Speedway (continued)
AN: I didn't forget about Mark and Willow, in the last chapter. It just started to run a little long. They will be that annoying couple that we all know. You know, the one. Where they just seem, perfect. Lol. There will probably be three more chapters of the past. After that, anything else that needs to be explained will be done so by flashback, or character explanation. Thanks so much for following me on this adventure. It sure is fun. : )
Chapter 13
Willow sighed contentedly, just happy to be laying in Mark's arms. She knew what was going on in the other rooms, she didn't need to be a psychic to figure it out. The tension that had been swirling around the other two couples had been electric. Not to say that the UST around her and Mark wasn't equally as heady, it was just, different. Since their first date, everything just seemed to fall together for them. It was almost as if their souls had recognized each other, which she never would have said out loud. Too cheesy romance novel sounding. But, it was true. They had known each other two and a half months, and already, there was nothing they didn't know about the other. She knew he was raised by his grandparents after his parents died. He knew that her parents were less than noticing of her. She knew his likes, his wants and his dreams. Just as he knew hers. They talked about anything and everything, realizing pretty quick that they were in love. Then, things had progressed naturally. They had already made love for the first time a week before. She hadn't told Buffy yet, because she didn't want her friend to feel pressured into sleeping with Spike, so she wouldn't be the only one left. Plus, it had been so absolutely amazing and beautiful, that she had wanted to hold it close, and not share it for a while.
So, here they were, lying naked and content in each other's arms. Mark's face was buried in her hair, his hard body spooned behind hers, his thumb lazily brushing the underside of her breast. She looked down at her own hand, which was resting on his wrist, smiling at the contrast of pale against dark. He was so beautiful, his lean, muscular form a work of art. She often teased him that he looked like one those models on the cover of a romance book. He would then scowl, saying that none of them would know what a real Indian was if he got shot in the butt by an arrow.
"Whatcha thinking about?" he asked, his voice tired. His hand had moved to cover her breast, lightly massaging the nipple.
"Mmm." She sighed, arching her back. "Nothing," she told him, snuggling closer to him. He shifted them, until he was settled between her legs, resting on his forearms to stare down at her. Her hands slid down his shoulders, her fingers playing in the long ends of his hair. "You," she admitted, smiling. He arched a brow, smiling back.
"Me, huh?" He leaned down and brushed her lips with his. "What about me?" Another kiss, this one a little deeper had her brain clouding. She opened her thighs a little wider, allowing him to settle even more firmly against her. She sighed at the feel of his hard, rubber covered, length poking against her entrance. With a slight thrust, he was in, their moans combined into one.
She never answered his question as he began to move inside of her, his thrusts long and deep. Their tongues moved in a slow dance, their hands touched everywhere. His hair tickled the side of her cheek, the silky tresses shielding her from the light of the lamp. Their orgasms built slowly, neither in a rush to get there. He broke the kiss as he felt her start to flutter around him. That, combined with the sound of her breathlessly moaning his name, and the look of love in her eyes sent him over right behind her, and they clung desperately to each other as the tremors overtook them. Once they were calmed, he pulled out of her, mindful of the condom. After he had disposed of it, he returned to the bed, and pulled her against him, lightly kissing her forehead. It wasn't long before they were asleep.
~*~*~
"Alright, crank it," Mark called, looking down at the engine as Spike turned the key. It sputtered once, then flared to life, the roaring sound of the engine nearly deafening. A war whoop filled the air, and Spike climbed out of the car, grinning like a madman. Grease and soot were smeared across their faces and arms. It had taken nearly a month, and the help of Cordy's gold card (used only under the understanding that they would pay her back. Their stipulation, not hers), but it was running. Spike had learned a thing or two about what happened under the hood, and how to communicate it if he had problems. Mark had come through with the parts, and they had worked steadily, spending nearly every waking moment working on it. Xander was in hog heaven, and he rarely went anywhere but home, work, then to the storage shed they were renting to store it. That is, unless Cordy, or one of the other girls, or all three demanded attention. Then, they snapped to and took care of their ladies.
Spike felt a touch of guilt that he was deceiving his father. Rupert had no idea what his intentions were with the car. He just thought Spike had wanted something to drive. However, the blonde knew just what would happen if he was found out. He'd wait, until after he had won a few races, then he would tell him. Spike never doubted that he would win. In his mind, it wasn't even a consideration.
"We did it," Spike said, listening to the hum of the engine. The car wasn't any prettier than it had been. They had fixed the body with putty, and had painted it with black primer. Not the most pleasing thing, but it wasn't wanted for looks. They had ripped out the interior, and had put in the roll cage, as well as the seat and five point harness that Spike would need to keep him safe.
"Yeah. We did. Now, all we got to do is see how she handles," Mark said, slamming the hood closed. Spike grinned wildly, and climbed back behind the wheel. He was newly licensed and ready to burn some rubber. "I'll follow," Mark called, walking to his Mustang. Spike waited until he was behind the wheel, and pulling out, to take off. Wind whipped through the windows as the cars sped through the twilight. Luckily, the main drag out of town was deserted, so Spike was able to open her up. He hit ninety with no problems, the car jetting smoothly up the road. Spike felt like he was flying, and he never wanted the feeling to stop. He took the curve in the road sharply, deftly swerving to keep from plowing into the station wagon on the other side. A tractor trailer was barreling at him, it's horn blaring loudly in the air. Spike's heart was pumping and adrenaline coursed through his veins. At the last second, he swerved back into the right lane, laughing like a loon. He slowed when he saw an embankment, and pulled into it, gravel and dust flying up from the tires. Mark pulled in behind him, his own car skidding to a stop.
"You're a fucking nut!" Mark told him when he climbed out, grinning and pulling out a cigarette as he walked. "How'd she do?" he asked, reaching over Spike to pop the hood.
"Like a dream. She's perfect," the blonde replied, pulling out his own smoke. "Nothing'll touch me." Mark grunted as he looked at the engine, inspecting for leaks or any other problems. Nodding in satisfaction, he stood back up.
"I'd say she's ready," he confirmed, laughing at Spike's kid in the candy store look.
"Fuckin' A she's ready," Spike told him.
"I'm going to go pick up Willow. Try not to undo everything we've done," Mark told him, crushing out his cigarette and walking back to his car.
"Right. See ya," Spike said, climbing back inside. He needed to go find Xander. He'd had to work that night, and what better way to let him know about the car than to pick him up?
With a laugh and a roar of the engine, the big black car sped off into the night.
