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Part Six – Uncertainties

When Spike reached the landing at the top of the stairs, he didn’t find Buffy like he’d hoped. Instead he saw a bundle of aggravated Slayers talking animatedly outside the bathroom door.

“I can’t believe she kicked us out!” exclaimed Kennedy, trying to scrub off the remains of a pea-green facemask with a tiny washcloth. “It’s not like she was out there all night like we were.”

“What’s going on?” Spike quietly asked Rona, who stood on the outskirts of the group, shifting a toothbrush back and forth in her mouth.

“Buffy kicked us out of the bathroom,” she answered, eying Spike with new interest – as if she’d just realized that he was a vampire, and she was now a Slayer. “She looked pretty mad.”

Before Spike could respond, a bleary-eyed Willow popped her head out of her bedroom door. “Some of us are trying to sleep here. Move it, or lose it! And I mean that literally.”

“You heard her, guys,” said Kennedy, throwing her dirty washcloth against the bathroom door with a thud. “Let’s just go to bed.”

Spike waited until the noisy throng had relocated themselves elsewhere before he knocked on the bathroom door. “Buffy? Come on, love, let me in.”

He didn’t really expect a response, but to his surprise, the lock on the door released a moment later. Spike entered before she could change her mind and locked the door behind him. The shower was running in the background, and Buffy was stepping out of her sweatpants. Her face was blotchy with the threat of tears. “If you so much as mention Giles, I’m kicking you out,” she muttered.

“Wasn’t even thinking about it,” he replied, watching with interest as she bent over to retrieve her favorite shampoo from its hiding place beneath the sink. “Okay, maybe I was thinking about it a little – but I know better now, yeah?” He strolled up to her with a naughty smile and ran his hand lightly down her back. “Come on, lighten up. He just needed to get a little steam out. I think maybe you do, too. Any way I can help relieve some of that tension?” He tugged her close and dipped his head for a kiss.

“Would you please brush your teeth?” Buffy groaned, turning her head aside. “No way am I kissing you after you ate that ancient macaroni.”

“Kill-joy,” muttered Spike teasingly as he released her. He rummaged through a cabinet until he found a large bottle of mouthwash. He took a sizable swig, swished it around furiously for a few seconds, and then swallowed the entire mouthful with a loud ahhhh. Screwing the cap back on the mouthwash, he smiled smugly and asked, “Better?”

Buffy gaped. “Do you enjoy grossing me out?”

“How was that gross?”

“You’re not supposed to swallow it.”

Spike frowned at the label. “Oh. Never knew that. Well, that explains a lot.”

Rolling her eyes, Buffy pulled her t-shirt over her head and muttered, “I don’t want to know.” Carefully, she unwrapped the bandage from around her middle and eyed the almost identical wounds on her back and stomach in the mirror. Aside from a little redness, they were almost completely healed. When she glanced up, Spike was frowning deeply.

“That sword punctured you all the way through?” he asked. Though impossible for someone without a soul, she thought he sounded a little guilty, perhaps for handling her so roughly earlier in the bedroom.

She nodded in response to his question. Then without looking back to see if he had anything further to say, Buffy stepped out of her panties, threw back the shower curtain, and moved under the scalding flow of water. Though she closed the curtain firmly behind her, Spike predictably entered the shower a few moments later, having rid himself of his clothing.

His fingers lightly traced her hips from behind. “Never taken a shower together before.”

“I’m not in the mood, Spike,” she whispered, closing her eyes wearily as he licked a trail of water droplets from her shoulder.

“I know,” he replied, picking up a bar of soap. “Doesn’t mean I can’t watch, does it? Maybe lend a hand while I’m at it?”

A moment later, she felt his soapy hands on the small of her back. She knew he was quietly inspecting her injury for himself since she wasn’t inclined to talk about it. In time, his fingers worked their way around to the front of her belly to find the exit wound. Buffy felt minutely better when she realized his ministrations, however careful, didn’t hurt one bit. She would have to remember to thank Willow the next day for the speedy healing.

“Look pet,” he said in a low voice, “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I don’t like seeing you so down. It was the bit Rupert said about that bird Angelus killed that upset you, wasn’t it? I heard him from the kitchen.”

“Her name was Jenny Calendar,” said Buffy emptily. “She was murdered because I couldn’t bring myself to take care of Angelus. I let him run around killing and doing who knows what else for weeks, Spike. You should know – you were there. I couldn’t see past the fact that I loved him.”

“So Giles thinks you’re doing the same thing with me, does he?”

Buffy stared hard at the shower wall. “Is he right?”

Spike pushed her wet hair over one shoulder so he could kiss the side of her neck. “No, he’s not. Number one, I’m not out killing anyone. Number two, I’m way more stable than Angel could ever hope to be – even with my crazy-in-the-basement stint factored in. And number three, you don’t love me – so ‘taking care’ of me if I mess up isn’t really a problem, is it?”

She spun around, eyes brimming with angry tears. “Do you really think I feel so little for you? It would kill me if you died, you … you jerk.” She shoved him back lightly but heatedly.

Surprised by the intensity behind her words, he fell into a thoughtful silence. He gently massaged her shoulders with his soapy hands as she regained control over her emotions. A moment later, he added quietly, “I’m just saying, the two situations aren’t the same – so you shouldn’t feel guilty.”

Says the vampire with no conscience, she thought silently.

“Easier said than done,” she whispered as she watched the water swirl down the drain.

“Want me to wash your hair?” asked Spike, sensing a change in the subject would be beneficial to them both.

“I’m a big girl,” she said with a shake of her head. “I can do it.”

“Doesn’t have anything to do with you being able to do it or not.” He picked up the bottle of shampoo. “Please? We both know I’m not above begging, Slayer,” he added teasingly.

Rolling her eyes, she pushed her hair back over her shoulders so he could access it easier. “All right. Geez, you’re pathetic.”

“You love it,” he said with a smile.

She shivered involuntarily when she felt his hands tangle in her hair, palms thick with fragrant shampoo. It took a moment for the strangeness of the situation to fade away into something more comfortable and sensuous. One thing could be said about Spike – he knew how to use his hands. As he worked the shampoo into her hair, his clever fingers managed to ease away every bit of tension in her neck and even down her shoulders. Lips forming a soft smile, her eyes drifted shut in contentment.

“Like that, baby?” he murmured.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized Spike was probably the only person in the world who could call her ‘baby’ and make it sound sexy instead of something from a bad Patrick Swayze movie. “Yeah. Feels nice.”

Gentle hands guided her under the water flow to rinse the shampoo out. Afterwards, he worked the cream rinse she’d handed him into her hair, and she found herself shivering yet again. She marveled that he was able to make her feel so aroused just by the simple act of touching her hair. As he combed his fingers through her locks, she picked up the bar of soap and turned to face him. Reaching her arms around him, she ran soapy hands down the muscled length of his back and decided she liked showering with Spike very much. It was the perfect excuse to touch every inch of him – and that was exactly what she planned on doing.

Eyes glinting at her adoringly, he guided her back under the water to rinse out the conditioner. When she emerged, he smiled and leaned down for a wet kiss.

Buffy licked her lips. “Mmmm, you’re all minty fresh.”

“Oughta be. Been misreading mouthwash directions for decades.”

He grinned when he heard her giggle, a sound he’d not heard in months. Slipping her arms around his neck, she pulled him down for another kiss, longer this time with more intent lingering behind it. Every trace of her worried thoughts had obviously fled for the moment, leaving other things on her mind. Spike’s eyebrows rose when he felt one of her hands slide down his chest and lower. Pulling away from the kiss, he smirked mischievously and said, “Still not in the mood, huh? Well, I should probably just slip out of here then, and let you finish your shower in peace.”

“Don’t you dare,” she said, bringing his lips back to hers before his laughter had a chance to ring out. She moaned approvingly as he trickled one hand up her side and moved to cup her breast in his palm. He rubbed slow circles around her nipple with his thumb while his other hand slipped between her legs.

“Now,” she breathed against his mouth. “I’m ready.”

With a shake of his head, he evaded her grasp for his erection and stooped to his knees. She gasped as he splashed hot water onto her pussy and then slowly licked every drop off. His tongue lightly traced the slit of her opening, purposely ignoring her clitoris until she gripped his hair and held him against her. He chuckled and found her sweet spot, kissing the warm flesh around it like he would kiss her mouth – wet, open-mouthed kisses that made her writhe. His hands encouraged her to spread wider for him as he tongued her. She moaned as he splashed her again with water followed by a series of slow licks – and then he did it again and again until she was close to screaming. A small part of her mind was warning her to keep quiet, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember why silence was a good thing.

After what seemed like forever, he placed his hands firmly on her waist and picked her up. She wrapped her legs around his hips as he pressed her against the shower wall, bending his head to slowly lick droplets of water off of her breasts. She reached between them and wasted no time in guiding his erection to her entrance.

