WEAKNESS IN A WINNEBAGO

“That guy is bloodsucking the last nerve right outta me.”

Xander pushed himself into the passenger seat of the Winnebago next to Giles, swallowing as the next wave of bile tried to force itself up his throat. They’d been on the run for hours now, and Spike was really starting to grind on his patience. Xander didn’t even really understand why the hell he was actually there.

Giles kept his eyes fixed pointedly on the road. “Well, Buffy has a point. In a confrontation, Spike may prove... useful.” He glanced back at the vampire behind him, who was making himself comfortable in Xander’s vacated seat.

“I don’t think Buffy’s thinking too clearly on that one. Or anything else right now. I’ve never seen her so…” Xander broke off, gulping again. Giles glanced at him before returning his eyes to the road in front of him.

“She’s been through more than her fair share of late. She just needs a chance to catch her breath… She’ll be alright.” Giles assured him.
…If only he believed it himself.

“Yeah she’ll…” He swallowed again, his pause making Giles glance at him again. He agreed weakly, “…yeah.”
 

*                              *                              *                              *                              *                              *                              *
 

“Any luck?” Dawn turned hopefully to Willow, who was deep in one of Giles’ tomes.

“If you define luck as the absence of success, plenty,” she gave Dawn a weak, exhausted smile. “There’s a couple of barrier spells, but they only work on a fixed locus. Haven’t found anything we can use while we’re moving.”

“So pretty. Can I have one?” Tara reached towards Dawn before Willow pushed her gently away.

Uncomfortable, Dawn perked up forcibly. “Um... Anybody hungry?”

“Oh! Snacks!” Anya declared happily, rooting around in the bag next to her. “The secret to any successful migration!” She pulled a frying pan and a can of spam out of the bag, and Spike raised his eyes to stare at her disbelievingly from beneath his eyebrows. “Who’s up for some tasty fried meat products?”

“HEY! OW!” Spike suddenly jumped out his seat, shielding his face. Tara had pulled open one of the blinds, letting sunlight pour into the Winnebago. He ducked quickly out of the light, the smell of burning flesh filling the cabin.

“Tara, no! What did I tell you?!” Willow tugged Tara away from the blinds, letting the room darken again. Tara immediately burst into tears, wailing, the resulting misery plain on Willow’s face. Hugging Tara comfortingly, she looked up apologetically at Spike. “I’m sorry. She doesn’t know what she’s doing…”

“We know.” Dawn’s voice was low, reassuring.

“No Biggie.” Spike held out his hand awkwardly, still cradling it in the other. “Look, the skin’s already stopped smoking. You go ahead and play peek-a-boo with Mr Sunshine all you like. Keeps the ride from getting boring.”

Spike glanced over his shoulder at Giles and Xander, and gave Willow and Dawn a small smile. “You know what? Let her see the light. Make her happy. I’ll...” He pointed loosely at the back door. Nodding at Willow’s grateful smile, he pressed a hand to Dawn’s shoulder and slipped through the door to the back room.

 
*                              *                              *                              *                              *                              *                              *
 

Spike slid into the room, and turned to see Buffy curled up on the small sofa, head resting on the back. The sight almost made him stumble. Buffy, the Slayer, and she looked so... defeated. Hesitant, he stood frozen, his back barely brushing the wood of the door. Swallowing, his voice came out low; he was barely able to hide the quiver in it.

“Buffy... Slayer. Are you alright?”

A small sound slipped from the girl’s throat, halfway between a groan and a scoff. She still didn’t take her eyes off the spot on the wall she had been boring her eyes into since he’d walked in. Probably long beforehand.

“Buffy?” He repeated, his body shifting unconsciously, as if he was going to step forward. Halting himself, he paused again. “Are you alright?”

Buffy finally tore her eyes away from the wall, her gaze flicking to Spike. Her expression... it was almost enough to make Spike turn and rush out of the room. Hell, out of the Winnebago and straight into blinding sunshine. Her eyes were on his face, but it was like she was staring through him. She looked...

Helpless.

“I’m fine,” Buffy lied, her voice husky. “Everything’s perfect. I’m doing a great job.” The sarcasm wasn’t hard to miss.