~*~*~
"Why in God's name would we want to go the track?" Buffy asked, looking at Spike, who was sitting in her living room. Dawn was sprawled out on the floor, head propped up in her hand as she listened to the older kids talk. Xander and Cordy were there, but Willow and Mark were at the Bronze, as he was scheduled to play for the back to school party the club was having. The other four were heading there after Joyce got home. Spike looked at his girlfriend, who was standing with her arms crossed over the floral peasant blouse she was wearing. Her short, brown skirt skimmed the middle of her thighs, and she had on a pair of brown suede boots that hugged her calf to her thigh. Her golden hair was twisted up in a knot, large hoops adorned her ears. He thought she looked delicious.
"Because, pet. I'm racing tomorrow." Her eyes widened at his declaration.
"Tomorrow? You guys just got the thing running, and you already want to take it to the track?" she asked, a look of concern crossing her face. She still wasn't sure about this. She had watched a race or two with them when they were just hanging out at Giles', and her heart had leapt into her throat when a wreck would happen.
"S'good a time as any. Need to see what she'll do," he answered, crunching his lollipop. Xander and Cordy watched the discussion go on like spectators at a tennis match, eyes shooting between them as they spoke.
"So, you want me there, for what? Moral support?" Spike barely managed not to roll his eyes. Barely. Things had seemed to get strained between them as the car neared completion, and he didn't feel like fighting right now.
"Yeah, actually." Buffy sighed, then smiled. She loved him, and it was her duty to support him. Even if she thought he was being an idiot. Anyway, he might do it and decide he hated it.
"Alright. I'll be there. You going?" she asked Cordy. Cordy blinked and looked at her, a faraway expression on her face.
"What? Oh, yeah. I'll be there. Need to see what my investment will do," she answered, smiling. She looked tired, and her voice sounded off. Xander looked at her questioningly, but she just shook her head.
"Yeah, tomorrow Sunnydale Motor Track, next month, Talladega," Spike exclaimed with a chuckle. Buffy rolled her eyes, and went to sit next to him, wrapping her arm around his waist and leaning her head on his chest.
"You'll be careful?" she whispered, her anxiety seeping into her words.
"Always," he assured, curling his arm around her shoulder. He kissed the top of her head, the scent of vanilla tickling his nose. He relished the feel of her in his arms, something that hadn't occurred too much over the last month. But, he promised himself he would make up for it, especially with school getting ready to start. He would be back under house arrest, until after the end of the first quarter. Then Rupert would evaluate the situation again. Didn't matter that he had pulled off his usual high marks at the end of the last year, as well as pass those stupid tests Snyder had insisted on. Giles wasn't taking any chances.
"Hi kids," Joyce called as she walked inside.
"Hi mom," Buffy called.
"Hi mom," Dawn echoed.
Cordy, Xander and Spike also called their hellos.
"What's everybody doing tonight?" she asked, shrugging out of her jacket.
"Bronzing," Buffy answered, standing and pulling Spike with her. The other couple stood as well.
"Don't be late," she told them as they filed out.
"Alright. Goodnight."
"Night, Nibblet, Mrs. Summers," Spike called, flashing a smile before disappearing out the door. When it shut behind them, Dawn looked at her mother, concern wrinkling her brow.
"What's the matter, Mom?" she asked, pushing up from the floor, and walking over to her. Joyce paused in rubbing her temple to smile down at her.
"Nothing honey. Just a little headache. Have you eaten?" Dawn shook her head. "Go get your shoes on. We'll go get some pizza." Dawn squealed and raced up the stairs. They NEVER went OUT for pizza. She knew they would go to Tony's, the best pizza in town, which didn't deliver. Joyce laughed as she watched the excited child take off, and absently began rubbing her temple again.
~*~*~
Buffy sat nervously next to Willow and Cordy, her hazel eyes scanning the two rows of cars on the track. They were waiting for the race to begin and already she felt sick. Xander was down by the car, talking to Spike and making sure everything was set to go. They watched as he pounded a hand on the door, gave Spike a wave and started towards the pits. They had gotten there early in order to get good seats, and they were in the third row. The smell of oil and rubber swirled around them, adding to the sick feeling that she already had. Willow sat beside her, studying everything around her. Mark wasn't there. The band had a gig in LA, and she hadn't been able to go, so she came with her friends. Cordy sat on the other side, eyes distant.
"When does this thing start?" Buffy demanded. *So I know when it will be over.* Horrible images of cars flipping and catching on fire were giddily playing through her mind, and she wasn't sure how much of this she could take.
"I guess in a couple of minutes," Willow answered. She was amazed that so many people were there, hardly a seat was empty. Who knew that racing was so popular in Sunnydale?
"I wish they'd get on with it."
"Nervous?" the redhead asked, smiling. It faded when she saw just how terrified her friend was. "Hey, it's okay," she soothed. Buffy snorted.
"What if he gets hurt?" she asked, turning desperate eyes to her friend.
"Think positive. I'm sure everything will be alright. Right, Cordy?" They both looked at the brunette, seeing that she wasn't paying them any attention. "Cordy?"
"Hm. What?" The prom queen turned to look at them, confused.
"Are you okay?" Buffy asked her. A flash of panic shot through her brown orbs, but she suppressed it quickly.
"Yeah. Fine," she answered, hoping they didn't press. "Look, the race is starting." All eyes turned to the track, as the sound of reving engines reached deafening proportions. Cordy thanked God for the distraction.
Buffy gnawed on a nail, fighting the urge to close her eyes as they took off around the half mile track. They watched as Spike steadily, and ruthlessly cut his way through the pack. When he reached the front, they were on their feet, screaming until they were hoarse. Buffy's heart slammed into her chest when a Thunderbird slammed into his back end, nearly sending him into a spin. He kept control though, straightening and slamming on the gas to pull ahead. She lost count of how many laps they had done, too busy watching the action on the field. He had lost the lead once, when he blew out a tire. Once he was back out though, he wasted no time getting back up to the front, rubbing paint with the T bird that had bumped him earlier.
By the time the race ended, and Spike had taken the checkered flag, Buffy was jumping up and down, hands clutching onto her friends, who were likewise occupied. When he pulled into victory lane, they jetted out of the stands, to make their way down there. Xander was already there, and the two males were embracing, idiot grins on their faces. When he saw Buffy rushing towards him, Spike let go of his friend, and caught her as she flew into his arms, spinning her around. When they came to a stop, he kissed her, passion and exhilaration thrumming in his veins. She held on as he tried to devour her, her own adrenaline pumping.
He tore away form her with a war whoop, oblivious to everybody around him, save her. It took the owner of the track several tries to get Spike's attention and give him his prize money. Spike accepted it gratefully, swinging Buffy around again, both of them laughing.
"I did it, pet," he said, when he finally let her back down to earth.
