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West of the Moon, East of the Sun by KnifeEdge
 
Chapter 62: Jaws
 
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Author’s Note:

WARNING
DO NOT attempt to free polar bears from their cages and ride them around like ponies. Trust me, it will not end well. This story is a work of fiction—and Spike’s fear of bears is actually totally sane and justified. You should be afraid of bears. Bears are scary, soulless, bloodthirsty predators that would rather eat you than have a cuddle.

Not unlike vampires, in fact.

Also, thank you so much TVTropes.org, for sucking me in for nearly a week while I was researching bears in popular culture. And for pointing out that, in fact, God thinks bears are pretty much worse than everything.

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all recognizable characters, locations, and dialogue belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the various writers. Show writers and any other quoted authors have been credited in individual chapters. I'm making no money from this—it is purely in the name of fun.

Betaed by Phuriedae and Science







Chapter 62
Jaws


I have to remember to thank Willow when we get back, because somehow none of the dozen demons that are milling around in the throne room even notice the giant bear with its two passengers shuffling past them like a slow moving circus act.

"Big doors," Spike mutters in my ear. "Gonna notice if we open them. How exactly do we open them, Slayer?"

With a sense of timing I can't help but admire, a handful of evil elves come pouring out of the passageway we left behind, shrieking in alarm. Guess they noticed either that Spike is missing or that the bear is. The demons in the throne room all rush in that direction, half of them splitting up to go up the stairs into the tower, the others break into two groups and go down the two opposite passageways.

We shuffle closer to the doors, and they start to open all on their own. Maybe they're magicked to open for the bear automatically?

Spike mutters a curse. "What can I say?" I tell him. "The PTB like me."

"Was this your grand plan the whole time?" he asks. "Steal a bear and ride it out the front doors?"

"No," I tell him. "It's a vast improvement over my grand plan, which involved killing a dozen guards and running out of here with half of Louhi's army hot on our heels and you nearly collapsing from pain."

"Think I like that one better," he says.

"You would. Besides, I didn't steal the bear. You can't steal a bear. I set it free."

"I spent a century in delinquency, pet, I think I know stealing when I see it," he says.

As soon as we're out and the doors have swung shut behind us, I touch the pendant at my throat. "Seek." Like back in the Magic Box, the light shoots out of the necklace, then darts away down the street, heading, as best as I can tell, south. The bear perks its head up, then follows the light.

"No wonder you always win," Spike mutters behind me. "Entire universe conspires to help."

"I win because I'm the good guy," I tell him. "Good always wins because evil is dumb. Since you're not dumb, you couldn't help but switch sides."

"Was that a compliment, Slayer?" he asks.

"Might've been, Vampire," I tell him.

***


Outside the cold hits me in a way that it didn't in the Tower. It's like being dumped back in that cave all over again, and all the work I did over the last few days getting used to the temperature is totally reversed. Within minutes I'm shivering again, and grateful for the warmth of the bear under me.

"You said you walked here?" Spike asks.

"Yeah," I tell him, adjusting my hat to cover my ears and my scarf to cover my face.

"How far to the portal?" he asks.

"A f-few days, on f-foot," I tell him. "N-not s-s-sure what it is-s by b-bear."

He's quiet for a long time, and when he speaks again, it's so low I have to half twist to hear him. "Why'd you do it, Slayer?" he asks, frowning. "Figured... figured I'd hold out, long as I could. Give you a chance to suss out how to beat her. Then, if... well, when you did, if I wasn't dust, maybe I could get loose, then. Never figured you'd come after me."

I blink at him, surprised. "Okay, revising m-my opinion of-f your intelligence," I say. "In what universe would I leave a... a f-friend to get t-tortured by my enemy?"

"We're friends now?" he asks, staring at me with unblinking golden eyes. That thing that used to pace in the dark behind his human eyes... it's not hiding now. The look of raw hunger on his face is nearly enough to knock me off our furry steed.

"We've b-been f-friends for a long t-time, Spike," I tell him, softly. "I j-just was too stupid to s-see it."

