Chapter 16
“Oh why is heaven built so far,/Oh why is earth set so remote?/I cannot reach the nearest star/That hangs afloat./I would not care to reach the moon,/One round monotonous of change;/Yet even she repeats her tune/Beyond my range./I never watch the scatter’d fire/Of stars, or sun’s far-trailing train,/But all my heart is one desire,/And all in vain:/For I am bound with fleshly bands,/Joy, beauty lie beyond my scope;/I strain my heart, I stretch my hands,/And catch at hope.” ~Christina Rossetti, “De Profundis”
Buffy secured the backpack with a grimace as she climbed down into the hole. Wesley had predicted that it would take them a weekend to find the Gem of Amara; Spike had said it would be more like a week. So far, they had spent nine days digging, moving earth and rock, following the plans that they had laid out. Buffy had lent her strength when she could, occasionally trying to pry Spike out of the tunnels.
That was easier said than done.
Buffy had never seen this side of Spike before. He was absolutely focused on finding the gem, which meant that he had no time for her, no time to do anything that they normally did. He probably would have foregone eating if she and Wesley didn’t constantly remind him. The only thing he could think of was finding this jewel. Although Buffy didn’t like leaving him, it was a relief to be able to get out into the sun on occasion. Poor Wesley was stuck underground with Spike constantly.
“Buffy,” Wesley looked pleased to see her, probably because she usually brought food and drink.
“Hey, Wes,” she replied, dropping the pack and opening it. She tossed him a bottle of water, which he immediately began guzzling. “I brought sandwiches for you and blood for Spike, too.”
“Thank you.” Wesley wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He was covered in dirt and grime, and Buffy wondered when he had last gone home. “If you can get Spike to take a break, it might do him good.”
“Oh, he’s taking a break if I have to drag him out of here,” Buffy said. “Mom wanted me to let you know you’re welcome at Thanksgiving dinner.”
He frowned. “Thanksgiving?”
“You know, the American holiday where we all get together and eat way too much turkey,” Buffy supplied. “It’s at my house this year, and Mom’s cooking. She said to let you know.”
Wesley hesitated. “Are you certain? I know it’s a family holiday, and I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“Spike and Giles are going to be there,” Buffy replied. “Not to mention Willow, Xander and Anya, pretty much everybody.”
“Where am I going to be?” Spike asked, emerging from the farthest end of the tunnel he and Wesley had been working on.
“Thanksgiving,” Buffy replied. “In two days. And, no, you don’t have a choice. You’re taking a break from this.”
“Slayer…” His tone was heated, and Buffy knew he was going to try and argue with her. He’d been cranky for the last few days, since they figured out that they were going to go through solid rock for a few feet. It had slowed the progress considerably.
“No, Spike,” Buffy stated. “You are taking a break. Both of you are. Look at Wesley! He hasn’t had a day off since you started this thing!”
Wesley looked a little alarmed at being dragged into their argument. “I’m fine,” he protested.
“No, you’re not,” Buffy shot back. She looked at Spike. “Well?”
Spike was looking at Wesley, some of the obstinacy leaving his face. “You look like you could use some sleep, mate.”
“That’s because neither of you have been sleeping,” Buffy said. “Wesley, go home. Get some sleep. I’ll stay with Spike, and then I’m going to drag him out of here before sunrise. We’ll see you Thursday at my house at noon.”
Wesley looked from Spike to Buffy and back again, clearly unwilling to abandon the vampire, while wanting to take a break. “Go,” Spike said. “You can’t reason with her when she’s like this.”
“Here,” Buffy said, handing him a brown paper sack. “So you don’t have to do any cooking tonight.”
“Thank you.” Wesley hesitated. “Are you sure you won’t need me, Spike?”
“We’ll get started again on Friday,” Spike said. “Slayer won’t let me do anything else.”
He nodded. “See you then. Good night, Buffy.”
“‘Night, Wes.” Buffy watched him go, and a tense silence filled the cave. “Are you mad at me?”
