Chapter 18

’well now it's too late for talking we can talk later on
let the saxophone play us till the chorus of dawn
and all I need is a little oblivion, you don't need protection’
- “angel of mercy” by dire straits

Buffy and Willow had tried to come up with a cunning plan to not only get rid of the Fates but also to not get the Slayer or Spike killed in the process.

The witch had whipped up a blue print of the old factory, and Buffy had showed her where the Secte had kept the Fates hidden for the time being.

That place was a maze. If they were to encounter them there again, they would need more than a half dozen Slayers. They would have to get the big guns, literally and figuratively.

And of course, they had talked about Buffy making up with Spike (though she had left out all the juicy details), and their possible, impeding death.

As it was Willow’s nature, she had nothing but reassuring words for her friend. She knew that painting it all pink and shiny wouldn’t help much but telling Buffy not to lose hope was the best she could do right now.


*

Now, Buffy stood in her kitchen, examining the content of a few Chinese take-out boxes. Chicken Lo Mein, egg rolls with indefinable content, and most of the fried noodles she had ordered. Those seemed to be the most edible, and her stomach was already letting itself be known.

With her fingers, she dug into the box, producing a small bundle of noodles. She let it curl into her mouth, munched on it, and licked her fingers.

“You know that looks really sexy.” Spike stood in the door, his arms crossed over his chest. Buffy could swear that she saw a little smoke curl around his shoulders. Of course, she hadn’t closed the blinds in the living-room.

She smiled around another noodle-knot. “Really?”

“Yeah, makes me think of all the other things you can do with that tongue of yours.” He shot her a naughty smirk, one eyebrow raised.

“You’re a pig,” she replied with her mouth full.

“Weren’t you told not to speak with a full mouth?” Slowly, he sauntered over to her, on the prowl.

“Usually,” she put the box down on the counter, matching his smirk. “You didn’t mind all that much.”

Buffy let out a surprised yelp when Spike grabbed her by her arms, pulling her against him. Before she could say anything, his mouth was covering hers, kissing her with heated passion.

“Are you drunk? You taste like scotch,” she managed when she pulled back for air.

“Had a drink, yeah. And I talked to Andrew.”

“You talked to Andrew, and now you’re horny?”

“Ruin the mood, why don’t you.” He gave her an annoyed glare.

“Sorry,” she lowered her eyes sheepishly. “You can still ravage me, if you want.”

“Yes, please.” The gentle kindness of his eyes betrayed Spike’s words. His eyelids flickered shut when Buffy’s hand cupped the front of his pants, making him suck in a breath.

He pushed into her touch, capturing her mouth again. Scooping her up with one arm around her waist, he unceremoniously plopped her down on the counter.

What followed had been a frantic routine ten years ago. Tugging on clothes, seeking skin wherever possible. Hushed names, whispered pleas.

It was quick but not as rough as they had once been used to. A quick release of tension, the pressure of the things to come lifted off their shoulders for a brief moment.

Buffy clung to his shoulders, her fingers digging gently into his flesh. She had the face buried against his the crook of his neck, breathing against his skin, as he moved inside her.

Release came quickly for both of them. They stayed in their position for a long while, Buffy’s hips slowly circling against his, drawing out every last shudder of pleasure.

Slowly, they disengaged, straightening their clothes. Spike brushed a loose strand of hair from her face.

“Whatever happens when we go against the Fates,” he said, his voice serious, “I want you to know that I’ll do anything I can to protect you.”

Buffy immediately sobered, the afterglow evaporating in an instant. “So you want to sacrifice yourself?”

“I didn’t say that. I’ll just make sure that nothing happens to you.”

“So you do want to sacrifice yourself.” Anger flared up in her voice. “That’s not going to happen.”

“What? You want to do it?” He towered over her, his eyes shining crystal blue. “No way in bloody hell.”

For a long moment, Buffy met his furious gaze.

And then she broke out into a fit of giggles. In fact, it was a full-fledged laughter. She had to brace herself against his chest to keep from stumbling forward. Tears started to roll down her cheeks.

“What? What’s so fucking funny?” Spike was more irritated than angry.

It took Buffy a while before she had calmed down again. “It’s just…,” she wiped a few stray tears away. “It’s just that… we just had this incredibly hot sex and now we’re arguing on who gets to die first. And that’s just… pretty hilarious.” Again, she burst into laughter. This time, Spike joined her.

“I just couldn’t stand to see you die, okay? Not again,” he said when the hysteria had worn off again.

“Same here.” She lightly ran a hand over his cheek. “We have to figure this out. I can’t lose you again.”

“You won’t.” He pressed a hand over hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Not if I can help it.”

