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jesterladyficChapter One:
Ticket to Paradise on the Trio Express
Once in Rome and standing in front of Buffy’s apartment door, Spike ran his fingers through his hair, then smoothed it down, then ran them through again. This whole seeing Buffy again thing was harder than it sounded.
“Good thing old General Sourpuss isn’t here to see me shaking in my boots over seeing the Slayer again,” he said to himself as he nervously raised his hand and knocked on the door.
Andrew opened it and fell back in dramatic surprise, his eyes wide. His mouth opened and closed a time or two and he put his hand on his heart.
“Spike! Spike! It’s you. You’re not dead! Not dead! Risen and returned to us even as Gandalf in our hour of need. White hair and everything.”
So saying, Andrew flung his arms around Spike and held him close for several minutes. Spike stood there awkwardly and let Andrew hug him. He finally let go and gestured for Spike to come in.
“Come in, please, oh thank goodness you’re here.”
Andrew started hastily clearing away piles of stuff off the couch and smoothing his clothes.
“What’s the problem? You lost your Game boy?” Spike asked absently, walking through the door and glancing around for any sign of Buffy.
“Uh, not quite,” Andrew postulated nervously. “You might want to sit down, Spike.”
Before Spike could comply, a brown-haired, long-legged teenage blur shot into the room and threw herself onto him. Breathing in the familiar scent, Spike held his Nibblet in his arms and marveled at how much he’d missed her.
“Spike, you didn’t die!” Dawn held onto him more tightly. “I knew you’d come back. You always come back; you’re the one who never leaves. You can fix it.” Recovering her teenage dignity, Dawn slid to the floor and finished nervously, “I wanted you to be alive, so you’d know.”
“Know what, Bit?” Spike released her and gazed at how much she’d grown in only a few months.
“That I’m sorry.” Dawn looked down at her feet. “I realized it when you - when I saw Buffy come out of the school without you, that I never got a chance to say it. I-I shouldn’t have been so mean to you last year and threatened to set you on fire. I knew you better than anyone and I let Xan- I let people influence me into not trusting you.”
Spike shook his head in amazement. She thought that was an issue? Well yeah, it had hurt like hell that last year, knowing he didn’t even have the right to talk to her, let alone be the friends they’d been previously. He hadn’t felt that he could call her any of his pet names for her or seek out her company, but now, just knowing she was here and his again was enough.
“Wiped clean then. I’d be a bloody hypocrite to hold that against you after what I’d done. Can you forgive me for what I tried-” his voice grew hoarse, “-for what I tried to do to Buffy? And for leaving you?”
He warily met her eyes and she nodded, looking just as shy. Their friendship restored, she took his hand in hers firmly and spoke shakily.
“I’m glad you’re here. You’re the only one who can find her.”
Spike looked at her sharply and then sat her down on the couch and knelt before her.
“Nibblet, find who? You look done in. Is Buffy-“
“Missing,” came a new voice from the door.
Spike looked up to see Giles watching him with a face that read suspicion, remorse, fear and a touch of joy.
“Rupert,” Spike said, coming to his feet abruptly, “what happened to her?”
Giles didn’t express any surprise upon seeing Spike. Nor should he, because somehow, when it came to Buffy, he would never leave, not even if he appeared to die.
“Death certainly doesn't seem to be an impediment to interacting with your loved ones,” Giles said wearily.
Spike moved alertly to Giles' side and Giles appeared uncomfortable at Spike's concern for Buffy. Spike didn't know why, he'd always been this way, maybe Giles just just hadn’t seen it before. Spike just wished Buffy were here so he could see the other half of the lover-like protection for one’s mate that she had exhibited towards Spike at the end and that had thrilled him and been abhorrent to Giles.
“She’s been gone for three days, Spike. She went out to face a vampire who’s influential in these parts and we haven’t heard from her since. I have asked Faith to come and look for her.”
Spike’s head went down and then shot back up and this time the expression visibly moved Giles; it was pure anger and primal force, the same emotions they all had to feel at the situation.
“Who was it?”
“Someone known only by the name of the Immortal.”
Spike’s eyes flared with emotion and he hissed.
“The Immortal? The sodding Immortal! You let her meet him alone!” Giles cocked his head in surprise.
“You know him?”
Spike laughed bitterly.
“Yeah, we go way back. And each time we meet I either get beat up, my woman gets violated or I’m thrown in jail for tax evasion. Or all three.” Giles looked at him strangely. Spike shook his head. “Don’t ask. The point is, he’s the most rotten, low-down excuse for a moral ambiguity I’ve ever met and he’s bad news. Buffy’s in real danger; whether she knows it or not.” He mumbled the next part under his breath. “Probably not. Even she’s probably fawning all over the git and thinking it’s like clover and sunshine or whatever else Dru was ragging on about.”
Nobody remarked on that enigmatic statement.
“Well, since you know him, it could help us get her back.”
Spike snorted.
“Or make it harder. The blighter hates me and mine, he’d do anything to make sure his precious territory is kept safe and anything he wants is his territory whether it belonged to someone else or not. Bloody nuns.” Spike shook his head and began to focus. “Have you gone after him, looked where she was supposed to be, all that stuff?”
Giles nodded, but with evident non-success in his face.
“He was supposed to be at a hotel here in this district; there were no traces of either of them at the address. Further probing into the Underworld here has proved fruitless. They’ve both disappeared and nobody knows where they are or if their disappearances are connected.”
Spike looked at Giles, disapprovingly.
