Part Ten: A Stick Sharpened At Both Ends
Spike knew she was there before he saw her. His jaw tightened and he released a long sigh but did not do anything to discourage her. With how everything had turned so sour so quickly, he found, for the first time, he didn’t particularly want to be around Buffy.
So he knelt by the spot on the rooftop where Faith’s scent was strongest and did his best to appear thoroughly engaged. Right now, he didn’t know if she was angrier with him or Faith. And frankly, were it the former, he didn’t know if he could blame her.
Appearing occupied did little good. Buffy only reacted based on what she wanted to see, at least when it came to her personal relationships. They were alike in that manner, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was in the right even knowing he wasn’t, so he didn’t even attempt to look apologetic. After all, it was she who had come after him.
And likely not even for him, he realized. If anything, she was out here to help him snag the antidote that would save her precious Angel.
Spike sighed and stood. Some things would never change. He was only surprised that it had taken him so long to see it.
Buffy stopped a few feet away from him. “Hey,” she said softly.
He glanced up, tilting his head. “Slayer.”
She narrowed her eyes, her hands dropping to her sides. “So, you’re still all moody?”
Spike snickered and turned his gaze downward again, though he had lost sight of what he had been pretending to scrutinize. “Can’t imagine why.”
“Because I’m worried about Angel? I’m sorry if I didn’t know our relationship came with a clause that forbids us about caring for our former lovers.” She didn’t blink at the icy glare he sent her way, and he hadn’t expected she would. That was another thing about Buffy he knew intimately. Once she got the idea that she was right, it took severe evidence to change her mind, and even then the chance was remote. “I really don’t see where I’m being unfair here.”
Of course not. She wouldn’t.
Then again, neither did he. Sure, the big ponce was mortally wounded and, unless Spike could bag his third slayer tonight, would die a slow and agonizing death, but did that mean she had to fawn over the big git as though he were the earth and sky? As though his death would mean the end of everything that had made her life valuable?
He had the sinking suspicion that, should Faith not be nabbed, she would do something colossally stupid to save the bastard’s life. Something like offer him her neck with the empty promise that Angel could stop drinking when he was all healed up. Something that she would never offer Spike, and likewise something he would never take. He hadn’t allowed himself to taste her blood again since they’d gotten together for that very reason. The first night, the same that seemed so long ago, he had bitten her because of what he was. A vampire. And she was the Slayer. And yes, while he had been enjoying her body for reasons that vampires, by nature, should avoid, biting her had been more predatory. A reminder of what he was.
It was the same reason he had refused himself that pleasure since the start of their relationship. The true start. If the first time had been out of savagery, he wanted the next time to come from love. And that was something he didn’t think Buffy could give him. There were some times when he felt himself so close—so bloody close—to breaking through that impenetrable wall of hers. So close, but never close enough.
And he was so fucking sick of playing second fiddle to Angel, no matter the circumstance.
“Right,” he said at last. “You’re bloody right as rain, as usual, and I’m the arse that fucks everything up. It’s all right then. Next case, please.”
“Spike!”
“Sod off, Buffy. I have me a slayer to find, and you’re only here to distract me.” He smirked. “Wouldn’t want to waste time bickering when we could be saving dear grandpappy’s life, now would we?”
“God, what’s wrong with you?”
“Why don’t you tell me, sweetheart?”
“I…can’t believe that you’d be jealous of—”
“Believe it.” He paused, chest crashing with harsh, heady breaths. They couldn’t get into this here. Not now. “Just go back to the library and make sure Angel’s comfy enough. I can handle this.”
“I don’t want to go back to the library.”
“Fine. Go to his place. Just don’t—”
“Spike!” The plea in her voice was enough to make him stop and face her head-on. “I came out here to see you. Because of the way you stormed out—”
“Right.”
“I did! I…” Buffy sighed and broke away, fingers drawn to her temples. “Look…whatever…I don’t want to mess things up between us. And yes, while I think you’re being overly possessive and jealous right now, that doesn’t mean I…” She broke off again, shook her head and looked away. “I can’t fight like this. What happened to Angel is horrible, and I’m worried about him, yes, but that doesn’t change us. What you are to me. I just want us to be okay.”
“And what is okay, sweetheart? Your version or mine?”
“Don’t do this.”
“Why not? Feels like the thing to do.”
“Spike…” Buffy was beside him the next second, grasping his wrist, her eyes were wide and pleading. “Please. Can we just be us? We’re happy, right? Before…just tell me we can be us so that the moving on thing is possible.”
He looked at her for a long minute, drinking her in as though he hadn’t seen her for months. There were several harsh realities to face in the coming days. Many he didn’t want to and even more he feared he couldn’t see coming.
