Chapter 5

Spike roared with exhilaration, and even the lack of audible sound wasn’t enough to dampen his spirits. It had been far too long since he’d been in a decent brawl… well, okay, it had only been about a week since they’d fought off the demons in the crypt, but he’d had a bit of a dry spell before that.

He managed to shake off his attacker and shove it backwards into a row of barrels. Backhanding it across the face, he followed through with a kick to the gut that sent the straitjacketed crony tumbling among the barrels.

Just then, another minion burst through the wall of the clock tower, wood splintering in its wake, with Buffy hot on its heels. Spike paused briefly, slipping out of game face as he caught Buffy’s eyes, and she nodded in acknowledgement. They resumed their battle, consistently fighting off multiple attackers as the creepy henchmen seemed to multiply.

Taking aim with her crossbow, Buffy quickly felled two of the lackeys before the weapon was knocked out of her hands. She delivered a knee to the groin, then kicked the minion to the ground.

Spike ducked a punch, recovering to retaliate with a roundhouse kick that took out his opponent. Another grabbed him from behind, but he shook it off as he ran straight toward the wall. Running into a wall flip, he launched himself backwards to land on the other side of the lackey. Taking it by surprise with the maneuver, he easily snapped its neck.

Buffy caught the move out of the corner of her eye. Show off, she thought, suppressing a smile. Well, two could play at that game. She jumped up, catching hold of a rope, and swung across the room to deliver a two-footed kick to the chest of one of the minions. Propelling herself back in the opposite direction, she brought her legs up and locked them around the neck of a second. She twisted her hips and let go of the rope, dropping to a crouch next to the dead body of her opponent.

Spike gave her an approving smirk, catching on to her little competition. Before he could come up with something as impressive as her Tarzan act, though, Buffy noticed one of them fleeing up a flight of stairs. She captured his gaze and raised her eyebrows, signaling her change in tactic. Spike nodded, holding his own as he took out two lackeys that attacked him simultaneously, sweeping the legs out from under one of them and hitting the other with an elbow to the throat.

Leaving Spike to deal with the minions below, Buffy dashed up the steps to the second floor, where she spotted a long table with seven jars, five of which contained human hearts. Gross, she thought, but promising. Before she could react, though, Buffy was grabbed from behind by three minions, and a Gentleman floated toward her, brandishing a scalpel.

*****

Willow winced in pain as she ran down the stairs, hanging onto the girl she’d run into in the hallway. The other girl, whom she recognized from Wicca group, helped to support her on her sprained ankle. The straitjacketed lackeys were close behind, so Willow pulled the girl into the closest open doorway – the laundry room – slamming the door and locking it behind them.

The banging coming from the other side told them it wouldn’t hold for long, but even their combined strength couldn’t brace the door, and everything in the room was too heavy to be moved. After a futile attempt with the soda machine, Willow dropped to the floor and leaned against a washing machine, frustrated and in pain.

She hadn’t tried doing magic since she’d screwed up the will be done spell, but it looked like she didn’t have a choice. Concentrating as hard as she could, she stared at the soda machine, willing it to move. It shuddered a little, but didn’t budge. Willow slumped back, defeated.

Then, she felt the other girl take her hand, slipping her fingers gently through her own. Her eyes widening with understanding, Willow realized that, with this simple gesture, the shy, awkward girl had communicated to her the very thing she’d stumbled and stuttered over during Wicca group.

This girl was a witch.

Tara gave the redhead a tiny, shy smile, nodding slowly as she read the comprehension on Willow’s face. As one, their heads snapped toward the soda machine, and it whipped across the room, spinning into place to barricade the door.

Relief flooded through them as they heard the banging cease. Tara looked at Willow, surprised by both her own boldness and the other girl’s power. She felt a rush from the magic, more energy than she was used to channeling, but she also felt a kinship, connection, and a sense that this girl might be exactly what she had been longing for.

*****

As Buffy struggled, the lackeys holding her suddenly stumbled forward, when Spike kicked one of them in the back. It was enough for Buffy to break free from their grasp and knock the scalpel out of the Gentleman’s hand with a high kick.

Spike grabbed one of the minions, banging its head into the bell tower hard enough to make the bell gong. The sound echoed through the room, heard above the constant smack of connecting blows.

Buffy managed to get in a couple of quick punches against the henchman she was fighting, when one of the Gentlemen stabbed her in the back with the scalpel. The sickening sound of the blade slicing through flesh was followed by the metallic scent of blood tainting the air. Spike turned, alarmed, but he was too far away to help her.

Okay, Buffy thought angrily. That hurt.

Grinning, the Gentleman backed out of her reach as one of the lackeys threw Buffy against a giant spool of rope and held her around the shoulders and neck. Despite her efforts to fight back, she was weakened by her injury and unable to break free. She happened to glance over at the table, and next to the jars of hearts, she spotted the ornate box from her dreams, the one the singing little girl had been holding and that Spike had been trying to tell her about. She hadn’t been able to hear him speaking in the dream, but now she understood what he’d been trying to say.