His jaw tightens for a moment, and he tongues his fangs in a way that would make me nervous with any other vamp, but with him... I know he's doing it because he's nervous. "So," he says after a bit. "You're not mad about the ... Mr. Gordo thing?"

"No, I—" I pause, not sure if I should admit this or not, but... looking at his swollen, battered face, I realize I can't not tell him this. "I... kinda... sortawantedittobeyou." Okay, so maybe I rushed it a bit. I don't dare look at him, though. Not yet. "The last... after m-mom, and you were... with the....and... I j-just wanted it to be you. I... k-kept looking for clues. That's why I r-rushed over to your crypt, I... w-wanted to c-catch you while you were s-s-sleeping and see."

"You... wanted it to be... me?" he asks slowly, as if testing it out.

I nod, and finally look up into his face.

Oh.

Oh, god.

It hits me, then, the full force of what I'm seeing in his golden eyes. He loves me, really loves me, demon and all. His finger traces the line of my scarf along my cheekbone and he swallows heavily. It's enough to make me tremble.

He frowns.

"You're cold," he says, and the world comes back, the spell broken. For the moment. It feels like something left unfinished. "And tired." His thumb brushes the skin below my eye. He shakes his head, then tugs at the backpack across my shoulders. "Here, give me this."

Before I realize it, he's slung the bag across his own shoulders, then hauled me back against his chest. He opens his duster and wraps it around me, adding a layer of protection from the elements. His arms hold me against him, and he ducks his head down beside mine, so I can turn my face into his throat. He's not warm, but he's solid, a good barrier against the wind. "Get some kip," he murmurs. "I'll watch Jaws here and make sure he doesn't try to eat us."

"Jaws?" I ask, suddenly sleepy.

"It's great, white, swims, and can rip my bloody head off with one bite," he complains.

"I liked 'Pooh Bear'," I murmur.

"Pooh Bear was stuffed with fluff," he says. "This thing would eat Christopher Robin for brekkie. Sorry, luv, you may have stolen it, but you made me get on it, so I get to name it. We're calling it Jaws."

***


I drift back to consciousness slowly.

The world is moving under me, slowly, rhythmically, rocking me against a hard body. Said hard body is cradling me against it, my legs drawn to one side, over a muscular thigh, and my torso leaning against a solid chest. It's dark, and vaguely warm, and I feel cocooned by the scent of leather and smoke and whiskey and... ew.

Body odor, which might be mine. I can't remember the last time I showered. Yick.

Also... I kinda have to go to the bathroom.

But for a moment I just relax, feeling safe and comfortable for the first time in a long time. It should be weird that it's Spike that makes me feel that, but it isn't. I nuzzle into his chest, and his arms tighten around me. "Mmmm," I murmur, but my bladder is waking up now, too, and reminding me that it's been awhile since I last went. Great. The downside of road trips is always the pit stops.

Reluctantly I pull the leather away from my face so I can see where we're going. We're somewhere out on the vast plain of ice, but I have no idea how far we've come. I can't see the woods ahead, so we're still a ways off, I guess. "Mornin' sunshine," Spike rumbles in my ear.

"How long was I out?" I ask.

"Few hours," he says. "Not long enough, I reckon. Should get back to sleep, Slayer."

I turn to look at him. He looks... better. The cuts on his lip have scabbed and most of the blood that was crusting his face has flaked away. The swelling and bruising around his eyes has faded, too. He's still in game face, though I'm not sure why. Oh well, he'll shake it off when he's ready, I guess. Maybe it helps with the pain.

"How do you feel?" I ask. I probably shouldn't have slept on him. It can't have been good for the injuries to his chest, or his arm.

He shrugs. "Gettin' there," he says. "Not going to be competing in the Winter Olympics anytime soon, but I think I could hold my own in a fight."

"With any luck, you'll be all better by the time we have to worry about fighting," I tell him. "But right now, I need a pit stop."

"Good luck with that," he says. "Not sure how to steer this thing, let alone where to find the brakes."

I just roll my eyes, then lean forward and pat the bear's neck. "Whoa, bear," I say.

