He can just walk behind me to death, and ok, I’m not going to think about what happened the time I said that out loud.
Briefly, she yearned for those good old days when anything Spike did or said was covered under the heading of ‘soulless evil thing’, although she was starting to decide that ‘man’ meant the same thing.
He hadn’t believed her. After their last night together, her taking his hand, everything, he still hadn’t believed she loved him, or at least not loved him enough or in the ‘right’ way, whatever that was.
“Moron,” she hissed and kicked aside a rock that dared to lie in her path. He was like the others, Angel and Riley, thinking he knew what was best for her, all of them making their big man decisions in their big man ways without talking to the little woman, and exactly who was the Chosen One (of a lot) around here, anyway?
Unfortunately, Buffy knew she would be able to be a lot madder (or maybe, to be honest, less mad) if she didn’t know that Spike was at least a little bit right. She would have been overjoyed to see him alive, but as Willow had once said, there would have been some “uh oh” to go along with the “whoo-hoo”, and it was true that she would have panicked over the idea of having to choose between Spike and Angel.
Of course, getting into a great big fight with both of them would keep her from having to do that, and she was well on her way. It was undoubtedly pathetic to prefer the idea of being alone to having to deal with this, so she decided not to think about it.
Banging through the front door, Buffy’s spirits were not lifted to see Riley sitting on the couch cleaning a gun. How much more male could you get than that, anyway?
“You ok?” he asked mildly.
“I’m fine,” she bit out.
He kept his gaze on the pistol. “You know, my offer to kill Spike wasn’t a one time deal.” Before she could explode completely, he went on, “Or if you wanted to do it, and wanted someone to stand around in a little cheer-leading outfit, maybe wave some pom-poms, I could do that too.”
Her mouth worked, as her brain tried to decide which way to go, and then she laughed despite herself. Somewhere along the way, Riley had picked up a wickedly deadpan sense of humor.
“I’ll keep it in mind,” she snickered just as Spike entered. His eyes flicked from her to Riley and narrowed.
That was fairly enjoyable, or it was until he looked at her blandly and said, “Bit of an old home week for you, isn’t it, with your ex-shagging partners in one spot like this? Planning to fly Parker in to join the fun? Not to mention all the ones I don’t know about.”
Pure fury shot through her, but before she could react, Riley snapped his gun back together, and stood.
“Everyone else is upstairs, Buffy,” he said pleasantly, ignoring Spike’s existence and not bothering to holster his gun. “You ready?”
She took a deep breath and forced herself to focus on the task at hand, mental walls she hadn’t needed for a while forming up around her. This would be over soon, and she could go back to her old life. She could manage until then.
“Let’s go,” she said calmly and turned toward the stairs.
Riley fell in behind her. Spike brought up the rear.
It came to pass that despite many lessons and chances,
The shanshu was unable to keep his bloody mouth shut,
So he ended up alone while the Slayer went off with some other bloke.
And everyone else had a big laugh.
After all, if there were going to be prophecies about him, they might as well be accurate.
Spike scowled at Buffy’s back as she climbed the stairs ahead of him, or at least at the small part of Buffy’s back that wasn’t hidden by Finn’s burly fame.
While he wasn’t sorry for what he’d said…One minute as good as telling me she would have been willing to commit and the next giggling at me while my back was turned…, he had to admit the immediate result of his words had been to give Finn the chance to be solicitous and sympathetic in a manly fashion.
The icing on the cake and what really made Spike gnash his teeth, was the knowledge that Buffy wouldn’t have gotten involved with Soldier Boy’s attempt to overthrow Wolfram and Hart in the first place if Spike hadn’t hidden there after his return. It was all his own fault. Wasn’t that smashing? Still, it really didn’t give Finn the excuse for being all concerned and hovering. It had been almost four years since he’d seen Buffy. And where the hell was his wife, anyway?
Chill touched him. Had they split up? Was he here to pick up where he’d left off with claims of having grown as a person and having the ability to truly appreciate Buffy now? She’d fall for it, women always did, damn them.
“How’s the missus?” he asked as Finn reached the top of the stairs. Buffy glanced over her shoulder with a frown.
Yeah, he’s got a wife, remember? Cheating bastard. Nothing you want to get involved with.
Finn gave him a smile that was almost a smirk. “Nice of you to be concerned about my personal life, Hostile 17.” He leaned slightly over Spike, the smile definitely moving into smirkhood. “Or should I say…Doctor?”
…he was back in his crypt, naked with Finn sneering down at him and Buffy drawing back in disgust. Then, she was walking away into the sunlight while he stood among the ruins of his possessions…
“STOP IT!”