“And you the one with the big brain. Of course they’re bloody connected! That bloody, bleeding, sodding, buggering, rotten, dirty, nasty, son of a-“
Spike ran out of words appropriate to say in front of Dawn and stopped cold. But she looked at him with the old look in her eye, the one she’d had for him during the whole Glory escapade and the summer after Buffy’s death. Seeing this, Spike visibly calmed and asked,
“When’s the Body-snatcher get here?”
“I beg your pardon - who?” Giles looked genuinely puzzled.
“Faith, the Slayer. When’s she get here?”
“Probably a couple of hours,” Giles replied, seemingly amused at Spike’s reference to Faith’s 'borrowing' of Buffy’s body years before.
“Right, well, while we’re waiting for her, I’ll go out and see if I can’t drum up some answers as to what’s happening.”
“An astute idea. I’ll go with you. We have so much to catch up on!” Andrew excitedly reached for his coat and Spike blanched.
“Uh, not a good idea. You wait here with the others. I work best alone.”
Andrew nodded in apparent understanding.
“I see your game. We will await your return and further orders.” Giles looked a little put out. Spike seemed to remember Andrew treating Giles with a healthy respect back in the old days, but he certainly never acted this worshipful and obedient around the Watcher.
Spike put his hand on Dawn’s head and whispered to her.
“I’ll get her back, Dawn. Even if it kills me again.” She smiled and warned him,
“You are under strict orders not to die. I mean it. And by the way, remind me to ask you about the whole not dying thing when you get back.”
“Will do, pet.”
With a final pat of Dawn’s hair, Spike exited and headed for the lowlife of Rome.
Beating up witless lowlifes in sunken-down, seedy bars again was so fun, Spike didn’t want to stop. If Buffy hadn’t been missing and Dawn waiting for him, he probably would’ve gone to every single bar in the city. But as it was, the sun was coming up and having found nothing but the firm belief that Buffy and the Immortal had both disappeared, he went back to her apartment to await the arrival of the dark-haired Slayer.
Giles was on the phone when Spike returned and Dawn was sleeping on the couch. Gently and quietly, he carried her with vampire grace to what he assumed was her bedroom, what with the boy band posters and all, and deposited her onto her bed, tucking her in well.
Going back into the other room, he saw Giles had hung up the phone.
“That was Faith.” Giles took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “She’s been held up at the airport. I’m going to go pick her up and I’ll take Andrew with me. You’ll watch Dawn?”
The casual request to watch her took Spike by surprise, but he grasped the responsibility firmly and he guessed that in Giles’ mind, while Spike was prone to wander and had the attention span of a goldfish, he could undoubtedly be trusted to ceaselessly protect someone he loved. The wanker was right too, for once.
Giles called a protesting Andrew out of his room and they left. Spike sat on the couch, resting though not relaxing, for the first time since he’d arrived in Rome. It was distracting and difficult to be here. He could still smell her all over the apartment. She had lain on this couch; she’d used that phone; her shoes and jacket were by the door; an unfinished mocha latte on the counter had been hers. Spike stood, following her scent as it led him to her room. There it overwhelmed him, bringing back memories of pain and joy. Things he fought to forget and things he’d never let go of.
He wandered into the room. There were her clothes hanging in the closet. Pieces he’d never seen, but some he remembered her wearing and others he remembered her not wearing. The mirror had pictures stuffed into all the edges. Most were from high school, depicting Buffy, Willow and Xander, some with Cordelia and that Dog-kid. Giles crept in occasionally.
The years passed and the three lost the look of carefree teenagers. But then Tara and Anya came into the pictures bringing smiles to Willow and Xander, though Buffy’s face depicted anything but a carefree spirit. Spike’s heart ached as he recognized the dead expression on her smiling face. A couple of the pictures were family shots of Buffy, Dawn and Joyce. They brought a lump to his throat; seeing his Summers women together and happy. Spike shook his head, cursing his soul for this sentimentality that plagued him, not realizing it was more an asset to him than his supernatural strength or his British charm.
Spike was surprised to see that he was in some of the pictures, usually off to the side or halfway in, but Buffy had angled them in such a way that he was shown in a more prominent light. He recognized a few of them as times Dawn had insisted on taking his picture, with and without her, to see if vampires turned up on film. He smiled at the picture of him and his Nibblet, her face turned toward him in a classic school-girl crush, his own expressing brotherly over-protectiveness.
To his shock, in a frame on the desk, was a picture of him and Buffy. More like a collage of pictures actually. They were the tiny ones you get at photo booths in malls. Spike remembered the night they were taken vividly. It has been Buffy’s one concession to happiness throughout their turgid affair. The one time she had treated him as a boyfriend and not a tension-reliever. The one time he’d gotten to act towards her as he wanted to.
It was during a moonlight meeting at the mall. Spike recalled taunting Buffy that she was afraid of him and their relationship. That she couldn’t handle it if she were to ever think of him as anything other than a soulless thing. Stung, Buffy had yielded to his request that they take their pictures together. He’d told her that she could keep or destroy them and he would be satisfied with the knowledge that they’d existed.
She’d kept them. There were eight. And they were the most loving, silly, romantic, cute pictures of the two mortal enemies that you could ever want. She’d made him go vamp-face and pretend to bite her. He’d had her cock back her fist like she was going to slug him. Some they just smiled sweetly, others they’d kissed passionately.
Looking at them again after so long, Spike found his favorite. Buffy had her eyes closed in an expression of knowing peace and security that he didn’t often see except when she slept. He was looking at her with adoration and passion in his eyes, just holding her. When Buffy had seen them for the first time, she’d gotten so worked up and ashamed that she wouldn’t even let him touch her. For days after, she wouldn’t let him kiss her or give her any signs of physical affection. Just hard-core, brutal satiation of her need to feel alive.
