly at his approach, deciding that he was either crazy or completely insane. Spike walked over to the table. "What's this, then? Poker?" he asked, leaning over to turn over one of the hands. "Hmmph. Good thing I showed up. Playin' this soddin' hand would 'a been a real nutter."
Two of the rugby boys began to look uncomfortable. Five to one and their visitor had an air about him that made them think they might just get their asses kicked. Covertly, they started looking for a way out.
"Hey, grandpa, get the hell out! You don't belong here," the largest one said with a blustery laugh.
Spike looked up, eyes glittering. "Oh. And you think you do? Well, let me tell you something, boy. None of us belongs here - not in this world or any other. And certainly not," Spike looked him up and down with a curled lip, "some nancied-up, smart-ass, bleedin' pathetic former college whelp like you."
The bigger vampire threw himself over the table with a roar as Spike stashed the stake. He caught the boy out of the air and body slammed him to the floor. "Oooh. That hurt, dinnit?" Wiggling his fingers, he motioned the boy to get up. "God, it's bullies like you that give vampires a bad name. Well, bullies like you and 'bads' like me, anyway."
And then, it was a free-for-all of flying bodies and blows, as the others entered the fray. Spike caught a few punches and doled out many more - as well as kicks, and assorted body slams into the walls and the floor. Cards flew into the air as the table shattered beneath a particularly brightly-dressed vampire.
"Bugger this," Spike said, tiring of the one-sided fight. They weren't worth the effort. He pulled out the stake and dusted everything within reach.
Finally, it was down to one of the boom box boys, who took off past the older vampire as if hell were on his heels. The stake, that seemed to magically sail through the air, into his back, and through his heart, proved he was right. Hell? Yes.
Spike walked over to the pile of dust and recovered the sharpened piece of wood, as he spun on his heel to grab the tangled hair of the chained-up vamp. Yanking the filthy head back, he saw an emaciated face attached to a thin neck, which disappeared into a stained and torn shirt. The shirt seemed much too large for his skinny frame. And unlike the others, he wasn't vamped out. Spike sniffed disdainfully, and wrinkled his nose as he recognized the sickening smell.
"Well, well, Frat Boys and Rat Boys... Got to love old Sunnyhell." He put the stake to the boy's heart as the reddened eyes opened. They were a soft, deep green, full of pain.
"Don't feed, d'you?" Spike growled as he lowered the stake.
The boy looked at Spike, seeing him through the haze of delirium as some white angel of death. "Just rats," he said with effort. He laughed weakly, trying to gather his next words. "Got scarce. Came here. Big mistake."
"Won't hunt, eh?" Spike raised the stake again. "Used to kill the likes o' you..."
"Good," the boy whispered as he passed out again.
Title: Reminders 5/?
Author: Kimi
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Months after his return from Africa, Spike begins to take his unlife in
hand. It's not quite the life that Buffy expected...
Spoilers: Season 7 AU, takes place after the my fic, Voices in the Dark
Distribution: Just talk to me, I'm easy. Fanfiction.net and at Chris' site "Amare,
Dare, Pardonare" http://www.geocities.com/cxyzjacobs/btvsfic/chrisindex.html
Disclaimers: All Joss, all ME, all the time...
Feedback: You beta, you beta, you bet!
Can't thank Chris and Colleen enough for putting up with me! I'm a real pain
when I get going.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Reminders 5
"Spike? Spike!"
Buffy's voice was a little shaky, but she'd had a really bad dream - and the
aftereffects still hadn't completely worn off. One minute she had been lying
across her bed thinking about the differences between Spike then and now, and
the next, she was waking from a nightmare.
The dream wasn't about Spike though. It had been about Faith, or more precisely,
the time Faith had switched bodies with her. Now, hours later, what she
remembered most vividly was the image of her own face, twisted with hatred and
rage, as she shrilly told herself that she was disgusting, over and over again.
That, and the fists - her fists - coming at her again and again as they cracked
against facial muscle and bone.
Buffy had come off the bed in a cold sweat, face wet with tears. It was at that
moment that she remembered that she wasn't hitting herself, screaming at
herself, but that Faith in her body was doing it to her. Or to Faith. She still
wasn't clear on that.
It had been a bad way to wake up at 3 am.
Frantically, she had moved off the bed, grabbing clothes and shoes - dressing as
quickly as her shaking hands would allow. Needed to get out of the room, out of
the house.
She checked on Dawn. Sleeping soundly - hair twined around her fingers - the Key
was at peace. Leaving for a little while should be okay. Her sister wasn't a kid
anymore - just ask her. She'd tell you. Loudly.
Buffy was thinking she might go out and...what? Kill something? Take her
frustration and put it where it would do some World Good? Her mind returned to
the surreal images. Why that dream? Why now, after so long? She'd gone to bed
thinking about Spike, not Faith.
And then she made the connection between her dream and Spike. Sitting down on
the front step, she put her head in her hands. A crazy person wearing her face,
screaming in disgust, hands hitting and hitting to punish, not defend.
Spike had seen that. The night they'd found Katrina dead.
Stunned, she slowly got up and started off in the direction of the cemetery.
Didn't know what she could say to him after all this time. Surely, it wasn't too
late for 'I'm sorry.' Maybe lame, considering, but not too late. Never too late
for 'sorry.'
Buffy had gone into the crypt, calling for Spike, but somehow she knew when she
entered that he wasn't there. She was prepared to wait - til sunrise if that's
what it took.
Then, she remembered that he had been headed home hours ago. Walking down the
stairs, she checked to make sure he wasn't in the lower level. Nothing. The room
still had the same unlived-in look that it had the night she and Dawn furnished
it. The table was clean, pillows still perfectly placed. And most of all, the
room just didn't feel like Spike.
So where was he? Buffy went over Spike's options - not 'Classic' Spike, but 'new
and improved' Spike. The list of his usual haunts was extremely short since his
return from Africa: upstairs or downstairs. And by the way things looked,
downstairs didn't look like much of an option either.