“No, pet, you are.” Spike assured her, voice soft. His brow was furrowed, and he could see the tears shining in her eyes.

Buffy shook her head, exhaling a shaky laugh. Fixing her eyes back on Spike, she stared at him with some sort of strange desperation. “I’m the Slayer. The Chosen One. All mythic and defender-y. Evil nasties are supposed to flee from me.” She blinked hard, holding her eyes shut for a long moment. “Not the other way around.”

“Flee? Love,” Spike shook his head, taking a tentative step forward. “You’re not fleeing. You’re regrouping, makin’ the fight... you know, your own.”

Buffy scoffed again. Honestly, Spike was used to derision from the Slayer, but the hopeless edge to her scorn shook him. “Quaintly referred to in some cultures as the big, scaredy runaway.”

Spike approached the sofa slowly, hesitating again before sitting next to her. Reaching out, he touched a shaking hand to hers, feeling her pull away slightly before stopping, and letting him take hold of it. Rubbing his thumb in slow, reassuring circles over the back of her hand, he couldn’t take his eyes off that small amount of contact as he spoke.

“You aren’t runnin’, love. Not really. You’re too strong for that.” He chuckled bitterly. “I should know. You’ve kicked my arse enough times. ‘m pretty much the expert.”

Buffy rolled her eyes at him, and if wasn’t for the tears in her eyes, he would’ve thought she was back to her old self. One drop fell loose onto her cheek, and she finally let her eyes focus on his.

“It just keeps coming.” She whispered, “Glory... Riley... Tara... Mom.” Her voice broke on the last word and another tear leaked out. Her gaze fell back to the floor.

“I know love, I know.” Spike squeezed her hand tightly. Cupping her chin in his hand, he forced her to face him. “Hey, look at me.”

Buffy looked up and was immediately caught in his eyes. His blue eyes were staring into her green ones, and it scared her how much emotion was shining through them. They seemed so... earnest. So loving.

And as much as that terrified her, she couldn’t look away.

“It’s gonna be alright, pet. I promise.” Spike murmured, a smile ghosting his lips. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Or the Nibblet. I meant what I said after Glory turned me into mincemeat. I won’t... I can’t ever let anything happen that would hurt you. I’d die sooner.”

Spike bit his lip before lowering his face slowly, lightly pressing his lips to her cheek, catching a tear. Tasting the salt on his mouth, he felt her pull away from him, just a little, and immediately made to stand up.

Buffy caught his cheek in her hand before he could move away, and pulled his face towards hers, pressing her lips to his in a bruising kiss. Feeling Spike’s surprise fade after a few short moments, she pushed her tongue into his mouth to tangle with his. Pulling away only to take in breath, she kissed him harder than she’d ever kissed anyone... Riley... Angel.

It was a release. All her fear, her doubts, her worries... She felt like she was pushing them into the kiss, turning weakness into passion. She felt like, in that moment, she could lose all that uncertainty. All that was holding her down. All of her.

Spike felt her lips on his before he knew what was happening. Buffy pressed herself against him, sliding herself into a kneel so she was elevated above him slightly. This wasn’t a simple ‘thank you’ like in his crypt. It was like she was letting go.

He parted his lips, breathing in her scent, her breath. Her hands were on his face, and he could feel some of that desperation he’d seen in her eyes forcing itself to the surface. Letting himself get lost in the kiss for a few, painfully short moments, he exalted.

He exalted completely in the fact that she was kissing him.

It seemed like they both had something to lose.

Taking hold of her wrists, Spike pulled her hands slowly away from his face, immediately feeling somehow incomplete. Forcing the kiss to slow, he pressed his lips to hers once, twice, three times before pulling away, nipping at her bottom lip as he did so.

Biting his lip again, he slowly released her arms, watching her face as she stared at him. Her tears were drying on both their faces, and she was gazing at him with wide eyes.

“Thank you,” Buffy whispered softly. “Thank you, Spike.” She pressed another kiss to his mouth softly, holding it for a few short beats.

“It’s gonna be okay, love.” Spike pulled her into his arms, and she curled up next to him, her head against his chest. “I promise you that.”


THE END