Pressing forward until he was snugly inside her, Spike caught her earlobe playfully between his teeth. “Reminds me of the first time we made love.”

Gasping as Spike began a slow, steady pace, flashes came to Buffy’s mind of him pressing her up against the wall of a collapsing building – thrusting in and out of her at the same sharp angle. “Don’t talk about that,” she said breathlessly. “This isn’t last year. I don’t want what we had then.”

“No arguments here, but let’s not let the memories spoil our fun, yeah? Know you like this position.”

“Can we please stop talking?” she begged, digging her fingernails into his back when he hit a particularly good spot.

Spike chuckled. “For once I won’t take that as an insult.”

Conversation dwindled after that, and both became lost in the moment. He was right, she realized – she did like this position. She enjoyed that he was able to hold her up without the slightest bit of effort. After spending so much of her life being the strong one, sometimes it was nice to feel small and delicate – just so long as Spike knew in the end who was boss, of course.

Foreheads resting against each other, they moved together, not in perfect unison but in an unfocused, grinding desperation that had them both gasping for more. Pale blue eyes fixed her with a stare that she found she couldn’t break – didn’t want to break. More was said between them during that gaze than with all the words they’d ever spoken to each other. For the moment, nothing else existed.

The brooding Watcher downstairs, troubled by thoughts of a missing soul and a seduced Slayer, was the farthest thing from their minds.

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To be continued.

A/N – I trust everyone has picked up on my use of water symbolism in this story, right? You’ll definitely see it again. :)

Chapter 7:

Buffy and Spike slept right through breakfast and would have snoozed the afternoon away had their stomachs not started growling in protest. They emerged from the bedroom a little after noon, bleary-eyed and hungry, but not groggy enough not to notice the entire household staring at them curiously. Dawn greeted them with a knowing smirk, and Willow pretended to be engrossed in her lunch. Giles glared at his steaming cup of tea, refusing to look at either of them as he fumed silently. The Slayers were giggling and whispering in conspiratorial tones while Faith chose the more direct approach.

“Damn, B. You sure know how to pick ‘em,” she said. “Why don’t you share with the rest of us?”

“Were we that loud?” asked Buffy under her breath as she sat down next to her sister with a plateful of food.

“Are you kidding me?” replied Dawn incredulously. “I learned more about sex last night than from all mom’s old romance novels combined.”

Buffy gaped in horror, unable to decide what bothered her more: the fact that everyone had heard Spike and her last night, or that Dawn actually knew something about sex. Fueled by her furious blush, the other girls at the table continued to snicker.

“Excuse me,” Andrew interjected defensively, Hot Pocket in hand, “I don’t think it’s very nice to be laughing. I mean, they’ve come through so many trials and tribulations. It’s a total Mulder and Scully scenario, people. It’s Season 8, and they’ve finally consummated their doomed love. So what if it was off-camera? We should still respect it.”

Unable to stifle it any longer, the Slayers burst into laughter. Spike rolled his eyes, pulled out the mug of blood he’d put in the microwave to warm up, and headed for the living room without a word.

“Spike?” called Willow after him. “Giles and I needed to talk to you and Buffy about the, um, research you asked us to do?”

His groggy mind took a long moment to figure out what she was referring to, but at length, he nodded and said, “I’ll be in the living room when you’re ready. It’s a bit crowded in here, if you catch my meaning.”

Watching him leave with mixed feelings, Buffy bit off the corner of her sandwich and chewed mechanically. Though starving only moments before, she suddenly found she’d lost her appetite. “Anything happen while I was sleeping?” she asked her sister.

“Xander came home,” replied Dawn through a noisy mouthful of potato chips. “He’s upstairs asleep in Willow’s bed.” She snorted and said in a low voice, “You should have heard Kennedy complaining about that. I give her and Willow, like, one week before they call it quits.”

“You won’t hear me complaining,” agreed Buffy. “Tara was one thing, but yeesh. Anyway, how’s Xander? Last time I saw him…”

Dawn nodded. “He’s … quiet. But I think he’ll be okay. You should go talk to him after he wakes up.”

“Yeah, I definitely will. The wounded?”

“All in stable condition,” recited Dawn, as if she’d had to do it multiple times already that day. “All except Principal Wood. He’s still in ICU, but the docs think he’ll be fine after a few days.”

Buffy let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Good to know. I feel horrible, but I’ve barely thought about them since the battle ended.”

“Yeah. Well, a lot’s happened. Give your mind a little time to catch up.”

Buffy looked sheepishly at her sister. “So you’re okay with it? With me and Spike, I mean.”

Dawn thoughtfully crunched on a chip before she replied. “Haven’t decided yet. I’m still getting used to the fact that he has a soul.”

Feeling what little remained of her appetite dwindle, Buffy set the rest of her sandwich on her plate and pushed it away. She didn’t think she had it in her to tell her sister the truth about Spike just yet. “Willow, Giles? Want to have that research meeting now?”

Giles, who was drawing out patrol schedules for the girls, nodded silently, and Willow rose to set her dishes in the sink. “Can I come?” asked Dawn hopefully.

Buffy hesitated. “You should probably sit this one out, Dawnie. We’ve got some pretty serious issues to talk about.”

Dawn’s eyes shifted to Giles’ stern face. “You’re gonna get chewed out about Spike, huh? Too bad I have to miss it. Might be fun.”

Buffy tugged her sister’s hair teasingly. “You listen in, and I’ll make you regret it. Got that?”

Though obviously disappointed, Dawn nodded and didn’t protest when Buffy left to join the small group in the living room.

Buffy found Spike seated on the couch, boots on the coffee table. He took a noisy sip of his blood. “Oy, be a love and pass the remote.”

“Meeting now, Passions later,” said Buffy, nudging his feet off of the table and onto the ground before she took a seat next to him. He wisely didn’t put his arm around her as Giles entered the room.

Giles removed his glasses and carefully avoided Buffy’s gaze as he cleaned them. “I took the opportunity last night and this morning to look further into the matter of the amulet and its effect on the, erm, individual who used it yesterday.”

Spike smirked. “Sticks and stones, Rupes.”

“Spike…” said Buffy warningly. “What did you find out, Giles?”

“Absolutely nothing,” replied Willow as she entered the living room, bringing a stack of books over to the coffee table.

Buffy frowned. “But Giles said last night he had a few theories. He just needed to check some books or something.”

“Check some books, we did,” confirmed Willow, “and we found a whole lotta nada.”

Giles shook his head in frustration. “I can’t understand it. I know for certain that I’ve read about such an amulet before, but I can’t find mentions of it anywhere.”

“Well, can’t we just find other books? Willow, you could do the internet thing and—”

“Already did,” said Willow. “Nothing – which is really strange, if you ask me, considering the amount of information on the internet.”

Giles picked up a dilapidated book and flipped through its ancient pages. “Buffy, this amulet should be mentioned in the texts before you. I’m absolutely convinced of that.”

“So what are you saying?” asked Buffy, her frown deepening.

“Giles thinks knowledge about it has been erased or hidden somehow,” explained Willow.

“Like a concealment spell?” suggested Spike.

“No,” said Willow with a shake of her head. “If Giles is right, this is something different. Bigger and way more powerful than any concealment spell I know of. I mean, the entire internet has even been affected. And I’d be able to pick up magical traces if a simple spell was at work here.”

Spike rubbed his chin. “It would still be a supernatural force, though, yeah?”

“Probably, but like I said, something big and powerful. No way could one little witch pull this off.”

“So someone’s hiding information,” said Buffy. “Okay, fine. But didn’t you have some theories already, Giles? You said you remembered reading about it in the past.”

Giles sighed. “It was a long while ago – back when I was studying to become a Watcher. But I distinctly remember it being tied to The Apocalypse.”

“Well, I guess that would make sense,” reasoned Buffy. “We practically had one yesterday.”

Giles shook his head. “You don’t understand. You all use the term ‘apocalypse’ so lightly, as if it defines any sort of significant battle. But I’m talking about The Apocalypse. The one referred to in Revelation.”

“So the amulet has a part to play in the battle to end all battles,” said Buffy unenthusiastically. “That sounds … fun. What else do we know?”

“Not much,” said Willow apologetically.

“Angel gave you the amulet, correct?” asked Giles.

“Yeah,” confirmed Buffy, “but he didn’t know much about it either. Just that it was supposed to be worn by someone with a soul who was more than human. A champion, he said.”

Giles eyed Spike distastefully. “Yes, well that’s not much to go on.”

“We could call up Angel to find out if he knows anything else,” suggested Willow. “He could do a little research of his own, I imagine. He must have gotten it somewhere, after all.”

