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Ring of Fire by TalesofSpike
 
Chapter 4:05
 
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SECTION 4 - YOU'RE THE ONE

When the cold wind blows
And the rain keeps tumbling down
And there's no one there
And the morning light shines on

You're the one to lend a hand
You're the one who understands
You're the one to comfort me
The keeper of my heart

(Clannad, Album - anam, Words and lyrics A. Brennan, Additional lyrics M. Brennan)



Chapter 4.05
Tuesday, May 14th, 2002

"Dawn, why don't you hang up your jackets and show Brandon through to the dining room? I'll send the others through from the living room and see what Spike's up to in the kitchen." Buffy ushered her sister and her date into the house before going in search of her fiancé.

On entering the kitchen, Buffy eyed the messily dismembered chicken carcass and the meat cleaver embedded half an inch deep into her mom's old wooden chopping board on the kitchen island. The back door was ajar and Buffy wasn't remotely surprised to find the vampire pacing the back porch with a lit cigarette in one hand and the bottle of wine, which had been supposed to go with the meal, half empty, in the other.

"I thought you were going to baste that chicken with garlic butter and roast it whole for dinner tomorrow."

"Well, I guess now we're having casserole." Spike's reply was half way to being shouted and was positively doused in sarcasm.

"Unless you know any recipes for minced chicken, in which case I can have a go, too."

Spike ran out of porch and turned. Somehow, his anger receded at just the sight of this tiny woman.

"So?" Buffy asked softly. "What do we tell her?"

"I don't know." Spike ran his cigarette hand through his hair, too preoccupied to even realise what he was doing. "I thought I didn't get a say in the matter."

"I'm asking your advice. How do I tell her I don't want her on that thing when she knows I've been on yours? Especially if they see you drinking. And if they realise you don't even own a helmet."

"Do you think I'd be taking my frustration out on dead birds if I knew the answer to that one? Way I see it, about the best we're going to get away with is making sure she's got the proper protective gear and making sure he knows I'll tear him limb from limb if she gets hurt because he's being reckless in any way."

Buffy belatedly realised that this time Spike had decided not to turn when he reached the front edge of the porch. He made his way around the side of the house and Buffy set off in pursuit.

"Where are you going?" she asked as she jogged slightly to catch up.

"Goin' to check the tyres 'n' stuff on that bike. If anything on that bike isn't road worthy, I'm not goin' to wait to string him up."

Buffy watched in horror as Spike flicked away his half finished cigarette and produced a pocket knife as he drew level with Brandon's bike. He sat the wine bottle down on the path next to the bike and opened up the blade.

"Spike!" she hissed, suddenly afraid of attracting attention from the dining room. "You can't just trash his bike!" She ignored her own inner voice adding, 'not even if I really want to.'

The demon twisted his neck back to look at her, eyebrow raised and one corner of his mouth turning down just slightly. It was his patented, 'What do you take me for?' look.

"Relax, pet. I'm just going to check the tread on his tyres."

"With a knife?"

"Since I don't happen to have anything else that'll fit between the treads on me, yeah, with a knife."

"Is that wi-." Buffy redirected her own half-asked question to herself as she realised that she was provoking a volatile master vampire who was already out of sorts and holding a knife. "Okay, shutting up now." She twisted the fingers of one hand in front of her mouth in a locking motion.

Buffy watched as the vampire, poked around at the tyres and sniffed around the bike. She panicked slightly when he took it off its stand and started bouncing slightly on the seat, but when he merely grunted and stuck the bike back on its stand, she figured Brandon was off the hook for now.

"So?"

"Tyres could do with replacing in the not too distant, but if it was me, I'd probably push them for another couple of hundred miles. No oil leaks or anything. Brake blocks aren't worn. He's adjusted the suspension for carryin' two, but hasn't bothered puttin' extra air in the tyres. For goin' to the mall and back, I'll let him off. If he was ever planning on taking her on a proper run I'd check he'd pumped them up a bit."

"So all in all it's not a death-trap."

