Dirty Back Road Sequel, Part 8
Nov. 14th, 2004 01:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thedeadlyhookOkay, this is a short, quickly written piece, probably a litle rough yet, but I just so want to get on to the next part. You'll see why. Previous chapters here.
Chapter Eight
They waited in the basement until dark. Spike mostly dozed, sleeping off the glut of blood, but stayed connected to her, touching. Curled up on the floor, or half leaning on her shoulder, his hands were on her the whole time, a desperate clutch on her arms or legs or waist as if he needed to touch her just reassure himself that she was still there. And she did her best to soothe him while they waited, to lull him to sleep, sliding a comforting hand along his back as she watched the long shadows move across the stairwell with the passing of the day.
When the light from the upstairs had faded completely, she shook Spike awake. Together, they slowly made their way up the the stairs and outside.
"Where in hell are we?" Spike slurred as they pushed through the bushes. Buffy could see him clearly in the dusky sunset light. His face had returned to something like normal--no more fangs, at least, and no longer so horribly aged and lined--but his coordination was totally gone. He could barely stand without her help.
"Some house," she grunted, supporting his weight with an arm slung around his waist. The blood he'd eaten seemed to have added pounds--he was heavy now. "I just... needed a place to keep you out of the sun."
"Ooh. Trespassing again. Baaad Buffy." He laughed--or rather, made a laughing sound that segued into coughing. His voice was simultaneously too loud and semi-incoherent, like he'd had too much to drink.
"Hey, I'd have taken you on a tour of the Villa Borghese, but you weren't exactly in the best shape." They were out in the street now, staggering like entrants in some drunken three-legged race, but Buffy no longer cared about being seen by the neighbors. Or heard, for that matter. So what. They were out of the house now. They'd be out of this place completely, soon. Good riddance.
He coughed again. "Oh, right. Posh area. Forgot. Where the meeting was. Around here." Spike waved a hand, an expansive gesture. "Then you wann'ed to meet, so I just... stuck a pin in a map. Well, 's'all on a gadget, actually. GPS or some balls."
"You have a GPS?" Buffy readjusted his arm around her neck, panting, tried to remember where the bus stop was.
"Sure, dinn't I show you? Got all sorts of gadgets now." Tipsily, he began fishing in his pockets, nearly toppling them both off balance.
"Hey, hey, hey!" Buffy shoved him upright with her shoulder. "Save it for later when you can stand on your own, okay? Then you can show me all your neat new toys."
He eyed her, looking across the slant of his cheek at her, head falling back as if it was too much effort for him to hold it up.
"Oh, right, because you're the hero now, aren't you?" he said. "Rescuing all the damsels in distress." He lifted a hand, pounded himself in the chest, gorilla-like. "Thass me. Saved by everyone these days... you and... his Broodiness, an'... bloody Xander'll prolly rescue me next." His eyes narrowed in a glare. "Very emasculating, you know?"
She sighed, rolling her eyes. Well, there he is. That's my Spike. He must be feeling better if he can manage a word like 'emasculating'. "Don't get all macho on me now, Spike," she said frostily, and tightened her grip around his waist, concentrated on walking. "This is hardly the time for it."
"I don't s'ppose it ever is."
"What do want me to do? Let you die because it's so embarrassing to be rescued?" This arguing was actually kind of a relief. Like old times. Sparring with him made her feel better, for some reason. Like everything would be okay.
Oops, watch the road. One foot in front of the other.
"Least I'd be... responsible for m'own mistakes," he mumbled. His feet weren't doing a great job of keeping up with her. "If 'm stupid, I deserve to get fucked up. Not--not have somebody step in and say, 'hey, bloke, you should give that another try till you really get it bent sideways." He coughed. "Shoulda left well enough alone."
"Okay, now you're really not making any sense," Buffy planted her feet, swiveled her head around. His face was right next to hers. "Let's save the stupid arguments until after I get you on the bus and back to my place. You can chew me out for saving you while I'm nursing you back to health. That sound okay with you?"
He jerked back, nearly yanked out of her grasp, feet stumbling. Buffy was pulled along with him, nearly fell.
