Spike's Out
By Jess Marie

Disclaimer: Legally, this disclaimer‘s not worth the pixels it‘s imprinted on. Gratefully, the peeps of Mutant Enemy and all things Joss Whedon have elected to not sue us. Since I’m not making any money off this, I’m a happy puppy.
A/N: Haven’t written any fic (or anything else for that matter), in years. Literally. But I’ve been re-watching my Buffy box set, and this idea grabbed me yesterday. Couldn’t stop til it was finished. May be rough. I wrote it in about an hour and a half.


“I know you’re the one who helped Dawn,” she said tightly. Just about all her words sounded tight to him these days. Coiled and ready to spring. Still, the topic caught him unawares.

“Uh, yeah,” he blinked. “We established that bit in my crypt. When we, well, when you…” Spike kept one hand on the steering wheel of the DeSoto and raised another to rub at the back of his neck to avoid looking at the Slayer beside him. Memories of the kiss throttled his vision, and he couldn’t say any more. Didn‘t trust himself to say the right things. Could’ve still been a dream, after all. The never-mentioned-ness of it made the possibility even more likely.

Buffy frowned and shook her head. “What are you…” She stared at his stony face as he peeked through gaps in the blackened windshield and determinedly avoided her looks. She watched him fidget. His pursed lips. It finally clicked. “Oh god. No, we are not talking about that.”

Hurt eyes turned at her sharply.

“Not… just not right now. Ok? I mean, I‘m glad you helped against Glory. I‘m still glad you‘re helping… but that… it‘s just too much.”

A huffy sigh. He acquiesced. Was there any doubt he would at this point?

Buffy pressed on. “No, I’m talking about my mom. When Dawn tried to, to bring her back.” Buffy’s voice hardened at the last. Resolve and longing bricked up by will. “The gang examined the spell. Willow told me there’s no way Dawn could’ve gotten all the ingredients by herself.”

Spike jumped from bashful lover to offended innocent as easily as turning the wheel. “Don’t know what you’re on about.” He sniffed. “Didn’t even know the Bit tried.”

“You’re seriously going to try lying to me right now? The ancient knights of hey-let’s-kill-little-kids-cause-we-can’t-think-outside-the-box are threatening to send armies out after us and the hell-bitch of the underworld is trying to kidnap my newly minted mystical sister, and you’re worried that, what? That I’ll lecture you?” Buffy’s shoulders set and she turned to better face him with grim intent. “Wake up, Spike,” she bit. “We’re about to sell everything you own to buy whatever escape-mobile comes easiest cause I’m up against something I just can’t fight.”

“You can,” he insisted, shaking his head at her. “It’s not…”

“Stop it. Just don’t be like the others. Just stop pretending, just for a minute. You know exactly what we’re doing. You’ve done it before. Several times, if I remember.” A wry note in her voice twisted a smile from his face.

“We’re running away,” she said.

Spike’s smile fell. “Well, yeah. Obviously. Not thickheaded like the lot of the dim-wits you’re sallyin’ about. It’s the brightest idea you’ve had in a while, far as I’m concerned. It’s re-grouping.”

“Whatever you want to call it, there are no guarantees.”

Spike furrowed his brow and lifted his chin. “And? What exactly are you getting at here, pet?”

“If anything happens to me, don’t you dare.”

“Nothing will happ…”

“Don’t you dare. Whatever books you had, whatever connections you used, they’re gone. They don’t exist as far as you’re concerned. You got me?”

“If it’s done right…”

“Don’t you get it?” Buffy flipped back to stare ahead, body tensing with frustration as she blurted, “I don’t care if it’s done right. I don’t care if it’s possible. Ever since I was called, I haven’t had a moment’s rest. Not one second’s peace where I can just be me. Where it can be over. If the universe finally decides my number’s up, you let it be. All of you.”

Spike pulled the car to a stop in front of the used auto dealership. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” Spike shook his head and stared down at the floorboard. “You couldn’t.”

“I do,“ Buffy said. She turned toward her window and picked at the flakes of paint with a fingernail. “I wanted Mom back too, you know. More than anything. More than Dawn did, in the end. Even though it wasn’t right. I knew it was wrong. But just for her to tell me everything was gonna be ok. I was just so tired.”

Spike slipped a gentling hand toward her. It wavered in the space between them before he slowly pulled it back to his side. Unsure.