At last, he released a deep breath and nodded. There was something precious about anger he desperately wanted to keep, but couldn’t where she was concerned. And that fact alone annoyed him more than nearly anything else. “I don’t know,” he murmured. “God, I hate this.”
“I do, too. It just happened so fast.” She looked down, pursing her lips. “Why don’t you trust me?”
“I do, baby.”
“Could’ve fooled me. I don’t know what you’re worried about. There’s nothing between me and Angel. There hasn’t been anything since…since our first night together. My birthday. Even after you left and…” A long breath rattled through her lips. “It’s just us. You and me. There’s no one else.”
Spike smiled dryly. “You might not be with him, love, but don’t give me that rot about there being nothin’ between you two. That’s bull and you bloody well know it. You love the sod. Anyone would know it from lookin’ at you.” He paused, his throat suddenly tight. “You love him.”
“No, I—”
He looked at her and she sighed.
“Okay. Yes. But not like that. More…friend love. You know? ‘I-don’t-want-him-to-die-even-though-we’re-not-together’ love.” She shook her head again. “I thought we were past this. I want to be with you. I’m so much happier with you than—”
“You’re happier with me; you love Angel, but not like a lover, and there’s nothin’ between you except a stormy past that somehow mucks up with my life everywhere I turn.” He shook his head. “And through it all, despite you’re being happy and all that, you still don’ love me.”
The color drained from Buffy’s face. He didn’t blame her. It was the first time he had ever dared mentioned it, but hell, he was feeling ballsy tonight. Might as well put everything on the table.
“Spike—”
“Right. I’m not a patient bloke, Buffy, and you know it. And yeah, I don’t want it where it’s not real. I’m just so sodding tired of playing this game with you. Of being happy but not having everything. And I fucking hate feeling the way I did tonight.” He shook his head, tugging away, his feet itching to pace. “It shouldn’t be this way. I can’t bloody well stand it. The looks. The sighs. The little touches…oh fucking Christ, I hate the touches. I shouldn’t want to tear the git’s head off for touching you. I shouldn’t want to tear yours off for touching him. You’re not together? Fine. You don’t love me? Fine. But I love you, sweetheart, and it’s better that you remember whose heart you have in your hands whenever you decide to play Nurse Slayer.” Spike turned from her, not particularly caring to identify the look on her face. “You can break me on a whim. Whenever you feel like it. It’s all a fun little game that we play to keep ourselves from being bored. Well, guess what? I don’t wanna play anymore. I’m bloody through.”
“Spike!”
“I don’t know what the fuck we’ve been doing these last few weeks, but it hasn’t been getting anywhere.”
God, now there were tears in her eyes. Couldn’t he ever learn to keep his big yap shut?
“It hasn’t been getting anywhere?” she demanded hoarsely. “None of it? God, are you even listening to yourself? I don’t know where you’ve been, but these last few weeks have been the best of my life. Since I was called, since before I was called…I’ve just been with you. Are you telling me now that because of tonight, it’s—”
Spike held up a hand, his shoulders slumping in defeat. No. He couldn’t do that. He was being an overreactive wanker and he knew it—saying things he didn’t mean in ways he didn’t mean to say them. He just didn’t know how to stop. How to make these feelings go away. How to make everything go back to the way they had been just three hours before.
“It’s not tonight, pet. And you’re right: what we have it’s so bloody amazing. I just don’t like feeling like I’m back at square one. Took me too long to get here. To get with you.” He released a long sigh and stepped forward. “I just…hated it. And yeah, the wanker’s dying. Not exactly being one for Mr. Sensitive here…but god, I hated watching you touch him. And then later—”
“I know. I’m sorry. But you have to trust me, Spike. I would never do to you what I did to him.” She took his face in her hands, and he warmed at her touch. “Never. Call it what you want…I don’t know yet. And I know you’ve been waiting. I just have to be sure. I don’t want it to be something…and then not.”
He fluttered his eyes closed and open again. “There was once a time,” he muttered, “I’m willing to bet you thought you’d never do to him what you did to him…with me. Right?”
“Of course.”
“So how—”
She silenced his protest with a kiss, and he instantly melted into her. They were warring within seconds, teasing and nipping and moaning as though they had been separated for weeks. Spike grasped her shoulders before breaking away and charting his mouth down her throat, eager for any part of her he could taste.
And then she murmured, “Because it’s you. Not him. Because this time it’s you.”
For all the world he could have taken her there on the rooftop had he not known they were running against the clock. But she would never forgive him if his outburst cost Angel his life—and despite how he resented that, there was no sense making a thing out of it.