"You did it," she agreed, kissing him back hungrily when he leaned down again.
"So, where to now? The Bronze to celebrate?" Xander suggested, his silly grin still firmly in place. Cordy held onto his hand, smiling a real smile for the first time in the last few days.
"Bloody right," Spike agreed. Willow leaned up and kissed his cheek.
"Congratulations, Speedy," she teased, green eyes dancing. "Mark wanted to be here," she offered apologetically. Spike waved her off.
"I know. He has his own dream to follow," he told her, grinning.
"Let's go celebrate!" Xander exclaimed, pulling Cordy with him toward the parking lot. Willow followed, and Spike reluctantly let Buffy go. He watched her walk away for a moment, then slid into the DeSoto, it's tough exterior sporting a few more dents, but it's engine still purring happily.
~*~*~
Every Saturday night, Spike would race, more often than not finishing in the top five. As the weeks progressed, Spike found himself as a sort of celebrity around town, not able to go anywhere without somebody knowing who he was. Xander and Buffy had the same problem. Spike ate it up, while it made Buffy somewhat uncomfortable. And she really wasn't impressed with the new found interest of the female fans. She'd had to threaten a few with some interesting displays of violence before they would get the clue.
Of course, the really funny part, was when Giles found out. Spike hadn't told him yet, stalling for as long as he could. Then, one day, a regular at the track had come into the gallery. She had seen Giles' nameplate on the desk and had asked him if he was related to Spike. He had said he was, thoroughly not prepared for what he heard. She gave a him a full regalia of his son's accomplishments, causing shock to permeate his being. He had then gone home, telling Joyce he needed to take care of something.
When he had arrived at the house, he encountered the two boys doing their homework, laughing and carrying on as boys do. Spike had been surprised to see him, and even more surprised to see the anger simmering in his father's eyes. He knew he was in for it when Rupert asked Xander to excuse them.
The brunette was no sooner out of the room when Giles reared on his son. He wanted to know just what in the bloody hell did he think he was doing? Spike had replied in kind, and the two Brits got into the first real fight they had ever had. Xander, who had been trying not to listen in Spike's room, had been afraid that it was going to come to blows at one point.
Then, it had quieted down, and he had ventured out into the living room to see them, sitting on opposite sides of the room, angry glowers on both of their faces. They had come to an impasse. Giles had realized that he couldn't tell the boy what to do, not with his nineteenth birthday coming in a month. Not to mention, that Spike was following his father's rules to the letter, so he couldn't fault him there. He would have loved to be able to say that it was the fact that Spike had deceived him that had gotten him so angry. But, in reality, it was the danger his son was willingly putting himself in that terrified him.
Spike had realized that his father was only concerned about him, and the angry words that had been flung at him were borne of that concern. In the end, it was a draw, and all they could do was agree to disagree. If this was what Spike wanted to do with his life, Giles couldn't very well tell him no. However, that didn't mean that he had to like it, or watch. Or help pay for it.
Joyce had been equally shocked when she found out, lecturing the boys about safety and cars not being toys. They had dutifully listened, then went on about their business. Dawn had started to go to the track with them, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. It also gave her primo bonding time with the teenagers. Buffy went through the combination of fear and excitement every time he strapped into the car. Her heart would race, then stop when he would come precariously close to wrecking. But, somehow, he managed to pull himself back before anything disastrous happened.
Buffy watched all this with amusement. It was hard not to get caught up in his excitement, and feed off of it. He and Xander were as giddy as kids at Christmas, drawing the rest of them in. Except Cordy. She had been getting more and more quiet as the weeks went on. Whenever Xander looked at her, she would manage to put on a bright smile, but her usually vibrant manner seemed stilted. Several times, the girls had tried to get her to talk, but she would say that nothing was wrong, then change the subject. They let her, since she didn't look ill. However, they made a pact, that if the brunette didn't snap out of it soon, they would corner her, and not give her a chance to duck out of it.
Chapter 14
Cordelia Chase stood in front of the sink in the Gileses' bathroom, thinking it odd how normal she looked. Her sleek, dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, her makeup covering the evidence of two months of sleepless nights. Her slim frame was swathed in its usual designer fare, the white shorts only a little snug. The only outward sign that anything was wrong were the tears shining in her dark eyes, the ones that she refused to let fall.
Taking a deep breath, she looked down at the stick on the counter, the required three minutes having passed. Her eyes drifted closed at the confirmation of her suspicions. She couldn't really say she was surprised. She'd known, after the first month went by, what was wrong. But she just kept telling herself it was the stress of starting her senior year, of her parents continued disapproval of her relationship with Xander that had caused her to skip a month. She even convinced herself of it, briefly. Xander had been oblivious, as guys often are about such things, and had accepted her excuses when she said nothing was wrong. But now, everything was wrong. Or right, depending on your point of view.
In between her bouts of denial, she had spent a great deal of time trying to decide what to do, if she was right. Abortion had of course, been her first thought. It didn't take her long to decide that wasn't for her. It wasn't that she objected to a woman's right to choose. It was the fact that the thought in regards to her, made her ill. That left only two other options. Adoption. She couldn't see carrying a child for nine months, then handing it over to some other person to raise, no matter how deserving the couple might be. Especially when money was not an issue for her. Yet. That left only one option. Keeping it. Who knew how her parents would react to that. She expected the worst, and hoped for the best.
Her biggest fear was Xander's reaction. She knew that this was how his parents had gotten together. And to say he had issues was an understatement. What if he freaked? What if he ran out on her? What if he didn't want anything to do with it?
Cordelia lifted an elegant hand and rubbed her temple, trying to ease the headache that was forming. Sighing heavily, she looked back at her reflection. She would tell Xander first, then her parents, hopefully with him by her side.
"Cordy?!" The sound of Xander's voice through the door made her jump. They were supposed to go watch Mark play, since the race was rained out. She quickly shoved the test back in the box, and threw it in the trash, arranging it so it couldn't be seen.
"Coming," she called, taking several deep breaths. Tomorrow was soon enough to tell him. Tonight would be for fun. Pasting a smile on her face, she opened the door to face her oblivious boyfriend.
"You okay?" he asked, draping an arm around her shoulder.
"Never better," she lied, walking with him outside to join the others.
~*~*~
Rupert walked into the bathroom, opening the medicine chest in search of some aspirin. *Time to get my eyes checked,* he thought to himself. It was starting to strain his eyes to read, and he was starting to get headaches more often now. He pulled out the bottle, cursing softly about child proof caps. When he finally got it off, it slipped from his hand, and bounced off the edge of the sink to land in the trash.