But she’d kept them and now, when Spike was supposed to have died, displayed them proudly for all to see. He moved to the bed and sat there holding them. He could feel her there strongly. She’d cried there a few nights before. He could almost hear her crying now. Shaking his head and wondering if there was something supernatural going on, Spike thought he was imagining things, but gradually he realized it was real crying and recognized it was Dawn.
Setting aside the pictures, Spike moved to her room quickly and sat on the edge of her bed.
“Leaking there, platelet,” he said with gentle snarkiness.
Dawn laughed a little and sat up.
“I’m just worried about Buffy and happy you’re alive. Why are you alive, by the way?”
He told her all of his adventures from the time of his death to getting to Rome. She smiled hugely at the saga of the Cup of Perpetual Torment.
“You beat up Angel? Way to go, Spike!” He grinned back and smoothed her hair. “So, you don’t know why you’re back or who did it or anything?”
“Nope, just poof-unburned-ghost period-poof-colliding-with-the-door.”
“You walked into the door? Real smooth.”
Spike tousled the hair he’d just flattened.
“Not like I knew what the box had done. I was used to popping through doors by then, real useful for annoying people.”
“I’ll admit, I have learned some good tricks from you in that arena,” Dawn conceded.
Spike leaned back against the headboard and faced her with his arms behind his head.
“So, what’s my Sweet Bit been up to?”
Dawn shrugged.
“Not much. I go to school and work in a coffee shop afterwards. It’s fun living here, all cultural and everything, but kinda boring after Sunnydale. Buffy’s sorta unofficially on vacation, so she only slays the vamps who come after her personally. Which is why I don’t even know why she went to see the Immortal. Maybe she was bored.”
Dawn’s voice was sad.
“Doesn’t take much for her to get that way, pet,” Spike said.
“About as much as you,” she teased him.
He smiled.
“We do like the same things. She just didn’t always want to admit it.” At his words Dawn grew quiet.
“She would now. After the Hellmouth, losing those girls and you. She’s changed, Spike. She’s still Buffy, but that old, hard shell is gone. She missed you; betcha she’d even admit it to Xander.”
His eyebrows rose.
“Losing your shirt there on that bet, Dawn. So, this knowledge from the horse’s mouth or a bit of ancient Key insight gleaned from the ages?”
“Probably some of both.”
They smiled at each other and he rose.
“Get that sleep, Bit. Bet you haven’t been doing that a lot lately. Big Bad’s back, so relax.”
She snorted.
“Big Bad, my aunt.”
He whacked her shoulder and she laughed. Smiling, he headed back to Buffy’s room to search for any clues and to surround himself with her scent,that too.
***
Giles opened the apartment door to an empty room. Frowning a bit, he moved to Dawn’s room to check on her. She was curled up on her side, long legs having kicked off the covers. He gently replaced them and went to find Spike. He was asleep in Buffy’s bed, looking for all the world like a corpse, and held tightly in his hands was the same set of pictures Giles had noticed Buffy holding earlier that week.
A step creaked under his foot and instantly Spike was on his feet, alert and ready.
“Spike. It’s just me.”
Spike relaxed.
“Don’t startle a fellow like that.”
Spike put the photo back and followed Giles to the main room where Faith and Andrew were just coming in.
“Hey, Blondie,” she called out cheerfully. “Heard you were all living dead again. Congrats.”
“Death’s not my color.” Spike looked her up and down. The tight leather pants and equally revealing red shirt, topped off with lipstick enough to bathe in, looked good on her, if you were into that sort of thing. “I don’t see the Avenging Principal tagging along. You make him stay at home like a good, whipped boy?”
Faith laughed loudly.
“What Wood? Spike, I kicked him to the curb practically before we got to LA. I may be all reformed now, but I still ain’t a saint.”
“Obviously,” he said, flicking an eye at her clothing.
“You like it?” She drew her lips back to reveal her tongue. “Got it all up just for you.”
“Thanks for the effort,” he said, smoothly cynical. “But I’ve reached my quota for Dressed for Hire dates this century.”
Dumping her stuff on the floor, she sashayed past him, grinning.
“Your loss, Blondie. Now, we got any food in this joint? I’m starving.”
Andrew hurried after her.
“This time I’ve not only labeled what’s mine, I’ve booby-trapped it. So you can keep your steal-happy fingers off my Pot-stickers, Miss Faith.”
“Don’t make me smack you, Flyboy,” she told him disdainfully, reaching into the freezer. “Ouch! You little- You weren’t kidding. That’s twisted obsessive, man.”
Faith shook her fingers free of the mousetrap embedded on them.
“Serves you right, Miscreant-girl,” Andrew gloated. “Leave it alone from now on.”
“Oh, I’ll leave it alone.”
Faith started toward Andrew, whose eyes grew wide as he turned to flee.
“Children! If I could have your help,” Giles interrupted wearily.
Faith stopped guiltily and Andrew hurried into the living room to get comfy on the couch. Spike stopped laughing and went in after him. The four gathered for a ‘Council of War,’ to use Andrew’s words.
“Now, Spike,” Giles began, “did you encounter anything useful tonight?”
“Not a bloody thing other than the fact that every rat and flunky in the city didn’t see anything and doesn’t know where either of them got to.”
“Then unless any of you have any suggestions, I have no idea what to do.”