Once Angel was cured, they could talk. Until then, it was better to keep these feelings bottled up. And it was hard—he was the first to admit it. Spike dwelled in his emotions with almost the same intensity that Buffy did. He had seen her nearly torn apart the previous year because her feelings for the great git had been so fantastic she hadn’t cared that he was the bad guy. And it had gotten Jenny Calendar killed.
But in the correct setting, the same emotions could be wonderful assets. His had driven him to set things in motion, brought him here. To the side of a woman he loved more than he’d ever loved anyone.
And she was the Slayer. That amazed him.
Tonight was different, though. He had the other slayer to find and drag back to Scooby Central. Then he could take Buffy home and have the talk. Find out where they stood.
He didn’t understand how she could be so blissfully happy with him, as she claimed, and still deny him the one thing he wanted. How she could have loved Angel as unconditionally as she did if she had been so miserable with him. And he was tired of waiting—he would wait until the end of time, but he was so fucking tired of waiting.
He was beginning to think the only way of getting this girl’s love was to make her miserable, but that wasn’t something he was willing to attempt.
“Buffy,” he murmured after they pulled apart. “Kitten, head back to the library and make sure Angel is all right. Wouldn’t want the wanker dying on you or what all.”
She arched an eyebrow. “And leave you out here to face Faith by yourself? Ummm, don’t think so.”
“You don’t think I can handle myself?”
“No, I really think you can handle yourself. But Faith’s a bit unpredictable.”
“Yeah, and so am I. Figure the fight’ll be fair, at least.”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Don’t get pissy about this. Angel’s down, and yeah, while I’m worried, I can still strategize. If something happened to you, too…” She shuddered. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if that arrow had hit you.”
Every part of him softened at that, warming though he felt he knew better than to let his guard down. She did so many things without realizing it, said so many things that blatantly screamed the one thing she kept inside. And when she looked at him with love in her eyes, there was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep her like that—just like that.
“Right,” he agreed, pressing his lips to her forehead. “What are you packin’?”
She shifted slightly and lifted up her left pant-leg to reveal Faith’s dagger strapped to her shin.
“I don’t want to use it,” she muttered. “But it might… You’re planning on draining her for Angel, right?”
He nodded.
“To death?”
“If that’s what you want, sweets. Doesn’t need to be to death, but as close as you can bloody well get.”
Buffy’s expression hardened. “Then no,” she said. “I don’t want to be responsible for…and yeah, she’d kill me in a heartbeat, but—”
“You’re better than that.” He offered a weak smile at the look she gave him. “Better than that. Better than me. I’d just as soon watch the bird squirm until there’s no squirmin’ left in her. But that might just be because she’s a threat to you.”
“Not for long.” She released a long breath and turned her attention back to the town. The town seemed so small from this angle. “So, did you pick up anything?”
Back to business.
That’s more like it.
“Think she headed in the direction of daddy’s office,” Spike replied, pointing. “Probably a check-up on what happened and all that.”
“Seems like as good a place as any to start.”
It likely was, but Spike didn’t want Buffy anywhere near here—not with what was about to take place. It had nothing to do with his pride or even protecting her from the horrors of life’s darker nature. The Slayer needed no such protection. But what he was about to do was something that, once she saw it, she could never unsee.
It was for that reason Spike stopped her once they reached City Hall. The reason he made like he was sniffing out leads he didn’t need.
Buffy frowned, worry etched into her eyes. “What? What is it?”
“Lost it.”
“What?”
“Her scent splits here. Don’t know which direction she headed.” He sighed and avoided Buffy’s gaze, shuffling his feet at the ground. It wasn’t as though he wasn’t a gifted liar—it was more he hated lying to her. “Her place is to the west, right?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Why don’t you head that way, then? I’ll follow the other.”
Suspicion leaked into the Slayer’s face. He didn’t blame her.
“You’re kidding me, right?” When he didn’t respond, she sighed and tugged at his arm. “Come on, Spike. I wasn’t born yesterday. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
“I’m not trying to get rid of you, love. I just don’ want the chit to get away.” That was simple enough. Mostly truthful, even. “Better if we split up. I’ll be right along if my lead turns out bad.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am not.”
“Then you take the west, and I’ll take whatever direction you’re thinking she’s actually in instead of being sent on a wild goose chase.”
Spike arched his eyebrows and shrugged. “Do whatever you like. You want east, you take east. See what I sodding care. I just want the job over and done with.”
The glimmer in her eyes died, and a cute pout seized her lips. “Why do I suddenly feel like I’m in A Princess Bride and both cups are poisoned?”
“‘Never go against a Sicilian when death is on the line,’” he quipped, earning a glare.
“If you’re lying to me…”
“Honestly, sweetheart, why would I lie?”