"Bloody hell," he muttered, kneeling down to hunt for it. When his hand encountered the blue and white box, he stared at it quizzically for a moment, shock widening his eyes when he realized what it was. His mind spun into overdrive at the implications, and he stumbled back, the motion causing the stick inside to fall out. "Dear lord." He prayed, hoping he was wrong. Spike would know better, wouldn't he? Especially after what had happened with Dru. Rosemary had taken it as a personal mission to make sure that he understood the need for birth control. How could his son be so careless?
Placing the stick gingerly into the box, he stared down at it for a long minute, trying to decide what to do. With a sigh, he stood, the forgotten bottle of aspirin still clutched in his hand. He then left the bathroom, taking the box with him, and walking to the phone. Dialing quickly, he waited for the call to be picked up.
"Hello?" Dawn's bright, cheerful voice sang across the line.
"Dawn? This is Mr. Giles. May I speak to your mother, please?" he asked, amazed at how calm his voice sounded.
"Sure. Hold on. MOOOMM!" Rupert had to pull the phone away from his ear when she screeched. He then heard the clatter of the phone as it was put down, followed a few seconds later by the sound of it being picked up.
"Hello?"
"Joyce? It's Rupert," he began, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes.
"Hello, Rupert. How are you?"
"Not too well, I'm afraid. Joyce, we need to talk."
~*~*~
Spike and Xander, followed by the girls, walked into the Gileses' apartment, laughing amongst themselves. There were still about two hours left before curfew, and they were going to hang out and watch a movie before Buffy had to be home. It wasn't very often that they got to just be with each other anymore, with school, and Spike's racing, so this was an unexpected treat. When they walked through the door, they found themselves faced with two extremely worried and angry parents, as well as a tired looking Dawn. A box sat in the middle of the coffee table. One that looked extremely familiar to Cordelia.
"Mom? What are you doing here?" Buffy asked, walking in to stand next to the couch. Her mother eyeballed the two teenagers, seeing the looks of confusion on their faces. She gingerly reached out and picked up the box, her heart squeezing. Xander's eyes bugged out when he saw what it was, his gaze shooting to his two friends. Cordelia worried her lip between her teeth, her panicked mind trying to decide what to do.
"Dad?" Spike questioned, moving to stand next to Buffy. Dawn had a look of 'boy, are you guys in trouble' on her young face.
"Buffy, Spike. Your father found this in the trash in his bathroom. I want to know what it means," Joyce demanded. Buffy and Spike looked at the EPT box like it was a snake.
"I dunno." Spike turned to look at Buffy, trying to think of a time during the day when she could have snuck off to take it. Her eyes grew wide at the look he was giving her.
"You think it's MINE?" she demanded of him, her voice incredulous.
"It would seem that my son has forgotten a few things that he has been taught. I assure you, that he will be responsible," Giles assured.
"Wait a bloody minute. She hasn't even answered yet. Let's not jump the gun," Spike said, glaring at his father.
"Of course it's not MINE. We used. . ." She shut her eyes and got a look of pain on her face. It was one thing for her mother to accuse her of having sex and being pregnant. It was another to actually say it out loud.
"Buffy, we talked about this." Joyce sounded so disappointed in her daughter right then, that Buffy's heart nearly broke.
"Yes. We did. But you people aren't listening to me."
"Spike, I expected so much more form you. After Druscilla, I expected you to use better judgement," Giles reproached, talking over the blonde girl.
"Not fair, Dad. One, Dru lied to me. Two, Buffy says it's not hers. Why don't you listen?" Spike snapped, glaring at his father.
"Then, who else's could it be?" Rupert ventured, looking at his son. Cordy cleared her throat at that moment, drawing all attention to her. She looked around the room, feeling her face flame. She couldn't bare to look at Xander as she started to speak.
"It's mine," she said quietly. She felt Xander's body go rigid, and his hand gripped her's tightly before falling slack. She stole a glance at him, seeing his wide eyes, his pale skin, and felt her heart start to break.
"Cordelia? Are you telling the truth?" Joyce asked. Buffy, overcoming her shock, glared at her mother. She couldn't really say that she was surprised about Cordelia. She and Willow had known that something was up for a while now.
"Yes, Mrs. Summers," Cordelia said, dropping her eyes to the floor, and hanging desperately onto her boyfriend's hand. He continued to stare down at her, shock permeating his every nerve.
"You do realize that this says you are pregnant?" Rupert clarified. "Don't cover for them."
"Hello?! What's with the not believing? I told you it's not mine. Cordy says it's hers. Case closed," Buffy said, angry that they still thought the teens were lying.
"IT'S MINE. ALRIGHT? I'm pregnant!" Cordy yelled, tired of hearing the arguing. A stunned silence filled the room as it finally sunk in. Cordelia Chase, poor little rich girl, seventeen years old. Was pregnant. Xander stood stunned as she pulled from him and slammed out the door. In the space of a heartbeat, he was after her.
Spike turned and glared daggers at his father, hurt and resentment written across his sharp features. Buffy stood beside him, her expression mirroring his. The parents looked contrite, yet firm as they gazed up at them. Dawn just sat, watching it all with wide-eyed fascination. This was better than Dawson's Creek.
"I believe we owe you an apology," Rupert started, exchanging a look with Joyce.
"I believe you're right," Spike said through clenched teeth. A muscle ticked in his cheek as he tried to reign in his temper.
"No need to get flippant. You have to admit you haven't been showing the utmost in common sense lately," Rupert shot back. Joyce stood, sensing the argument brewing.
"Buffy, Dawn. I think it's time we left," she said, heading towards the door.
"What, I don't get an apology?" Buffy asked, furious.
"We can talk about this at home," Joyce said, warning dripping from her voice. Buffy's eyes narrowed, but she turned back to Spike, laying a gentle hand on his arm. He turned to look at her, face softening immediately.
"I'll call you tomorrow," she whispered, leaning up to brush a kiss across his mouth. He nodded and watched her walk out with Dawn and Joyce, before turning back to his father.
"So, what, just cause I'm racing, that somehow equals getting Buffy pregnant?" he asked, his tone venomous. Rupert rose to his feet, and stared the boy down.
"No. It does have me questioning your ability to think clearly. And after Druscilla. . ."
"Dru lied to me!" Spike roared, not happy to be delving into this again. "She lied to me. Told me she was pregnant."
"She was," Rupert reminded him.
"But NOT by ME!" Spike began pacing the length of the room. Giles watched him, feeling his anger drain out of him. He was being irrational, he knew. Between the racing and this scare, he was sure to be joining Rosemary in the hereafter sooner than he had anticipated.