It perks its head up, swiveling its long neck to look back over its shoulder at me. "Can we stop for a sec?" I ask it. It snorts, then stops, laying down on the ice with a groan. "Good bear," I say, patting it.

"You can't keep it," Spike says, his voice doing that panicky thing again.

"Why not?"

"Where the bloody fuck are you going to put it? It won't fit in your house and I think the neighbors would have somethin' to say about a soddin' bear in your backyard. Watcher will cack his pants if you try to keep it at the Magic Box," he says as I scramble down. I end the hide spell, so he doesn't have to work to see me.

"Spike, relax," I say. "I'm not going to keep the bear."

"Oh, thank god," he says.

"I'm going to take it home, and then release it in the wild," I tell him.

"Bloody hell," he says, looking like he wants something to beat his head against.

"Willow can do a spell," I say.

"Willow can blow it up," he mutters.

"Be nice to my bear, Spike," I tell him. "And don't turn around."

"Why the hell not?" he asks, turning around.

"Because I have to use the little girl's room," I say. "And since there isn't one, you're going to have to be a gentleman."

He growls. "Not a soddin' gentleman," he says.

"Liar," I say. "But for now, just pretend, okay?"

"Bloody humans," he says, but he turns around and faces front anyway.

***


When I'm finished, Spike hops down from the bear with obvious relief. I'm a little worried about getting him back on the bear when the time comes, but if I'd spent the last... well, who knows how long, hanging from my wrists and being tortured, I'd need to stretch my legs, too.

He wanders a ways off, then kneels down and strips off his coat and shirt. Surprised, I watch as he scoops up handfuls of snow and scrubs it over his face, arms and chest. Brrrrrrr. Okay, I totally want a shower, but unlike vampires, ice baths are not for Buffy. I watch, fascinated, as he scrubs his hair with snow, trying to work the mats out where the blood was caked on one side.

The bruising on his arms, chest, and back is still livid, but most of the cuts have started to heal. He's filled out, too. I can't count all of his ribs or his vertebrae anymore. Skeletal Spike was a little scary, I have to admit. He's still not the Greek God that sprawled across his black sheets a lifetime ago, but... he doesn't look as much like an animated corpse anymore.

When he's finished he scrubs the shirt he was wearing, too, probably to get some of the dead guy stink off it, then shakes off the snow and puts it back on. When he pulls on the coat, though, he frowns, rotating his shoulders to settle it in place. "What's wrong?" I ask.

"Still underweight, I guess," he says. "Hangs all wrong."

"How long before you're back to normal?" I ask. He gives me a funny look. "Relatively speaking, of course."

"Depends on how soon I can eat again," he says, scanning the horizon. "You walked this?"

"Yeah," I say, feeling the shivers setting in again. "Eventually there are trees. D-dead ones. B-but it breaks things up a bit." I chew my lip, which just leaves them more raw and peeling. "I should have th-thought to bring blood with me... I... d-didn't think... It was k-k-kind of spur of the moment, you know? Ch-charge to the rescue? I d-didn't even b-bring ch-chapstick. You know I w-was in a hurry if I f-f-forgot skincare essentials."

"What've you been eating?" he says with a frown.

"Oh! P-power bars. I still have some in my b-bag. N-not a lot, but, you w-want? Will it h-h-help?" I ask.

He's still frowning at me as he limps slowly forward. With his face clean, the cuts on his lip are bright red. Once he's standing in front of me, I can't help but reach up, stopping just short of touching. He doesn't wince, even when my gloves accidentally brush against them. "Your m-mouth," I say. "G-god, Spike, why d-did you do that to yourself?"

His jaw muscles flex, and for a minute I don't think he's going to tell me. "She liked it too much, when I screamed," he says, finally. "Was the only way to..." He trails off, looking uncomfortable. Which, by the way, is totally weird in game face.

"Whistler s-s-said you were b-blocking her somehow," I say, wrapping my arms around myself and bouncing a little to try to warm up.

"Who the hell is Whistler?" he asks.