“I do.” Spike smirked. “Hanging around a bunch of has-been detectives lately must’ve rubbed off. I found a clue.”
“What is it?” Andrew asked, excitedly.
“Cryptic message. I hate those.”
Spike dug a scrap of paper out of his duster and handed it to Giles. Scrutinizing it carefully, he read it out loud.
“ ‘Met your fate and the dance begun,
Home is where your feet should run,’
Well, that’s a puzzle certainly. How do you know this is where we should start though, Spike? It could be anything.”
“For starters, it was in her room. And she didn’t put it there. It doesn’t smell like her at all.”
“Excellent deductive reasoning. Let me see it, let me see it!”
Andrew bounced in his seat, eagerly reaching for the paper.
Faith rolled her eyes.
“Can I bring to light here the obvious fact that if Wonder-boy’s nose here is right, then this is a freaking big trap?”
“What a brain you have there, Rogue,” Spike mocked. “Course it’s a bloody trap. And the sooner we go, the sooner we get it over with, if you catch my drift. So come on.”
“Hold up there, cowboy. My mission, remember? Thanks for the clue and I’ll be seeing ya.”
Spike stood up.
“You think for one bleeding minute that I’m not going, you’re dafter than Andrew. The Slayer’s missing and I’m going after her.”
Andrew started to protest and Faith shrugged.
“Whatever, hey, tag along. Just don’t get in my way.”
Giles hesitated, then spoke his mind,
“Faith, I think it best if Spike does accompany you and that this be a full partnership reconnaissance.”
“A trio-ship. Like old times,” Andrew interjected firmly. “I’m coming too.”
“No way!” Spike and Faith retorted loudly.
“Yes way! Giles, they’re hurting my feelings. I’m worried about Buffy too, and I never get to go anywhere. I’m sick of waiting at the house and watching Dawn.”
Giles smothered his rising laugh with a cough and hastened to reassure Andrew who had folded his arms across his chest and stuck out his lower lip in a pout.
“I think you should go too. No-” he held up a hand, stifling the other two’s protests, “-he could be helpful, and it’s only fair that if Spike goes then Andrew does too.” Indignant and murderous glances were shared by Spike and Faith. Giles continued on. “The Council, well, the new one being reformed by me and others, will pay for any of your travel expenses, so don’t worry about that. I’ll get plane tickets for you today, so you can leave tonight. Get packed, Andrew.”
“Right.” The geek hurried away and then turned back. “Where are we going?”
“The Hellmouth that was, twonk,” Spike uttered shortly.
“A keen mind, lean muscle, bristling wit and cool hair and coat to boot. It will be a pleasure working with you, Spike. We shall be the First Slayer Rescue Brigade!”
Having uttered this shocking appellation, Andrew ran to get his things together.
Faith turned to Giles.
“You know the kid’s gonna get fried. If not by Blondie, then definitely by me.”
“Yeah, and plus, the last ‘trio-ship’ the boy was in worked out so very well,” Spike put in.
“Nonsense,” Giles turned away, smiling. “Andrew will be a valuable asset to your…brigade.”
“Ha, ha. Well, whatever.” Faith walked away to raid the kitchen, but Spike stopped her.
“Oi, aren’t you on the run from the cops? I don’t fancy having to dodge the men in blue wherever we end up just cause you slipped your cage.” She shook her head, turning back towards him.
“I’m all free and clear, Spikey. Got my good-behavior card and everything.”
“The new Council arranged for her early release,” Giles explained.
Spike nodded.
“Uh-huh.”
Faith smiled at him and walked back toward the kitchen, he started to follow her, but Giles stopped him.
“You realize, Spike, someone is probably trying to drag you into a trap using Buffy as bait? The message would certainly suggest it anyway.”
“Not stupid, Rupes. And it could be a lot of people. Could be you, you know. You have tried to kill me before.”
“Yes, uh very true. I’m-I’m sorry for that, Spike.” Spike met Giles’ eyes. “I was wrong and I apologize. I think you- you’re different than you were.”
Spike looked amazed, but then settled back into his old, annoying skin.
“Gee, thanks. Means a lot to me, hearing you say that. Say, you think I can start calling you Dad again now that we got this new, cozy relationship thing going on?”
Grateful to have the past behind them, Giles simply glared and said,
“No.”
“Come on, pretty please,” Spike cajoled.
“Go pack, Spike.”
“Got nothing to pack, Dad.”
“Go get Dawn up then.”
“Sure thing, Dad.” Spike winked and headed to bring Dawn up to speed.
***
Dawn was just waking up as Spike knocked.
“Come in.”
“Hey, Bit.” Spike opened the door. “Get some news for ya. Faith, Andrew and I are leaving tonight.”
“For where?”
“Good ole home-town of Sunnyhell. Or what’s left of it.”
“So tell me why I’m not going? Don’t say it’s cause I’m too young.”
“You know I wouldn’t dream of it. Threaten to set me on fire again, probably. But the fact is someone’s got to hold down the fort in case Buffy shows up while we’re all out looking for her. Sides, ole Rupes would have a fit if we took you away from school and the education you so deserve and need.”
Dawn laughed at Spike’s imitation of Giles, but then sighed and got out of bed.
“You’d better let me know what’s going on every minute.”
She accompanied her request with hard pokes to his chest.
“Ow. I get the point, literally.” His face turned serious. “I’ll get her back, Dawn.”
“I know,” she said, cheerfully. “Now go so I can dress.”
He obliged, walking out to the main room to help get whatever was needed ready for them to depart and to harass Faith over her clothing decisions.