"I'm sorry," Giles said, shoulders slumping. Spike had been doing all he could to prove himself to his father, and here he was jumping all over him for something that wasn't even the problem. Spike stopped pacing, and turned to stare at his father.
"Wha?"
"I said, I'm sorry. I just saw the test. . .it didn't even occur to me that it could be Cordelia." Giles looked up Spike, apology written all over his face. Spike tilted his head, confused. His father was giving in first? Usually it took at least an hour for Rupert to even hint that he might have been wrong.
"Yeah, well. S'alright, I suppose. Prob'ly woulda thought the same thing," Spike acquiesced, looking down at his boots. "You think they'll be alright?" He nodded his head towards the door, indicating Cordy and Xander. Giles sighed heavily, removing his glasses to rub his eyes. Just because it wasn't his own son, did not make the situation any less dire for him. Xander had become his other child in the months that he had lived with them, and he felt the need to throttle him just as much as if it HAD been Spike.
"I don't know," he answered, putting his glasses back on. "I just don't know."
~*~*~
"Cordy?" Xander called softly, walking over to where she sat on the bench outside of the apartment. He could see her shoulders shaking in the light of the lamp, could hear her soft sniffles as she tried to control her crying. He slowed as he approached, at a total loss at what to do, what to say. Hell, he was at a total loss at what to feel. Everything was swirling around inside of him, making it hard to grasp, hard to comprehend. Him? A father? Ridiculous. "Cordy?" he called again.
"What?" she snapped, her voice thick with tears, and misery. This wasn't how she wanted to tell him. Dammit, she should have taken the test with her, and thrown in out in a dumpster somewhere.
"Are. . .are you okay?" he asked, for lack of anything better. He could tell she wasn't, just by looking at her. He felt like such an ass. Seeing her now, he could tell the differences in her appearance. She looked tired, pale, and lost. He had been so blind?
"I'm seventeen and pregnant. How do you think I am?" she returned bitterly, instantly wishing she hadn't said it. She wasn't mad at him. It was just as much her fault. Xander flinched, and stopped just next to the bench. He remained standing, not wanting to upset her further by touching her. Of course, how was he to know that's just what she wanted? She wanted him to pull her into his arms and tell her it was alright, that they would be alright, and would make this work. Somehow.
"How long. . ."
"How long did I know?" She looked at him, eyes so stricken he nearly grabbed her, wanting to kiss away her pain. He restrained himself. Barely. Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets, and nodded. "Just since this afternoon. I was going to tell you tomorrow," she said, wiping a finger under eyes, cursing cause she just KNEW she had mascara rings.
"You didn't have to tell me at all," he said. She didn't, either. She could have gone and gotten the abortion, and he would have been none the wiser. He scowled at just how selfish that sounded, and winced at the stab of shame that lanced through him. *Coward,* he scoffed at himself. He was really hating the part of himself that was wishing that she had done just that.
"No, I didn't." She turned her head away from him, feeling her heart shatter in her chest. He was going to run. She could see it in his eyes. "Don't worry, Xander. I don't want anything from you. I can take care of myself." She continued to stare out into the night, her back rigid, and her head held high. She was Cordelia Chase. And she could handle anything.
Xander stared at the rigid line of her back, willing himself to say something, anything. Each time he tried to open his mouth, something would stop him. She sat, waiting, for what he didn't know. Silent tears tracked down her cheeks as she heard the shift of his feet on the ground when he turned. She didn't allow herself to look after him, knowing if she did she would make a fool out of herself, begging him not to walk away. Like he was doing. She clamped a hand over her mouth, not allowing the scream of anguish to escape.
~*~*~
Xander walked aimlessly down the deserted street, hands shoved deep in his pockets, head hung low. All thoughts had ceased, save one, and it kept careening around in his mind like a ball at a tennis match.
Cordelia was pregnant.
He thought they had been so careful. Except for that first time. A bitter laugh exploded from his throat as he thought of his ninth grade Health teacher, with her stern face, and grey hair shaking her finger at him. 'See, told you it only takes once.' He laughed again, the sound coming out more like a sob. He blinked rapidly, desperately trying to stall the tears that threatened.
God, they were so young. He had turned 18 over the summer, and Cordy's birthday wasn't until December, so she was just seventeen. What did they know about raising a kid? They were still kids themselves. Not to mention the stellar examples that their parents gave them. The child would probably be in therapy as soon as it could talk.
Suddenly, bright, explicit images of his life passed before his eyes. Tony Harris, hovering over him as he cowered in the corner. Big and drunk, eyes full of hate for his son.
"You never should have been born," he'd told him, the statement being followed by the snap of a belt against tender flesh. His mother would always disappear, tears of hopelessness staining her cheeks as she left her son helpless to his father.
With hideous clarity, Xander watched with his mind's eye as his father's features shifted and melted into his. The child he once was turning into the child that could be his. Instead of Tony wielding the belt, it was him, terrorizing his child while the stink of beer and sweat filled the air.
With a cry, Xander took off in a blind run, desperately trying to outrun the images in his head. He ran until his lungs burned, and his stomach heaved, finally stumbling to a stop inside the park. He fell onto his knees, slumping over onto his hands, his shoulders shaking as the torrent of emotion swirling around inside of him broke free. Anybody who was listening would have felt their heart break at the sound of his desperate, tormented wails.
~*~*~
"Have you heard from Xander?" Buffy asked Willow, as they sat in the stands waiting for the race to start. The redhead shook her head, a frown of concern marring her features.
"No. I'm kinda worried. It's been a week. Where would he have gone?" she asked. That night, after Spike and Giles had gone to bed, hoping to give the brunette couple time to talk, Xander had come in, packed a bag, and left. He'd left a note, saying he would call, he just had some thinking he had to do, and if Cordy called, she was to hear that he loved her. They had let him be, not going to look for him, allowing him to do his soul searching. But Willow and Buffy were starting to have a hard time feeling sympathy for him. Cordy was a wreck, only talking to them. She hadn't told her parents yet, knowing they would try to force her to have an abortion, and do God knew what to Xander. She hadn't been out of the house except to go to school since the night he left, keeping up appearances on the outside.
"I don't know, but if he isn't back soon, I'm going to go Terminator on his ass for doing this to Cordy." Willow grunted in agreement, smiling and waving down at Mark. He had taken Xander's place tonight, since the boy had gone missing, and the band had a rare weekend off. He waved back, sent her a wicked grin and jogged to the pits. The girls stopped talking once the flag dropped, and sat forward in their seats, screaming for Spike as he quickly took second place.