"Y'outta your mind?" he barked loudly. "Not gonna... get on a bus full of people. Don' you--don't you remember what I--" His eyes suddenly fixed on her neck, mouth open and panting, hypnotized by the pulsing vein in her throat. "Don' have the same reasons not to hurt them as I do you," he growled, low.
She met his eyes calmly. "You wouldn't do that."
"Don' be so sure." His eyes were still on her neck, unfocused. "Could smell those blokes upstairs. Big manly workers. All full of hot, musky blood. I was too... weak," he slurred. "Lucky them."
"You wouldn't have hurt them," she said confidently.
He coughed again, followed it by a snort. "You really do forget, don' you?" he said. "Vampire, Buffy. Not a... tame puppy. With... pulled teeth. Got a soul, but--" He panted, out of breath. "You don't know. All that sound. The smell." His lips trembled over bared teeth. "Not--not that strong, Buffy."
"You are," she told him. "I know you are."
He considered her, eyes steady. "Not gettin' on a bloody bus," he gritted then, each word enunciated carefully.
Buffy inhaled, let the breath out. Okay. That sounded pretty final. Time for Plan B.
"Okay, then, got any ideas?" she said mildly. "I didn't bring money for a taxi, and there aren't any stands around here anyway--hey!" Spike was struggling away from her, pulling himself up straight, staggering and weaving on his feet. "What are you doing?"
He fished in his pocket, pulled out a cell phone "Well, c'mon then, give 'm a call." He pushed the phone at her. "Calvary rides in to save the day, inn't time for that?"
What? Frowning, Buffy took the phone. It was a featureless black device, sleek and expensive-looking. She flipped it open. There were only two names stored in it. Her own name, Buffy, and a second entry. Hairgel.
Angel.
She glanced up at him, confused. "You want me to call Angel?"
He coughed. Made a meaningless gesture with his hands and turned a little away from her, saying nothing.
Buffy watched him for a moment, her brow furrowing in confusion, then blew out an irritated sigh and hit the speed dial, put the phone to her ear.
"Where the hell have you been?" Angel's voice rapped out of the receiver at loud volume before Buffy could even get out an introductory hello. "It's been thirteen hours. You were supposed to check in--"
"Angel?"
There was a brief pause. "Buffy?" Angel's voice was instantly different, the harsh edge vanished. "Why are you--why are you calling on this phone? Are you... with Spike?"
"What? No--I mean--yes. I mean, he's here. With me." She shifted the phone to her other hand, suddenly flustered. "We need help."
"What kind of help? What's wrong?"
"Well, it was--I mean, we were just talking, a-and then the sun rose, so he took us to this dark dimension thingy to get away from it, and then I came back--"
"He took you through the dimension portal?"
"Uh, yeah, that is what I just said. Anyway, he's in bad shape. There was like a difference in time, when I went out and came back, and--"
"Okay, that's enough, I get the picture. I'll be right there."
"You'll be--? O-okay. Wait--uh, don't you even want to know where we are?"
"It's fine. I can see you. Just stay where you are, and I'll be right with you, alright? Just stay there."
A dry click. Angel had hung up.
Buffy closed the phone, thoughtful. Angel. He'd sounded so... distracted.
"So, Dark Avenger's on his way, is he?" Spike asked from his position a few feet away from her. He wasn't looking in her direction. She blinked and stared at him, his rumpled appearance and unsteady posture, thick curls of brown hair. He seemed so... small, somehow. Diminished. She felt a swell of compassion.
Spike needs me right now, she told herself. She couldn't let herself get all confused over Angel. This really wasn't the time for that. And... wait, what had he meant when he said he could see them?
She barely had another minute to think on the subject before a car suddenly rounded the corner at high speed, wheels shrieking. A Lamborghini. Bright red, the engine purring and growling like some magnificent sleek monster.
The car pulled up alongside them, parked. And the driver's side door opened to disgorge... Angel.
"You called?" he said.
Chapter Eight
They waited in the basement until dark. Spike mostly dozed, sleeping off the glut of blood, but stayed connected to her, touching. Curled up on the floor, or half leaning on her shoulder, his hands were on her the whole time, a desperate clutch on her arms or legs or waist as if he needed to touch her just reassure himself that she was still there. And she did her best to soothe him while they waited, to lull him to sleep, sliding a comforting hand along his back as she watched the long shadows move across the stairwell with the passing of the day.