What if he'd been waylaid by a bunch of vamps on the way back? Spike wasn't
exactly Mr. Popular Guy with the locals. They'd love to catch him out. Or maybe
it was some demon who'd just blown into town?
Just about the time she started to feel real fear, she heard the upstairs door
swing open and bang loudly against the wall. Pulling out a stake, she flew up
the steps.
Spike was carrying something, someone, over to the sarcophagus in the corner.
"Oh, God! What happened?"
Spike almost dropped his burden. "Buffy! What the bloody hell...?" Recovering
quickly, he carefully laid the still form on the slab. "Get some blankets," he
said tensely. "Downstairs. Somethin' to get him warm."
She backed toward the steps. "But what...?"
"Nest. Bunch of vamps playin' reindeer games." He saw her staring, frozen.
"Well, go on!"
Buffy took the stairs two at a time, wondering why Spike had brought anyone to
his crypt. Must be bad. Real bad. She grabbed the comforter off the bed and ran
back up. "Shouldn't we be at the hospital? The emergency room?" Handing Spike
the tangle of bedding, she took a good look at their patient. "The morgue? This
is a *vampire*, Spike!"
He grabbed the bedclothes and started tucking them tight around the cold, thin
body. "Yeah," he said dryly. "Bloody brilliant, Slayer." He spared her a glance.
"What are you doin' here anyway?"
"Thought we needed to talk," Buffy explained as she noticed a huge bruise on the
young vampire's cheek from a blow that had actually crushed bone. "Obviously, I
was right. Are you nuts? Do you even know what you're doing right now?"
His fingers slid through his hair. "God, Buffy, I hope so. Got to get some blood
in 'im."
"But Spike..."
His eyes snapped in frustration. "Buffy, for pity's sake..."
"Fine. I'll get the damn blood!" she snapped, sure that she wasn't going to get
anything out of him until he calmed down.
"And make it warm. He..."
"I *know* how to do it," she said, exasperated. "Just don't know *why*," she
muttered under her breath. Pulling a jar from the refrigerator, she poured the
blood in a large mug and put it in the microwave, setting the timer in almost
the same movement. "Now, it's in. What's this all about? And you better make it
good, 'cause right now, I'm ready to stake and ask questions later."
"Found him in the caves. He doesn't feed. He..."
Buffy's head snapped around. "Couldn't you just bring home a stray kitten like
everybody else? He's a vampire."
"Well, yeah, he is, but he's been livin' on rats since he was made. Or was,
until Clem went into pest control."
The timer interrupted their conversation. Buffy reached in, pulled out the mug,
and handed it to Spike. She held it for a moment, as he put his arm around the
boy's neck and tried to raise him up to drink. Green eyes opened slowly as his
head lolled back.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked curiously.
"I dunno, Buffy. I dunno." Spike's voice was impatient. He couldn't seem to get
the boy positioned. His head kept slipping back, or over, or forward, or...
Spike's frustration mounted.
Buffy leaned over to get a closer look. "Hey, he's just a kid."
"Yeah." His voice was tight.
"Spike, what are you gonna do with him?" she asked - suddenly the Voice of
Rationality.
"Wish I knew," he muttered, getting the errant head close to his shoulder.
Spike reached for the mug and put it to the boy's lips. The starving vampire
tried to swallow as the warm fluid entered his mouth, but gagged instead. Spike
jerked the mug back as the coughing went on and tried to prop him higher on his
shoulder. The boy's head fell forward. Spike let out a breath.
"Slayer, give us a hand here, alright?" he snapped, voice a little shrill.
Buffy looked at Spike in utter amazement. He was asking her to help him keep a
vampire alive? Her? The Slayer? Then, she really looked - at the frantic
expression on his face, the worried frown that had gathered in a furrow between
his eyes. Her eyes traveled down, to the battered young face. She sighed in
resignation to the inevitable.
Taking the mug from his hand, she freed Spike up to get a firmer grip on the
fledgling vampire. "I need to have my head examined," she complained. "Wait. No.
You need to have *your* head examined. Oh, and by the way, if he doesn't behave,
I'm stakin' him."
Leaning over, she put the mug to the boy's lips.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Spike was headed upstairs to check the blood supply when the knock on the door
came. With Buffy's help, he'd been pushing the blood down the boy's throat
steadily. He hoped Clem was coming by soon so he could send him to the butcher's
for more.
Pulling the door open with a sense of relief, he fully expected to see Clem's
smiling face. Instead, he found Xander Harris. Wondering how he could get rid of
him, he flashed a trademark smirk. Wouldn't do to make him suspicious.
"Tasty Freeze is around the corner, whelp," he said, closing the door in the
man's face.
Xander caught it with his foot, and pushed it open. He looked around. "Got
company or something?" he said suspiciously.
"In or out?" Spike said curtly, then realized it was still light outside. And
Xander obviously wasn't leaving until he had done what he came to do.
"In, I think," Xander said as he stepped just inside the door. "Though 'out'
might be better for everybody involved. Can't believe I'm here. I think I need
my head examined."
"May be." Spike kept his face blank, but inwardly he smiled at the echo of
Buffy's sentiments. He'd heard it many different times and in many different
contexts during the previous night. "C'mon then," he said grudgingly. "But make
it quick."
Xander continued to stand there. "You can leave the door open if you're lookin'
for a fast getaway," Spike said sarcastically. Eyes narrowing, he took a closer
look. "Wait. You drunk?" Spike hadn't forgotten the other night at the Bronze.
Xander laughed uncomfortably. "Nope. What have you got?" he asked rhetorically.
"Blood, blood and blood." He watched Xander sit down in the chair. Spike quietly
shut the door. "So talk," Spike said impatiently.
Xander looked up at him. "Why'd you do it, Spike?"
The vampire cocked an eyebrow.
"Any of it. All of it." Letting out a deep breath, Xander ran his hand through
his hair. "Anya."
"Ah." Spike considered his answer. "Let's see. What answer will make this right?