“I’m still tired, Spike.” She looked into his face with watery eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I have the right to bring someone back. Nobody has the right.”

Spike twitched fingers uncomfortably against his thigh. “You’re sure? Cause, God, Buffy. I know it’s not the time nor place, but you’ve got to know how I feel about you.”

“I know.” Her hazel eyes shifted away. “But you’re not like the others.”

“Don’t,” Spike spat. “How dare you? Honestly. You come to me for help. And here I am, as you’ve so brilliantly pointed out, selling the last decent thing I own to help you lot even though I could easily have nicked something just as well, ready for the scrap, ready to lose everything. Not just a bleeding car, but my sodding unlife. And you have the nerve to ask me this? What? Cause I don’t love you like the others do, so it’s bloody easier for me? I’m soulless, after all, right?” Spike shook his head and laughed with rude intent. “Unfuckingbelievable.”

Buffy punched Spike in the nose. “You bleach-brained moron! You didn’t even let me finish. Look, I know you feel… something,” she rushed on when Spike took a breath to interrupt, “and whatever it is, that’s not even the point. I’m not asking you because I think you can’t be trusted. I think you can…”

Spike pulled a hand away from his nose and looked at her with hope.

“…with some things. I think you can be trusted. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t bring this up at all. I’m asking you about this because you’ve been around long enough to know the score. I love my friends, all of them. But there are some things… some things they just don’t see. They don’t want to see. But you do. You know this might happen and you won‘t gloss over it just because it‘s ugly. You know some day a decision might have to be made.”

Spike took a deep breath, letting the silence hang between them, binding them both. “I do.”

“I know it’s not fair to ask you this. But you’re the only one… God. You’re actually the only one in my life I can talk to about this. What does that say?”

“Just says I’m a right companionable fellow, I s’pose,” Spike feigned a preen, and Buffy narrowed her eyes.

“I know it’s not right to ask you this,” she sobered. “But if you really do care…”

“I’ll let you rest in peace, Buffy. I swear it.”

“Ok, then. Ok. Um. Thanks?”

“S’nothing, love.”

“It is,” she insisted.

Spike thought for a moment and squirmed uncomfortably, fighting a battle between honesty and safety. “But if you were back…” Honesty won.

“…what?”

“If you were back,” he went on, “don’t expect me to let you go. I won’t raise you. I promised. But if anything happened and you came back anyway…” Spike bit his lip. “I don’t care if it’s right or wrong. I’m weak, Buffy. You can’t expect me to let you go. Don‘t ask it. Not ever.”

“That’s… ok. I get that. I really do.”

“Anything else, though. You know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

“I know.”

She knew. And that was something.

Buffy peered through gaps in the darkness to stare at the behemoth of an RV they’d come for. “So. You really think you can drive this thing?”

Spike laughed. “And if I can’t? Honestly, what’s the worst that could happen?”

For a second, Spike caught a true smile on Buffy’s face. Then she pushed the door open and stepped out into the world.

+++

Three Months Later

The witch crept cat-quiet through his living room, still unused to being there after all the nights she’d been sent to rouse him to help their little band. Spike could tell more was on her mind for this visit though. She paused by chairs, hovered near candles and picked at little statuaries with a lack of confidence that belied her strengths.

“Spike, I know the others are waiting, but I need to ask you something.”

“Shoot away, ducks,” Spike cocked his head and tried to measure her.

“Do you ever think about… I mean, would you ever want… if we could, I’m saying, if it were possible… Would you ever think about bringing Buffy back from the dead?” she bleated the last in a rush of breath and let her shoulders fall as she faced him.

Spike’s eyes turned to ice, hoping to convey as much as possible without trusting himself to too many words. “Not for a second,” he answered.

Willow’s face scrunched in confusion, and waited for more.

He simply continued to stare, and when the hard lines of his posture brooked no argument., she just nodded, played the theme as if it were nothing. “Of course. Right. Not like it could be done anyway. Let’s get going.”

Spike gazed a second more before following her from the crypt. As they stepped into the darkness, he wondered a moment if he should’ve said more. But if he did, if he treated the notion of it with the slightest credibility, he wasn’t sure he’d keep his promise after all. Better then, to just let it go altogether.

Later, after the patrol, Willow settled into what everyone had acknowledged as her place in the Magic Box. Three sets of eyes waited for her answer. She met Xander, Anya and Tara’s expectant faces with a stern and sad response.

“Spike’s out.”