Her eyes widened with recognition as she frantically tried to think how to communicate her discovery to Spike. Still held fast, Buffy smacked her hands on the rope spool to get his attention and gestured to the box on the table. Nodding, Spike ran to the table and picked up a vial of liquid, slamming it back down so that it shattered.

Spike looked eagerly to Buffy for her approval, but she rolled her eyes and shook her head. She tried to mime a box opening and closing with her hands, but Spike turned away and grabbed a broken piece of a beam, using it to gleefully smash everything on the table – jars, bottles, crystals, and the little wooden box.

When he was finished, he glanced up again, proud of his handiwork. Buffy just gave him an exasperated look before her attacker tossed her to the ground where she tumbled into a crouch. Streams of mist came flowing out of the ruins of the box, restoring their voices, and Buffy let out a scream.

As she did, the Gentlemen looked at each other with wide-eyed, fearful expressions, and then one by one, their heads began to explode, spraying greenish-yellow gunk everywhere.

When the last body had hit the floor, Buffy looked across the room, where Spike was gazing back at her. Slowly, hesitantly, she approached him, now that she was able to speak, uncertain of what to say.

Just as before, his eyes told her everything, and she ran the last few paces until she slammed into him, meeting him in another passionate kiss.

*****

The next day, Buffy found herself over at Xander’s house. He was out for the day, but he wasn’t the one she wanted to see, anyway. She made her way cautiously down the basement steps, and Spike glanced up as she came into view.

“Hi,” she said, pausing at the foot of the stairs and shoving her hands in her pockets.

“Hi,” he replied, straightening up from where he was crouched, going through Xander’s video collection.

Buffy moved toward the sofa bed, perching hesitantly on the edge. “I guess we need to talk.”

Spike took a seat in the unfortunate orange recliner that he was, disturbingly, starting to think of as his. “I guess we do.”

Neither of them spoke for a long moment, sitting with their hands clasped in their laps, their gazes averted.

“I know who the commandos are,” Buffy blurted out finally.

Spike’s head snapped up. That was the last thing he’d expected her to say.

“One of them, anyway, probably two,” she went on. “But it – it’s a place to start, right?”

Spike raised his eyebrows. Was she actually offering him information that would help him?

“We can find out what these commando guys are up to,” Buffy clarified. “Whether I should be fighting them or helping them.”

Spike’s mouth curved into a humorless, knowing smile. “Right. Silly me. For a minute there, I thought you might actually help me get this chip outta my head.”

“I can’t do that, Spike. You know I can’t.” I don’t want to have to kill you, she added silently, wondering when exactly that had become the case. He looked away from her without responding.

“Is it so bad?” she asked timidly. “Not hurting humans? I mean, it’s just… if you start killing again, I’d have to…”

“Right. Yeah.” Spike snorted, slouching back in the chair, his posture churlish and sullen. “Wouldn’t expect anything to change, just ’cause we kissed, right?”

She felt her chest clench at the bitterness in his voice, but it didn’t stem her righteous anger. “You think I’d let you kill people? Spike, I’m the Slayer!”

“And I’m a vampire, pet, or had you forgotten? Think I’m just an animal you can housebreak, is that it? Strap a muzzle on me? I helped you, Buffy, saved your bloody life. Nothing in it for me, except…”

“Except what?” she snapped.

“’Cept not wanting to see you dead,” he said, in a voice thick with emotion that reminded her of the depth of the feelings she’d seen reflected in his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Buffy said, “Spike, when I… kissed you… I didn’t…” She cringed at the tone of her “let him down easy” voice. She was attracted to him, of course, but she couldn’t let that get in the way of her common sense. “Um, what I mean is…”

He let out a disgusted sigh. “Look, if you came here to tell me it didn’t mean anything, and it’ll never happen again, just get it out and go home.”

“Spike…”

“I mean it, Slayer,” he cut in, getting up out of the chair and standing with his back to her. “Not in the mood to get yanked around, so just –”

Suddenly, she was behind him, and she spun him around, her mouth on his before he knew what hit him. He let the kiss go on for a bit, savoring the taste of her, the feel of her body against his, just in case it was the last time. After a moment, he pulled away and asked, “So, what’s this, then?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy admitted, letting go of him. So much for common sense. The problem was, it was more than physical. It was more than just passionate kisses and steamy sex dreams. It was the memory of curling up in his lap, of feeling safe and loved in his arms. She’d seen another side of him, and it was new and surprising, and she couldn’t convince herself any longer that it was solely because of the spell.

“I don’t know what this means,” she said, “but I’m pretty sure I hate it.”

“Then stop kissing me!” he retorted indignantly.

“You kissed me first!”

Spike rolled his eyes. “What are you, five?” She turned away from him with an irritated expression, but this time it was he who pulled her back around. “You feel it, though, right?” he asked her. “Feel… whatever this is, between us?”

“Yeah,” she said, the word coming out as a sigh. “It’s not supposed to be like this. I’m not supposed to fall for another vampire.” Hadn’t she already learned the hard way that getting involved with a vampire would lead to nothing but pain? And this one didn’t even have a soul. They had danced, they had brawled, they had spent years fighting a war from opposing sides, and yet he made her feel whole, managed to touch something inside her that had lain wrecked and ruined since Angel had left.