How about hurt? No? Drunk? You ought to understand that. Alone? Well how about
this? There was a beautiful woman sitting there with tears in her eyes, heart
broken into jagged pieces. Pick one. Any of those do?"
Xander's nodded as he stared off into space, eyes full of self-pity. Spike's
temper flared.
"Oh, come off it, Harris! She loved you and you hurt her. Left her! Know what it
feels like. Been there."
"I didn't want to hurt her more, later," Xander said quietly.
"Oh, right. You left her for her own good. Heard that one, too." Spike stepped
closer. Xander looked up. "You love her?"
"Yeah," he sighed, almost forgetting who he was talking to. "More than anything.
More than..."
"Yourself?" Spike broke into Xander's reverie. "You talked down to her. Treated
her second-class. Acted ashamed of her in front of the Scoobies. Know what that
feels like, too. It's not nice, Harris, oh, you of the aching heart and wounded
soul."
Xander shook his head. "I didn't..."
"You bloody well did! Be honest with yourself just one soddin' time!"
Xander stared at him. When Spike's eyes stayed hard and cold, Xander looked down
at his hands.
"Good." Spike took a calming breath. "Next?"
"Buffy."
"You're treadin' in quicksand, whelp," he warned. "Try again."
Eyes widening slightly at the bitter look on Spike's face, he shook his head.
"Forget it," he murmured.
"Smart lad. Anythin' else, then?"
"The soul."
"The simple question last of all. The soul. Well, it couldn't go on the way it
was, right? Had to change. So I did." Spike's words had the touch of finality.
Even Xander could hear it.
Xander smiled a little. "Okay. I guess I gets what I gets." He got up. "Leaving
now. I know I'm not real welcome here, but you did rescue me from a night in
jail. I came by to tell you we can do that thing any time you say. Those tests.
Just let me know."
"Right then," Spike turned toward the refrigerator in dismissal.
"Hey. Wait a minute. You in a hurry to get rid of me?" Xander said with a touch
of wry humor.
"No more than usual," Spike's reply was nonchalant.
Xander opened the door to let himself out. "Hey, Spike?" he said, turning back
with a rueful grin.
"Yeah?" Spike looked back over his shoulder, questioningly.
"Really looking forward to hitting you." Xander punctuated his words with a
one-two air punch.
Spike snorted. "Lookin' forward to seeing you try, wanker," he said with a
smirk.
On the heels of his words, a shout came from downstairs.
"Spike! Spike, get down here!"
Spike's eyes flew to Xander, whose shocked expression was rapidly turning to one
of betrayal. "Oh, bloody hell!"
"What's she doin' here?" Xander said angrily, looking at his watch. "Shouldn't
she be at work? Or anywhere - *else*?"
Spike winced. "Harris..."
"Spike! Now! Move your ass!"
The alarm in Buffy's voice drove any kind of explanation out of Spike's mind. He
disappeared down the stairs in a flash - Scooby stumbling along behind.
Xander's eyes had barely adjusted to the dark when he saw Buffy struggling to
restrain a wildly flailing...something. He reached for a stake and came up
empty-handed. He cursed his stupidity for coming to see Spike without a stake,
or an ax, or.... His eyes darted around the room trying to focus on a weapon -
any weapon.
"Xander, no!" Buffy's command stopped him cold as he grasped the wicked-looking
knife he saw lying on a rocky out-cropping.
He turned back toward her voice and saw Spike over by the bed, talking softly as
he gently pushed the...thing...back down on the bed. It whimpered and turned
its...head? to the wall.
A soft hand guided Xander's arm down, slipping the knife out of his fingers. He
nearly jumped at the touch. The whole scene was like a bad movie. And he was in
it.
"Buffy! What...?" His voice trailed off as he watched Spike straighten the
twisted bedding, still murmuring to the slowly-quieting form.
The slayer followed his eyes to the bed, and locked him in her level gaze as he
turned back to her, incredulous.
"Daniel," she said softly. "His name is Daniel."
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
They sat in silence upstairs, almost as if waiting for Spike to join them before
addressing any of it. Xander shook his head periodically as if trying - and
failing - to make sense of the scene downstairs. His hands were clasped tightly
between his knees. Buffy looked up with concern as Spike appeared.
"Well?"
"He's quiet." Spike shot a look at Xander. "Sleeping maybe," he said, fastening
his eyes on Buffy. "Can't tell." He let out a shaky breath. "I think that was
the first lucid moment he's had."
Xander's head shot up as he fixed Spike with an astonished look. "*That* was
lucid? Well, 'lucid' looked like a crazy-ass vampire to me!"
"That's right, monkey boy," Spike said, without anger. "Another evil undead
thing. Except that this one has *never* fed on a human. Never hunted once in his
short, but tortured existence. Except for rats - and sewer rats at that!"
"Lack of opportunity?" Xander asked flippantly. "Or is it drive and ambition
he's short on?"
Buffy gave Xander a disgusted look. He gave her one in return, and sat back.
"Hey," he said, spreading his hands in mock-surrender. "Just asking. Slayer," he
added, voice dripping with sarcasm.
She sighed in acceptance of the accusation. "Spike found him last night on
patrol. *Private* patrol," she said in explanation, shooting the blond vampire a
look that clearly stated that the discussion was far from over. "Well, rescued
him really."
Xander looked in amazement at Spike, who had found something very interesting
about the toes of his boots.
"Gee, couldn't you just pick up a kitten or something?" Xander blurted out.
In answer, Spike's shoulders started shaking. Xander saw him look up, raising an
eyebrow at Buffy as he - what? Laughed? He was laughing? As he stared at Spike,
trying to figure out what was so damn funny, he heard a second chorus - of
giggles this time - from the slayer. With wide eyes, he turned to Buffy, who was
pointing a long finger at Spike. A finger that was shaking with uncontrollable
laughter. "I...told...you!" She began gasping for breath.
It was like the two of them were alone in the room. Buffy's eyes were on Spike,
whose own eyes were brimming with mirth as he tried to hold himself erect by
hanging on to the table with white-knuckled fingers. Their slightly hysterical
laughter echoed off the walls.