Buffy couldn't really tell what had her heart sputtering more than usual this day. Or why exactly she just knew when it was going to happen. But inconceivably, on lap twenty five, in the corner of turn two, she knew. Her heart leapt into her throat as the wheels of the car seemed to go one way, while the car kept steadily going straight. When he careened into the wall, and shot straight back across the track, most of the other drivers missed him. One didn't. With a loud crunch of metal, he was hit with such a force that the car flipped, once, twice, finally landing on the roof on the third tumble. She watched with terror, her hand gripping Willow's painfully, for any sign that he was okay. Seconds passed by like hours as she waited. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she felt a scream of grief rising in her chest as the EMT's made their way to the car. Almost as soon as they reached it, movement could be made out from within. When Spike climbed out of the car, and removed his helmet, exposing his blood stained face, the crowd erupted into cheers, the sound near deafening. Willow joined with them, not seeing her friend sink lifelessly to the bleacher, head in her hands as relief nearly crippled her.
Chapter 15
Buffy's heart was thudding in her chest as she walked into the tiny cubicle. Relief flooded through her once more at the sight of Spike, sitting in the hospital bed, kicking his legs against the side. A lollipop stick was protruding from his mouth, and a butterfly bandage covered his left eyebrow. A brilliant bruise was forming around the spot where the glass entered his skin. He was damn lucky he didn't lose his eye. A large smile brightened his features when he saw her.
"Ello, baby," he said, holding out a hand to her. She took it, curling her fingers around his tightly, allowing him to draw her into his arms. She settled between his thighs, and rested her head on his chest. He frowned when he realized she was trembling. "Pet? What's the matter?" She sniffed, and pulled back a bit to stare at him with wide eyes.
"What's the matter?" She raised a finger to gently brush it over his bandage. "You're hurt," she said softly, tears filling her eyes.
"Hey, I'm alright. Just a little scratch is all," he reassured, brushing his knuckles over her cheek. Her worried, hazel eyes drifted closed at the contact, grateful to feel it, him, alive and well.
"I was so scared," Buffy admitted, feeling the tears spill from her tightly closed eyes.
"Shh. I'm okay." He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest. Her fingers fisted in his shirt on his back, her nose breathing in deep his scent, a scowl forming on her face. He smelled like the track. Oil and rubber, and dirt. She found that she hated it. "The car's not so good, however." She felt his chest rumble a bit, at his bitter chuckle.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled. She didn't give a hoot about that damn car. He was what mattered to her.
"Oh, well. Have to talk to Mark about fixing her," he said, half to himself. Buffy's eyes snapped open, as his words registered.
"Fixing? As in to race?" She pulled back again, horror written across her features. His brows drew together at her look, making his head throb. He immediately relaxed his facial muscles.
"Well, yeah. That's what we bought her for," he told her, confused at her reaction. She pulled fully out of his arms then, and started to pace the room.
"But, it could have KILLED you today. And you just want to run right back out and do it again?" The heels of her boots echoed in the room as he watched her flurry of motion. She was worrying her hands in front of her as she walked, her eyes trained on the floor.
"I'm fine. And yeah, I want to keep it up. I love it." Spike was at a loss. He truly didn't understand the reaction she was having. Accidents came part and parcel with racing. Very few were fatal with all the safety precautions that were required now a days.
"What about me? Do you love me?" She turned and looked at him, her chin trembling with emotion. Silent tears slid down her cheeks, and she hugged her arms around her waist. Spike slid off the bed, stunned that she would ask such a thing.
"Of course I love you. You know I do," he told her, reaching for her. She avoided his hands, taking a deep breath to say what she felt she had too.
"Enough to give it up?" His blue, bottomless eyes widened, searching her face for an indication of how serious she was. Anger flared in them when he realized just how much she was.
"That's not fair, pet," he growled, looking down at her.
"Oh, like it's any more fair for me to sit in those stands every week, and watch you play out some adolescent game of defying death? I am a wreck, every goddamned Saturday. Do you understand that? Wondering if you're going to make it through another race unhurt. And guess what? Your luck ran out today. You almost lost your eye, Spike. It could've been a hell of a lot worse." Spike let out a huff of disgusted air, and started to pace himself.
"I'm FINE, Buffy. This is what I want to do with my life. I'm good at it," he told her, mind spinning. The turn of this conversation was making him feel ill, and he knew that things were changing. And not for the better. "How can you ask me to give it up?"
"Because I love you, you idiot. And I don't want to watch you die!" she exclaimed, crying in earnest now. His heart started to crack as he looked at her, so tiny and scared. But, he couldn't give her what she wanted anymore than he would ask her to change who she was.
"Baby, I can't. It's not cause I don't love you enough. It's because, if I give it up for you. All that's going to happen is resentment. And I love you so bloody much, I don't want that to happen." He reached out for her again, hoping to reassure her, but she jerked away from him, a look of betrayal on her face.
"I can't. . .I just can't." Her eyes met his, her meaning loud and clear. Spike recoiled from the pain that lanced through him, his entire body going rigid. Her heart broke at the look on his face, but she couldn't do this. He was going to get killed one day if he kept this up, and she couldn't do it. "I'm sorry," she whispered, turning on her heel and fleeing the room, nearly knocking over Giles as he walked in. Spike watched her go, tears filling and slipping from his eyes. One look at his son, and the lecture Rupert had been about to let loose died in his throat. Spike looked so stricken, so devastated, that he couldn't bring himself to do it.
"Will?" Spike's eyes jerked to his father, and that's when it broke. His entire body wracked in shudders, and a sob tore from his throat. He looked at his father, his entire being begging him to make it better, like he used to when he was ten, and had split his knee open. "Oh, Will," Giles said, gathering his child up, and trying to comfort in the only way he knew how. Just being there.
~*~*~
Joyce stared at the door to her eldest daughter's room, hand poised to knock. The sounds that had been coming from inside for the last two days were heartwrenching. The day of the wreck, Buffy had come home from the hospital, not talking or looking at anybody. She'd gone straight up to her room, and locked the door, not coming out for anything. She had finally found out what was going on when she saw Rupert at the gallery. Buffy had broken up with Spike. And neither were taking it well. Without Xander around, (another problem that just wasn't being taken care of), Spike had taken off for the storage shed where the DeSoto was. Unable to deal with his grief, he had decided to take his pain out on the car, even though he lacked the tools to fix it properly. Mark had tried to talk to him once, leaving before their conversation disintegrated into a fist fight.
Willow had called repeatedly for Buffy, but she wouldn't come out of her room, or answer the knocks at her door. They were on the verge of an intervention, the bust up of this relationship compounding the tension from Cordy's pregnancy and Xander's disappearance. Her heart ached for her daughter, whose sobs hadn't decreased in the last 42 hours. If anything, they had increased, with an intensity that could cripple.