"This... uh, w-well he's a d-demon. A g-good d-demon. He... sorta w-works f-for the PTB. He used to be assigned to Angel b-but, uh, he k-kinda screwed up a j-j-job and got reassigned to... us, I g-guess. You and me."

"You an' me?" he repeats, disbelieving.

"Yeah... um," I'm not sure how to tell him this, but I figure he kinda deserves to know. "You... d-do you remember that p-prophecy I mentioned a long t-time back?"

"What about it?" his eyes narrow.

"Um, well, s-see... the original p-prophet was this c-crazy English guy, like w-way long ago in the l-late 1800's and he w-was sort of stumbling around in the m-mountains s-somewhere and they f-found him and took him to a... c-convent? You know, where they k-keep nuns?"

"I know what a convent is, Slayer," he says.

"Right. Well, the nuns, they s-sp-spoke F-french. And the c-crazy guy, he spoke English, and... they g-got some other g-guy to translate, only, I guess he didn't sp-speak English that well, or maybe it was F-french he didn't speak but... uh, long story sh-short he sort of got some w-w-words... mixed up," I say, trying to stop my teeth from chattering.

"Mixed up?" Spike says.

"Yeah. So... remember when I asked you about the S-s-slayer's Night? Well, it t-turns out that he d-didn't mean 'night' like 'd-dark time' he meant 'knight' like... uh... Sir Lancelot," I say. "You know, homophobes."

"Homophones," Spike says.

"Those. And... uh... w-well... it's you," I say.

"What's me?"

"The Knight," I say. "The th-thing that Louhi n-needed in order to end the w-world. It's you. You're the Slayer's Knight."

Spike blinks at me.

"Funny sort of name for it," he says, finally. "Slayer's Knight."

"Oh, uh... yeah. See... that's w-where Whistler comes in. Um... the th-thing is, according to Whistler... you were m-meant for me," I say. I'm not sure what kind of reaction I was hoping for, but I get zilch. None. Nada. Just blank vamp face and slowly blinking yellow eyes.

So, I babble.

I tell him all about Whistler and the prophecy and how they weren't sure if it was going to be him or Angel and how it really was him after all. I tell him about Whistler going to New York and how he was made wrong and how if we didn't get him back then the world was going to end.

Finally I realize that there's a muscle ticking in Spike's jaw, like he's clenching and unclenching it rhythmically.

Uh oh.

"Spike?"

His eyes are staring past me, out at the weird, unchanging horizon.

"Spike? C-could you, I don't know, s-say something? You with the not talkies...f-freaking me out a little."

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Then.

He pulls one of the knives I gave him out and flips it experimentally in one hand. "I think I need to kill something," he says, conversationally. "It's been too bloody long."

"Uh, Spike?"

"Heads up, Slayer."

And then he grabs me by one arm, yanks me around behind him, and goes charging past me at the small army of evil elves that has appeared out of nowhere and is running up on us across the snowy field.

Oh.

Right.

Crap.

***


Okay, totally love my sword.

I may not be as good with it as the Chinese Slayer was, but wow. It cuts these guys down like no weapon I've ever had before. Thankfully riding on the bear and arguing with Spike has kept me warm enough that I'm not as clumsy as I thought I'd be. I'm a little slower than I'd like, but I'm still better than the elf guys.

Spike is holding his own, too, even though he's favoring his right side a little. Good thing he's left handed. I try to keep to his right, guarding him with the longer reach of my weapon. Even injured and handicapped, we fight well together, and we take out at least half of the elves before I notice Spike wavering a little.

Then Pooh Bear decides to join in the fight.

Honestly, I'd mostly forgotten about the bear. The bear, however, clearly hadn't forgotten us. With a roar it charges into the fray, swiping at the evil elves with its massive paws, cutting a couple of them down with its sharp claws before chomping down on a third.

Spike and I back quickly away, fending off two elves easily since their attention is now on the massive land predator that's really pissed off. Spike dispatches his elf, and I take care of mine, and then we both stand, panting, and watch as Pooh Bear pretty much massacres what's left of our enemy.