Buffy wiped her eyes, and looked down at her hands, finding them wet with tears.
Giggling, she held out her fingers for Spike to see. She was laughing so hard
she was crying.
The vampire wiped his own eyes, finding the same wetness.
That bit of business sent both of them off into new and even more unrestrained
gales of laughter. As Xander watched them, all of the pieces finally fell into
place. He shook his head in wonder at the insanity of life in the Hellmouth.
Those two crazy kids just might make it.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Reminders 6
Buffy stood in her kitchen, hands on her hips, glaring at the room's
two occupants balefully.
"Okay, Dawn, this has got to stop. Doesn't anybody here get it yet?
I am all Status Quo Girl. So do not love change."
The younger sister glared right back. "Hey, get over it, Big Sis.
Hair grows."
"Dawn, all this time, I thought maybe, hm, doctor? All saving of
mankind. Great for somebody destined to protect the world. Some
days I'm thinkin', well, okay, she argues well. Lawyer, destined to
protect the environment. Not so far off the original saving thing,
right? But never, never once in all my daydreams did I see this.
A 'colorist?'"
Spike smirked as he ran his hands through his still damp, freshly-
tipped blond hair. Buffy's rants were very entertaining as long as
they weren't directed at him. He pulled the streaked towel from
around his shoulders, toed some cut hair under the table and settled
back for the floorshow.
His movement drew Dawn's eye. Her expression brightened. "But just
look how cool! And I did it!" The girl's eyes narrowed as she looked
at Spike appraisingly. "Argh! Almost forgot something," she said as
she headed to the kitchen door. "Got it the other day. It's in my
room. I think. Well, somewhere anyway." Her voice trailed away as
she galloped up the stairs.
"Well," Spike said, raising a scarred eyebrow. "How bad is it?"
Buffy half-glared at him. "What are you doing here?"
"Keeping the Bit away from the crypt... and Daniel. And lettin' her
have her way with me." He waited a moment, then prompted her
again. "So?"
"Pretty good," Buffy said grudgingly. "Okay, very good actually."
Spike nodded. "Figured as much from the Nibblet's squeals of joy,"
he said dryly.
"How is Daniel today?"
"Gettin' stronger. Up and about. Talkin' a bit. Clem took him to
his place to try to do a clean up. Seems real comfortable when
Clem's around."
"Really?" Buffy frowned prettily. "Why?"
Spike rolled his eyes. "Well, hell, Slayer, isn't everyone?
Comfortable with Clem, I mean? Even demonophobic Harris likes him."
She grinned appreciatively at the half-joke and threw herself in the
chair across from Spike. Making a huge show of examining his new
look, she finally sighed heavily.
"Spike, you don't have to let her do...this." She waved her fingers
around, indicating his hair. "You could actually tell her 'no.'" She
leaned closer, fingers splayed on the table surface.
"Didn't even try," Spike admitted with some asperity. "Completely
whipped by any woman with the last name Summers."
Buffy got up and walked around the table. "Well, I don't think your
hair would look right 'brown' anyway," she said thoughtfully. "So I
guess this is okay." She walked behind him, still talking and put
her hands in his hair absently. "And I like it better this way. No
goop."
Spike slowly turned around in his chair, looking up at the intent
little frown that had gathered between Buffy's eyes, and caught her
still outstretched hand in his. Her frown didn't disappear as she
blankly included his hand in her gaze.
By standing up, he drew her attention from their hands to his solemn
eyes. "Buffy?"
"You know," she said in a normal tone, "I never thought I'd say it,
but I don't know how I feel about any of this.
It's...complicated. 'Classic' Spike was a lot simpler to
understand. Easier."
A smile ghosted around his mouth as he realized that she was
comparing him to a soft drink. His eyes softened in
understanding. "Slayer, I think that's the first honest thing you've
said to me since I've been back."
She looked down at her hand, still folded into his. As she watched,
he gave it a slight squeeze and let go. Her eyes darted back to his
face, expecting to see some sort of rejection there.
"S'fine," Spike said reassuringly. "Honest. For you, quite
forthright," he laughed.
She didn't. "The other night. When you found... I was waiting for
you to tell you something."
"Yeah?"
"I came to tell you...I'm sorry."
His eyes searched her face for some clue as to what she was talking
about.
"For the night...That night. The night we found Warren's ex in the
woods."
Spike made a small noise of negation and shook his head.
"No. Wait. I hurt you. A lot. I was crazy that night. And
scared. Oh, Spike, I was so scared. I was afraid I was
like...Faith. I think. I don't know. I was just scared. And
angry. And crazy. And I am so, so sorry that I hurt you when you
were trying to help."
He opened his mouth to speak, but a sharp look from her stopped his
words.
"Okay, no excuses. No excuse. Just sorry, okay? So sorry. I was
vicious and cruel and..."
Spike couldn't stand the pain in her eyes. "Shhh. S'all right,
love. I know. I knew it that night."
"You knew?" she said uncomprehendingly.
Spike put his hands comfortingly on her shoulders and looked down at
her with a half-smile. "Yeah, I did," he said reassuringly.
"But I just left you there. Just...left."
"Shhh." Spike pulled her close and put his lips to her hair. She
muttered against his chest, body relaxing. Her whispered 'sorry'
floated up between them and away.
After a few moments, he stepped back and tilted her chin up with
gentle fingers. He kissed her softly, in deference to the pain
written across her face, and in remembrance of her kiss after his
survival of the beating at Glory's hands.
As their lips met, a connection that had been bent, broken or maybe
had never existed at all except in his own imagination, surged to
life. He drew back in surprise, looked into her eyes, and tenderly
captured her mouth again.
This time, the kiss was slow and deep. Her hands moved around his
waist as if anchoring him there. His hands moved to her shoulders
again.
She came up for air briefly, quickly diving again into the ebb and
flow of the seemingly endless kiss. Her hands moved up his back,
pulling him against her. His mouth was soft and sweet, sucking away
the pain, replacing it with comfort and warmth. Her stomach lurched
and dropped as the kiss changed and she felt him harden against her.