“All right, hang on just a sec,” interjected Spike. “The issue here is my missing soul, yeah? So shouldn’t we just concentrate on that instead of bringing The Grand Poofbah into this?”

Willow sighed. “That’s the thing, Spike. I did a little, uh, ‘soul searching’ this morning while you were still asleep.” When Spike’s eyebrow rose, she quickly explained, “I was just trying to find out what happened to it – where it went.”

“And?”

She pointed at the amulet in Giles’ hand. “It’s in the center jewel.”

“It seems as if your speculation last night was correct,” said Giles. “Your soul was indeed trapped in the amulet somehow.”

“Now we have to figure out how to extract it,” explained Willow, “but I don’t even know where to start. We don’t know the full purpose of the amulet. For all we know, if something happens to it, his soul could be lost for good. Spike could even be tied to the amulet now. If it was hurt or destroyed, well … it might not be good for Spike’s physical well-being.”

“Not to mention that this situation might be tied to The Apocalypse,” added Giles.

“The Apocalypse,” teased Willow. “Emphasis on The, right Giles?”

“What I’m trying to say is that we don’t know what this event might signify. In short, we need to find out what this amulet is very soon. Someone obviously doesn’t want us to know – someone very high up in power.” Giles suddenly turned on Buffy and Spike. “And I must say how very shocked I am that you two chose to implement such a weapon without knowing anything about it – without even consulting anyone first. I hope you both see now how foolish your actions were.”

Jaw clenching angrily, Buffy shot back, “If Spike hadn’t used it, we might all be dead, and The Apocalypse might already be well underway. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a phone call to make.”

Rising from her place on the couch, Buffy picked up the cordless phone and headed for the stairs. Frowning, Spike started after her, more than happy to leave the fuming Watcher behind. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked as they thumped up the stairs and down the hallway. “Can’t call him with anyone else present?”

Buffy sighed as she opened the door to her bedroom. “Angel’s number is in my address book, which is in my desk.”

“Surprised you don’t have it memorized,” muttered Spike, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched her rummage in her desk for the small book.

“Jealousy. How original. You do remember last night, don’t you? When we – oh, how did Andrew put it – consummated our love? I would think you’d be a little less insecure.”

“I might be if I hadn’t seen you and Peaches n’ Cream snogging not two days ago.”

Buffy made a face. “What is that? ‘Snogging’? I don’t snog.”

Spike rolled his eyes and took the phone away from her. “Buffy, you call Angel, and it’s gonna spell bad news for us.”

She let out a slow breath, trying to understand Spike’s anxiety. Maybe all he needed was a little reassurance. She tugged him close, but he avoided her attempt to kiss him. “Angel had his chance with me, Spike,” she said gently. “He left.”

Spike winced. “So I’m in your bed just because I’m the one who’s still around? Because I’m convenient?”

“No, you’re in my bed because I want you there. Because I trust you, and yes, because you’re still around. In case you didn’t know, that’s a good thing. You didn’t give up on me, Spike, and I won’t forget that. And you will be the only person I snog – whatever that means.”

Spike handed over the phone unhappily. “Make it quick, yeah? I’d like to test that theory.”

“Alone.”

A scarred eyebrow rose. “Come again?”

“I want to talk to him alone.”

“No way in hell. This is my soul we’re talking about here.”

“I’m not going to be able to get a word in edgewise with you hanging over my shoulder, calling him names every two seconds.”

“I would never…” he protested vehemently.

“I already said I trust you, Spike. If you don’t trust me, that’s something you’re going to have to work out on your own.”

“No,” he disagreed. “It’s something you’re going to have to prove to me – just like I had to prove it to you.”

His words cut into her, and she blinked back sudden tears. “I can’t prove it to you if you don’t give me the chance.”

Spike sucked his cheeks in. “Fine,” he said, turning on his heels and storming out of her room.

She glared at his retreating form, angry that he was making her feel guilty over a phone call she was making for him. She dialed the L.A. number before she could talk herself out of it and was surprised when Angel himself picked up on the first ring. He usually had a secretary for that sort of thing. She felt a twinge in her stomach – a familiar twinge she often felt when in Angel’s presence.

“It’s me,” she said quietly.

“Buffy,” gasped Angel. “The battle with The First, it—”

“—went fine,” she finished for him. “We won. Punched a nice, big hole in the Hellmouth while were at it, too.”

“I saw. On the news, I mean. We felt the earthquake here.”

“That was compliments of the amulet. It did a lot of things, in fact – some less pleasant than others.”

“You wore it, then? I wasn’t sure if you would use it.”

“Spike wore it, actually,” she said hesitantly. She wanted to mention Spike as little as possible during this conversation, for all their sakes.

Angel didn’t respond.

“That’s actually the reason I called,” she continued. “The amulet, I mean. We need to find out more about it – like where you got it from.”

Another uncomfortable silence.

“Angel, you there?”

“I don’t know much,” he said quietly. “Giles couldn’t find anything about it in all those dusty books he hoards?”

“It seems as if someone wants to keep knowledge about it under wraps. We can’t find anything.”

Angel sighed. “Somehow I don’t find that surprising, considering who gave it to me – and the fact that I was suppose to wear it.”

She purposely ignored the bitterness in his pointed comment. “We need to find out everything possible about it.”

“What’d it do to him?”

Buffy shifted uncomfortably. “I’d rather not say. He’s okay, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It’s not.”

“Look, I know you and Spike have history, but I’m the one asking you to do this. Don’t do it for him – do it for me.”

“Truth be told, I’m not inclined to do it at all. You chose not to involve me in that battle. You chose to give Spike the amulet. And you can bet he wouldn’t be stretching his neck out to help me even if I had worn it.”

“I would help you,” replied Buffy quietly. When Angel didn’t respond, she said, “You know what? Spike and I can handle this. If you can give me the name of the person who gave it to you, we’ll go to L.A. and do the work ourselves.”

“You come to L.A. – and we’ll talk. Just you and me. Leave Spike in Sunnydale.”

“He’s part of this, too.”

Angel sighed. “Come to L.A., and we’ll talk,” he repeated. “I’m not promising I can help – there’s been a lot of changes around here – but I’ll try. Happy?”

Buffy frowned, trying to understand what it was about their past that made Spike and Angel turn into self-righteous bastards at the mere thought of each other. This was going to be one difficult trip. “We’ll leave at sundown. Thanks,” she said with unenthusiastic shortness before she hung up.

Covering her eyes with her hands, she leaned back against her pillows with a frustrated growl. She loved Angel – or at least her inner 16-year-old did. He was everything the storybooks said she should want – tall, dark and handsome. He even had the mysterious, brooding puppy-dog act down. But add to that his air of superiority and a propensity to abandon people when things got rough – and suddenly the storybook ideal didn’t seem so appealing anymore. She knew deep down that Angel was no good for her. She also knew that she shouldn’t have led him on by kissing him and telling him all that cookie dough mess the other night. But she’d be lying if she said she didn’t think about him often. She missed him and what he used to represent to her. How she was going to survive this trip to see him with Spike in tow was beyond her. It was confusing enough before adding a second vampire to the equation.

She rose and went downstairs to tell the others the plan. “We decided I should go to L.A. to look into things,” she said when she rejoined the group, carefully avoiding Spike’s gaze as she spoke. She had a feeling his glare was rivaling even Giles’ at the moment.

“I imagine Spike will be accompanying you?” Giles bit out the name like a curse word.

Before Buffy could respond, Willow cut in. “Of course he will. They’re together, right? Besides this whole amulet thing kinda concerns him. Be kinda silly to send Buffy by herself.”

Buffy stared at Willow in surprise as the redhead winked at her behind Giles’ back. “Yeah. That was the plan,” said Buffy.

“Do you think he’s entirely safe to take into such a large city, soulless and chipless?” protested Giles.

“Yes, I do,” replied Buffy. “Spike isn’t Angelus. I’m surprised his behavior since he lost his soul hasn’t already persuaded you of that.”

“If he goes through with the process of restoring his soul, I might be easier to persuade on the matter. All the same, I don’t feel it’s wise to take him outside the watchful eyes of so many Slayers. I don’t trust him alone with you.”

“Well, I do. I trust him with my life and with yours. If you don’t give him a chance to prove himself, why would he even want to try? Deal with it, Giles. I’m going to pack. Spike? We leave as soon as the sun sets.” Turning around, she was up the stairs before anyone could say a word.

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To be continued.
 

Part Eight

Giles thought Buffy looked rather pale as she packed her suitcase. Unaware of his presence, she hummed an off-key melody to herself. Watching her from the doorway, he found himself smiling despite the unpleasant situation in which they’d found themselves. Giles wanted nothing more than to mend their relationship, but this business with Spike was making that difficult. It was adding additional weight to the strain of their already deteriorating friendship, not to mention upsetting her trust in him. Giles didn’t want that. He loved Buffy like a daughter – something he would never have in the real world – and that self-ordained responsibility was not something he took lightly. Even if his choices hurt her, his true intent was only for her well-being. He hoped she understood that.