Spike came back to himself and found that he was struggling furiously in Angel’s grip, as the vampire hauled him in one direction while Buffy dragged Finn in the other.
“You done?” Angel said sharply. Blood was streaming from his nose, but Finn was sporting what promised to be one hell of a shiner, so he’d call it good, especially since Buffy was glaring impartially at them both.
“For the moment.”
Angel let go, not that his grip had been all that restraining to begin with. In fact, as memory of the fight came back, Spike was fairly Angel had let him get in one last punch while Buffy restrained her charge.
“Are they evil? Are you going to fight them, Buffy? Can we help?”
The demanding high-pitched voice made Spike aware that a sizable audience had gathered, including four small girls, ranging from seven to 12 or so who were peering eagerly around Violet and Kennedy.
Buffy smoothed her scowl away as she turned to them and Spike could almost see her turn into the Responsible Adult Who Is Setting A Good Example.
“No, I’m not going to fight them,” she said firmly. “Because we have a job to do.”
“And the mission is what’s important!” the oldest girl of the group chimed in brightly.
Buffy nodded. “That’s right.”
The youngest frowned. “They were fighting,” she said, pointing an accusing finger at Spike. “They didn’t care about the mission. Are you sure they aren’t evil?”
“Trust me, they aren’t evil,” Buffy snorted. “Just really irritating and kind of stupid.”
The oldest girl shook her head disapprovingly with a look that made Spike wonder if Cecily had reincarnated, then explained kindly to the others. “Boys are like that. It’s why they can’t be Slayers.”
Every adult female in the hallway broke into simultaneous evil grins while all the men looked slightly hurt.
Ruffling the girl’s hair, Buffy said, “Margaret gets a cookie before bed, ok, Vi?”
“Hey!” the youngest protested. “I think boys are stupid and irritating and can’t be Slayers too!”
The other girls nodded furiously as Willow clamped both hands over her mouth and leaned against the wall, shaking with laughter.
“Cookies all around,” Buffy said grandly. “And now, it’s bedtime. For you too, Natalie,” she added with a raised brow at the little one. “You got to watch them set up for the spell, and that’s enough.”
Herded by Violet, they trooped by, grumbling, except for Margaret who swept past with a toss of her head.
“Take the ax, Vi,” Buffy said quietly. “I don’t know what this spell will do.”
“Got it,” the red-headed Slayer muttered back. “I’ll keep them all in one room and call it a sleepover. Come on, ladies,” she said aloud. “Last one down has to help Giles with the books.”
They fled in a flurry of pounding feet and squeals that diminished until the hallway was left in silence.
“Now that we’ve established the general inferiority of men and the horror of assisting me,” Giles said in a long-suffering voice, “Perhaps we could attempt to awaken Cordelia?”
There was quite a crowd ganged around Cordelia’s bed, and they were all staring at him, except for Buffy and Angel, who were both watching the comatose woman.
“Go ahead, Prophecy Guy,” Xander said helpfully. “Do your stuff.”
Spike looked at Wesley. “Yeah. That prophecy. It say anything about *how* I’m supposed to wake her up?”
Wesley shook his head apologetically. “Sorry, no.”
“A kiss is traditional,” Fred offered.
Well, he had Buffy and Angel’s attention now, right enough. Spike returned their cold gazes with a sardonic smile. “I think that might best be left as a last resort, Pet.”
When in doubt, try the obvious.
With a shrug, he reached for her shoulder. “Here, Cordelia. Wake…”
He wasn’t really expecting anything to happen, but as his hand touched her skin, it felt like his brain was pulled out through his forehead, and then everything went black.
Buffy’s anger vanished as Spike’s eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed across Cordelia. He couldn’t die on her again.
She tried to go to him, but was halted by Giles and Dawn who each caught one of her arms and held on stubbornly.
“Let go of me!” she snapped, trying to shake them off.
“No,” Dawn said grimly. “The only way you’re getting rid of me is if you hurt me.”
“You cannot touch him, Buffy,” Giles panted, digging in his feet. “Not until we know what’s happening. You might be affected by this as well.”
Before she could argue or get herself free…she wouldn’t have to hurt Dawn a lot to make her let go…Angel rolled Spike off Cordelia and onto his back beside her without adding the pile of unconscious bodies.
“You’re the one who found this prophecy,” he growled at Riley. “What’s going on? And if this is some kind of trick to deal with me and Spike…”
“I don’t know what’s happening,” Riley said coolly. “And if I wanted to ‘deal with’ the two of you, I’d do it without involving a civilian.”
“If you don’t stop it, you can go downstairs with Violet and the other children,” Buffy snapped. “Wesley, Giles, help me out. What’s happening?”
Both Watchers had pushed their way to the sides of the bed and were now crouched over studying the two forms intensely.
