Something to Sing About by Lilachigh



Chp 10 The First Row



The tunnel ended abruptly and only Spike’s outflung hand stopped Buffy from walking into a stone wall. “Mind junior,” he said, his smile a flash of white in the gloom. “Don’t go bumping him.”

She couldn’t reply. The baby she was carrying was still just an idea, not a real person. How could it be? Glowing green energy was probably floating around inside her at this very minute, forming itself into a key child. Boy or girl? She voted for girl. Another Dawn, that seemed fairly obvious. Although hopefully not quite as irritating.

‘And you’ll love her just as much,’ a voice in her head said quietly, fiercely.

“Spike, you do realise I’ve got to fight Ben to the death,” she said, suddenly wondering exactly where this protective manner could lead. “It’s going to be hard enough as it is without you leaping in front of me every few seconds to check that I’m OK.”

There was a long silence. She couldn’t see the vampire’s expression in the dark of the tunnel but suddenly the air seemed cold and heavy between them.

“I’ve always got your back, pet,” he said softly at last. “In this world and the other.”

She took a deep breath. “I know and I appreciate it. But I can’t fight well if I feel you’re going to be all over-protective guy.”

His response was fast and angry. “I love you, Slayer. That includes the baby you’re carrying. I can’t help that. I won’t get in your way, but I bloody well won’t allow you get beaten up or killed if I can possibly help it. You’re my wife. You can’t expect me to stand back and let that happen.”

Buffy sighed and wearily eased her shoulders, wriggling to relieve the tension that held them in iron bands. Why wouldn’t he understand? This wasn’t about him or them or the baby; this was about killing Ben without getting slaughtered in return.

“Of course I want you to guard my back,” she said. “You’ve always been the best fighting machine I’ve ever known. I trust you not to get yourself killed. I let you do your own thing, and you know I’ll do mine.”

She turned away to push at a small wooden door that she hoped led into the basement of the Hotel California. But a grasp like iron on her arm stopped her. “Wait a minute, pet. Let’s get this straight once and for all.”

Buffy sighed. “Spike, this isn’t the time or place for discussions about who needs to look after who. Let’s just get on with killing Ben and bringing this Sunnydale back to normality.”

The grip didn’t loosen. “No, stop running away from me, Buffy. This is more than you getting your knickers in a twist about fighting. Stop making excuses for not dealing with the situation between us. Ben will wait for ten minutes. Bloody hell, I don’t expect he’s going to end the world before lunch!”

“He might.” And she had to admit to herself that her remark sounded childish!

“Well, let’s give him the benefit of the doubt, shall we?” Spike’s voice was at its silky English best. Buffy groaned to herself. Her mate could outdo Giles for slippery sarcasm when it suited him.

“Back there, you told me you loved me,” he went on, his fingers leaving her arm to explore gently across her cheek. “You know I love you. That makes it a partnership now, Slayer, not just Spike being love‘s bitch all over again. A partnership as in soddin’ well equal in the caring and sharing. Every time we get close, you back off, mentally, physically, emotionally. I can feel you slipping away again, pet. And I don’t understand why. So this time, just tell me!”

For a long second she stood there, lulled by the gentle pressure of his cool fingers on her hot skin. How easy it would be to give in to that persuasive argument that they were equals, that they could go off to fight Ben, save this Sunnydale together. But they weren’t equal. At the end of the day, every day, forever, she was the Slayer and Spike was a vampire.

Oh yes, the most brilliant, savage fighter she’d ever come across, but still a vampire and an opponent would only need, in Spike’s own words, ‘one good day’ to drive a stake through his heart or push him into an innocuous patch of sunlight and he’d be dust.

Where would her protection be then if she relied on him? Buffy had learnt the hard way that she must rely on herself first and foremost. “I’m the Slayer – ” she began.

“Fucking hell!” His savage words were made worse by being said softly, the intensity sounding painful in the cool dark tunnel. “If I had five quid for every time I’ve heard that, I’d retire and go and live in Hawaii!”

“Don’t be silly, too much sunlight,” Buffy said automatically.

“Agreed! Bloody silly, which is what starting your explanation with the words, ‘I’m the Slayer – ’ is as well. I know you’re the Slayer. I’ve lived with that knowledge for years now. I know about the sodding mission, the prophecies, that you’re stronger than me – just. But you’re still a human being, Buffy. Why do we have to have this stupid rigmarole about being the Slayer every time you want to slide away from commitment in some shape or form? It’s just an excuse.”