"You made me ride that," Spike says.

"Uh huh," I say. Because, really, what else can I say? Pooh Bear tears off the head of our last enemy, splashing black blood across the snow. Then it sniffs at the remains, snorts with disgust and comes padding toward us.

Spike backs up quickly, but then one of his legs gives out and he stumbles and goes down on his butt. Pooh Bear lowers its big shaggy head and sniffs at him. Spike squeaks again, freezing as Pooh Bear continues to nuzzle at him. Then it gives a satisfied whuff and flops down on the ice beside him, resting its huge head on Spike's thigh.

"Slayer," Spike says with a hint of a whimper. "Could you come fetch your giant, vicious lap bear?"

***


Getting Spike on the bear again is easier than I expected. Especially since he can't really walk.

He swears the whole time, though.

Once we're both on and I get the bear standing again, I hide us from any more surprise armies and do the Tinkerbell thing. Pooh Bear immediately trundles off after the tiny light. Spike's hands rest on my hips again, but he doesn't pull me back against him like before. Maybe the fight didn't get all the mad out?

"Never figured you for a liar, Slayer," he says quietly after a long while.

"Huh?" I say, twisting to see his face. Something bitter lurks around his mouth and gold eyes.

"All that rot about us bein' friends," he says, then laughs harshly. "And wasn't I the poof for believin' it?"

"Wait a second," I say, and throw one leg over to the other side of the bear, then twist so that I'm facing him fully. Luckily, Pooh's back is pretty broad and I'm not too worried about falling off. "I wasn't lying about that," I tell him.

"No? So you found out that your mortal enemy is really your very own personal Powers designated lapdog, and that rescuin' me from Louhi will throw a major spanner in her works, and you didn't rush straight out to save the world?"

I shake my head. "That's not what it was like," I say.

"Sorry, Slayer, must be all the torture going to my head, because from where I'm sitting that's how it looks," he says. "God, for a moment, back there, I thought... when you didn't flip out about the chip, I thought it was because you knew better. Because you bloody trusted me. Of course, it turns out that you've held my leash the whole fucking time, yeah? Soddin' prophecies."

"Spike," I say, but he cuts me off again.

"And the worst part is," he says, with a bitter laugh. "Fuck... worst part is, I'll let you. Let you yank my leash whenever you bloody want. Can't keep a man about, but ol' Spike'll pant at your heels forever. Did they do that to me, too? Make me fall in love with you? Like some sick, twisted guarantee that I'd be on your bloody side? Don't I even get to have a choice in my own fucking fate?"

"Shut up, Spike," I say.

"I think I'm more than entitled to—"

I clamp my hand over his mouth, careful not to irritate the healing cuts on his lip.

"Shut up," I tell him again, more gently. "Look, I get it. Really do. Believe me, no one in this universe gets how stupid and crappy and awful it is to find out that you've got a destiny like I do. It sucks the big one. But, Spike... I decided to come after you before I ever even knew that prophecy junk. The minute, the absolute minute I finished reading your journal... I knew I had to get you back. Not because you were destined to be my partner. Not because I knew it would piss off Louhi. I just... I knew I had to find you. You were my friend. For almost a year... every night. You were my friend. Maybe even my best friend. I told you things I couldn't even tell Willow. I meant that, Spike."

"Yeah," he says. "You meant it when it was Mr. Gordo, your nancy little vamp who didn't run his mouth off just because he was conscious. But when it was me? You never meant it for Spike."

"Didn't I tell you that I wanted it to be you? I wasn't lying, Spike. You... god, I was too blind to see it. I know that now. You were changing, all that time and... I'd had it hammered into me that demons can't change. But I was wrong. And the thing is... I'd figured it out. After mom died, I saw the way you were, how you were trying. The way you protected me every night. I knew about that without even reading your journal, by the way. Maybe the whole Mr. Gordo thing made me more attuned to you or something because I knew where you were, what you were doing. I knew you were patrolling for me... and you were the only one, god, the only one who didn't treat me like I was going to fall apart, after mom died. The only one who didn't... try to smooth it over. I knew... after that, we were friends. Or, I knew I didn't want to be enemies anymore."