“For what?” he asked, grabbing the thermos full of blood out of the pack.
She leaned back against the wall. “For making you take a break.”
“Wesley needed one,” Spike replied.
“You need one,” Buffy countered.
He gave her a dirty look. “You know, I was taking care of myself a long time before I ever met you.”
“You want to go back to taking care of yourself?” Buffy challenged. “Say the word, Spike, and I’ll leave you alone. If you don’t need me, fine. I just want to know.”
Spike blinked. She sounded serious. “Buffy…”
“What? Not ‘Slayer?'” Buffy straightened. “I know you’re kind of freaked about this whole thing. I know getting this gem is going to help you protect yourself. But don’t get mad at me just because I want to take care of you.”
Spike turned away from her, putting some distance between them. “Maybe it would be better.”
Buffy’s stomach clenched. “Maybe what would be better?”
“Maybe it would be better if we weren’t together.”
“You don’t mean it.”
“Yeah, I do.” Spike turned to look at her again, his face completely expressionless. “I need space, Buffy. You’ve been hovering, and it’s starting to drive me crazy. I don’t need you coddling me.”
Buffy’s eyes narrowed, and then she punched him in the nose. “Fine. You don’t want me coddling you? That’s easy enough.”
“What the bloody hell was that for?” Spike demanded, his hand over his nose. He pulled his hand away to check for blood, but it didn’t appear to be bleeding.
“That was for being stupidly noble, or trying to,” Buffy snapped. “Don’t you even try to pull that ‘you’ll be better off without me’ shit, because we both know that’s not true.”
Spike rubbed his nose, looking sulky. It was a hell of a lot better than the cool detachment that had been emanating from him over the last couple of weeks. “You said to tell you if I didn’t need you. Why’d you even ask if you were just going to hit me?”
“Because you didn’t mean it, and you thought you were doing the best thing for me,” Buffy snapped back. “I know that look in your eyes, Spike. If I really thought you didn’t love me anymore, it would be a different story.”
“I couldn’t stop loving you even if I tried,” Spike said, sighing and slumping against the wall. “Buffy, I’m not good company right now. Might be better if we—I don’t know. Took a break for a while. Be easier on you, maybe.”
“I’m not interested in easy,” Buffy said, squatting down next to him. “But if that’s what you really want…”
“No,” he admitted hoarsely.
She edged closer to him. “You haven’t been sleeping, Spike.”
“Can’t.”
“Okay.”
“I need this gem,” he said, his voice coated with raw desire. It was nearing an obsession for him, Buffy knew, which was why she hadn’t believed him when he’d said he wanted a break. Spike wasn’t thinking straight right now, which was why it was her job to make sure he didn’t do anything incredibly stupid.
She caressed his face. “I know, sweetheart. But I need you.”
“I’ll come to Thanksgiving dinner,” he said.
“Good.” Buffy decided that she needed to remember to pop Spike in the nose next time he was being an idiot, because it seemed to work wonders.
~~~~~
Wesley pulled up in front of 1630 Revello, feeling a little strange. He’d taken his day off to do things like pay bills and clean his apartment, as both situations were getting a little dire. Then, he’d made an impulse purchase.
Well, it hadn’t been completely impulsive. Wesley had been wanting a motorcycle for a while, and when he’d seen the Triumph Bonneville, he hadn’t been able to resist.
“Wesley?”
He took his helmet off, turning to look at Willow, who was coming up the sidewalk. “Hello.”
“You got a motorcycle.”
“Uh, yes, I did.” He stood, swinging his leg over, waiting for the ridicule to begin.
Instead of laughter, however, Willow just gave him a long, searching look. “It looks fun.”
“It—it is,” he replied, thrown off balance by her words. “If you like, you could ride with me sometime. I picked up an extra helmet, just in case.”
Willow’s eyebrows went up. “Just in case I wanted to ride with you?”