When the light from the upstairs had faded completely, she shook Spike awake. Together, they slowly made their way up the the stairs and outside.
"Where in hell are we?" Spike slurred as they pushed through the bushes. Buffy could see him clearly in the dusky sunset light. His face had returned to something like normal--no more fangs, at least, and no longer so horribly aged and lined--but his coordination was totally gone. He could barely stand without her help.
"Some house," she grunted, supporting his weight with an arm slung around his waist. The blood he'd eaten seemed to have added pounds--he was heavy now. "I just... needed a place to keep you out of the sun."
"Ooh. Trespassing again. Baaad Buffy." He laughed--or rather, made a laughing sound that segued into coughing. His voice was simultaneously too loud and semi-incoherent, like he'd had too much to drink.
"Hey, I'd have taken you on a tour of the Villa Borghese, but you weren't exactly in the best shape." They were out in the street now, staggering like entrants in some drunken three-legged race, but Buffy no longer cared about being seen by the neighbors. Or heard, for that matter. So what. They were out of the house now. They'd be out of this place completely, soon. Good riddance.
He coughed again. "Oh, right. Posh area. Forgot. Where the meeting was. Around here." Spike waved a hand, an expansive gesture. "Then you wann'ed to meet, so I just... stuck a pin in a map. Well, 's'all on a gadget, actually. GPS or some balls."
"You have a GPS?" Buffy readjusted his arm around her neck, panting, tried to remember where the bus stop was.
"Sure, dinn't I show you? Got all sorts of gadgets now." Tipsily, he began fishing in his pockets, nearly toppling them both off balance.
"Hey, hey, hey!" Buffy shoved him upright with her shoulder. "Save it for later when you can stand on your own, okay? Then you can show me all your neat new toys."
He eyed her, looking across the slant of his cheek at her, head falling back as if it was too much effort for him to hold it up.
"Oh, right, because you're the hero now, aren't you?" he said. "Rescuing all the damsels in distress." He lifted a hand, pounded himself in the chest, gorilla-like. "Thass me. Saved by everyone these days... you and... his Broodiness, an'... bloody Xander'll prolly rescue me next." His eyes narrowed in a glare. "Very emasculating, you know?"
She sighed, rolling her eyes. Well, there he is. That's my Spike. He must be feeling better if he can manage a word like 'emasculating'. "Don't get all macho on me now, Spike," she said frostily, and tightened her grip around his waist, concentrated on walking. "This is hardly the time for it."
"I don't s'ppose it ever is."
"What do want me to do? Let you die because it's so embarrassing to be rescued?" This arguing was actually kind of a relief. Like old times. Sparring with him made her feel better, for some reason. Like everything would be okay.
Oops, watch the road. One foot in front of the other.
"Least I'd be... responsible for m'own mistakes," he mumbled. His feet weren't doing a great job of keeping up with her. "If 'm stupid, I deserve to get fucked up. Not--not have somebody step in and say, 'hey, bloke, you should give that another try till you really get it bent sideways." He coughed. "Shoulda left well enough alone."
"Okay, now you're really not making any sense," Buffy planted her feet, swiveled her head around. His face was right next to hers. "Let's save the stupid arguments until after I get you on the bus and back to my place. You can chew me out for saving you while I'm nursing you back to health. That sound okay with you?"
He jerked back, nearly yanked out of her grasp, feet stumbling. Buffy was pulled along with him, nearly fell.
"Y'outta your mind?" he barked loudly. "Not gonna... get on a bus full of people. Don' you--don't you remember what I--" His eyes suddenly fixed on her neck, mouth open and panting, hypnotized by the pulsing vein in her throat. "Don' have the same reasons not to hurt them as I do you," he growled, low.
She met his eyes calmly. "You wouldn't do that."
"Don' be so sure." His eyes were still on her neck, unfocused. "Could smell those blokes upstairs. Big manly workers. All full of hot, musky blood. I was too... weak," he slurred. "Lucky them."
"You wouldn't have hurt them," she said confidently.