Ticket to Paradise on the Trio Express
Once in Rome and standing in front of Buffy’s apartment door, Spike ran his fingers through his hair, then smoothed it down, then ran them through again. This whole seeing Buffy again thing was harder than it sounded.
“Good thing old General Sourpuss isn’t here to see me shaking in my boots over seeing the Slayer again,” he said to himself as he nervously raised his hand and knocked on the door.
Andrew opened it and fell back in dramatic surprise, his eyes wide. His mouth opened and closed a time or two and he put his hand on his heart.
“Spike! Spike! It’s you. You’re not dead! Not dead! Risen and returned to us even as Gandalf in our hour of need. White hair and everything.”
So saying, Andrew flung his arms around Spike and held him close for several minutes. Spike stood there awkwardly and let Andrew hug him. He finally let go and gestured for Spike to come in.
“Come in, please, oh thank goodness you’re here.”
Andrew started hastily clearing away piles of stuff off the couch and smoothing his clothes.
“What’s the problem? You lost your Game boy?” Spike asked absently, walking through the door and glancing around for any sign of Buffy.
“Uh, not quite,” Andrew postulated nervously. “You might want to sit down, Spike.”
Before Spike could comply, a brown-haired, long-legged teenage blur shot into the room and threw herself onto him. Breathing in the familiar scent, Spike held his Nibblet in his arms and marveled at how much he’d missed her.
“Spike, you didn’t die!” Dawn held onto him more tightly. “I knew you’d come back. You always come back; you’re the one who never leaves. You can fix it.” Recovering her teenage dignity, Dawn slid to the floor and finished nervously, “I wanted you to be alive, so you’d know.”
“Know what, Bit?” Spike released her and gazed at how much she’d grown in only a few months.
“That I’m sorry.” Dawn looked down at her feet. “I realized it when you - when I saw Buffy come out of the school without you, that I never got a chance to say it. I-I shouldn’t have been so mean to you last year and threatened to set you on fire. I knew you better than anyone and I let Xan- I let people influence me into not trusting you.”
Spike shook his head in amazement. She thought that was an issue? Well yeah, it had hurt like hell that last year, knowing he didn’t even have the right to talk to her, let alone be the friends they’d been previously. He hadn’t felt that he could call her any of his pet names for her or seek out her company, but now, just knowing she was here and his again was enough.
“Wiped clean then. I’d be a bloody hypocrite to hold that against you after what I’d done. Can you forgive me for what I tried-” his voice grew hoarse, “-for what I tried to do to Buffy? And for leaving you?”
He warily met her eyes and she nodded, looking just as shy. Their friendship restored, she took his hand in hers firmly and spoke shakily.
“I’m glad you’re here. You’re the only one who can find her.”
Spike looked at her sharply and then sat her down on the couch and knelt before her.
“Nibblet, find who? You look done in. Is Buffy-“
“Missing,” came a new voice from the door.
Spike looked up to see Giles watching him with a face that read suspicion, remorse, fear and a touch of joy.
“Rupert,” Spike said, coming to his feet abruptly, “what happened to her?”
Giles didn’t express any surprise upon seeing Spike. Nor should he, because somehow, when it came to Buffy, he would never leave, not even if he appeared to die.
“Death certainly doesn't seem to be an impediment to interacting with your loved ones,” Giles said wearily.
Spike moved alertly to Giles' side and Giles appeared uncomfortable at Spike's concern for Buffy. Spike didn't know why, he'd always been this way, maybe Giles just just hadn’t seen it before. Spike just wished Buffy were here so he could see the other half of the lover-like protection for one’s mate that she had exhibited towards Spike at the end and that had thrilled him and been abhorrent to Giles.
“She’s been gone for three days, Spike. She went out to face a vampire who’s influential in these parts and we haven’t heard from her since. I have asked Faith to come and look for her.”
Spike’s head went down and then shot back up and this time the expression visibly moved Giles; it was pure anger and primal force, the same emotions they all had to feel at the situation.
“Who was it?”
“Someone known only by the name of the Immortal.”
Spike’s eyes flared with emotion and he hissed.
“The Immortal? The sodding Immortal! You let her meet him alone!” Giles cocked his head in surprise.
“You know him?”
Spike laughed bitterly.
“Yeah, we go way back. And each time we meet I either get beat up, my woman gets violated or I’m thrown in jail for tax evasion. Or all three.” Giles looked at him strangely. Spike shook his head. “Don’t ask. The point is, he’s the most rotten, low-down excuse for a moral ambiguity I’ve ever met and he’s bad news. Buffy’s in real danger; whether she knows it or not.” He mumbled the next part under his breath. “Probably not. Even she’s probably fawning all over the git and thinking it’s like clover and sunshine or whatever else Dru was ragging on about.”
Nobody remarked on that enigmatic statement.
“Well, since you know him, it could help us get her back.”
Spike snorted.
“Or make it harder. The blighter hates me and mine, he’d do anything to make sure his precious territory is kept safe and anything he wants is his territory whether it belonged to someone else or not. Bloody nuns.” Spike shook his head and began to focus. “Have you gone after him, looked where she was supposed to be, all that stuff?”
Giles nodded, but with evident non-success in his face.
“He was supposed to be at a hotel here in this district; there were no traces of either of them at the address. Further probing into the Underworld here has proved fruitless. They’ve both disappeared and nobody knows where they are or if their disappearances are connected.”
Spike looked at Giles, disapprovingly.