Wesley felt his face flush. “No!” he exclaimed, realizing that it had sounded as though he’d presumed upon a relationship they didn’t even have. “No, in case anyone needed to ride with me.”
She grinned at him. “I was pulling your leg, Wes. Are you here for dinner?”
“Uh, yes, I am. Buffy invited me the other day.” Wesley gestured for her to precede him up the walk. “How have you been?”
“Pretty good,” Willow replied. “We had a murder on campus yesterday, so I had to wake Buffy up. She wasn’t very happy about that.”
“She was with Spike?”
“Yeah, she said she managed to drag him out for a couple of days. They have a deal. Spike does Thanksgiving, and Buffy helps him out until school starts on Monday.” Willow shrugged. “She hadn’t gotten much sleep, though.”
“I can imagine,” Wesley murmured. The few times he’d actually convinced Spike to catch a few hours of sleep over the last week they’d been digging, Spike had woken both of them with his nightmares. “What was the murder about?”
“We don’t really know yet,” Willow replied. “It was a professor on campus. Her throat was cut, and somebody sliced her ear off. We went to the crime scene, and there was a Chumash knife missing, but we don’t know much more than that. Buffy went to talk to a priest who’s supposed to know a lot about the history of Sunnydale.”
“So much for sleeping, huh?” Wesley asked.
“Yeah.” Willow rang the doorbell before entering. “Mrs. Summers?”
“Come in, Willow,” Joyce said, emerging from the kitchen. “Buffy hasn’t made it back yet, and I sent Giles out for supplies.” She gave Wesley a warm smile. “How are you, Wesley?”
“Just fine, Mrs. Summers,” he replied.
“Call me Joyce,” she invited. “Would you two mind giving me a hand?”
“Is Spike here?” Wesley asked. He was a little concerned about the vampire, even though he knew that Joyce and Buffy were more than capable of making sure he took care of himself. At least well enough to keep body and soul together.
Joyce’s smile faltered. “He’s in the garage looking at my car,” she replied, the worry in her voice clear. “I told him I’d heard something that concerned me.”
“Did you really?” Wesley asked softly.
Joyce shook her head. “He seemed to want something to occupy himself.” She handed Willow a potato peeler. “If you’ll peel the potatoes, Wesley can help me baste the turkey.”
~~~~~
Tinkering with a car engine was something Spike was good at, and it required just enough of his concentration that he couldn’t let his mind wander to less pleasant matters. He’d registered the roar of an engine, and he wondered mildly who it was, but he was safe enough here. There was nothing to tie him to this place, no one to suspect that there might be a vampire working on Joyce Summers’ Jeep. Here, he was just Spike, Buffy’s boyfriend.
Spike finished checking the belts and slammed the hood closed, wiping his hands off on a rag. It had been stupid to try to fool Buffy into thinking he wanted to break things off. They both knew each other better than that. If there was one thing that Spike was absolutely certain of it was Buffy’s love for him. And yet, he couldn’t see how he would be good for her, not now.
Not when he was more of a liability than an asset.
The only thing that scared Spike more than getting recaptured by those bastards was having them find out who and what Buffy was. He figured that there was less chance of that if he wasn’t around her, but Buffy wasn’t having any of it.
In truth, he was glad of it.
When you got right down to it, Spike knew he was a selfish bastard, and the last thing he’d wanted was to walk away from Buffy. He loved her enough to do it, though, if that’s what it took to keep her safe.
“How are you?”
Spike turned to see Wesley in the doorway, holding two bottles of beer. “Fine. One of those for me?”
“Giles stocked up,” Wesley said in reply, handing one over. “Buffy just got back. It seems that there may be some trouble.”
Spike perked up at that. “What kind of trouble?”
“You knew there was a murder on campus?” Wesley asked. When Spike nodded, he continued, “Apparently, the priest Buffy went to speak to was killed by some sort of Native American spirit.” He grimaced. “There’s a rather lively discussion going on about whether or not Buffy ought to fight this manifestation.”