“Stop it!” Buffy swung her hand to smack him on the nose, but in the dark his vision was better than hers and he caught her fist in mid swing.

“It isn’t an excuse, Spike,” she hissed, feeling her own temper rising. How dare he get all righteous about her behaviour? “Being the Slayer colours every single thing I do. I thought you of all people might understand, but no, you’re like so many guys, everything has to be about them!”

This time the silence was more than icy; it was as frozen as the Arctic. Spike dropped her fist and Buffy sensed, rather than saw, him plunge his hands into his duster pockets.

She was desperate to take back those last words; she didn’t even mean them. He wasn’t like other guys. She knew that. She’d just wanted to hurt him and she didn’t even know why, except that there was no one else in the whole world she could hurt quite so badly and still be certain deep down that his love would never alter.

But – and the beginning of a quiver began to run across her nerve endings – perhaps this time she would discover that his love did have its limits. Because earlier she’d told him what he’d longer to hear, that she loved him and now, only minutes later she’d stamped on their bright, shiny, wobbly fledgling relationship, smashing it to pieces.

But when Spike spoke, there was the faintest hint of resigned amusement in his voice. “You still don’t trust me, do you, sweetheart? After all we’ve been through.”

“I love you.” The whisper cut him like a blade. He could see his girl, standing there in front of him, arms crossed, chin tilted, fighting the world and fighting herself most of all. He would never tell her how much she’d hurt him in the last few minutes, then realised that she didn’t need to be told, she knew. And that was sadder still.

“Did you trust Angel?” He hadn’t meant to say that, but the words were out of his mouth before he could catch them and shut them up somewhere safe.

Buffy winced then her expression changed and he could see the irritation begin to build. “Oh this is great! Not only am I waiting to go kill some hellgoddish creature – again! – and, hey, save this Sunnydale from destruction, hopefully without having to sacrifice myself but I’m pregnant with some green energy baby and you want to whimper on about my ex! OK, yes, I trusted Angel – sometimes. How about you and Miss Loony Tunes? Did you trust Dru?”

“Never. Not for a second of all the years we were together.”

Buffy fought back the wave of jealousy that swept over her at the thought of Dru having her husband for all that time. “But you loved her. You see, Spike. The two don’t always go hand in hand.”

“So you trusted Angel but you don’t trust me.” Spike felt himself vamp in and out of game face. “What do you think I’m going to do, Buffy? We’re already married, so I can’t very well leave you at the altar. Or is it simpler than that. You don’t trust me not to get in your way, is that it?”

Buffy’s temper was now a distant dot on the horizon and vanishing fast. How could she love this man and want to hit him so much? “Geez, Spike, isn’t it great that now I’ve told you I love you, you decide that isn’t good enough. It’s all about trust now. What do you want from me? ”

“What makes God Almighty Liam so trustworthy then?” Spike knew he was falling deeper and deeper into a morass of misunderstanding but couldn’t seem to stop himself. The thought that his golden girl, his wife, could trust that brooding wanking tosser sent him falling, helter-skelter into a burning rage. “As far as I can see, he walked out on you in our first Sunnydale and Xander staked him in this one. But if you think he’s so trustworthy, then fine. Just a pity he’s dead. You’d probably prefer him to help you bring up your nice new shiny Key!”

“Yes, I probably would!” Buffy snapped furiously, her nails digging into her palms so hard that little blood spots formed and Spike’s eyes flared back to gold. “At least he’d have the sense to let me get on with killing Ben instead of standing here arguing about trust!”

Spike yanked the wooden door open with a vicious jerk and sarcastically gestured to her to go through. “Don’t let me stop you, Slayer! Be my guest. Go and kill Ben. I’ll try not to get under your precious feet. ”

Buffy pushed past him, shuddering as the leather coat brushed against her bare arm. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so angry. And underneath the anger she was bewildered. Only minutes ago they‘d been locked in each other’s arms, exchanging a kiss of love and passion and desire. Now she couldn’t think fast enough to find the words to hurt him.

She slammed the door shut behind her and didn’t hear the lock click into place. She’d only taken another couple of steps when a group of hooded figures stepped out menacingly in front of her and began to close in.


To be continued