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Brave New World by JamesMFan
Flying Cars
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When Coleman walked back into her cell he did not look pleased. Buffy stood up and faced him. The detective said nothing as he gestured to the door. The Slayer looked at him a moment, full of resentment, then strolled past him with her head held high. She walked down the corridor and was let out of the cells and into the main body of the police station.

Spike and Norman stood at a counter talking to the police officer on the other side of it. When he saw her Norman gestured her over. The officer released her possessions – her jacket and boots – back to her and Buffy pulled them on, gratefully. It was too warm for the jacket, really, but she felt cold.

She was made to sign a bunch of forms and so was Spike as he was taking official custody of her. As she was waiting to be let out she looked down at her wrists. The handcuffs were still attached to both, the broken chains dangling past the sleeves of her jacket. Buffy tucked them in discreetly.

Eventually the three of them were escorted to the exit and she was freed. Stepping out of the police station Buffy gazed at her surroundings. With the newfound knowledge of all the years that had passed she looked at things more carefully. Essentially, everything looked much the same. After thirty years Buffy would have imagined so much would have changed.

“No flying cars,” she mused walking down the steps of the station.

Spike smiled. “We’re still working on that one.”

Norman frowned. “Flying cars?”

“Before your time, boy,” Spike replied, then frowned. “Or, the notion of it anyway. Technically, it would be after your time. Probably. Having said that…why am I still talking?”

Buffy glanced at him. “A question I ask myself all the time about you.”

Spike shot her the finger, grinning. She smiled back for a moment as they crossed the road. Norman still looked entirely bemused by the pair of them but he soon excused himself informing Buffy he would call her tomorrow to resume his legal counselling. Spike scoffed at that but Buffy just thanked the lawyer.

This left Buffy and Spike walking through the car park in awkward silence. Buffy didn’t have much to say anyway. She was afraid to ask for more information about how things had changed. Still reeling from all that she had already learned the Slayer wanted to remain ignorant about the rest of it for as long as possible.

When Spike came to stop beside a sleek looking silver car Buffy’s eyebrows rose. It didn’t seem his style at all, but then his style had changed. From what she could see, cars hadn’t changed all that much. The lines were a little sleeker and it looked prettier but still. Not too much of a difference.

Spike placed his hand on the driver door and seemingly unlocked the door without the use of a key. He saw her look. “Scans the hand, makes thieving a decent ride a bitch. I speak from experience.”

Buffy just nodded, walked around and got into the car. She practically sank into the seats and actually let out a sigh. It felt so comfortable. Spike got in and pushed a button on the controls.

The Slayer nearly jumped out of her skin when a contraption came down over her head and fastened across her. It was just like a rollercoaster safety guard and she couldn’t budge it. So much for cars not having changed too much.

Spike placed his finger on the controls and the car started up. Buffy assumed it had started anyway, it was silent but the dashboard was lit up.

Spike pulled out of the parking lot and started down the road. Buffy, still a little wary of the newfangled ‘seatbelts’, stared out of the window at the skyline. Now that she looked properly she noticed everything seemed a little newer. The houses were still in Spanish style but they looked as though they had been fairly recently built and she spotted a single skyscraper in the near distance. That was certainly new.

“Whole town was rebuilt,” Spike told her as if reading her mind. “Called New Sunnydale now. Not very original but there you have it.”

Buffy tore her eyes away from the scenery to him. “Why?”

“Long story,” was all he said.

Buffy sighed. “I guess filling in thirty years is going to be one long story.”

Spike nodded. “I suppose it will. We’ll have to get Andrew down. He’s bound to have recorded the last thirty years in vivid detail.”

“Some things never change,” she smiled softly.

“Yeah, that little git is still pointing his lens at anything that moves,” he chuckled good-naturedly. “It might actually be worth giving him a call. Problem is once you get him on the phone he won’t sod off. But I’ll brave it for you.”

Buffy’s eyes skated over his profile. “I appreciate it.”

“It’s the least I can do.” Spike’s gaze remained fixed on the road and he suddenly seemed distant.

His statement seemed to run deeper than she knew but she didn’t press him on it. It had been a long day and she was too tired to delve into whatever issues Spike was having. She figured if he wanted her to know then he would tell her. After all, it had been thirty years for him and maybe he didn’t want to confide in her anymore. He had his wife for that.

Her eyes fixed on the silver band wrapped around the finger on his left hand. She was suddenly reminded why going to stay with Spike was such a horribly bad idea. She couldn’t stay with him and his…wife.

“I can’t do this,” Buffy blurted out suddenly, struggling with the restraints. “Just pull over and let me out.”

Spike did a double take trying to keep his eyes on the road. “You what? Buffy, you’re in my charge. What’s wrong?”

“Just say I escaped, okay? This is…it won’t work. Let me out and I’ll find somewhere else to go.” Buffy pulled on the restraints. “God, why won’t these stupid things open? Or lift or whatever? Stupid futuristic seatbelts of annoyance!”

He pushed a button on the dash and took his hands off the wheel, turning to face her fully. Buffy was about to start yelling how she really didn’t fancy being involved in a car crash today just to top things off, when she noticed that the car seemed to be driving itself.

Buffy gaped. “What the crap?”

“Auto-drive. Actual driving is a dead art form,” Spike rolled his eyes. “Brings me almost to tears, really. Now what the hell is wrong?”