Tossing a pair of socks in her suitcase, Buffy glanced up and spotted him. Her voice was wary when she greeted him, as if she didn’t know exactly what to expect. “Hey.”

“Hello,” replied Giles, striving for a gentler tone he hadn’t used with her in a long time.

She looked away, busying herself with packing as she spoke. “Look Giles, I don’t want to fight anymore. I just-”

“I don’t either,” he cut in. “I still have more to say on the matter, to be sure, but I don’t think this is the time to say such things, as we’re both weary. For now, I’ve just come to give you this.” He held out the amulet, carefully nestled in a handkerchief. The center jewel caught a glimpse of sunlight from the window, causing Buffy to flinch. “You’ll want to be very careful with this artifact. It’s older than it looks.”

She accepted it gingerly. “It’s …warm.”

“That would be the presence of Spike’s soul, I imagine. It’s stayed that temperature consistently since it’s been in my keeping.”

She ran a thoughtful finger over the harshly cut lettering encircling the jewel. “I’ll be sure to take care of it,” she replied as she folded it in the handkerchief and carefully placed it in her overnight bag. When she noticed that Giles was still lingering at her side, she smiled tightly and said, “Is this the part where you tell me repeatedly to be careful and not to trust certain vampires, ensouled or not?”

He glanced down at his feet almost apologetically. “You do understand why I’m hard on you at times, don’t you?”

She shrugged. “Look, I get the whole father figure routine, and really? It’s nice to have someone like that around.” When she looked at him, it struck him anew that her once softly rounded cheeks were gone. The face that smiled up at him was leaner and stronger than he remembered. “I’m not a little girl anymore, Giles. I love and respect you, but I need to figure some of this stuff out myself.”

Giles returned her smile sadly and slid his hands into his pockets. “Have you ever looked at Dawn and felt helpless, watching her make all the mistakes you made long ago?”

“Sometimes. But how else would she learn?”

“When was it exactly that you became so sensible?”

“Well, I have been watching Oprah with Andrew. Lots of life lessons to be had there.”

“Ah,” he said with a chuckle. “Well, that mystery is solved.”

“Giles, I’m not going to make the same mistakes that I did when I was sixteen,” she added. “Trust me on that.”

He nodded, and they exchanged smiles, comfortable in each other’s presence for the first time in many months. Buffy took the opportunity to breach a rather sensitive subject. “So, um, since we’re having this nice little surrogate father-daughter chat thing, do you think I could ask you for a favor?”

“Dear Lord, this can’t end well…”

“Do you think we could take your car to L.A.?” she asked nervously.

Giles gaped at her. “Are you mad? Absolutely not.”

“Please? How else can we get there if we don’t take your car? Xander needs his to go back to the hospital later. Don’t you want to get this over with?”

“Can’t you take your mother’s monstrosity on wheels?” suggested Giles, scanning her sunlit bedroom helplessly as if the peeling wallpaper contained the answer to his problem.

“It died last year,” she replied as she folded a tank top and placed it in her suitcase. “We never had the money to get it repaired, and no one ever drove it anyway.”

“If I can be completely honest without fear you’ll turn your wrath on me, I’m not certain I want my car in the hands of someone as reckless as Spike.”

“I could drive it,” Buffy suggested brightly.

Giles grew pale. “Erm. Well, maybe I should give Spike the benefit of the doubt in this situation…”

“I’m not that bad of a driver…”

“Tell that to our insurance company,” said Dawn as she entered Buffy’s room. “After she got in that accident before she had her license, they refused to cover her.”

Scowling at her sister, Buffy turned to peer at Giles sheepishly. “I’ll make sure Spike takes extra good care of it.”

“I admit, I’m more worried about him taking care of you than my car,” replied Giles gently. “Buffy…”

“Spike and I are going to be fine,” she cut him off. “If something goes wrong – and it won’t – I can handle him. He knows that, and he’s not going to do anything stupid.”

Giles shook his head in defeat. “I’ll get my keys and give them to him myself.”

“Keys? Where are you going? Nobody said anything to me,” said Dawn, glancing at the overflowing suitcase in surprise. Buffy told her about the L.A. trip, and Dawn’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “You’re leaving? That’s so not fair!”

Giles cleared his throat and backed away towards the door. “Excuse me. I’ll leave you two alone to, um…” Leaving his sentence unfinished, he quickly shuffled out of the bedroom.

“What about what we talked about yesterday?” continued Dawn angrily. “You said we could leave the Hellmouth.”

“No,” corrected Buffy, “I said I would think about it. And you were talking about a permanent relocation. Spike and I are only going to be gone for a few days at the most.”

“Then take me with you. I can’t stay here anymore with all these people. I’m going crazy.”

Before Buffy could reply, Spike entered the bedroom, wearing a troubled expression. “Any idea what Rupert wanted? He asked to see me when I passed him in the hallway. Said he had to get something first. Didn’t like the sound of that.”

“He’s lending us his car,” replied Buffy. “He probably just wanted to give you the keys.”

Spike’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but he said nothing more on the matter. “Sun’s almost set. All packed, then?” he asked, woefully observing the gigantic suitcase and travel bag weighing down the bed. “Didn’t know we were gonna be gone for a year or two.”

“No high maintenance jokes, please. I haven’t even packed my shoes yet.”

“Oh, for the love of…”

“You could use my suitcase for them,” fumed Dawn as she crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s brand new – never been used, seeing as you never take me anywhere.”

Spike glanced wearily at the two sisters, ducked his head down, and busied himself with zipping up the overflowing suitcase.

“Fine, go pack already,” said Buffy, throwing her hands up in resignation. “Spike, Dawn’s coming with us.”

Dawn’s face broke into a bright smile, but when her eyes shifted over to Spike, that feeling of joy faded a bit. She suddenly realized that accompanying Buffy on this trip meant she would also be in close quarters with Spike – and there was still a world of awkwardness there.

Spike nodded in reply, not meeting either pair of their eyes as he hefted up the heavy suitcase. He sulked out of the room without a word.

“Is he mad at you or something?” asked Dawn quietly. “Or me?”

Buffy shrugged as she fished in her closet for shoes. “Me, more likely. I don’t think he’s thrilled at the prospect of seeing Angel. It’s not like I asked if it was okay with him.”

“What’s going on exactly? With the amulet and Angel, I mean. No one’s really told me much.”

Buffy sighed and pushed her hair out of her face as she stood, one arm full of shoes. “You should ask Spike that. It’s not really my place to say anything.”

“I don’t think he wants to talk to me.”

“I’ll bet he’s probably thinking the same thing about you. He asks about you all the time, you know.”

“Yeah, right,” Dawn scoffed, kicking her toes at the ground.

-------------

Peeking out from the safety of the curtains, Spike watched what little he could of the last beams of sunlight trickling down the horizon. As much as he loved this time of day – when the sun was gone, but the sky remained somewhat blue – he felt unsettled and discontent. The prospect of seeing Angel alone was enough to seriously make him consider whether Buffy was worth it all. Of course she was, he knew – but did she really have to include the Foreheaded Wonder in their affairs? Angel could have given her that information over the phone, but he chose to ask Buffy to L.A. instead. The grand intervention on Buffy’s behalf was already underway. Spike doubted that he was on the guestlist by choice, and he knew what was coming next. He would be made out as the soulless killer who could never deserve what Buffy had to offer while Angel donned puppy-dog eyes and a quivering lower lip. Spike could almost hear Barry Manilow cooing in the background, ready to seduce his Buffy with promises of an ideal future that was both impractical and impossible to achieve. His grandsire was a master of manipulation when he wanted to be.

Granted, Spike had to admit he was a manipulator, too – but he’d never used Barry Manilow against an innocent mind, so who was the real villain in this scenario?

Then there was the matter of Spike’s soul, the reason for making the trip in the first place. He did want it back – but not for the same reasons Buffy did. He felt the soul belonged to him, like it completed him. In contrast, Buffy wanted it in place as a safeguard. Considering her past with Angelus and her job title as Slayer, he couldn’t blame her for thinking that way – but couldn’t she see that he was different? Why was it so important to her sense of safety that his soul be in place? Sure, he’d screwed up more times than he could count, but he had changed – and most of those changes had nothing to do with the soul and everything to do with his love for her. Regardless of what she said, Spike knew that Buffy didn’t understand that, deep down. It went against everything she’d been taught.

While part of him did want the soul back, he’d be lying if he didn’t admit he was having second thoughts. How would Buffy react if he told her that? She couldn’t possibly comprehend what a weight it was, or how it tortured him. Spike shook his head in frustration, feeling as if he was between a rock and a hard place.