Sighing, Joyce raised her hand and knocked softly.
"Buffy?" she called, not hearing anything other than her daughter's cries. She tried again, and waited. This time, she heard the rustle of sheets as her daughter got up, then the twist of the lock on her door. The sight that met her when the door swung open had her aching heart burst into spasms. Buffy stood, wearing only a t-shirt, her hair in wild disarray from the troubled sleep she had been getting. Her face was red and splotchy, her eyes swollen. Tears stained her face and agony swam in her eyes. Her lips were dry and cracked, and huge bags, the color of bruises sat beneath the usually clear orbs.
"Mommy?" she said, tears welling up again.
"Oh, baby," Joyce said, opening her arms. Buffy flew into them, sobs tearing from her ravaged throat, as she shook with grief in her mother's embrace.
~*~*~
Spike looked down at the crumpled shell of his car, his vision blurred from the tears swimming in them. He had been at the storage shed for two days, growling at anybody who had the balls to try to talk to him. His father had given up, choosing to let his son work through it, and be there for him when he was needed. His jaw hurt from the repeated clenching he had been doing in an effort to force the tears back. His head hurt from the combination of emotion and his injury. His stomach rolled from the pain. He was exhausted from the emotional roller coaster he was on.
One minute, he was ready to go crawling to her on his hands and knees, begging her to take him back, and swearing off racing forever. The next, he'd say sod it all, her loss; cursing her selfishness and the fact that she had done this too him. Not even Dru lying about being pregnant had hurt him this much. He'd suspected it the whole time, finding out from his best friend in London just what she had been up to. And the fact that he ALWAYS used a condom, was just enough to have her breaking into tears, her lies being thrown back at her. When she had finally admitted it, he hadn't really felt pain. More like relief that it was over.
No, the only thing that could be compared to this, was the death of his mother. He was losing another woman that he loved with his whole heart, and he felt helpless to stop it. Even though this had a solution: stop racing. But how long before he started to hate her for making him choose? How long before they fell apart because he had compromised himself?
With a scream of anguish, he threw back his head and stared at the ceiling, not really seeing it. He fisted his hands in his hair, pulling hard to block out the image of her tiny form fleeing the hospital. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, that he didn't hear the door opening, or the sound of someone talking to him.
"Mr. Giles!" the voice cracked out, the authoritative tone finally breaking through Spike's whirlwind of emotions.
"Wha?" he said, spinning around to look at the short, fit man in the dark business suit behind him. The man stood, silently staring at the disheveled young man, with his two day stubble, wild platinum hair, and torn clothing. William Giles looked like a man that had been on a three day bender without the benefit of alcohol.
"Mr. Giles? My name is Richard Hammond," he said, waiting for the spark of recognition in Spike's tormented eyes. His voice was as smooth as silk, with just the hint of southern twang underneath the polish. When it finally came, he continued. "As you know, I am a representative of the H.S.I. racing team, owned and operated by Harker Sheldon." Spike's eyes narrowed as he looked at the little man. His thick, grey hair was swept back from a broad forehead. Serious brown eyes regarded from within a tanned, round face. Thick, grey brows peeked from over top of his thin, wire rimmed glasses. A bushy mustache was perched over his thin upper lip. He was shorter than Spike, but compact, the muscle hinting from beneath his perfectly tailored suit. He had the look of a man that lived, and lived well.
"Yeah?" Spike drawled, searching through his pockets for a cigarette. When he produced a crumpled pack, he pulled one out, and lit it, waiting for the man to speak again.
"Mr. Sheldon has been keeping his eye on the dirt track circuit, looking for new talent to put into his cars," Hammond continued, running a hand over his maroon tie. "You, Mr. Giles, have caught his attention."
"So?" Spike said, blowing smoke out of his lungs, trying to appear nonchalant. No need to let the man on to how excited he was. Hammond bit back a smile, seeing through his tough guy routine.
"So, he would like you to come down to Charlotte and show us what you got." Spike's eyes snapped open wider at that, his heart thudding in his chest.
"Why me? Why not someone from ARCA or Busch?" he asked, taking a deep drag to calm his overactive nerves.
"Mr. Giles..."
"Spike."
"Spike," he barely managed not to roll his eyes at the nickname, "Mr. Sheldon has never felt the need to explore those avenues. He likes to give the up and coming drivers their shot. A shot they might not have without many years on the racing circuit. He likes to reward talent, not experience."
"Is'at right?" Spike mumbled, excitement replacing the anguish in his eyes. All kinds of thoughts were racing through his head, none of them sticking around long enough to gel into anything coherent.
"Yes, Spike. That's right. What do you say?" Spike looked at the older man, stunned. This little man was standing here, calming handing Spike his dream like it was the salt at the dinner table, and he wanted to know what he would say?
"I'll give it a go," he managed to get out, before he dropped to his knees in front of the man and made and ass out of himself kissing the ground he walked on. Mr. Hammond didn't even bother hiding his smile this time, and set his briefcase down on the back end of the DeSoto. He glanced at the smashed hood, unfazed. He'd seen worse. Opening the case, he reached in and pulled out an envelope. He then turned and handed it to Spike.
"In that this is your plane ticket for tomorrow afternoon, a hotel reservation, and some cash. I trust I will see you there?" Spike nodded numbly, cigarette forgotten in his hand as he stared down at the envelope in his other one. "Good. See you in a couple of days then." With that, Hammond snapped his case closed, and walked out of the shed. Spike just stood, staring after him. Here it was, his ticket to everything he wanted. He thought about the dream he'd had, about being in victory lane with his best friend, and his girl. Well, his best friend was MIA, and his girl couldn't handle his love of speed. But, he could have at least one third of that dream. And he was going to take it.
~*~*~
"Feeling better, honey?" Joyce asked, heartened as her daughter finished some soup. When she had calmed after she had collapsing on her mother in the hallway, Joyce had coaxed her into the shower, and downstairs for some hot chocolate and some soup. Dawn had been sent over to a friend's house, her curious, twelve year old eyes banished from the wreckage of her sister. "A little," Buffy said, pushing the bowl away. She toyed with the placemat, her eyes going distant. "Mom. Am I wrong?" Joyce smiled at her, and placed a gentle hand over her daughter's.
"No," she told her. Buffy looked relieved, but she lost it after her mother's next words. "And neither is Spike." She sighed at the frown she got, and went to explain. "Honey, he needs to live his life. If his dream is to race cars, then that's what he should do. But, if you can't live with that, then that's your right. It's not an easy thing to deal with."
"But if he loved me. . ." Buffy started, feeling the tears starting again. She brushed them away with an agitated hand.