She took a second to marvel at the technology before responding. “I can’t stay with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because!” She threw up her hands, giving up on freeing herself from the evil car that was holding her captive. “Because…you’re…you’re married, Spike. You’re married. That’s a whole new realm of weirdness and awkwardness and I can’t deal with it.”

Spike reclined back in his seat, sighing. He rubbed his brow and closed his eyes. “I was married, Buffy. I’m not anymore.”

She looked at him unsure what to do or to say. Buffy felt a strange feeling come over and she realised with shame that it was relief. She was relieved he was divorced. That was a horrible thing to think but it was how she felt. She didn’t know Spike’s ex-wife; the very fact that he had an ex-wife was hard for her to accept. She was still going by her Spike and her feelings towards him. Thirty years hadn’t passed for her, not even thirty hours had passed since she’d last seen him.

“Then why do you still wear the ring?”

He shrugged slowly. “Because I’m a pathetic sod, that’s why. Because I always have been when it comes to love.”

Buffy looked straight ahead, awkward. “You still love her?”

Just asking the question caused a lump to form in her throat. She knew that when Spike fell in love he fell hard. And if he had loved this woman enough to marry her then chances were he was still in love with her and probably would be for a very long time. Maybe even an eternity. Buffy clenched her jaw and took in a deep breath.

“I do,” he nodded. “Losing her was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to go through. All these years have passed and we still haven’t found a cure. It makes me sick to my stomach.”

She frowned. “Cure for what?”


Buffy turned to him, eyes wide. “You mean…she…died?”

“Five years ago.” Spike confirmed. “What with Giles and Dawn and then her…it’s been a tough decade.” He looked down at the floor.

Buffy swallowed the lump in her throat, suddenly feeling horribly guilty for her previous gladness of Spike’s break-up. The mention of Giles and Dawn made her look away. It still hadn’t sunk in completely. She’d lost two of the most important people in her life and Spike had lost three. The world had truly gone to hell in the years she had been gone. Nothing was right here.

“I’m sorry.” She managed to utter without looking at him.

Spike cleared his throat, voice raspy. “It’s fine. You didn’t know. And you’ve got enough problems of your own. You don’t need mine too. Point is, Buffy, I want you to stay with me. It’s the best place for you right now. There’s no obligation for you to stay once the Council and H.U decide on your situation, though. I’ll let you go.”

He pressed a button on the dashboard and took control of the car again. Then he added with a rueful chuckle. “Not that I could keep you if you wanted out. Never could keep you.”

Buffy looked at him out of the corner of her eye and saw a tightness around his eyes. Vampires didn’t age, as a rule, but Spike definitely looked weathered. With all the crap that had happened to him of late it wasn’t surprising. Time eroded him just like a statue, still looking essentially the same but a little bit rougher around the edges.

When she looked around again Buffy saw they were no longer in Sunnydale, or at least not that she recognised. It was a much more rural area. Few houses, a lot of open land. It was strange to a girl who had grown up in the city. Spike turned onto a dirt road. It was long and winding and took them to a house that stood alone; neighbouring houses could only be barely seen in the distance. Buffy wondered how long she they had been in the car and whether she was losing time. It would make sense considering all that she had been through today.

“Where are we?” She asked, looking around.

“My house.” Spike answered. “Just outside the borders of New Sunnydale. When they rebuilt the town they made it even smaller; if you can believe that. Lot more space for green land. Trying to make it look all nice for the mass of tourists that flock there. Get rid of its old negative reputation and so forth.”

Buffy just nodded dumbly and tried to process all this. Spike pressed another button and the seat restraints lifted mercifully. He climbed out of the car and Buffy followed suit.

Spike’s house was a bungalow. She guessed he had no need for an upstairs – closer to the sun and all that. The design was simple; it looked to be made of strong brick. A house that would last. She could see how that would appeal to an immortal.

Following him up the porch steps Buffy noticed he had a porch swing similar to one her house had. He opened the door to his house in the same manner he had opened the car – placing his hand on the door and getting scanned. Buffy guessed being a thief in this day and age was not an easy feat. Not that she was all for making criminal’s lives easy or anything.

The Slayer followed him inside and into the hallway. It was a pretty plain hall with a long rug on the floor and nothing much else. Spike dropped his briefcase and slung his jacket on the floor carelessly. Buffy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. This was his house. He could do what he liked.

He led her into the living room. It wasn’t how she imagined a house of the future would look like. For one thing it wasn’t all glass and steel and the whole minimalist look. Not that she thought Spike would go for the ultra modern style but she hadn’t exactly expected this, either. The room looked…comfy. Plush carpet, large leather chairs that looked like you’d sink into them if you sat, a coffee table, a modest size television embedded into the wall. There was a fireplace and several shelves of books on two of the walls.

The room smelt of tea and the musk of books and of a room that was lived in. It reminded her of Giles’ place. The thought suddenly made her remember and she sucked in a lungful of air.

Trying to distract herself Buffy made her way over to the fireplace upon which she noticed sat one framed picture. When she got nearer she knew her suspicions had been true. It was a picture of Spike and, she guessed, his wife. The woman stood next to him, head laid against his shoulder, an easy smile crossing her lips. Spike’s arm was wrapped around her waist and he too wore a half-grin. She was pretty. Brunette with dark eyes and tanned skin. Maybe with some Italian or Spanish in her somewhere. Buffy’s eyes, however, were more draw to the third person in the picture. A dark-haired girl who was nestled into Spike’s other side.

Buffy turned to the vampire who stood behind her. “Who’s the girl?”

“That’s Mya. My daughter.”
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