He's staring at me like he can't quite believe me, and I'm not sure how to make him see it.

"Spike, I don't want a lapdog. I don't... I don't ever want anyone to stay with me because they feel obligated to, or because... The chip? It doesn't matter. I know you, now. I know that you've changed. That just because you can hurt people now doesn't mean you will. You're stronger than that. Better than that. If you promise me you won't hurt anyone, won't kill anyone... I'll believe you. I believe in you, Spike. Not because some stupid piece of paper that's a hundred years old says I should, but because I've seen you now. The best and worst of you, and... you're wrong. Destiny, it might come knocking but we're the ones who choose how to answer the door. I might be the Chosen One, but I make my own rules, my own decisions. This prophecy may have brought you to me but... you're the one who chose to stay. It could have been Angel, but he walked, all on his own. And you came back to me. Stood by me. Changed, all by yourself, even when we did our best to try to keep you the way you were. Without even a soul to guide you. That was your choice," I say.

I take a breath, studying his face, the hope dawning behind his ridged features. "I don't want a lapdog," I tell him again. "But... I'd like a friend. A partner. An equal. You've always been my equal, Spike. But you don't have to stay, if you don't want. I won't make you."

He snorts. "Yeah, well, that little speech of yours... might as well have put shackles on me, pet. You...," he breaks off. Shy looks really weird on a vampire. "You mean it? You believe in me?"

"I really do," I say.

He swallows, hard. For the first time, I see a flicker of blue in his eyes. "Never going to bloody get rid of me now, you know."

"Kinda hoped," I say.

"You won't regret it, Buffy," he says. "I swear it. Never do anything to make you regret it."

"You can't promise me that," I tell him. "You're going to be around a long time, and you're going to make mistakes. But I believe that you'll try. And I'll be there to help. No more bitchy Buffy."

"Kinda like bitchy Buffy," he says, which makes me laugh. Only Spike.

"Okay, maybe a little bitchy. And I like snarky Spike, so you better not get all...I wouldn't know what to do with you if we couldn't argue," I admit. "And I can't promise that the others... you know how they are. But I won't let them be jerks to you anymore."

"Sod them," he says. "Don't give a bloody damn about any of them."

"Liar. I read your journal," I remind him. "You're probably going to regret that, eventually."

"Oi! Got me rescued," he says with a smirk. "Not gonna complain."

***


Once the adrenaline from the fight wears off, the cold starts to hit me again, worse than ever. Spike doesn't even protest when I snuggle up against him and wrap his coat around both of us again. He just settles me in, then puts his arms around me.

"S-s-see," I manage, between chattering teeth. "M-much b-b-better than w-walking."

"Can't believe you walked this," he says. "I'm bored, and cold, and I'm riding on a bloody bear."

I laugh, but it's a little broken by the shivers, I burrow in tighter, and he lets me. After awhile my body heat warms up my vampire-coat cocoon enough that my teeth no longer feel in danger of rattling right out of my head.

"Never been so glad in my unlife to see trees," Spike murmurs, later.

"Huh?"

"Sorry," he says. "Thought you'd nodded off."

"Too cold," I say and peek out of the gap in the coat. Sure enough, there's the ugly dead woods lurking ahead like a dirty black smudge on the horizon. We're making pretty good time, I think. At least as good as walking, though the bear isn't exactly the fastest transportation. Slowly the forest seems to ooze towards us over the snow, and a few hours later we're moving past the first of the trees.

"Uh, Slayer?" Spike says.

"Hmmm?"

"Might have a problem," he says.

"What? What's wrong?" I ask, looking up at him. He's looking back over his shoulder. "More elf guys?"

I sit up enough that I can see over his shoulder, too. Thank god he's not as tall as Riley or Angel. At first I don't see what he's seeing. Then I realize I'm looking in the wrong place.

"Uh oh."

Clouds. Big clouds, moving fast and piling themselves up out of nowhere into a huge cloudy blob out over the plain. There's wind, too, and judging from the way Spike's curls are blowing, that thing is coming this way.