Buffy wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his chest. Her hands ran lazy patterns over his back, tracing his muscles underneath his shirt. For a brief moment she wished she would hear his heart beating inside his chest. She had never wished for that before, had always taken his silent presence more or less for granted. But in those few seconds, she wanted nothing more than to be normal, not to be a Slayer who was in love with yet another vampire. It was just plain wrong, everything about it.

It was the ultimate cosmic joke of the Powers that Be.

“What’s going to happen now?” Spike broke the silence after a while.

“We’re going to leave at nightfall,” she murmured against his chest.

“Very considerate.”

“Willow is going to fill the girls in. She will stay here to prepare everything for the banning ritual. As soon as we get a hold of the stone tablet, we’re going to rush it to her.”

“Why isn’t she coming along? Can’t she do her mojo then and there?”

“It has to be done on consecrated ground. We had the building blessed when we moved in.”

“That’s why what we just did felt so naughty.”

“No, that’s your soul, honey.” She patted him on the butt, peering up at him with a cheeky smile.

“Could you please not call me honey? I fell downgraded enough already.” A mixture of a smile and sincerity crossed his features.

“You don’t have any reason to, loverboy.” Buffy stood in tiptoes and gave him a peck on the nose.

“If we survive this,” Spike’s hands closed around her arms in mock fury, “I will make you pay for that, Slayer.”

“God, I hope so.” A beat passed before she spoke again. “I missed you. Everything about you.”

He looked at her for a moment; the shadow of painful memories clouded his face. “Everything? Even the bad stuff?”

A hundred and twenty years as a vampire but in moments like this, he was that man again. That short-sighted lovefool.

“Yes, even that.” She took his hands in hers, brushing her thumbs over their backs. “I know that you don’t want to hear this but… you didn’t hurt me back then. Not more than I hurt myself. I need you to know that.”

He drew in a shaky breath, and lowered his gaze from hers. Slowly, he nodded weakly. “Thank you.” His voice was nothing more than a whisper.

Once again, Buffy wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him into a tight hug.

She had been right. He hadn’t wanted to hear it but they both knew that they needed that kind of closure. Back in Sunnydale, they had never talked about it, had treated it with an awkward but silent understanding. But now things had changed.

Each of them might die in a matter of hours. They had to make the best of the time they had left. Even if that meant digging up those ugly stories. It was part of their history.

“You want to watch a movie?” Buffy asked after a while, and totally out of the blue.

Spike took half a step back, pulling out of her embrace. “What?”

“Sorry, I just thought… there isn’t much we can do before the fight. And we shouldn’t… well, exhaust ourselves, so… I thought we could watch a movie.”

“Yeah, we could do that.” He smiled at her, giving her a peck on the forehead. “You got anything specific in mind?”

“Nope. I don’t have any DVDs so we just have to rely on good old channel-flipping.”

“Fair enough.”

“Good. Also, I’m starving so I really need to finish those noodles. You want some, too?” Buffy reached for the discarded take-out box, digging into the cold food again.

“I suppose you don’t have anything a little more up my alley?”

With a smug smile, the Slayer opened the fridge and produced a bag of 0 neg, tossing it to him. “You like that sweet and sour?”

“Are you the perfect woman or what?”


*

For some unknown reason the cable channel had decided to declare that day “Vampire Day”. It was hardly a coincidence that right when Buffy was flipping through the channels, they were showing “Wes Craven’s Dracula”.

Spike tried to convince her that it was not exactly the type of movie to watch on their probable last day. But to no avail. With her Chinese take-out boxes, she had settled on the couch next to him, snuggling up against his body as he sipped from his mug.

As was his nature, Spike complained about each and every thing. It took all of Buffy’s charms to shut him up for more than five minutes.

“That priest guy looks an awful lot like Caleb, don’t you think?” he said at one point half-way through the movie.

“Maybe he was an actor before he decided to become a people slaying real-life priest.” Buffy now lay sprawled over Spike’s stomach, her head resting atop her hands on his chest.

“What a career.”

“Yeah.” She remained quiet for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“When you died… what was it like? I mean… were you…,” her words trailed off mid-sentence.

“In heaven?” he finished for her. “No. Not exactly the place to go for a guy like me.” He hesitated before continuing, “I don’t know exactly. I didn’t really… experience it. One moment I’m the human torch at the Hellmouth, next thing I know I’m sticking out of a table at Angel’s office in LA.” Again, he stopped for a moment. “After that though… when I was still a ghost I was… slipping. And that place was… only pain. And darkness. Nothing else. And it was clawing at me.”

“Was it hell?”

“I guess. At least that’s what I think hell’d be like. I know that I won’t go to heaven any time soon but when I kick it this time, I really don’t want to go to that place.”

Buffy looked at him. “One more reason not to kick it then.”

“One on a very long list.”


***