She gasped quietly into his mouth.
At that encouragement, his tongue slipped between her lips, done with
teasing. He felt a light-headedness that might mean an
interdimensional slip. Her nipples beneath the usual Buffy-style
thin camisole had hardened into pellets. She moved her hands to the
small of his back and gently pulled him closer. His knee went out
and parted her legs, so that her sex was teasingly pressed against
his thigh. He growled as she shifted against him.
In answer, she moaned and pulled his tongue deeper into her mouth.
Legs shaking slightly, he sought the edge of the table and leaned
against it for support, pulling her with him. She shivered as his
hand slid under her hair and to the back of her neck. He could smell
her arousal, a sweet scent he'd only just remembered. Frustrated, he
picked her up with one hand, set her fully astride his thigh, and
pulled her flush against his crotch. He felt her warm moisture
through the leg of his jeans.
Burying her hands in his hair, she pressed herself to him, working to
find some relief for the steady throb between her legs. Her breaths
came into his mouth in shallow pants, as her steely arms ground him
closer. She moved again slightly, deliberately pushing into the
junction between his groin and thigh, her hip against his crotch.
"Oh, my God!" Dawn's voice was shrill with shock. "Okay, now that's
just - God! Get a room, guys! Scarred here. Totally traumatized!"
Their glazed eyes swung toward Dawn, who was standing with open mouth
just inside the door. A now-forgotten bottle was clutched tightly in
her hand.
The slayer tried to slow her breathing to something short of warp
speed eight, as she attempted to focus on her sister. Spike slowly
stood, letting Buffy slide off his leg and onto her own somewhat
unsteady feet.
"Did you like totally forget I was here or something?" Dawn
complained.
Neither the vampire nor the slayer spoke - although the answer was a
resounding 'yes' from the look on their faces. Buffy was trying to
figure out what to say, knowing that she had been caught flushed and
panting by her sister. For the one and only time in her life, she
was glad her mother wasn't here, or Buffy would have had to give in
to all kinds of sordid blackmail.
As to Spike, he was completely clueless about what to say. He
decided that anyone who had been that close to orgasm couldn't be
held responsible for any rational conversations and sat down heavily,
willing the still slightly swollen evidence in his pants to give it
up. Realizing that he might be making things even more
uncomfortable, he stood again. "I'll just let, uh, you and Buffy,
uh..." At the lack of any further words presenting themselves, he
beat a hasty retreat to the back door, opening it with a hint of
desperation on the dusky evening.
"Spike?"
Buffy's voice. Spike didn't turn. "You know where I'll be, pet."
He walked outside and carefully shut the door, sinking down onto the
back step. The house remained ominously quiet.
As he was finishing his second cigarette, Buffy quietly sat down
beside him. He glanced at her.
"You all right?" he asked, a little concerned.
She nervously ran her hands through her hair. "No. Are you?" she
asked, finally meeting his eyes.
"No..." he said slowly with a wry chuckle. "I have to say it.
That's the first time in a century and a quarter of existence that
something like that has happened to me. Vampires usually don't have
nosy little sis' runnin' round underfoot."
"The therapy bills could really mount up quick," she said, working
toward some lightness.
He reached over and squeezed her hand. "Set it up with Harris for
tomorrow. I'll come over through the tunnels. Basement's ready,
right?"
"Yep," she said, a little more herself.
"Clem'll stay with Daniel." He got up. "I need to get back."
"I know, but...." She watched Spike's retreating back. "Don't you
think it's scary?" she blurted out, stopping him in his tracks.
"Scary, love?" he said, turning back with a wry smile.
"I never even remembered she was there. I just...forgot. The rest
of the world just goes away and..."
"Yeah," he said sadly. "Funny, that." He turned and headed home,
feeling her eyes on his back, until he disappeared behind the hedge.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"I didn't get to finish his hair," Dawn pouted, still holding the
bottle of hair goop.
Buffy opened her mouth to inform her sister that his hair wasn't all
that didn't get finished, but thought better of it.
Once again in good humor, Dawn giggled. "Boy, and I thought Janice
was queen make-out artist..."
"Have I told you lately how much I dislike Janice?" Buffy said
wearily as she sat down in the kitchen.
"Only every other day," her sister said perkily. "But you must like
what I did to Spike's hair, cause you sure had your hands all in it."
"Dawn..." Buffy was utterly defeated. This would never end. Or if
it did, not well.
"That was like - mouth sex," her little sister said gleefully. "NC-
17 rated kissage. He kisses real good, right? 'Cause it looked
like..."
"Yes, yes, and yes. And that's enough, okay?"
At Buffy's dark look, Dawn's smile drooped. "If you could just *see*
you guys together. It's like watching this really romantic movie.
You know, like when the guy and the girl meet, and they hate each
other on sight. And then they get to be kinda like friends, but not
really..."
The slayer sighed quietly.
"And then one day, they're doin' this snarky, fight-y, back and forth
kinda witty verbal punch thing and they kiss and fall totally into
bed, but not before like wreckin' her apartment..."
Buffy looked up at Dawn. "TV show, not a movie. They finally get
together after years of sexual angst and the show gets cancelled a
year later. He goes on to become movie action hero actor person
making double digits mills for each film, while she goes on to
*finally* getting another successful TV series playing somebody's mom
with an alcoholic best friend. He gets an Oscar nomination for a
movie about dead people, and his pint-size co-star wins it."
"Buffy?"
"Yeah, Dawnie."
"Want to see if we can maybe catch a rerun of 'Moonlighting'?"
Buffy got up. "Not if it's the last season. I can't deal. Too
depressing." She shrugged. "Don't we own Sixth Sense?"
"Well, we do now, cause I never took it back. I'll get the popcorn."
Title: Reminders 7/?
Author: Kimi
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Months after his return from Africa, Spike begins to take
back his unlife on his own terms. During patrol, he finds a stray...