But he would do it. For her. God help him, he would do anything for her. It was pathetic, he knew, but he didn’t care. Buffy gave him purpose, which was something his inherent nature did not provide. She gave him a reason to better himself – just for her – not for anything he stood to gain aside from her happiness and trust in him. Where there once was only a raging bloodlust and a painful desire to love something but not really knowing how, now there was something to love – something pure and worth fighting for. That was what made him different from the innumerable, single-minded vampires that populated the earth: he wasn’t content with blood alone. He never would be again, now that he’d tasted the beginnings of true acceptance. Yes, he would get his soul back for her. And if he had to go L.A. to do it, so be it. Hell of a lot closer than Africa, though he doubted he would find the locals as amiable. Angel was going to be a significant obstacle.

Spike suddenly sensed a presence behind him, pulling him out of his thoughts. He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling when he realized who it was.

Giles cleared his throat and held up a set of keys. “If you so much as scratch the paint, I will personally scatter your ashes about the face of the earth.”

Spike smirked. “A proper funeral? Rupert, you spoil me. So what’s the catch?”

“No catch, but I do expect you to act responsibly on this trip. I’m placing a lot of trust in you right now. If Buffy is correct, and the chance to do the right thing is what you need, then this is it.” Giles handed over the keys and looked Spike dead in the eyes. “You come back with your soul in place, and you will have done something no other vampire in history has ever dared to do. Not even Angel.”

“Got my soul once before. Doesn’t that count?”

“Considering your propensity to rush blindly into rash decisions, I doubt you knew what you were getting yourself into,” Giles replied. “But if you choose to restore it now, fully understanding the pain that comes with it – well, that would be something remarkable in my book. You bring her back to me, unharmed in every sense, and then you and I might be able to reach a personal understanding.”

“Don’t know how much I care about a personal understanding,” said Spike, pocketing the keys. “But I’ll bring her back.”

----------------

The sky was completely dark by the time they pulled out onto the highway. Spike had the car going 80 miles per hour in less than five seconds, ignoring the girls’ pleas to slow down. His dark mood had worsened by the time all their luggage had been loaded, and it spread through the car like a shadow. An uncomfortable silence settled in, especially when Dawn put on her headphones and pulled out a GameBoy, leaving Buffy and Spike free to talk on their own.

Buffy watched him out of the corner of her eye, wondering what song was going through his mind as his thumbs drummed on the steering wheel to a tune only he could hear. “Mad at me?” she asked in a low voice.

Spike roared past two cars before he replied. “Not mad.”

“What then?”

Spike shook his head in response, which Buffy knew to mean that he was lying and really was mad at her. She didn’t have the energy to care and chose to let him brood in silence. It occurred to her that Spike was every bit as moody with the soul as he was without it. Having Angel and Spike together was going to be a barrel of laughs. She just hoped everyone survived it. Having Dawn around was probably a good idea, Buffy decided. Her sister might help the boys to behave themselves.

Buffy eyed Spike with annoyance as he pushed the car past 100 mph and honked at a slower moving vehicle in his way.

Who was she kidding? Spike wasn’t going to behave himself for anyone.

“So,” began Dawn loudly, unable to hear her own voice over her blaring Discman. “If you guys are having sex again, does that mean I get my own hotel room? Because … ew?”

Buffy clamped a hand over her eyes. “Is the concept of tact completely lost on you?”

Dawn popped her gum loudly in Buffy’s ear. “Pretty much.”

“I was hoping we could stay with Angel. He has that whole hotel, you know. It’d be way cheaper than staying somewhere else. So yeah, there will definitely be separate rooms.”

Dawn looked scandalized. “You and Spike sleeping together under Angel’s roof? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“We’re staying with Angel?” sputtered Spike, suddenly interested in talking. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“It’s kind of the obvious thing to do, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s just giddy at the thought of me sleeping down the hall from him. He’s probably got one of those skeleton keys that lets him into every room – gonna murder me in my sleep. Mark my words, he’s planning to be dancing on my ashes come morning. You ever seen him dance, Buffy? Enough to make a grown vampire dust himself. Man, I can’t believe this…”

“There’s no real reason for him to try to hurt you. I didn’t tell him anything about your … situation,” said Buffy, carefully sideswiping the issue of Spike’s soul, which Dawn knew nothing about.

Spike blinked at her curiously. “He doesn’t know?” Buffy shook her head in reply as she frowned deeply at the speedometer.

“Doesn’t know what?” echoed Dawn.

“Nothing,” answered Spike and Buffy in unison.

Glancing up from her GameBoy, Dawn smirked mischievously. “Ten bucks I figure it out before we hit the city limits.”

---------------------

The roadside diner was so hazy with smoke, Buffy didn’t even scold Spike when he lit up a cigarette while she and Dawn ate dinner. At least the nicotine seemed to calm his nerves a bit, and he became more amiable as the meal went on – though he did make a terrible fuss when he heard the country music blaring from the crackling speaker system.

“I can’t believe this music,” grumbled Spike as he lit his third cigarette in twenty minutes. “Bloody awful. Moodier and more self-indulgent than Angel, even.”

Buffy smirked as she speared a forkful of salad. “Kinda like you, huh?”

Spike shot her the evil eye and blew smoke in her direction.

Ignoring him, Buffy peered despairingly at her sister’s choice of dinner. Dawn was dipping hot, gooey French fries into her chocolate milkshake. She popped the combination into her mouth with a look of bliss.

“That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen,” said Buffy in revulsion.

“It’s so good,” insisted Dawn with wide eyes. “You’re totally missing out.”

“She’s right,” said Spike, stealing a fry and dipping it into Dawn’s shake. “Stuff’s brilliant.”

“Hey!” protested Dawn. “Get your own!”

“Why do that when I can just eat yours?” he asked with his mouth full, smirking as he reached for her plate again. Dawn smacked his hand lightly but had an affable look glinting in her eyes when he got away with a few fries anyway.

Buffy smiled curiously at the two of them, wondering if she was seeing a hint of their old camaraderie return. The thought made her feel happy and relieved. Pursuing a relationship with Spike would be much easier if Dawn was okay with it. Sensing a moment or two alone might further the mending of their friendship, Buffy pushed her salad away and announced she was going to the ladies’ room before they left. True to form, Dawn refused to abandon the rest of her French fries to join her. She remained behind with Spike.

“So when did you lose it?” asked Dawn conversationally through a giant mouthful of food.

Spike tipped his coffee cup up, draining the last grainy drops before he asked, “Lose what?”

“Duh, your soul.” When she saw the surprised look on Spike’s face, she added, “What, you didn’t think I’d notice? Told you I’d figure it out.”

The empty coffee cup hit the table with a clank. After a moment, Spike dug a crumpled ten-dollar bill out of his pocket and tossed it over to her. “Clever girl. How’d you know?”

Dawn stuffed her monetary reward into her jeans. “You look me in the face now, for one thing. Buffy knows it’s gone, right?”

“’Course she does. Why do you think we’re going to L.A.? Isn’t for pleasure, believe you me.”

“Buffy said something about that wonky amulet you wore in the Hellmouth. You guys needed to do some research in Angel’s library or something.”

“Or something,” said Spike, fingers tapping on the table anxiously. “My soul’s nestled up all snug in that sodding thing. Gotta figure out a way to get it out.”

Dawn studied him inquisitively. “So you actually want it back? You’re the weirdest vampire ever, you know.”

He shrugged and looked away. “Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don’t.”

“So why the rush to do it? You seem fine. If fact, I think you killed more people when you had the soul. Maybe you should just leave it in the amulet.”

“Funny,” deadpanned Spike. “Buffy thinks it’s important. Doing it for her, same as the first time I got it. Love’s bitch, remember?”

“How could I forget?”

“Makes her feel safe, she says.” He sighed and brought his cigarette to his lips for a long, thoughtful drag. “Guess I can’t blame her.”

Dawn dipped another fry into her shake and said nothing.

“Guess you feel the same way, yeah?” he asked.

“Doesn’t really matter what I think or feel,” she answered, not looking at him. “We’re not friends anymore.”

“No. Guess you’re right about that.”

Dawn watched his shoulders slump and a dejected look form on his face. “But my sister loves you, so I’m willing to get along if you are.”

He eyed her carefully. “Like to get along with you, too, pet, but I’m afraid you’re wrong about that first bit. Your sis doesn’t love me. If you’re looking for a reason to put up with me, you’re going to have to find another one.”

“Please,” scoffed Dawn. “You’re either really stupid or kinda dense.”

Spike cocked an eyebrow. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

“I’m just sayin’…”

But before they could continue the argument, Buffy returned, wiping her wet hands off on her jeans. She wore a troubled expression, as if the restroom she’d just emerged from had disturbed her greatly. She gestured towards Dawn’s diminishing plateful of fries. “Come on, eat ‘em or leave ‘em. We’ve got to go. If we head out now we can be in L.A. in an hour.”