“And you the one with the big brain. Of course they’re bloody connected! That bloody, bleeding, sodding, buggering, rotten, dirty, nasty, son of a-“
Spike ran out of words appropriate to say in front of Dawn and stopped cold. But she looked at him with the old look in her eye, the one she’d had for him during the whole Glory escapade and the summer after Buffy’s death. Seeing this, Spike visibly calmed and asked,
“When’s the Body-snatcher get here?”
“I beg your pardon - who?” Giles looked genuinely puzzled.
“Faith, the Slayer. When’s she get here?”
“Probably a couple of hours,” Giles replied, seemingly amused at Spike’s reference to Faith’s 'borrowing' of Buffy’s body years before.
“Right, well, while we’re waiting for her, I’ll go out and see if I can’t drum up some answers as to what’s happening.”
“An astute idea. I’ll go with you. We have so much to catch up on!” Andrew excitedly reached for his coat and Spike blanched.
“Uh, not a good idea. You wait here with the others. I work best alone.”
Andrew nodded in apparent understanding.
“I see your game. We will await your return and further orders.” Giles looked a little put out. Spike seemed to remember Andrew treating Giles with a healthy respect back in the old days, but he certainly never acted this worshipful and obedient around the Watcher.
Spike put his hand on Dawn’s head and whispered to her.
“I’ll get her back, Dawn. Even if it kills me again.” She smiled and warned him,
“You are under strict orders not to die. I mean it. And by the way, remind me to ask you about the whole not dying thing when you get back.”
“Will do, pet.”
With a final pat of Dawn’s hair, Spike exited and headed for the lowlife of Rome.
Beating up witless lowlifes in sunken-down, seedy bars again was so fun, Spike didn’t want to stop. If Buffy hadn’t been missing and Dawn waiting for him, he probably would’ve gone to every single bar in the city. But as it was, the sun was coming up and having found nothing but the firm belief that Buffy and the Immortal had both disappeared, he went back to her apartment to await the arrival of the dark-haired Slayer.
Giles was on the phone when Spike returned and Dawn was sleeping on the couch. Gently and quietly, he carried her with vampire grace to what he assumed was her bedroom, what with the boy band posters and all, and deposited her onto her bed, tucking her in well.
Going back into the other room, he saw Giles had hung up the phone.
“That was Faith.” Giles took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “She’s been held up at the airport. I’m going to go pick her up and I’ll take Andrew with me. You’ll watch Dawn?”
The casual request to watch her took Spike by surprise, but he grasped the responsibility firmly and he guessed that in Giles’ mind, while Spike was prone to wander and had the attention span of a goldfish, he could undoubtedly be trusted to ceaselessly protect someone he loved. The wanker was right too, for once.
Giles called a protesting Andrew out of his room and they left. Spike sat on the couch, resting though not relaxing, for the first time since he’d arrived in Rome. It was distracting and difficult to be here. He could still smell her all over the apartment. She had lain on this couch; she’d used that phone; her shoes and jacket were by the door; an unfinished mocha latte on the counter had been hers. Spike stood, following her scent as it led him to her room. There it overwhelmed him, bringing back memories of pain and joy. Things he fought to forget and things he’d never let go of.
He wandered into the room. There were her clothes hanging in the closet. Pieces he’d never seen, but some he remembered her wearing and others he remembered her not wearing. The mirror had pictures stuffed into all the edges. Most were from high school, depicting Buffy, Willow and Xander, some with Cordelia and that Dog-kid. Giles crept in occasionally.
The years passed and the three lost the look of carefree teenagers. But then Tara and Anya came into the pictures bringing smiles to Willow and Xander, though Buffy’s face depicted anything but a carefree spirit. Spike’s heart ached as he recognized the dead expression on her smiling face. A couple of the pictures were family shots of Buffy, Dawn and Joyce. They brought a lump to his throat; seeing his Summers women together and happy. Spike shook his head, cursing his soul for this sentimentality that plagued him, not realizing it was more an asset to him than his supernatural strength or his British charm.
Spike was surprised to see that he was in some of the pictures, usually off to the side or halfway in, but Buffy had angled them in such a way that he was shown in a more prominent light. He recognized a few of them as times Dawn had insisted on taking his picture, with and without her, to see if vampires turned up on film. He smiled at the picture of him and his Nibblet, her face turned toward him in a classic school-girl crush, his own expressing brotherly over-protectiveness.
To his shock, in a frame on the desk, was a picture of him and Buffy. More like a collage of pictures actually. They were the tiny ones you get at photo booths in malls. Spike remembered the night they were taken vividly. It has been Buffy’s one concession to happiness throughout their turgid affair. The one time she had treated him as a boyfriend and not a tension-reliever. The one time he’d gotten to act towards her as he wanted to.
It was during a moonlight meeting at the mall. Spike recalled taunting Buffy that she was afraid of him and their relationship. That she couldn’t handle it if she were to ever think of him as anything other than a soulless thing. Stung, Buffy had yielded to his request that they take their pictures together. He’d told her that she could keep or destroy them and he would be satisfied with the knowledge that they’d existed.
She’d kept them. There were eight. And they were the most loving, silly, romantic, cute pictures of the two mortal enemies that you could ever want. She’d made him go vamp-face and pretend to bite her. He’d had her cock back her fist like she was going to slug him. Some they just smiled sweetly, others they’d kissed passionately.
Looking at them again after so long, Spike found his favorite. Buffy had her eyes closed in an expression of knowing peace and security that he didn’t often see except when she slept. He was looking at her with adoration and passion in his eyes, just holding her. When Buffy had seen them for the first time, she’d gotten so worked up and ashamed that she wouldn’t even let him touch her. For days after, she wouldn’t let him kiss her or give her any signs of physical affection. Just hard-core, brutal satiation of her need to feel alive.