“Not sure,” Wesley muttered. “If it didn’t affect Angel, then it must have to do with the Spike’s prophecy status.”
That was a big bunch of not help.
“Willow?”
It was somewhere between a question and a plea, and the witch closed her eyes and extended her hands over Cordelia and Spike. “Both life energies are strong,” she muttered. “There’s no physical or mental damage. If I didn’t know better, I’d think they were both asleep.” She opened her eyes. “Maybe it does take a kiss.”
Buffy brushed away Dawn who'd grabbed her again. “I’m not going to kiss anyone, Dawnie.” She looked around at the baffled faces, trying to force down her panic. “Any ideas?”
“Here’s another question,” Xander said. “Why is Spike glowing?”
“Where the hell…”
Spike turned in a circle, taking in his surroundings, which were pretty much described with the words ‘dark’ and ‘featureless’. Except, of course, for Cordelia who was standing next to him.
He jumped a foot, and was startled as he landed by the folds of his duster sweeping into place around him. Lifting a hand, he found that his hair was once more slicked back to his head.
“You are how you see yourself here,” she said tiredly. “And you were right. This is hell.”
She turned away from him, draperies trailing and he caught her arm. “Wait. I’m here to get you out.” Distracted, he looked at her attire and truly bad hairstyle. “This is how you see yourself? I was thinking more form-fitting…”
Cordie shook her head. “I don’t see myself any way anymore, but this is how I wanted to be. Good and noble, non-fashion obsessed. It’s what I made myself into. And you need to go, Spike. You can’t get me out.”
“I can so,” he said instantly.
There was a spark of the old Cordelia. “Really? How? You carry along a door or something? You know how to open portals?”
He looked around, but there weren’t any obvious exits. “Give me a minute. There’s a prophecy that says I’m the one who does this. I should be able to work it out.” Something moved against his chest, and he looked down to see the champion’s amulet dangling from his neck. “Hopefully, working it out won’t require me to burst into flame.”
“Work it out fast,” she said grimly as a roar echoed across the plain. “Or leave if you can.” Light sprang up around her, enclosing her in a pale glow. “He can’t touch me, but you need to get out of here.”
Too bloody right.
The demon was huge, at least 10 feet tall, and that wasn’t counting the three long, snaky necks, each of which supported a huge head. The Wolf bared dripping fangs at him; the Ram and Hart lowered their horns.
“Cute,” Spike said. “Hope they’re paying you royalties, mate.” He gave the amulet a shake. “Wake up down there, would you? I need a bit of help.”
When the amulet was not forthcoming, he shook his head, feeling vampiric features slide into place with eerie familiarity, and leaped to attack. As he did so, he realized that he’d started to glow.
The demon reared back, and Spike swung furiously, his glowing fist making more of an impact than he’d anticipated. Then he dropped, rolling as fast as he could to avoid the pointed antlers of the Hart and the teeth of the Wolf, and came to his feet just in time to get butted by the Ram.
He sailed through the air, horribly aware that he’d barely missed having his spine broken, but managed to twist and land upright, mind busily processing a piece of new information. When he’d been on the ground, he’d seen a glowing red jewel set in the top of the Wolf’s open mouth. In his experience, glowing jewels were things you needed to get.
“Hang on, Pet,” Spike said to Cordelia, battle-lust surging through him. “I think we’re almost home.”
With a howl, he charged, this time skipping aside just enough to avoid the other two heads but keeping in range of the Wolf. It roared and lunged, and he caught the rank fur in his hands, swinging up to straddle the neck.
It was a bit like riding a cracking whip, but he managed to hold on, despite the tinds of the Hart’s antlers that raked his back.
“Do something,” Buffy said tensely as blood pooled under Spike . “Willow, send me wherever he went!”
“No!” shouted everyone else in the room.
“Dammit!” she grabbed him by the shoulders. “Spike wake up!”
Damn, that hurt.
Letting the pain fuel his fury, Spike sank his fist as far as he could into the Wolf’s gleaming eye. It opened its mouth in a howl of rage and pain, and he leaned in and seized the jewel. Fortunately, it popped out immediately, letting him get his arm out before it got bitten off.
All three heads began to shriek, and he hastily let go and jumped as far as he could. The fight had gone out of the thing, however, and it shambled off wailing.
“You did it,” Cordelia breathed, looking insultingly surprised. The light had collapsed around her, and she came to stand by him. “That was…that was really pretty cool, Spike.”
“Thanks,” he wheezed. “Glad to oblige. Hope it was what we needed.”
He opened his hand, and they both regarded the jewel. It was still glowing, which was probably a good sign. Cordelia cautiously touched it with her fingertip.