"The bike's in good nick. Whether it's a death-trap depends on how he handles it, doesn't it? And you'd best give Bit one of those spare cells and make sure she keeps it on her and charged. Thing doesn't have a fuel gauge."

Buffy gave him a puzzled look. "So how do you know you're running out of gas?"

"When the tank gets near to bein' empty the main fuel intake won't draw from the bottom inch of the tank. You have to flick that little valve there to reserve and that lets you use up the last bit. Now, here's the rub. Say when you fill it up, you forget to switch the valve back, then next time."

"When it runs out, you really don't have any gas left and this being the Hellmouth that could be bad even without the teenage boy in the scenario."

"Bingo. Give the girl a cupie doll."

"This would be so much easier if I could just tell her no."

Spike lit another cigarette and picked up the wine bottle in his other hand before sliding that arm around Buffy's waist and starting to amble back toward the porch. "Wouldn't do any good, love. What happened when your mum put her foot down with you?"

Buffy sighed. "I mostly did what I wanted anyway. Just did it behind her back. or ran off to LA. but I was doing the slayer stuff, not hanging out with boys on motorbikes."

"Sure. You never went out with His Nibs without telling her. Bitty's made from you. What makes you think she'd do any different?"

"Buffy? Spike?" Tara's voice sounded through the darkness.

"We're here, pet. What's up?" Spike answered as the couple stepped up onto the porch.

"Em, everybody's getting kind of restless through there. I think you might want to make an appearance soon."

"I'd better go," Buffy told her fiancé. "Is everything ready?"

"Pretty much. I'll start bringing it through."

Buffy stood on tiptoe to press a kiss to his cheek before dashing off into the house.

 




 

Spike bit his tongue every time he wanted to ask a question that made him sound like Hank. Maybe it was because he'd been on the other side of the interrogation such a short time before, or maybe it was the puppy dog eyes that Bit kept giving him. Either way the kid had got off remarkably lightly, so far. Now, however the meal was at an end.

"Well, I guess it's just about time I can slope off outside for a fag without lookin' too antisocial.

Buffy says you've got a bike, Brandon. Why don't you come with me? That way we can save the ladies from having to listen to us talkin' 'bout all that borin' stuff. Wes?"

"I think I'll give it a miss this time. I feel like I should lend a hand with the clear up," Wes responded discreetly.

"Fair dos." Spike already had an unlit cigarette in his mouth and his Zippo to hand. He strode to the front door making it obvious he expected the teenager to follow.

 

Spike lit up his cigarette, the lighter flame enough to ruin the kid's nightvision just as he'd been beginning to be able to make out the older man's features.

"Right, kid. The way I figure it, you've already been threatened with physical violence at least twice if you don't treat that girl right. So, I'm goin' to just skip over that part.

What I am going to do is make it very clear that any time you take her on that bike with you, you are taking responsibility for her safety. So, if she isn't wearing adequate clothing, it's your responsibility to tell her and to make sure she does. Buffy and I will see that she has the kit she needs. You see she doesn't get on that bike without at least the proper jacket and her own helmet and if you're going any distance I expect you to make sure she's wearing full leathers.

Do we understand each other?"

"Yes, sir. Though I think maybe you need to practise what you preach."

"An' what the hell's that meant to mean?" The teenager got his first glimpse of the vampire's volatile temper, but to his credit he didn't back down.

"It means, sir, if you don't want Dawn hurt then you should work a bit harder so she doesn't feel like an outsider in her own home."

"Balls! Niblet knows I'd do anything for her."

"Anything except keeping your hands off her sister long enough to have a conversation with her."

"Jesus Christ. What the hell has she been saying?" Spike turned and stalked back to the house, slamming the door back on its hinges. As he'd more than half expected Buffy and Dawn were having their own tete a tete, while Wes and the witches kept out of the way in the kitchen.

"Dawn, you had best say goodbye to Brandon now because he's leaving, and when he's gone me and your sis are going to be waiting for you in her room. It seems we need to talk." Dawn made a dash for the front door as the vampire began to stomp upstairs in an obviously foul mood. "And tell 'im those tyres damn near need replacin' an' all," the vampire called after her.
 
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