But she’d kept them and now, when Spike was supposed to have died, displayed them proudly for all to see. He moved to the bed and sat there holding them. He could feel her there strongly. She’d cried there a few nights before. He could almost hear her crying now. Shaking his head and wondering if there was something supernatural going on, Spike thought he was imagining things, but gradually he realized it was real crying and recognized it was Dawn.
Setting aside the pictures, Spike moved to her room quickly and sat on the edge of her bed.
“Leaking there, platelet,” he said with gentle snarkiness.
Dawn laughed a little and sat up.
“I’m just worried about Buffy and happy you’re alive. Why are you alive, by the way?”
He told her all of his adventures from the time of his death to getting to Rome. She smiled hugely at the saga of the Cup of Perpetual Torment.
“You beat up Angel? Way to go, Spike!” He grinned back and smoothed her hair. “So, you don’t know why you’re back or who did it or anything?”
“Nope, just poof-unburned-ghost period-poof-colliding-with-the-door.”
“You walked into the door? Real smooth.”
Spike tousled the hair he’d just flattened.
“Not like I knew what the box had done. I was used to popping through doors by then, real useful for annoying people.”
“I’ll admit, I have learned some good tricks from you in that arena,” Dawn conceded.
Spike leaned back against the headboard and faced her with his arms behind his head.
“So, what’s my Sweet Bit been up to?”
Dawn shrugged.
“Not much. I go to school and work in a coffee shop afterwards. It’s fun living here, all cultural and everything, but kinda boring after Sunnydale. Buffy’s sorta unofficially on vacation, so she only slays the vamps who come after her personally. Which is why I don’t even know why she went to see the Immortal. Maybe she was bored.”
Dawn’s voice was sad.
“Doesn’t take much for her to get that way, pet,” Spike said.
“About as much as you,” she teased him.
He smiled.
“We do like the same things. She just didn’t always want to admit it.” At his words Dawn grew quiet.
“She would now. After the Hellmouth, losing those girls and you. She’s changed, Spike. She’s still Buffy, but that old, hard shell is gone. She missed you; betcha she’d even admit it to Xander.”
His eyebrows rose.
“Losing your shirt there on that bet, Dawn. So, this knowledge from the horse’s mouth or a bit of ancient Key insight gleaned from the ages?”
“Probably some of both.”
They smiled at each other and he rose.
“Get that sleep, Bit. Bet you haven’t been doing that a lot lately. Big Bad’s back, so relax.”
She snorted.
“Big Bad, my aunt.”
He whacked her shoulder and she laughed. Smiling, he headed back to Buffy’s room to search for any clues and to surround himself with her scent,that too.
***
Giles opened the apartment door to an empty room. Frowning a bit, he moved to Dawn’s room to check on her. She was curled up on her side, long legs having kicked off the covers. He gently replaced them and went to find Spike. He was asleep in Buffy’s bed, looking for all the world like a corpse, and held tightly in his hands was the same set of pictures Giles had noticed Buffy holding earlier that week.
A step creaked under his foot and instantly Spike was on his feet, alert and ready.
“Spike. It’s just me.”
Spike relaxed.
“Don’t startle a fellow like that.”
Spike put the photo back and followed Giles to the main room where Faith and Andrew were just coming in.
“Hey, Blondie,” she called out cheerfully. “Heard you were all living dead again. Congrats.”
“Death’s not my color.” Spike looked her up and down. The tight leather pants and equally revealing red shirt, topped off with lipstick enough to bathe in, looked good on her, if you were into that sort of thing. “I don’t see the Avenging Principal tagging along. You make him stay at home like a good, whipped boy?”
Faith laughed loudly.
“What Wood? Spike, I kicked him to the curb practically before we got to LA. I may be all reformed now, but I still ain’t a saint.”
“Obviously,” he said, flicking an eye at her clothing.
“You like it?” She drew her lips back to reveal her tongue. “Got it all up just for you.”
“Thanks for the effort,” he said, smoothly cynical. “But I’ve reached my quota for Dressed for Hire dates this century.”
Dumping her stuff on the floor, she sashayed past him, grinning.
“Your loss, Blondie. Now, we got any food in this joint? I’m starving.”
Andrew hurried after her.
“This time I’ve not only labeled what’s mine, I’ve booby-trapped it. So you can keep your steal-happy fingers off my Pot-stickers, Miss Faith.”
“Don’t make me smack you, Flyboy,” she told him disdainfully, reaching into the freezer. “Ouch! You little- You weren’t kidding. That’s twisted obsessive, man.”
Faith shook her fingers free of the mousetrap embedded on them.
“Serves you right, Miscreant-girl,” Andrew gloated. “Leave it alone from now on.”
“Oh, I’ll leave it alone.”
Faith started toward Andrew, whose eyes grew wide as he turned to flee.
“Children! If I could have your help,” Giles interrupted wearily.
Faith stopped guiltily and Andrew hurried into the living room to get comfy on the couch. Spike stopped laughing and went in after him. The four gathered for a ‘Council of War,’ to use Andrew’s words.
“Now, Spike,” Giles began, “did you encounter anything useful tonight?”
“Not a bloody thing other than the fact that every rat and flunky in the city didn’t see anything and doesn’t know where either of them got to.”
“Then unless any of you have any suggestions, I have no idea what to do.”