The vampire raised an eyebrow. “What’s the big deal? It’s killed two people.”
“Yes, well, it claims to be a spirit of vengeance that’s visiting retribution for crimes against its people. Willow is saying that the Native Americans have a right to justice, and Buffy’s waffling.” Wesley shrugged. “I decided not to get involved.”
“Hence, the beer.”
“Precisely.”
They stood in companionable silence, drinking their beers. It wasn’t too long before Giles joined them. “Did you get in the middle?” Spike inquired.
“It’s impossible not to,” Giles replied defensively. “Xander showed up with Anya. Apparently, the spirit has inflicted him with a number of diseases like those his people suffered from.”
“What’s Buffy going to do?” Spike asked.
Giles sighed, taking a drink from his own bottle. “I believe she’s going to help Joyce make dinner. We’re still debating on how to deal with this spirit.”
“What’s to debate?” Spike shrugged. “Get an exorcist and banish the bloody thing. Who cares what happened back when? It’s dead and we’re not.”
Giles snorted. “Don’t say that in front of Willow. You’ll get an earful.”
“I’ll remember that,” Wesley stated.
Buffy stuck her head through the door. “I think the spirit—Hus—might be planning on targeting Dean Guerrero. Willow said she’d go warn him. Mom still needs my help with dinner.”
“I’ll take her,” Wesley offered. “It would be quicker.”
“Oh, was that your motorcycle?” Buffy asked. “I saw it out there, but I forgot to ask.”
“You got a bike?” Spike asked, sounding surprised, and maybe just a little envious.
Wesley shrugged. “I needed something other than the car I was driving.”
“It was a piece of shit,” Spike agreed.
Buffy raised her eyebrows. “Then maybe you can put that new ride to work for you, Wes.” She watched as he went inside, and then she looked at Giles. “Mom needs your help with something.”
Spike leaned back against the car, watching as Giles went inside. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Who said I wanted to talk?” Buffy asked, taking his beer out of his hand and setting it aside. “Maybe I just wanted you to myself for a while.”
Time seemed to stand still. Their kiss seemed to go on forever. The last week hadn’t been conducive to any kind of love-making. Physical contact had seemed to go by the wayside with Spike so obsessed about getting the gem.
“Buffy! Spike!” Joyce’s voice had them both jumping away from each other before they realized that her voice was coming from inside the house.
Buffy hurried into the house, Spike on her heels. “Mom?”
“In the dining room! Someone’s shooting arrows in here!” Joyce called back. She had hunkered down under the large table that had been set for dinner.
“Stay down!” Giles warned. He was in the hallway between the front door and the living room, trying to make sure no one came through either the door or the window. “It appears as though Hus brought friends. Spike, please make sure the kitchen door is locked.”
“Oh, crap,” Buffy said, trying to keep an eye out for flying arrows as she made her way to Giles’ side. “What happened to a quiet Thanksgiving?”
“Doesn’t look like they got the memo,” Spike said, leaving her to go check the kitchen as Giles requested.
Buffy made sure the front door was dead-bolted. The living room, with its large picture window was another story altogether. Unfortunately, her mom’s house really wasn’t built for a siege. “What are you going to do, Buffy?” Giles asked.
The Slayer sighed. “I’m going to kill them. I mean, it’s one thing to be upset about past atrocities, but they’re not going to get away with threatening my mother. Where are Xander and Anya?”
“Upstairs,” Giles replied. “Joyce sent Xander up to lie down just a few minutes ago.”
“Spike? How are you doing?” Buffy called.
“They’re not going to be happy shooting arrows forever, Buffy!” he called back. “They’re going to try to break in!”
The arrow that broke through the picture window and embedded itself into the wall suggested that Spike might be right. “Can you hold them in the kitchen?”
“Depends on how many try to come through at once!” Spike called back.
Just then, one of the warriors came bursting through the window, and Buffy rose to grapple with him. This was definitely not turning out to be the best of Thanksgivings.