Chapter 19

’every single time I roll across the rolling River Tyne
i get the same old feeling
every time I'm moving down the line’
- “southbound again” by dire straits

Night came quicker than either Buffy or Spike had expected.

They had spent the rest of the day watching TV, chatting about this and that, making out a bit. Anything not too hurried. Anything that would keep their minds off the things to come.

Willow had sent Cecilia to go and get them. Once more, the poor girl had blushed wildly when she’d seen Spike.

“So it’s about time, huh?” Buffy rose from the couch, brushing her slightly mussed hair down.

“Yeah.” Spike sat up, running a hand over his face.

“I need to change into my party clothes. I guess there is some stuff you need to get, right?” She shifted awkwardly from one leg to the other, stuffing her hands into the back pockets of her jeans.

“You want to get rid of me? If so, just say so.” A spark of anger flared up in his voice.

“No, that’s not it. I just… I’d to be alone for a couple of minutes, clear my head.”

Spike looked up at her for a long moment, then nodded. “Sure. I’ll see you downstairs, then.” He rose, cupped her face with one hand and gave her a long, sweet kiss. Without another word, he left her apartment.

The moment the door clicked shut behind him, tears were rolling down Buffy’s cheeks. Tears that she had been fighting to hold back for the last couple of minutes.

Of course, he would understand why she was crying but she still didn’t want him to see. They both needed to be strong now, needed to focus on the threat instead of each other. But Buffy couldn’t help it. For ten years, she had waited for him to come back or for some other guy to sweep her off her feet (as unlikely as it had been). And now that he had finally returned to her…

She had every reason to cry.


*

Spike let the door click shut behind him before he leaned against it. He could hear her silent sobbing on the other side, and for a brief second, tears stung his own eyes.

He bit them back. Someone (most likely that girl Cecilia) might come by and the last thing he needed now was someone to call him a sissy.

She had every reason to cry. As did he.

No matter how hard he tried to convince himself not to give up hope, the notion that his or her death was all too present, was a constant reminder in the back of his brain.

He had done everything to protect her from harm now, in the end, there was nothing he could do. Someone would come up with something that would squash his good intentions like a fly.

So yeah, he had every reason to cry.


***

A group of almost two dozen Slayers had gathered in the parking garage, some of them hardly old enough to go into battle.

Willow had already sent off another dozen to check out the scene before they moved in; the other Slayers--except for a handful--ordered to form a ring around the Secte’s building to contain anything that came out, human or otherwise. Those remaining would move in with Buffy and Spike.

The Slayer wore what looked like black military gear: cargo pants and a tank top. She had a heavy-duty weapons belt around her slender waist, a crossbow slung across her back. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, and she wore a little make-up around her eyes. When she gave last instruction to the team, her voice was tight, clipped.

The girls spread to the vans, tires screeching as they left the parking garage. For a moment, Buffy just stood there in the almost empty garage, hands on her hips, her head bowed.

Spike watched her in silence from his spot by the stairs. She had her back turned to him so he wouldn’t see her tears but he could hear her uneven breaths all too clearly.

Slowly, he stepped up to her, and laid his hands on her shaking shoulders. He didn’t say anything, and didn’t need to.

“I never cried when I was younger, you know,” Buffy said after a while. “I even thought I was turning to stone after my mom died. I’m the oldest Slayer ever, and the older I get, the mushier I become.”

“That’s because these girls have become family to you, whether you like it or not.” Spike’s voice was calm, reassuring. “Let me tell you a secret. You might think that I’m the Big Bad, the worst menace you’ve ever had to face but… I’m… mushy, too. When I was still human, I cried all the time… And even after that.” After a fraction of a second, he added, “Sometimes.”

Buffy chuckled quietly. “You’re just making that up to make me feel better.”

“Yeah… You’re of no use if you turn all menopausal on me now.”

“Hey, I said I’m the oldest Slayer but I’m not that old.”

“If you were, I’d have to trade you in for another Slayer. Cecilia gets dibs.”

The Slayer turned and gave him a playful slap on the arm. “That’s how much you love me?”

“You have no idea.” He planted a hard kiss on her lips, leaving her breathless. “Wanna hunt some hell bitches now?”