"It doesn't work like that, sweetheart, and you know it," Joyce told her, her voice soft. "You can't ask him to give up everything he wants, anymore than he can do it to you. It's not fair."
"But it hurts," Buffy said, her eyes swimming, her face twisted in the effort to keep them at bay.
"I know it does. And it will, for a long time. I'm not going to lie to you about that. But, if you two are meant to be, you will be," Joyce finished. Buffy snorted, but didn't say anything. What could she say? It was true. She leaned forward on the table and pushed her hands into her hair.
"I don't know, Mom. I love him, so much. This is nothing like I felt for Angel. It's almost like I need him to breathe," she said, her voice sounding hollow. All Joyce could do was pull her daughter to her and offer her the comfort of her love.
"I know, baby. I know."
~*~*~
"I"ll get it!" Dawn yelled, bouncing from her seat on the couch. Buffy was upstairs in her room, having a well-needed talking session with Willow. Joyce had gone to the gallery to try to finish up some paperwork. "Hi, Spike," she said brightly, her smile fading as she took in the bag slung over his leather covered shoulder. "Where're you going?" she asked. He looked down into her young face, a sad smile touching his lips.
"Got an offer to drive. I'm gonna take it," he told her, sighing at the tears that welled up in her eyes. "None of that now, Nibblet. I'll keep in touch."
"You promise?" she demanded, her lower lip trembling. He raised his hand and trailed a finger over her cheek.
"O'course. How could I not, you're my brave little one. Remember?" she nodded, surprising him when she launched at him, squeezing him tight around the middle. He blinked back his own tears, gently brushing a kiss across her silky hair, and giving her a quick squeeze.
"Where's big sis?" he murmured, pulling away.
"Upstairs," she answered, her wide azure eyes roaming over his face, as if memorizing him.
"Get her for me?" She nodded and turned to bound up the stairs. A few seconds later, he heard the sound of footsteps, and looked up to see Buffy and Willow coming down. "Pet," he greeted, his eyes drinking in every inch of her.
"Spike. Dawn says you're leaving," she gasped, praying it wasn't true. The look on his face told her otherwise. She had to fight to keep from throwing herself into his arms, wailing like a banshee. She had to let him go. Spike shifted on his feet, bringing his thumb up to scratch his eyebrow. His lips pursed as he looked at her, and he nodded.
"Yeah," he said after a deep breath. "Got an offer, kinda can't refuse it," he said, a swift, small smile darting across his mouth.
"Well, that's good, for you. It's what you've wanted. I'm happy for you," she said, clasping her hands in front of her, wondering why they were being so formal. Willow watched the scene with a heavy heart, her own tears threatening to spill.
"Yeah," he answered, looking down at the floor. When he looked back up at her, his eyes were so dark, and so full of pain and love, she almost lost it. "I had to see you, before I left," he said, softly, his voice thick. That quiet statement, was all it took for it to become real to her. In an instant, she was in his arms, holding on for dear life, her breathing hindered by the steel of his arms around her waist. She didn't care, though, and she pulled back to cover his mouth with hers, needing to feel him one last time. Their tongues battle furiously as they tried to force the imprint of the other into their memories, tears sliding down their cheeks. They pulled away, they were both crying in earnest, neither trying to hide it.
"I love you," he gasped, resting his forehead against hers. Her fingers were tracing his face, adding the injury in his eyebrow to the picture of him she had in her brain.
"I love you too," she whispered back, peppering soft kisses on his mouth and jaw. The jarring sound of a horn blaring jerked them back to reality.
"I gotta go," he said, disentangling himself from her, ignoring the voice in his head screaming at him to grab her and hold on. She nodded, not paying any mind to her own inner voice telling her to go with him. He looked at her a moment more, his heart clenching at how very beautiful she looked to him right then. She was trying to be brave, her chin set, and her shoulders firm. But he could see his own heartache being reflected back at him from the hazel depths of her eyes. "Bugger," he said, before hauling her against him once more for a hard, demanding kiss. As soon as he released her, he was gone in a swirl of black leather. She gripped the door, her knuckles turning white as she watched him get into the cab. He gave her one last, lingering look as it pulled away form the curb, to take him to the airport, and out of her life.
~*~*~
Spike stood staring out the window, watching the airplanes, waiting for his flight to be called. He turned at the sound of his name being called, confusion and anger written across his face.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, as Xander came to a stop beside him. He eyed the black duffle bag the boy was carrying with suspicion.
"I called the house, and found out what you were doing. Giles is having a fit." Spike felt a stab of guilt for not telling his father properly, instead of leaving the note, but he didn't want him to try to talk him out of it.
"That didn't answer my question," Spike reminded him. Xander looked down at the floor, then back up at him, his face set.
"I'm going with," he said quickly.
"The hell you are! What about Cordelia? Or did you conveniently forget about that baby you put in her?" Spike snapped, truly disliking his friend in that moment. Anger flared in Xander's eyes for an instant, before he looked back down.
"She's better off without me," he said quietly, when his eyes returned to Spike, revealing the guilt and the self loathing he felt to his core. Spike sighed, and shook his head.
"You can't leave her. She loves you. And she's having your baby," he said again.
"What can I give her, Spike? What can I do other than bring her down?" Xander replied, desperation ringing through his words.
"You can be a man," Spike returned. "You don't have to be your father. Make it right, Xan." The brunette sighed, blinking rapidly to stave off the burning in his eyes. He nodded, not really knowing how he was going to do that. When he had heard what Spike was doing, he'd left his aunt's, determined to go with him. As he had gotten closer to the airport, his aunt's car pushed to it's limits, he realized what he was doing was wrong. He loved Cordy, with all his heart. He just didn't want to fuck up her life anymore than he already had.
"You'll keep in touch?" Xander asked, when he had himself under control. Spike snorted, and looked away.
"Yeah. You take care of her. And that baby. If it's a boy, name it after me" he teased, happy to see a slight smile curl his friends lip.
"Be careful. You won't have me with you to keep you straight," Xander said, a short laugh punctuating his sentence. Spike joined him, and nodded.
"You know it." They both looked at each other, when his flight number was called, uncomfortable with goodbye. Sighing again, Spike held out a hand, which Xander took, neither knowing which one pulled the other in for the tight, hard hug that happened. Quickly, they broke apart, a long moment of silence stretching between them before Spike turned, and started towards the gate. Xander watched as the blonde slowly made his way through the line, to reach the flight attendant at the end. Once he did, he handed her his ticket, then turned and saluted Xander, before disappearing through the doorway. The brunette continued to stand there, silently watching the plane as it taxied down the runway, and took off into the bright, blue sky.