"Temperature's dropping," Spike comments. "No way we can outrun it. Don't think even Jaws is that fast."

"Crap, I guess she figured it'd be the easiest way of stopping us. It wouldn't kill you, would it? A blizzard?"

"No," he says. "Just put me on ice for a bit, 'til she could collect me." He looks pissed, but that might just be the fangs. "Buffy... gotta find some shelter. It will kill you."

"I know. But there's nothing but trees," I say. "And while I might know, theoretically, how to build an igloo, I don't think that I'm that fast."

"Fuck," he says, looking back at the storm. "Got maybe an hour, two, tops."

Pooh swivels his head around, sniffing at the coming storm. He growls. Spike jumps. Then Pooh abruptly turns and for the first time heads away from where the Tinkerbell light went. "Your bear is runnin' off with us," Spike comments tightly.

"Maybe he knows something we don't," I say. "At this point, he's smarter than we are. So I say we go with it. Besides, he's our bear. We freed him together."

"Stole. You stole the bear," he says. "And you did that all on your own. Makes it yours."

"Yeah, well, you were an accessory to the ... freeing of the bear."

"Did you pay for it?"

"What?"

"The bear, Slayer. Did you pay for it? No. Did you take it without permission? Yes. Pretty much the definition of stealing."

Pooh picks up the pace, ambling fairly smoothly around the trees and over the fallen logs. Guess it helps when you're the size of a small bus. We head deeper into the woods as the first few flakes begin to fall. It's getting dark now, the storm cutting off what little light the weirdly stationary sky provided. Aside from Pooh's huffing breath and the sound of him stepping into the snow, it's weirdly quiet.

"Can you see anything?" I ask, after awhile, more to break the silence than anything else.

"Just lots and lots of trees," Spike says. Our voices both seem unnaturally hushed. "Looks like this place is deader than I am."

"Guess ice really does suffice," I say with a shiver.

Spike chuckles, and I feel it echoing in his chest. "Prefer fire," he says. "Always have. Always will."

"Should I worry about these self-destructive obsessions?" I ask lightly.

Something about that startles him, because he jerks, then stares down at me, his gold eyes unnaturally bright against the growing darkness. "What do you mean?"

"Vampire equals combustible. You with the fire? Not so mixy."

"Depends on the kind of fire, luv," he says, studying my face intently. His voice drops to a husky whisper. "Been burned a few times before. Think I know what my limits are."

"You're not so good with limits," I remind him. The cuts on his lip look better. A lot better. All but the worst are just healed red lines. It probably wouldn't hurt him if I...

"I'm a rebel," he says, his head dipping a little.

"Yeah," I say, tilting mine back to line up with his better. "Me, too."

He growls softly, his gold eyes fixing on my mouth for a moment, then flicking back up to look into mine. There's a question there, just the tiniest little question, and all it would take is for me to shift, just a breath, to answer it. And I want to answer it. Really, really want to answer it.

Except just then, the bear stops.

Surprised, we both turn to see what's what.

"I'm revisin' my opinion of your bear," Spike says.

"You've decided it's a genius and that you might like it after all?" I ask, staring at the entrance to a cave. It's not the cave that the portal was in. The mouth is a little wider, and it looks like it goes back a little deeper, but it's still a cave. Shelter.

"No," Spike says. "I've decided that a sentient bear is unreasonably terrifying, and if you don't mind I'd like to get down now."

"Fine," I tell him. "But since you're so fire obsessed, you can go collect wood while I check out the cave."

"Can't," he says, smirking. "Wood allergy."

"Oh, like your sun allergy stops you from running around under a blanket. I think you can handle a few twigs."

"What if I accidentally stake myself?" he says, trying to look innocent. It'd be better if it weren't for the bumpies. And the fangs. Funny, I’d kinda forgotten he was still vamped.

"You'll survive. Besides. It's a cave, and a bear brought us to it. What if that's because there's more bears inside?" I point out.

"How much wood did you want, Slayer?"




 
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