Spike blew a long trail of smoke from his lips as he stood. “Oh, good-ee…” He dropped a few bills on the table and tugged on his duster.

Scooping the rest of her dinner into a napkin, Dawn smiled proudly. “Looks like you owe me ten bucks,” she said to her sister. “I figured out that Spike’s soul went poof.”

Buffy glanced at Spike, a surprised look on her face. “You didn’t tell her, did you? She really did figure it out?”

Spike nodded, and Dawn grinned smugly. The two of them exchanged winks when Buffy resignedly handed her sister a ten-dollar bill.

------------------------

To be continued.
 

------------------------

Part Nine

Glancing up from a handwritten page of directions, Buffy touched Spike’s shoulder and pointed towards an upcoming street. “Hyperion Hotel – right there,” she said. “Remind me to thank Willow for the easy-to-follow directions.”

“Finally,” moaned Dawn, squirming uncomfortably in the backseat. “My butt is totally numb.”

“TMI, Dawnie,” said Buffy. “Though just between you and me, mine is, too.”

Spike sniffed as he glared at the hotel. “Always did overcompensate for his short comings.” He turned towards Buffy and smiled congenially. “But I guess I don’t have to explain that to you.”

Buffy gasped dramatically. “He spoke, Dawn! How long has it been?”

Squinting through the dark at her watch, Dawn replied, “2 hours and 23 minutes since his last sentence – a sentence being defined as a noun and a verb, that is. I didn’t count one-word responses and growls.”

Spike growled at them both as he pulled up in front of the hotel to drop them off. “Looks like I’m going to have to find somewhere else to park,” he said. “Sure we have to stay here?”

“Free rooms equal happy Buffy wallet.”

“Spike’s right,” complained Dawn as they got out of the car. “Staying here is a bad idea. Let’s just go to Vegas or something.”

“Thought you were all numb in the rear,” said Spike as he patted his jacket, looking for his smokes.

Dawn shrugged. “Nothing a little gambling wouldn’t fix. I’ve got twenty … I mean ten dollars to blow on the slot machines.”

“And quite a few years until you’re legal,” reminded Buffy as she pulled her bag out of the trunk. “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we all just agree to be optimistic about this trip? Yay happy, and all that? It’ll make this all a lot easier.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” said Spike. “Let’s break into Granddaddy Forehead’s room and sully the sheets.”

“Ptttb, gag, barf…” muttered Dawn, rolling her eyes towards the sky. “Can we go in now? The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can take me to Vegas.”

Spike pecked Buffy on the lips. “I’ll go park the car. Very slowly, I think. No saying your famous ‘hellos-with-tongue’ in there, got it?”

----------------

The Hyperion was in a state of complete disarray. Boxes overflowing with files littered the lobby floor, mixed in here and there with various artifacts and weapons. It appeared as if everything was in the process of being packed away, though Buffy couldn’t imagine why. Was Angel Investigations relocating? If so, why hadn’t Angel mentioned it before? Choosing their steps carefully, she and Dawn made their way back towards the office.

“This place is really cool and really disturbing all at the same time,” whispered Dawn.

“Why disturbing?” asked Buffy as she sidestepped a large battleaxe sticking out haphazardly from a cardboard box labeled ‘Angel’s Office’. “You’ve seen weapons and wonky demonic relics tons of times. You grew up around them.”

“Reminds me of a hospital – one of those wards where they’ve had to scrub unmentionables off of the floors and walls many, many, many times.” Dawn paused and thought. “Kinda like Spike’s old crypt.”

“Hello?” called Buffy as she peeked her head into Angel’s office. At least, she thought it was his office. It wasn’t as if she’d ever been there before – she was operating by guesswork alone. A desk stood alone in the room, but it was barren of almost everything save a few crumpled pieces of paper and a chewed pen cap. A lamp and a simple wooden chair stacked with more boxes were the only other things in the room. “Where is everyone?” she wondered out loud.

“It looks like they’re moving,” said Dawn. “Maybe they’re out, taking a load of this stuff over to a new place.”

Before Buffy could respond, she heard a noise behind them in the lobby. She thought for a moment that it was Spike, back from parking the car – but a moment later a slender brunette popped her head into the office, wearing an infectious smile and a sloppy ponytail. “Can I help you?” she said in a Southern accent, softened around the edges by the West coast influence.

Offering her hand, Buffy quickly introduced herself and Dawn. They learned that the young woman before them possessed the unlikely name of Fred and was part of Angel Investigations. “Any idea where we might find Angel?” asked Buffy. “He was expecting us sometime tonight, but we didn’t give him an exact time.”

“He got called out on business,” explained Fred, “but he’ll probably be back soon. Before dawn, I’m sure…” Her words trailed off as she spotted something by the lobby doors.

Buffy and Dawn followed Fred’s gaze. Spike was back from parking the car and was leaning over a box with an infuriated look on his face. He pulled out a beautifully engraved broadsword from the clutter and cried, “This is mine! Gave it to me on my first demon kill. The bloody bastard!”

“Uh, can I help you, sir?” asked Fred, looking distinctly nervous.

“He’s with us,” said Buffy apologetically. “That’s Spike.”

“Or William the Bloody,” said vaguely familiar voice, “depending on who you’re asking.”

Buffy turned to see that her old Watcher-for-a-day, Wesley, had also entered the room and was staring at Spike with educated interest. Her eyes just about bugged out of her head. Since when had the squeaky clean Watcher turned into a Harrison Ford-esque hottie? He was all scruff and leather – and the shadows contouring his lined face screamed of an angst-ridden past that would make any sensible female weak in the knees.

“Hoo boy,” murmured approvingly Dawn beside her. “I think I’m gonna like this place.”

“Don’t even think about it,” warned Buffy under her breath.

Spike noticed Wesley’s scrutiny and asked, “Do I know you? More importantly, do I care if I know you?”

“No, but I’ve read a considerable bit about you,” answered Wesley. “Had Angel not disclosed your associations with Buffy to me this evening, I fear I might not be quite as welcoming.”

“Spike’s okay,” said Buffy reassuringly. “Really.”

Wesley turned towards Buffy, his expression a mixture of distaste and intrigue. “Angel mentioned something about an amulet. Do you have it with you, by chance?” Buffy nodded.

“You can’t beat Wesley when it comes to ancient relics,” said Fred.

“Hold on a tick,” protested Spike. “Why give it to him? I don’t know him from Adam.”

“He’s my old Watcher,” explained Buffy as she dug in her bag for the amulet. “We can trust him.”

“Oh yeah. Because the Council of Watchers had proved itself so trustworthy in the past…”

Wesley smiled tightly. “Would it help you to know that I was dismissed?”

“Know another Watcher who was ‘dismissed’. Don’t like him, so don’t get your hopes up, Percy.” Spike crossed his arms over his chest and sulked as he watched Buffy hand over the amulet. “You’ll want to be careful with that,” he said to Wesley. “Let’s just say I’m personally invested in the blasted thing, so don’t do anything to it without letting me know, yeah?”

Wesley’s brow creased in perplexity. “I assure you I’ll take excellent care of it. If you’d like, you can come with me to the back. My books and research materials are there.”

Dawn turned to Buffy, a pout forming on her face. “Do I have to come?”

“How about I give you a room upstairs?” suggested Fred. “I think I’m gonna turn in, myself.”

“Perfect,” said Dawn with a smile. She turned to Buffy and said, “I’m outta here. Happy researching.”

-------------------------

“This is ridiculous,” said Wesley, his voice thin with frustration. “I can’t find any mention of the amulet in these books. Not a single reference. And if I know these books as well as I think I do, it should be here.”

Buffy’s shoulders slumped. “That’s what I was afraid of. We had the same problem in Sunnydale.”

Wesley thumbed through some loose pages of text and spotted something after a few moments of silent study. “Ah, look here. I believe I’ve found the origins of the amulet’s markings at least. It’s in an ancient demon language dating back to just before the birth of Christ. Judging from this text, the amulet seems to reference the Egyptian god, Ra.”

“Sun god, right?” asked Spike. “Makes sense, what with the lightshow and all. What else does it say?”

Wesley’s expression sobered as he continued to compare the amulet to the text. “Tell me, what did the amulet do exactly?” he asked.

“A good question,” said a new voice.

Buffy glanced up and saw Angel hovering in the doorway, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “You’re here…” she said, suddenly feeling a knot of nervousness in her stomach.

“That, I am,” he said with a tight smile. “Buffy, could I talk to you alone for a minute?”

Beside her, Spike visibly tensed and looked ready to launch into a fistfight, but Buffy placed a steady hand on his shoulder as she rose. “I’ll be right back, okay?” she said reassuringly. “Tell Wesley what happened to you. I think it’d be best if he knows the whole truth.”