“I do.” Spike smirked. “Hanging around a bunch of has-been detectives lately must’ve rubbed off. I found a clue.”
“What is it?” Andrew asked, excitedly.
“Cryptic message. I hate those.”
Spike dug a scrap of paper out of his duster and handed it to Giles. Scrutinizing it carefully, he read it out loud.
“ ‘Met your fate and the dance begun,
Home is where your feet should run,’
Well, that’s a puzzle certainly. How do you know this is where we should start though, Spike? It could be anything.”
“For starters, it was in her room. And she didn’t put it there. It doesn’t smell like her at all.”
“Excellent deductive reasoning. Let me see it, let me see it!”
Andrew bounced in his seat, eagerly reaching for the paper.
Faith rolled her eyes.
“Can I bring to light here the obvious fact that if Wonder-boy’s nose here is right, then this is a freaking big trap?”
“What a brain you have there, Rogue,” Spike mocked. “Course it’s a bloody trap. And the sooner we go, the sooner we get it over with, if you catch my drift. So come on.”
“Hold up there, cowboy. My mission, remember? Thanks for the clue and I’ll be seeing ya.”
Spike stood up.
“You think for one bleeding minute that I’m not going, you’re dafter than Andrew. The Slayer’s missing and I’m going after her.”
Andrew started to protest and Faith shrugged.
“Whatever, hey, tag along. Just don’t get in my way.”
Giles hesitated, then spoke his mind,
“Faith, I think it best if Spike does accompany you and that this be a full partnership reconnaissance.”
“A trio-ship. Like old times,” Andrew interjected firmly. “I’m coming too.”
“No way!” Spike and Faith retorted loudly.
“Yes way! Giles, they’re hurting my feelings. I’m worried about Buffy too, and I never get to go anywhere. I’m sick of waiting at the house and watching Dawn.”
Giles smothered his rising laugh with a cough and hastened to reassure Andrew who had folded his arms across his chest and stuck out his lower lip in a pout.
“I think you should go too. No-” he held up a hand, stifling the other two’s protests, “-he could be helpful, and it’s only fair that if Spike goes then Andrew does too.” Indignant and murderous glances were shared by Spike and Faith. Giles continued on. “The Council, well, the new one being reformed by me and others, will pay for any of your travel expenses, so don’t worry about that. I’ll get plane tickets for you today, so you can leave tonight. Get packed, Andrew.”
“Right.” The geek hurried away and then turned back. “Where are we going?”
“The Hellmouth that was, twonk,” Spike uttered shortly.
“A keen mind, lean muscle, bristling wit and cool hair and coat to boot. It will be a pleasure working with you, Spike. We shall be the First Slayer Rescue Brigade!”
Having uttered this shocking appellation, Andrew ran to get his things together.
Faith turned to Giles.
“You know the kid’s gonna get fried. If not by Blondie, then definitely by me.”
“Yeah, and plus, the last ‘trio-ship’ the boy was in worked out so very well,” Spike put in.
“Nonsense,” Giles turned away, smiling. “Andrew will be a valuable asset to your…brigade.”
“Ha, ha. Well, whatever.” Faith walked away to raid the kitchen, but Spike stopped her.
“Oi, aren’t you on the run from the cops? I don’t fancy having to dodge the men in blue wherever we end up just cause you slipped your cage.” She shook her head, turning back towards him.
“I’m all free and clear, Spikey. Got my good-behavior card and everything.”
“The new Council arranged for her early release,” Giles explained.
Spike nodded.
“Uh-huh.”
Faith smiled at him and walked back toward the kitchen, he started to follow her, but Giles stopped him.
“You realize, Spike, someone is probably trying to drag you into a trap using Buffy as bait? The message would certainly suggest it anyway.”
“Not stupid, Rupes. And it could be a lot of people. Could be you, you know. You have tried to kill me before.”
“Yes, uh very true. I’m-I’m sorry for that, Spike.” Spike met Giles’ eyes. “I was wrong and I apologize. I think you- you’re different than you were.”
Spike looked amazed, but then settled back into his old, annoying skin.
“Gee, thanks. Means a lot to me, hearing you say that. Say, you think I can start calling you Dad again now that we got this new, cozy relationship thing going on?”
Grateful to have the past behind them, Giles simply glared and said,
“No.”
“Come on, pretty please,” Spike cajoled.
“Go pack, Spike.”
“Got nothing to pack, Dad.”
“Go get Dawn up then.”
“Sure thing, Dad.” Spike winked and headed to bring Dawn up to speed.
***
Dawn was just waking up as Spike knocked.
“Come in.”
“Hey, Bit.” Spike opened the door. “Get some news for ya. Faith, Andrew and I are leaving tonight.”
“For where?”
“Good ole home-town of Sunnyhell. Or what’s left of it.”
“So tell me why I’m not going? Don’t say it’s cause I’m too young.”
“You know I wouldn’t dream of it. Threaten to set me on fire again, probably. But the fact is someone’s got to hold down the fort in case Buffy shows up while we’re all out looking for her. Sides, ole Rupes would have a fit if we took you away from school and the education you so deserve and need.”
Dawn laughed at Spike’s imitation of Giles, but then sighed and got out of bed.
“You’d better let me know what’s going on every minute.”
She accompanied her request with hard pokes to his chest.
“Ow. I get the point, literally.” His face turned serious. “I’ll get her back, Dawn.”
“I know,” she said, cheerfully. “Now go so I can dress.”
He obliged, walking out to the main room to help get whatever was needed ready for them to depart and to harass Faith over her clothing decisions.