Spoilers: Season 7 AU, takes place after the my fic, Voices in the
Dark
Distribution: Just talk to me, I'm easy. Fanfiction.net (if it ever
comes up again) and, thankfully, at Chris' site "Amare, Dare,
Pardonare"
<http://www.geocities.com/cxyzjacobs/btvsfic/chrisindex.html>
Disclaimers: All Joss, all ME, all the time...
Feedback: You beta, you beta, you bet!
Oh, man. Ain't we got fun? Thank you, Chris, for sandwiching me in
while you were trying to write! And thank you, Colleen, for the
early morning beta...!
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Reminders 7
The door shut with a click. Clem jumped six inches in his chair.
"Where's Daniel?" Spike's eyes were hooded.
Clem nodded toward the downstairs.
Spike sat down in the smaller chair and stared at the TV, but Clem
could tell he wasn't watching. "Like your hair," he said
conversationally. "Kinda, you know, snazzy. The Slayer do it for
you this time?"
The rude noise was answer enough.
"Guess not," said Clem, shrugging to himself. Gee, vampires were so
moody! "Hey, I rented 'Legally Blonde!' You wanna watch it again?"
"No," Spike said tightly. "No blondes, no bouncin' shampoo
commercial hair. Period."
Clem nodded in understanding. "You and the Slayer had a fight. Gee,
Spike, do you have to be so touchy? The girl's just trying to..."
"She's not a girl. And. We. Did. Not. Fight." Spike clipped out the
words in 1920's typewriter staccato.
Drawing back a little, Clem considered the direction the conversation
was going. He decided to drop it and remind himself to stop saying
the word 'Slayer,' unless she was in the room.
"You know, when I came back, I realized that this wasn't going to
work," Spike's voice gathered momentum. "Should have left then.
Gone back to New York." He smiled briefly at Clem. "Vampire can
move around all day long there. Whole city underground."
Clem settled back, keeping his expression blank. It seemed to be the
beginning of a rant to him. Clem was Spike's best friend and the
vampire really didn't have anyone else to talk to about the Slayer.
Of course, some of their conversations had gotten a little graphic in
the past, but...he liked Spike - admired him even - so he was going
to be a friend and not interrupt. Let him vent.
"But no. She was here. Smellin' up the place with that lotion she
uses. Paddin' around the crypt like some hausfrau, heatin' blood,
watchin' me like I was gonna break, bullyin' me into straightenin'
up. Survived over a hundred years without her. Reckon I can make it
a few hundred more."
Spike paused. Clem felt the empty hole and responded
carefully. "But things have been okay lately..."
"Oh, right. Bloody oh-kay! Well, let me tell you somethin', Clem.
She still doesn't get it. Right in front of her bleedin' nose and
she's clueless!"
Clem leaned down to pick up the canvas tote bag he'd brought. "Got
that, too, Spike. On video. And that Alicia Silverstone..."
"Then, tonight, I'm mindin' my own business. Nibblet's doin' a touch-
up, which is fine. I don't care. Bit can do anythin' she likes.
And *she* comes in - all full o' piss and vinegar."
"Oh, not good."
"Oh, no, not bloody good at all, 'cause that's the way I love her
best. All tossin' hair and flashin' eyes. 'Course I know she's just
playin' at it. She's not sorry I'm there. Then, she puts her hands
in my hair, and..."
"Whoa! TMI, Spike. You sayin' things got outta hand?"
Spike nodded decisively, mouth tight. "And then, the Little Bit
comes in and catches us."
The demon slapped his hand to his head. "She'll be scarred for
life. One time, when my mom..."
"We weren't doin' *that*!" Spike said in exasperation. "Well, we
were, but not really, y'know. So I go outside, give 'em some space,
have a fag or two. And she comes out..."
"Dawn? Whoo, boy!"
"No. Buffy. So I take my leave, right? With as much grace as I
can, considerin' what I want to do to her on her own back porch.
Make sure she's all right, set up the thing with Harris tomorrow, and
I go.
"And do you know what she says to me? To me - the stupid bloke that
went all the way to Africa to get a soddin' soul so that she could
love me? That she doesn't understand how she forgot Dawn was in the
house! That's all. That's it."
"Yeah...?" Clem was attempting to follow, but the confusion factor
was getting higher. He guessed you had to be there, but...no
thanks! The idea of all that tight skin - whew!
Spike continued, getting angrier and louder. "Bloody fireworks go
off - hell, nuclear bomb goes off, just from one kiss, and *that's*
all she says!" He turned and looked at Clem in frustration. "I'm a
stupid pillock, and if I wasn't such a git, I'd stake myself. Or let
the whelp do the honors!"
"So...you didn't want to kiss her?"
"No." Spike looked at Clem in confusion. "Yes. Well, yes, I did.
But not if it's just gonna be like last time. All skin and nothin'
else."
Clem looked nauseous. He shook his head to try and get rid of the
image Spike had conjured up. As his words echoed through the room,
Spike heard them from Clem's perspective.
"Sorry, mate," he said apologetically. "Got carried away."
Clem stumbled up out of the chair. "You know," he said with a sour
look on his face, "I really need to go. Gonna work through the
tunnels, make sure the babies are okay in the sewers."
Spike looked at him in concern. "Christ, Clem, s'not that bad. Is
it?"
Wiping his forehead, Clem headed downstairs to take the shortcut
through the tunnels. "Just lots of mental pictures. I hope I've got
a copy of 'Harold and Maude' at home..."
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Feinting with his left, Spike snapped a right at Xander. The Scooby
dodged the feint and put his nose directly into the path of the
vampire's right fist. Both man and vampire yowled in pain.
Buffy tapped her foot, watching a huffing Xander grab his nose, as a
wincing Spike grabbed his head. This had been going on for a week,
and was going nowhere. But the Slayer had sunk her teeth into the
exercises like a vampire with a new victim, and she wasn't letting go
of it, til she'd drained it dry.
"Jesus, Harris," Spike breathed out between clenched teeth. "Got to
defend yourself better. Like fightin' with a girl." As he felt the
Slayer bristle behind him, he corrected himself quickly. "Uh, with a
wanker, I mean," he said lamely.