------------------------

Angel slammed the office door behind them, and the sound echoed through the lobby. “I can smell him on you, Buffy,” he snapped. “I know what you’ve been doing.”

Buffy looked uncomfortably around the hotel lobby, trying her best to avoid his furious gaze. So much for saying hello, she thought. She led Angel away from the office door, knowing Spike would probably try to listen in on their conversation. “I really don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Is that a fact?” Angel chuckled. “Do the words cookie dough mean anything to you? It was only a few days ago that you told me you were all half-baked and whatnot. And that is still the stupidest metaphor I’ve ever heard, by the way. Tell me, Buffy – do you like making promises you don’t intend to keep? Do you like leading me on?”

“I never promised you anything,” she retorted, “but I guess did lead you on a bit. I’m sorry, okay? Things just happened sort of fast.”

“Wow. That’s great. I’m really glad you’re so torn up inside over all of this – but there’s still the little matter of it being Spike you’re sleeping with. The other day, you said he was in your heart, not your pants. And don’t tell me this isn’t my business because it damned well is.”

“He’s a good person.”

“He’s a thing,” Angel corrected.

“Then so are you,” Buffy shot back. “I’ve made my choice, Angel. You’re going to have to deal with it if you still want to be a part of my life.”

Angel shook his head angrily. “So what is it exactly that he gives you that you can’t find somewhere else? That you can’t find here, with me?”

“Well, let’s see … where do I begin? Consistency. Reliability. Trust. Yeah, trust is a big one. Failure to abandon me when things get rough. Oh, and then there’s the fact that he got a soul. Just for me, by the way – did you know that part? No curse involved. Nope, he went completely against his nature to change. And you know, it’s nice that he’s still the same person every morning. And isn’t it funny how even though he’s lost his soul, he didn’t change his name to Spikelus and try to destroy the world?”

Angel stared. “He lost his what?”

Buffy’s mouth fell open when she realized her slip. “Um. Oops? Can you just rewind and forget I said that?”

“What do you think?”

Clamping her hands over her eyes, she sighed in defeat. Spike was going to kill her. “It’s why we’re really here. He lost it when he used the amulet, and we need to figure out a way to get it back.”

“He wants it back?” asked Angel in disbelief. “You’re sure he’s not lying?”

She shrugged. “He’s here, isn’t he? And I gotta tell ya, Angel – that’s a lot more than Angelus ever did for me. So forgive my choice of lovers, okay? I have my reasons.”

“So do you love him, then?” he asked quietly.

The question caught her off guard, and she hesitated for a long time before answering. “Truthfully? I don’t know. Sometimes I think I might. And you know what? Those are the only times I’ve been happy these last few months.”

“Happy is something you’ll never be with him.”

Buffy shook her head. “I think you’re wrong about that.”

“You know I’m not happy about this, but I’m going to help you out with your problem anyway. But he’s not staying here. You and Dawn, fine. I don’t care. But Spike? No way in hell. Get him out of my hotel.”

“Angel, like it or not, Spike and I are a couple. I want him here with me. And how can we figure out all of this amulet mess without him? It won’t kill you two to be under the same roof.”

Angel clenched his teeth. “Fine, he can stay. But I want him in a different room than you. Or do you just like rubbing my nose in all of this?”

Buffy softened a bit when she saw the dejected look on Angel’s face. “All right. Different rooms, it is. But I can tell you right now, Spike isn’t going to be happy about it.”

“Then he’s not happy,” Angel said. “He’ll get over it.”

The office door opened, and Wesley and Spike filed out. “Get over what?” asked Spike with a dark expression on his face.

Buffy glanced wearily at Spike. “I’ll tell you in a minute. What’d you guys find out?”

“Not much,” said Spike, his eyes practically burning a hole in Angel’s forehead. “Whole lotta nothing actually, but Percy here’s got a plan.”

“I suggest we take our research to our new offices tomorrow,” said Wesley. “They have books and other resources there that no other library could offer. I’m sure we can find something.”

“Did you tell Wesley what the amulet did to you?” Buffy asked Spike.

“Yeah. Why do you think he was so keen on leaving the office so soon? I imagine you told Gramps here? His face is shrinking by the second, closing in on itself. That means he’s pissed.”

“Gee,” said Angel. “Whatever could I be upset about?”

“Enough, you two,” said Buffy. “I don’t want to hear it. Let’s figure out what we’re doing and get on with it.”

Wesley glanced cautiously at the two scowling vampires. “I second that plan. But unfortunately, nothing can be done tonight, I’m afraid.”

Angel nodded. “We’ll regroup tomorrow and head over to Wolfram and Hart. I’d like to ask a few questions to some people there, anyway. They were the ones who gave me the amulet to begin with. What happened to Spike was supposed to happen to me.”

“Wolfram and Hart?” echoed Spike. “The law firm?”

Angel crossed his arms over his chest. “What about it?”

“The evil law firm?” Spike elaborated. “Grrr, nasty?”

“That’s all changed now,” Angel said quickly, seeing the look that flashed across Buffy’s face. “In the meantime, there are some rooms open on the second floor you can sleep in. Need me to see you up?”

“That’s okay,” Buffy said, holding her hands up.

“Yeah, really. That’s okay,” repeated Spike scathingly.

Angel shifted his eyes slowly in Spike’s direction. He obviously had a few things to say, but whatever was on his mind, he kept it to himself. “Goodnight, Buffy,” he said in a short voice. He and Wesley turned and left the lobby without another word.

“Good riddance,” muttered Spike. “The fumes from his hair gel were starting to make me dizzy.”

Buffy punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Could you have possibly acted less mature?”

Spike considered her question as he stooped to pick up her suitcase. “Yeah. Probably.”

“You’re funny,” she muttered, snatching the luggage away from him, preferring to carry it herself. “Listen, Spike, there’s something you need to know about our rooms.”

“Rooms? As in plural rooms?”

Buffy sighed as she punched the elevator button. It opened with a strident ding, and they stepped inside. “Angel wants us to stay in separate rooms while we’re here.”

“He what?” barked Spike.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” she argued. “We’ve been sleeping in the same bed for what? Less than a week?”

“It is a big deal. How can you think otherwise?”

“You can deal without sex for a night or two,” she snapped.

“This isn’t about sex, Buffy. It’s about you letting your old flame separate us two minutes after we arrive.”

“Oh, please. I had to admit to him down there that you and I were sleeping together. I wouldn’t exactly call that letting him separate us.”

The elevator door opened, and Spike stormed out, shaking his head angrily. “Call it what you will, but mark my words. Angel’s got a plan formulating in that thick skull of his. He’s going to try to come between us any way he knows how.”

“You’re being paranoid.”

“No,” he retorted, stopping in front of an open door. “I’ve just known him longer than you have. I know the way he thinks.”

Buffy dropped her suitcase on the floor and sighed. “One night, Spike,” she said, gripping the lapels of his jacket and tugging him close. “I promise I’ll be thinking about you.”

Spike stared down at her, looking older than she’d ever seen him. “I love you, Buffy,” he said quietly. “Love you with everything in me, but you need to know … it’s not impossible to lose me.”

Buffy’s face softened. “Spike…”

But he’d already pushed her away and retreated into the room. The door closed in her face, leaving her alone in the hallway.

---------------------

The end.



Okay, I’m lying. How about a “To be continued” instead? ;) I’ve already got a good bit of the next chapter written, so an update shouldn’t be too long in coming.
 

Part Ten

Alone in his hotel room at the Hyperion, Spike couldn’t take his eyes off of the window. There was a young girl on the street below, probably no more than 18-years-old, dressed to stop traffic. That was probably the point, seeing as she was a prostitute. A pretty little thing, she was – big eyes and rounded cheeks. She was pink all over from the chill, blood pumping overtime to warm her diminutive body.

Spike’s stomach growled at the sight.

He was torturing himself, he knew, but he couldn’t stop staring at her. It was his nature to be tempted by the kill, wasn’t it? In his vampire DNA, if such a thing existed. And now that the soul was gone, there was no guilt standing in his way. He could trot downstairs, quench the hunger for violence and blood that was slowly driving him mad, and then pop back into bed without a care in the world.

That’s what he liked to tell himself anyway.

Without a soul, he might be able to stand himself if he took an innocent life – but being able to withstand Buffy’s disappointment in him? That was another matter. He’d seen that look in her eyes before, months back in that dirty basement where she’d taken pity on him. It didn’t matter that The First had made him kill those people – Spike never wanted to see that look on Buffy’s face again. Just about did him in.

Who was he kidding? He still had a soul – and she was sleeping in the next room, blissfully unaware of his inner struggle. He could no more bring himself to hurt the young girl outside than he could hurt Buffy, herself. Because that’s what it would ultimately do – hurt Buffy.