There was that turning inside out feeling, and then Spike’s eyes snapped open to Buffy shaking him and yelling. As soon as she saw his eyes open, she dropped him, and he grimaced as his torn back hit the bed. He was also covered in gore.
“Cordelia!” Angel cried, face more alight than Spike had seen it in years. Buffy’s face set in response.
Spike looked to the side to see that Cordelia’s eyes were indeed open. She struggled to rise and the medic hurried over to help her.
“Angel,” she whispered. “Wesley…you’re all here.” Her face hardened. “Get out.”
“Cordie,” Fred said faintly.
Her eyes were blazing. “You left me there with Wolfram and Hart. Lorne was the only one who even visited. Get. Out.”
When everyone remained frozen in position, she shot upright on the pillows and shouted, “Get out. Get Out. GET OUT!”
Dawn looked around at the others in the hallway. “Ok, did it sound that bad when I said it?”
“Worse,” several people said absently as they looked at each other, trying to figure out what to do. Angel just stared straight ahead, expressionlessly. Lorne's cautious hand was shaken off.
Dawn sighed. “No wonder nobody wanted to spend time with me.”
It was very late, but Buffy couldn’t fall asleep. She didn’t want to toss and turn too much because of Dawn’s quiet form beside her. They had all doubled up to make room for the new people, even though the Initiative members were camped in the yard. The little girls were having their sleepover in one of their bedrooms, while Fred took the other. Wesley was in Dawn’s room and Lorne was asleep and snoring on the living room couch.
Giles had put his foot down very firmly, without ever looking directly at her, and Angel and Spike were now camped on his floor. Buffy had an idea that he was behind Dawn sleeping in her room as well, which was both funny and annoying.
It’s not like I can’t control myself. I don’t even WANT to have sex right now. Besides, with Angel and Cordie…
She frowned and got quietly out of bed, threw on random jeans and tank top and padded barefoot into the hall.
Ericks looked up from her position in the recliner just outside Cordelia’s door. She hadn’t let anyone else in the rest of the evening, but at the sight of Buffy, she smiled a little and closed her eyes again.
Cordelia was sitting stiffly on the edge of the bed, staring into the darkness. “I thought I said get out.”
“You did,” Buffy said, crossing to sit next to her. “Really loud although Dawn’s got you beat on the screech factor.”
“I don’t know why you’re acting like you care,” Cordelia said angrily. “It’s not like you came to see me either.”
Buffy let that one sit there, and after a moment, the other woman’s lips twisted. “Especially after I’ve always been such a source of strength and support to you all these years.”
“I don’t know how I would have managed without you,” she said straight-faced. “Look, Cordie, I’m not the best one for sympathy and understanding, but if you want to talk…”
“I thought about you,” Cordelia interrupted. “When Skip came to me and said I’d been Chosen as a higher being, I didn’t want to go. I was starting to think I could be really happy, and when he said it was my responsibility, I didn’t care much. Then I remembered that you didn’t want to be the Slayer, but you went ahead and did it, and you were lots younger. I thought I should too. And it turned out to be a lie. I’m not blaming you,” she said quickly as Buffy started to speak. “I just wanted to say, maybe I understand a little more about what you went through.” She gave a short bitter laugh, then looked at Buffy very directly. “In more than one way. Do you love Angel?”
The cookie answer was not going to cut it this time. Buffy looked back and answered honestly. “Yes. But I’m not sure that matters.”
Cordelia’s eyes were bright with tears. “How can it NOT matter? If you love Angel, he’ll go to you.”
“Yeah, because he’s really been by my side all these years.” Buffy stood up and began to pace. “Look, I love Angel, but I loved Riley too, although nobody believed it, and I loved Spike although he doesn’t believe it. Who knows what it means anyway? There’s boyfriend love and friend love and all kinds of love..or maybe they're the same. I don’t know. Does it mean you want to have sex with a person? Because hey, Jude Law. Does it mean you could have kids with them and make a happy life? I could do that with Xander and probably be pretty happy except now, I’d have to fight Violet.” She sat back down on the bed. “I love Angel and that’s real, but if you love Angel, that’s real too.”
After a moment, Cordelia snickered. “You got deep over the years. You have another epiphany or something.”
“I’ve had a few. They wear off, but then I get another one.”
Cordelia restlessly traced the coverlet. “Why didn’t Angel come to see me, Buffy? He didn’t, not once. I could see the real world from where I was if I looked, and he never came.”
“I don’t know,” Buffy said gently. “You’ll have to ask him.” She put an arm around the trembling shoulders. “Let’s talk about something happier. How are you going to destroy Wolfram and Hart?”
“I have no frigging idea.”