Just as Xander was drawing himself up for another go, Spike had a
better idea. He shot the man a conspiratorial look and hoped the
whelp picked up on it. After all, they'd spent one entire summer
telegraphing moves to each other out on patrol while Buffy was gone -
surely Harris wasn't completely brain dead. And he had to be as sick
of this as Spike was.
"Wait a minute, monkey boy," he said.
"What?" panted Xander, nearly ready to pass out from the weight and
heat of his padded suit. Spike couldn't tell if he'd gotten the
silent message or not.
"You're supposed to be attackin' me this time." Spike looked to
Buffy for approval. "That right, pet?" he said innocently, eyes wide
and very blue.
As he'd hoped, the Slayer raised a slow eyebrow and impaled both of
them on gray-green eyes. "This is the saddest excuse for a training
exercise I've ever seen. Pathetic."
Spike dropped his hands to his sides as he rolled his eyes. Xander
had the grace to look embarrassed.
"This is so not. gonna. work. Not until you two stop playing around
and concentrate."
Xander and Spike glanced at each other.
"You know what? I'm bored. Work it out and call me. Take a break.
I don't care. I'll be upstairs - doing my nails, washing my hair, or
something." She yawned. "Or a nap. Bad fight scenes make me
sleepy. Nap is good..." Her voice faded as she shut the door to the
basement.
Xander wiped his forehead with a dramatic swipe. "Whew! Thought
she'd never leave. We've been doin' this for days!"
Reaching for the fastenings in the back, Spike helped the man remove
the training gear. "Yeah. Bloody hell, whelp, how many times before
she gets it?"
Xander huffed as he climbed out of the hot suit. "Sure could use
a..." He looked at Spike guiltily. "Bottled water. I'm all Willow
for the bottled water."
"Yeah. Right," the vampire said sarcastically.
"Well, still. It's okay, I guess."
Spike walked over and sat down on the basement step. "This is a
bloody waste of time. There's no loophole. The second I want to
wipe up the floor with you, the chip goes off."
Xander came over as he cracked open a bottle of water and sat down,
too. "Yeah. And I don't know how you can use the old 'for your own
good' thing on any Initiative guys. Or anybody else. Good thing you
missed old Warren at his worst. You'd be toast."
"Yeah, but Willow stripped his bark," Spike said wickedly.
"Hey! I was there. It was...horrible."
"Any bastard comes after my friends with a gun is fair game, Harris -
even if the bloody chip fries my brain. What pisses me off is that
RoboBoy Warren could 'a told us everything we needed to know about
this," Spike tapped the side of his head. "No guess work. All he
needed to know was what it was and he'd 'a figured it out. Had
reports, readouts, tech stuff. *I* couldn't read 'em, but..."
Xander stared at Spike in astonishment. "What?"
The vampire looked down at his feet, and tried to explain. "When I
found out the chip didn't work - on Buffy, I mean - I went to
Warren. Had him take a gander at the chip. See what was bolluxed
up. Wanted a closer look, but I had a bad feelin'. Got out o'
there. Should 'a torn Mr. Fett's head clean off," he muttered,
remembering.
"Wait. Does Buffy know this?"
"Nah. Not important, then - no good in it now."
"But Spike, we've got papers," Xander said, excited in spite of
himself. "Technical stuff. Will slipped some of it out of the old
lair. Buffy got some other stuff from the new one before it went all
self-destructo. If we knew what we were lookin' for, we might..."
"RoboBoy is one with the earth, monkey boy. And he built the Bot.
Smarter than any of us."
Xander looked at Spike. "Except Will, Spike. Willow could figure it
out."
"But Red's not here. She's with that witchy bunch in Devon."
"We could send it to Giles," he said, wheels turning in his
head. "Get him to get it to her. Then, she could help," Xander's
excitement was palatable.
Spike looked at him with half-lidded eyes. "And why would she do
that, whelp?"
"Well, she actually *liked* you. I think." Xander got to his feet,
heading up the stairs. He looked back at Spike, who hadn't
moved. "You comin'?"
Spike slowly looked behind him and up, eyebrow raised. He blew out a
breath and got up. "Why are you doin' this? I'm thinkin' you might
not like this chip out 'o my head."
Xander stared at him. He grinned recklessly. "Crazy maybe?
Suicidal?"
Nodding, Spike slowly got up and followed him. "Right then. Lead
on."
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"No." Spike sighed and looked at another piece of paper. "Not it."
Buffy handed him a piece of paper that was approximately eight inches
by one and a half inches long. Spike squinted at it and made a
disgusted noise. He held the sliver up. "Don't hand me any more of
these, Slayer. I mean it."
Xander started giggling. Both Buffy and Spike shot him a look.
There were several shallow piles of paper of various sizes scattered
in the floor of Buffy's living room. She was leaning against the
sofa with her knees up, bare feet pointing toward Spike, while he sat
in the floor nearby, legs crossed. Xander had become uncomfortable
just watching them, seeing how at ease they seemed, how intimate.
Once, she had even lazily handed Spike a sheet of paper with her
toes. He'd taken it without commenting.
Xander let out a bored breath. It was hopeless. He was sorry he had
ever suggested it. Spike kept on it long after the point Xander
would have fled screaming from the house. Finally, the vampire laid
the last sheet down and looked around, face falling when he realized
he was done.
"Okay, so bad idea, guys," Xander said, spreading his hands. "There
really wasn't a lot left, was there? Looked like more before. Hey,
Spike? How's the kid?"
Spike absently picked up one of the larger sheets of paper and turned
it upside down, looking at it one more time. "Kid?" He glanced at
the man. "Is that new slang for the fledgeling vampire I have
staying at the crypt?"
"The kid. Yeah. Daniel."
Spike laid the paper down, looking at Xander cautiously. "He's
pickin' up," he said slowly. "Face finally healin'. Bruises
disappearin'."
"And you did that, right?" the man asked nonchalantly.