“Let’s get it on.”


***

As soon as Spike killed the engine of his bike on the street across from the factory, the communication device in Buffy’s ear cracked to life.

“Slayer 17 for Slayer 1, can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, Jenna,” Buffy replied. “What’s going on? Where are you?”

“Turn around and look up.” Buffy did, and a gloved hand appeared on the roof of one of the buildings, waving. “Hey there.”

“What’s up?”

“The factory is empty; the birds have left the nest.”

“What? And you couldn’t have told us sooner?”

“Didn’t know where they went. Now I do.”

“Where are they?” Buffy asked all but impatiently.

“Come up here and see for yourself.”


*

It took them almost ten minutes to get onto the roof. The emergency ladder was completely rusted, and they had to take a detour over the adjacent building.

“What took you so long?”

Jenna was tall woman with broad shoulders but as she lay on her stomach on the roof, her body radiated a professional kind of grace. Her voice, though, sounded as if she was used to smoking a pack a day.

“We’re not a trained Navy Seal, Jenna,” Buffy replied a little disgruntled.

“Yeah, yeah. Now get down. You’re a big honking target.”

Buffy and Spike joined the young woman on the roof.

“Navy Seal, huh?” Spike asked with an approving nod.

Jenna shot him a pearly white grin. “Yeah. I got skills, baby.”

Spike looked from her to Buffy. “If you hit menopause, I take her.”

“Like hell you’ll whore around the house.”

“Can you have your quarrels later and preferably somewhere else? I thought we were on a secret mission.” Jenna interjected, a little annoyed now.

“We don’t have a ‘later’. Now, where did they go?”

Jenna pointed over the rim of the roof into the night.

“I don’t see anything.”

She pushed a pair of binoculars into the other Slayer’s hands.

“They are on the roof,” Spike said, peering out into the dark. “Not on the factory, but a couple of blocks down.”

“You’ve got some skills, too.” Again, Jenna grinned at the vampire.

“You heard the missus. I’m not allowed to whore around.”

“I’d whore around with both of you,” she shrugged nonchalantly. When she saw the couple’s startled expressions, she added quickly. “Anyway… there are about half a dozen of these Secte guys and three really hot ladies. They carried some kind of stand with them but I couldn’t make it out what it is.”

“The stone tablet,” Buffy’s voice was now void of any humorous quips, “They have it with them.”

“Two birds, one stone, then,” Spike said almost reluctantly.

They both knew that everything stood and fell with that stone tablet. If they couldn’t get it into their hands, if they didn’t get it to Willow in time, everything would be lost. One of them would be lost.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Even more reluctantly, Buffy rose, busying herself with brushing dirt off her clothes.

“You’ll make it,” Jenna reassured them but remained seated.

“You’re not coming with us?” Spike asked curiously, fumbling his own communication device from one of his pockets, clipping on the earpiece.

As an answer, Jenna pulled up the left leg of her pants, revealing part of a prosthetic leg. “I’m only an observer,” she replied as though it meant nothing. “I’ll keep Willow and the others posted.”

“Thanks, Jenna.” Buffy smiled at her, then nodded at the vampire, letting him know that she was ready. “Hope to see you later.”

“Same here.” The other Slayer gave them a casual salute, before returning to her prior position.


*

In an almost Spiderman sort of way, the couple made their way over the roofs, taking the direct route instead of the meandering streets. They both could hear Jenna instructing the others where to go, some of them responded with their current positions.

Only one small alley separated Buffy and Spike from the other building.

Six members of the Secte Noir had gathered around a bronze stand that held the infamous stone tablet, forming a loose circle. The Fates were in their middle, apparently holding hands. A small black cloud twirled and twisted over the tablet, blue-white static crackling in it.

“I feel very Shakespearian right now.”

“Why’s that?” Buffy asked, her brows furrowed.

Spike eyed her in disbelief. “Three witches? Macbeth? Ring a bell?”

The Slayer shrugged apologetically. “I’ve never been good with books.”

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head, but remained silent.

“You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” One last time, Spike checked his attire, his vest, his weapons.

Buffy was the first to leap over the gap between the buildings. As soon as her feet touched the other roof, the fight was on.


***