“Oh, and being in love with the Slayer’s a perfectly normal thing, yeah? Know it’s not right, but it’s –”

“What did you say?” She was staring at him, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“I, uh…”

“You’re in love with me?”

Spike closed his eyes, as though she might have disappeared when he opened them again. Nope. Still there. “Buffy, I…”

“You’re in love with me.”

“Well… yeah.” He looked down at his bare feet. “Have been since that spell of Red’s. Guess it just never went away.”

Buffy furrowed her brow. “Since the spell? But you acted like…”

“So did you,” he pointed out.

“I was legitimately disgusted!”

“Oh, yeah?” Spike smirked. “Tell me again how you dreamt about me,” he teased her, having no idea the direction her dreams had taken since their first conversation about the Gentlemen.

Buffy felt her cheeks burning at the unintentional suggestion, and she was sure her face had turned bright red with embarrassment. Worse still was the bolt of desire that shot through her at the memory of her most recent dream. She had to fight to suppress the urge to throw him down on the sofa bed and reenact it right there, but Spike took care of that by stepping close to her and pulling her into an embrace.

“Pretty clear neither one of us is disgusted now, pet,” he murmured in her ear, his voice low and gravelly. Before she could respond, his lips had found hers again, his tongue teasing gently at the corner of her mouth. Against her will, her lips parted to welcome him and her hands began skating over his muscular back, once again drowning in the sensation of his kisses.

When he finally released her, breathless, Buffy asked tentatively, “What about the whole mortal enemies thing?”

“Look, chip’s not going anywhere for the time being, right? And when the time comes… we’ll see.”

“No. No ‘we’ll see.’” Buffy broke away from him, growing visibly upset. “I lost Angel because he turned evil. I loved him, and it nearly killed me when he…” She shook her head. “I can’t let myself get attached to you, knowing that someday things could change.”

“Seems like we’re already attached, love,” Spike pointed out. “Thing is, Buffy, when we were under that spell, when you loved me… I was content. Didn’t miss killing. Didn’t feel like less of a man ’cause I was defanged…”

“As long as you could fight demons,” she interrupted, remembering how he’d gone from pouty to jubilant the moment he’d made his discovery.

“As long as I could fight demons,” Spike conceded with a half-smile. “Point is, you could make me feel like that again.”

Buffy gave him a dismayed, anxious expression, overwhelmed by the weight of the burden he’d just placed on her. “What if I can’t?” she asked, her voice a breathy whisper. “What if it was the spell? What if… what if I’m not enough?”

It was the question she’d been asking herself for months, the insecurity that had eaten away at her confidence in the wake of her romantic failures. She hadn’t been enough to make Angel stay, and she hadn’t been enough to keep Parker interested. How could she ever let her hopes rest on being able to make Spike want to be good?

“You already are.”

Her head snapped up at the whispered words, her disbelieving eyes locking with his tender gaze. She didn’t even know if it was possible, if a vampire could really change without a soul, but she wanted to believe it, needed to believe it, because Spike made her feel like she was worth it. “It’s going to be hard,” she warned him. “Fighting against your demon.”

“Always did like a challenge,” he replied, taking a step toward her.

“My friends aren’t going to like you.”

“I’m charming. I’ll win ’em over.” He took another step closer.

“My mother will never approve.”

“Your mum loves me,” Spike responded, his final step bringing him to her as he bent down and kissed the tip of her nose. “Said she’d have a nice cuppa for me anytime I wanted to talk.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “And that was before the chip.”

Buffy’s eyes widened. “You are so not allowed to hang out with my mother.”

“That so, pet?” Spike smirked and, with a twinkle in his eye, he grabbed her around the waist and tackled her onto the orange recliner. “You gonna stop me?”

“I might have to,” Buffy replied, running her hands over his chest as he braced himself on the chair arms above her. “Can’t have the Big Bad spilling my secrets to the parental unit.”

“Oh, Mrs. Summers,” Spike said, adopting a high-pitched voice. “You wouldn’t believe the evil, naughty things I’ve been up to with your only daughter. Why, I didn’t even know you could do that with a plunger!”

Buffy swatted at him, letting out an indignant squeal. “I think I liked you better when you couldn’t talk.”

“Just have to shut me up, then,” he retorted, lowering his head to kiss her again. Dropping down and shifting his weight, he managed to wrestle the squirming Slayer onto his lap, cuddling her close like he had when they were engaged. She caressed his cheeks, tracing the lines of his sharp cheekbones, then curving down along his jaw.

“So, you really all right with this?” Spike asked her seriously. “You willin’ to take a chance with me, Slayer?”

“Fortune favors the brave,” Buffy murmured. “Just… promise me you’ll never give me a reason to kill you.”

He studied her, took in her grave expression. As he felt the warmth of her cradled in his arms, all he knew was that he wanted more of this, and if that was what he had to give up… “I promise.”

*****

the end.