He coughed again, followed it by a snort. "You really do forget, don' you?" he said. "Vampire, Buffy. Not a... tame puppy. With... pulled teeth. Got a soul, but--" He panted, out of breath. "You don't know. All that sound. The smell." His lips trembled over bared teeth. "Not--not that strong, Buffy."
"You are," she told him. "I know you are."
He considered her, eyes steady. "Not gettin' on a bloody bus," he gritted then, each word enunciated carefully.
Buffy inhaled, let the breath out. Okay. That sounded pretty final. Time for Plan B.
"Okay, then, got any ideas?" she said mildly. "I didn't bring money for a taxi, and there aren't any stands around here anyway--hey!" Spike was struggling away from her, pulling himself up straight, staggering and weaving on his feet. "What are you doing?"
He fished in his pocket, pulled out a cell phone "Well, c'mon then, give 'm a call." He pushed the phone at her. "Calvary rides in to save the day, inn't time for that?"
What? Frowning, Buffy took the phone. It was a featureless black device, sleek and expensive-looking. She flipped it open. There were only two names stored in it. Her own name, Buffy, and a second entry. Hairgel.
Angel.
She glanced up at him, confused. "You want me to call Angel?"
He coughed. Made a meaningless gesture with his hands and turned a little away from her, saying nothing.
Buffy watched him for a moment, her brow furrowing in confusion, then blew out an irritated sigh and hit the speed dial, put the phone to her ear.
"Where the hell have you been?" Angel's voice rapped out of the receiver at loud volume before Buffy could even get out an introductory hello. "It's been thirteen hours. You were supposed to check in--"
"Angel?"
There was a brief pause. "Buffy?" Angel's voice was instantly different, the harsh edge vanished. "Why are you--why are you calling on this phone? Are you... with Spike?"
"What? No--I mean--yes. I mean, he's here. With me." She shifted the phone to her other hand, suddenly flustered. "We need help."
"What kind of help? What's wrong?"
"Well, it was--I mean, we were just talking, a-and then the sun rose, so he took us to this dark dimension thingy to get away from it, and then I came back--"
"He took you through the dimension portal?"
"Uh, yeah, that is what I just said. Anyway, he's in bad shape. There was like a difference in time, when I went out and came back, and--"
"Okay, that's enough, I get the picture. I'll be right there."
"You'll be--? O-okay. Wait--uh, don't you even want to know where we are?"
"It's fine. I can see you. Just stay where you are, and I'll be right with you, alright? Just stay there."
A dry click. Angel had hung up.
Buffy closed the phone, thoughtful. Angel. He'd sounded so... distracted.
"So, Dark Avenger's on his way, is he?" Spike asked from his position a few feet away from her. He wasn't looking in her direction. She blinked and stared at him, his rumpled appearance and unsteady posture, thick curls of brown hair. He seemed so... small, somehow. Diminished. She felt a swell of compassion.
Spike needs me right now, she told herself. She couldn't let herself get all confused over Angel. This really wasn't the time for that. And... wait, what had he meant when he said he could see them?
She barely had another minute to think on the subject before a car suddenly rounded the corner at high speed, wheels shrieking. A Lamborghini. Bright red, the engine purring and growling like some magnificent sleek monster.
The car pulled up alongside them, parked. And the driver's side door opened to disgorge... Angel.
"You called?" he said.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-16 04:17 am (UTC)Or rather, Buffy was getting dangerously cozy. It seems like she's always expecting her relationship with Spike to revert to some comfortable mean; time and time again we see her thinking with relief that things are getting back to normal, that he's still the same old predictable Spike, no matter how hard he's trying not to be.
But I'm enjoying the new Spike. He seems more quiet and subdued than he was in that last season of Angel, more like the penitent Spike we saw in Buffy's final run, but with the mysterious mission and the pocketfuls of high-tech gadgets that befit a Wolfram & Hart veteran. Always nice to see characters moving forward, especially one who so desperately needed to learn to stand on his own two feet instead of focusing all his adoration and aggression on a single shiny goddess-figure...
(no subject)
Date: 2004-11-16 05:19 am (UTC)Although, as you've noticed, Spikey don't really want to play that right now. He's trying really hard to maintain a separate identity of gadget-carrying and mysteriousness which will shortly be explained...