Spike was outraged. "No. College boy vampires did it. With one of
those bloody paddles all the best fraternities are so fond of. Hit
him in the face, ribs..."
Wincing, Xander put a hand up. "Okay, okay. Holy cow, Spike. Don't
get your soul in a tangle. Ever figure out what the deal is?"
"What deal?" Buffy broke in, trading a glance with Spike.
"His thing. The why and the who and the rats. Thought I'd come by
and see him."
Both Buffy and Spike spoke at once. "Why?"
Xander's eyes widened. They were spending way too much time
together. "Why not?" he said reasonably. "Just curious. Okay? No
motives here, ulterior or anterior. Promise I'm not gonna stake your
new pet."
Spike gritted his teeth. "Harris, you're a wanker and an idiot."
Smiling, Xander got up and headed for the front door. "Betcha say
that to all the guys." He waggled his fingers. "Nighty night." The
door closed firmly behind him.
Stretching his neck to relieve the tension, Spike slowly turned
toward Buffy. "I hate your friends," he said calmly. "You know
that, right?"
"Obviously, the feeling is mutual. He hates you, too."
Spike jumped up and paced to the other side of the living
room. "No. He hates me *with* you. Or hates whatever he *thinks*
I'm doin' with you. Jealous little twit!" He stopped pacing and
looked at Buffy apologetically. "Need to get back to Clem."
"Yes, you do. We're notoriously short on babysitters," she said
dryly. "Lucky for me, Dawn's with Janice tonight. Or not." She
sighed and got up. "I'm going with you."
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"I really ought to have my head examined," she complained.
Buffy had gone downstairs and spent some one-on-one 'quality' time
with Daniel, while Spike had played catch-up with his demon 'sitter.
When Buffy had come back upstairs, her eyes were shining and her face
was smooth. No frown marred the sparkle that lit her face.
Spike loved her like this. He chuckled as she fussed around with the
heated pig's blood. He reached over quickly, picked up the mug, and
spun away with a flourish, raising the mug to his mouth for a taste.
She grabbed, but missed.
"Smooth move, Spikey," she said sarcastically, as he wiped his upper
lip and the thin line of blood on his chin. "That's right. Waste
your food. Oh, and by the way," she said, pointing to a spot he'd
missed, "Eewww!" She realized what he'd done. "Hey! That was for
Daniel!"
"Oh, of course," he said mockingly. "Daniel..." he teased in a
falsetto voice.
"Well, he cleans up nice!" She grinned unselfconsciously. "Clem did
good! And he *is* closer to my age than you are," she teased.
"Oh, it's 'boys' now, is it?" he said with an arching brow.
"You know, I feel really sorry for him. Did you know his girlfriend
is still going to school here?"
"At Sunny U?" Spike looked at Buffy in surprise.
"Before those vamps got him, he used to go watch her when she'd go
out at night. Watch over her, I mean," she said, lowering her voice
confidentially.
"Oh, and suddenly, that's all romantic?"
Buffy stared at Spike. Then, her eyes narrowed with
comprehension. "There's a difference between 'watching'
and 'stalking,'" she retorted.
"Really?" Spike leaned against the table with mischievous
eyes. "Enlighten me."
The Slayer opened her mouth to explain the difference. Confused, she
quickly closed it. Spike thought she looked especially adorable when
that sharp, biting wit escaped her.
"I thought so," he laughed. "Slayer, you just didn't know how good
you had it!"
In answer, she grabbed the mug out of his hand and looked inside,
effectively changing the subject. Wrinking her nose, she slammed the
mug back down. "You drank it!"
"Yes, I did. Fruits of my labor. And Clem's. Percentage of the
net, paid over the term of the contract."
"Oh, yeah. Mr. Sunnydale Business Guy," she said loftily. "I can
just quit my job and sit back, right?"
"Got other mouths to feed here, pet. Get your own contract. They
ought to be paying you well for risking life and limb," he said
pointedly.
She laughed. "*Lives* and limb. Plural on the life part. And at
least Daniel doesn't smoke. That saves a bundle!"
"Oh, no. Daniel would *never* do anything so crass."
Buffy pushed a fresh mug into his hands. "You're right. Daniel
seems perfect. Well, except for that one little thing." She had a
sudden thought. "Oh, God."
Spike looked at her questioningly, putting the mug down. Frowning
dramatically, she stalked around the table and grabbed his arms,
digging her fingers in to punctuate her words. "Never, never, never
let Dawn meet him!"
"Ow. What does...?" He remembered Dawn's first Halloween date - a
vampire in a high school letter jacket. That had ended badly. "Oh."
"And," she said, letting go of his arms and pressing a finger into
his chest, "I blame *you* for that," she said, only half-joking.
"Me? I didn't tell her to toddle off and get her own vampire
boyfriend. One in the family is enough."
She ignored his words. "Oh, it's your fault, all right. You, with
all your stories. And your cool hair," she said, mimicking
Dawn. "And your smooth moves. And your..." She looked down quickly
as she felt herself redden at the glint in his eye. "...coat."
"Oh, it was the coat, was it? And I thought it was my sparkling wit
and the grace I exhibit under pressure," he teased.
"Miss the coat."
The humor drained out of Spike's eyes. "Buffy, believe me, you don't
miss the coat. I don't miss the coat. The coat is a...trophy," he
said with distaste. Reaching up to his brow, he tapped the scar
there. "Just like this."
She looked at him questioningly.
"The first slayer I killed gave me this. The second slayer? Well,
she didn't *give* me the coat. I took it."
Buffy's eyes went wide. "The coat? Was her coat?" she whispered.
He nodded. And waited for the inevitable repercussions.
She tore her eyes away from his, and handed him the now-cool
mug. "Um, here. Rewarm this, okay? I...I've got to go." She
grabbed her jacket and headed for the door, almost in a run.
Spike watched the door close. Then, he walked to the microwave.
"She's your girl, isn't she? The Slayer?" Daniel said quietly as he
appeared at the head of the stairs.
Spike closed his eyes and let out a breath. "She's a lot more than
that."