The door opened behind him, interrupting his thoughts, and a shaft of light from the hallway penetrated the darkness of the room. Spike spun around to face the intruder, knowing exactly who it was. Didn’t take a genius to figure out who would come calling at that time of night.

“See anything out there that interests you?” asked a voice from the doorway. “Because it looks to me like you’re two seconds away from going on the prowl.”

“Oh, look who’s shown up,” said Spike, letting the curtain fall over the window. “I’m all aflutter.”

Angel stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “Cut the crap, Spike. I want to talk to you.”

“My, how exciting. Usually you just want to play mind games. What’s the special occasion?”

Angel stared at him with unnerving intensity. “She doesn’t love you, you know.”

“Oh, is that all?” Spike snorted. “I could have told you that. Doesn’t matter, though. I love her, and it’s enough.”

“You just think it’s enough,” said Angel, shaking his head in empathy. “You’ll find out later how very wrong you are.”

“Why are you here, Angel?” demanded Spike. “If you’re aiming for a fight, let’s get to it. But at least let me put on a shirt first. Buffy’s got this idea in her head about you, me, and a bottle of massage oil, see. Can’t say I’m as keen on it as she is.”

“I’m not here to fight,” said Angel, his voice quiet and even. “I’m here to make you an offer.”

Spike cocked an eyebrow with incredulity. “If you think you can buy me off, mate, you got another thing coming.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“So let’s hear it. And afterwards? You can leave. I like that part in particular.”

“I’m giving you the chance to walk away,” explained Angel with condescending patience.

“Excuse me? The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Buffy tells me you’ve lost your soul,” replied Angel, crossing his arms over his chest. “Feels nice, doesn’t it? To be free from all that crushing guilt? From the memory of the thousands of innocents you’ve murdered? Tell me you don’t love it.”

Spike tensed, a knot of anger burning in his chest. “Get to the point, Angel.”

“Do you really want to go back to all that pain?” asked Angel, approaching slowly until he was looking down at Spike. “Come on, you’re a vampire. You shouldn’t be held down with all that humanity and guilt. Forget the soul. Walk away. Go live your life. I won’t stop you.”

Spike stared at his grandsire in disbelief. “Walk away. Ri-ight. And leave her. That’s the nice little twist you’ve failed to mention.”

“I won’t deny the thought did come to mind.”

“You’re as predictable as dry toast, you know that?”

Angel nodded his head at the window. “I know what you were looking at down there. I saw her, too. You and I would have shared her, once upon a time.”

“Yeah. Once upon a time,” Spike reiterated, feeling more defensive by the second. “Things are different now. I’m different. You’ll do well to remember that.”

“I know you, Spike,” pressed Angel, his calm exterior slowly slipping away. “I know what you want.”

“Piffle. You don’t know me half as well as you think you do, but I have a pretty good idea what you’ll be doing if I took your advice. The minute I step foot out of this building, you’ll be knocking on the Slayer’s door, telling her I’ve run off to murder, rape, and pillage. There’ll be a witch-hunt out for me before the sun rises. No thanks.”

Angel shook his head. “I’d let you go. It’s not a bad offer, Spike.”

“Yeah? Well, you can take your offer and shove it up your arse, if you can find room.”

“Would you just think for once in your life?” snapped Angel. “Not about yourself – about Buffy.”

Spike laughed. “That’s all I bloody well do, you fucking ponce. Why the hell do you think I got the soul to begin with? Why do you think I’m trying to get it back?”

“And what’s going to happen if you do get it back, huh? Don’t roll your eyes at me – listen, for once. I want you to think back to those all those months you had your soul. How did you feel about Buffy then?”

The mocking smirk faded from Spike’s lips as he grew distinctly uncomfortable. His gaze faltered and fell to the ground.

“Didn’t think you were good enough for her, did you?” Angel continued. “Wanted her to be happy, and knew you could never do that for her. I know the feeling, believe me.”

“So, what are you saying exactly?” asked Spike, his voice cold. “That I shouldn’t get my soul back? ‘Cause that’s some pretty fucked up logic you got there.”

“No,” replied Angel evenly. “I’m saying you should either grow the hell up or leave her for good. If you get your soul back, listen to it. Leave Buffy alone. Walk away. She deserves better than you.” Biting the inside of his cheek, Angel kicked at the foot of the bed with his shoe. “She deserves better than both of us.”

“Oh, you are pathetic. Do you honestly expect me to believe you’re not going to try something with her the minute I turn my back?”

“Come on, Spike. Why do you think I came to L.A. in the first place? It certainly wasn’t for the fresh air. There isn’t any.”

“That’s one thing I don’t get about you, Peaches. If you’re so into the denial of self, then why’d you put the moves on Buffy not three nights ago? Why lure her out here when you could have just given her information about the amulet over the phone?”

Angel shrugged. “Just because I can’t have her doesn’t mean I don’t love her. I still want to be close to her. It’s a struggle I go through every day.”

“If you really loved her, you wouldn’t have abandoned her. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

“Well, let’s look at you, Spike – if you love her, why do you insist on dragging Buffy down to your level? She’s doing nothing but rolling in the filth that is you. If you had a soul, you could see the truth in that observation. So listen to someone who does have one.”

Spike glanced up wearily at his grandsire, looking unnerved.

“You’re going to crush her when you get the soul back,” continued Angel. “Mark my words. Everything that you felt when you had it is going to come back to you, only a million times worse, and you’re not going to want to have anything to do with her. You’ll do exactly what I did and leave.”

“So I, what?” whispered Spike. “Crush her now? Pull the bandage off nice and quick by leaving, right?”

“It would be kinder than what you’re going to end up doing.”

Spike’s gaze hardened with resoluteness. “I’m not going to let you get to me, Angel. You’re feeding me half-truths, just like you always did. Fact is Buffy and I were warming up to each other long before I lost my soul. And yeah, maybe I was a little scared for her. Maybe I did think I wasn’t up to her standards. Maybe I did almost bolt in the other direction once or twice. But Buffy said she needed me, and I believed her. Listened to her. And if she thinks I’m worth a go, who the hell am I to argue?”

“You’re making a huge mistake.”

“Yeah? Well, feel free to come sing me some I-toldja-so’s if things go to hell. In the meantime, why don’t you piss off?”

Angel blinked at Spike for several intimidating moments before calmly heading towards the door. “You know, for a minute there, I almost thought you really might love her,” he said, right before he slipped out. “Guess you just proved me wrong.”

The door closed with a thud that reverberated in Spike’s throbbing head. Muttering a string of curses under his breath, he twisted the lock into place. Anxious to rid himself of the thought of his grandsire’s untimely visit, he stripped off his jeans and threw himself onto the musty bed – but sleep wouldn’t come to his restless mind. He stared at the grooves in the ceiling, silently counting them so he wouldn’t have to think about everything Angel had just thrown at him.

But the damage was already done, and a shadow of doubt crept into his mind.

-------------------------

Hovering in front of Spike’s hotel room, Buffy hissed as the hot mug she held burned her. She shifted it carefully to her other hand as she nursed a singed finger in her mouth. “Spike?” she called, knocking on his door for the third time. “C’mon, open the door. I brought you some breakfast.”

There was no answer inside. Frowning, Buffy put her ear to the door and listened. She couldn’t hear the shower running inside, and not even Spike could have slept through her persistent knocking. He wasn’t downstairs when she’d gone to fetch him some blood – so where was he? He wasn’t still angry with her over the separate room issue, was he? She sighed loudly and rested her forehead against the door. “Spike, c’mon…”

She almost didn’t notice the nearly undetectable sound of Angel’s footfalls coming up beside her. “What seems to be the problem?” he asked.

Buffy scowled at his tidy appearance, put off that he looked so nicely put together at such an early hour. “I can’t get Spike to answer the door.”

Eyeing the steaming mug in her hand with an unreadable expression, Angel shrugged indifferently. “Maybe he doesn’t want to come.”

“But … this is about him. About his soul. He should be involved in the research.”

“We can take care of it.”

Torn over what to do, Buffy hovered uncertainly by the doorway. “I really don’t think we should leave without him.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, Buffy. Apparently, he doesn’t want to come out. Not much we can do about that, unless you want to break down the door and drag him out against his will.”

Buffy sighed. “Tempting, what with the way he’s been acting…”

“He’ll get over it,” replied Angel. He slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. “Come on. Wes has gone on ahead of us. He’ll be waiting.”

Still unconvinced that she was doing the right thing, Buffy bit her lip as she kneeled down to set the mug of blood in front of the door. “I’ll be back soon, Spike,” she called, knocking again softly. “Get some rest, okay?”

Silence echoed back to her as she followed Angel to the elevator.

----------------

To be continued.

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