She just looked at him. He sighed.
“Listen, I can’t do anything but what I came out here to do, right? So I’m heading whichever way you’re not. Just lemme know.”
Another moment’s hesitation. “You’re for real?”
“As real as they come.”
“So I can take the east?”
He shrugged again, reaching for his cigarettes. “If that’s what makes you happy.”
“What makes me happy?” Another long, hard pause settled between them. “What makes me happy is the truth, Spike. I want the truth.”
“You have it.”
“If I find out differently…”
He nodded, waving a dismissive hand. “Right. You’ll stake me good and proper. Gotcha.”
“No,” she replied, horrified. “Spike, I’ll… I’ll just be hurt. I trust you more than anyone…and if you’re lying to me just to get me out of the way…and you get hurt, I’ll never forgive you for that.”
The words did just what they were supposed to do. Pained him with guilt. But there was nothing that could move him from his decision.
If she stayed, she would get hurt. Not by Faith, of course, but by him. Spike the monster. Spike the slayer killer as she had never seen him before. Not even last year, because truthfully, his heart hadn’t been in it like it was now. Even before he’d known he had feelings for Buffy, there was something that had held him back from giving it his all. Knowing that, if anything, she made the world more interesting. He’d preferred her in it, when all was said and done. In the world, even if all she did was muck up his plans.
Faith was nothing like Buffy, and he would not hold back. With her, he would be all vampire. And there was no way he would let his girl see him like that. No way.
He couldn’t let Buffy watch him kill a slayer. There’d be no coming back from that.
Better for her to think him a liar than a monster. He couldn’t stand the latter. Not after what they had shared.
Thus, he parted his lips and spoke the untruth that would change his life, one way or another.
“I’m not lying, pet.”
He wasn’t quite sure when the first pang of regret struck, but with it came the bitter knowledge that he had just lost everything. She had come to him to make up for his earlier spectacle, even when she had nothing to apologize for. She had reassured him after he had challenged their relationship. She had reached for him when he was doing his damndest to pull away.
He had her trust. It was all he had. And when she left, it left too. Many people wandered through life and didn’t recognize their colossal mistakes until well after making them. He supposed he should get some sort of medal for knowing what something was when he saw it.
There was nowhere to go from here.
He suspected Faith knew that, too, which was why she’d decided to watch the show rather than interrupt.
“Wow,” the other Slayer drawled as she slid out of the shadows near City Hall where she’d been lurking. Just as he had known. “That took nerve. Lyin’ to B to her face? Man. Glad I’m not in your shoes right now.” A small smile crossed her face. “For more than one reason.”
Spike looked up. Yes. There she was. Dark hair, snark, attitude, and a crossbow strapped to her back. A slayer. His third.
“What?” she asked when he didn’t respond. “Not funny enough? Grow yourself a sense of humor.”
“Right next to your tombstone, I’d wager.”
“Ohhh, big words. I was thinkin’, we could use your dust as fertilizer. ‘Cause even if I don’t get in the winning punch, I’m willin’ to bet B’s gonna take you to school on that one.” Faith sighed dramatically and rolled her shoulders. “Kinda hurt that my own girl didn’t sense me here, you know? Guess it was that extra vampy charisma.”
“I’m guessing it was because slayers weren’t structured to have slayer tinglies.” Spike pivoted on his heel to face her fully. “Lucky for us, eh, pet?”
“Lucky for me, I guess. Get to boast as the one and fucking only who took down the notorious Slayer of Slayers.” She paused, pressing a finger to her lower lip. “Or is that Layer of Slayers? Not really on the up of which nickname you’re goin’ by nowadays.”
“Oh, aren’t you just a barrel of laughs?”
“Figure it’s the least I can do.”
A dry smile tickled Spike’s lips, and he shook his head. “You really don’t get it, do you?” he demanded. “You daft bint.”
“Get what?”
“Who I am. What I am. A slayer’s supposed to feel her fear and use it to her advantage.” He cocked his head. “If anything, your lack of fear’s gonna be your weakness.”
“And when did you get so educated on slayers, huh? Just because you bagged a couple and fucked another? Please. It has nothing to do with the moves, Spike. And you know it.” Faith’s eyes flashed as she edged forward. “It’s all about the gut. The feel of it. I’m not B. And I’m not some slayer sob story whose ear you’ll bend before ripping it off. Know why I’m not afraid? Because I’ve seen you, William. You’re about as pussy-whipped as they come. And sorry if I don’t blink at the whipping boy. He’s just too easy to kick when he’s down.”
Spike expected her to anticipate the first move before he made it, but from the look in her eyes, she didn’t. He had her shoved to the ground before she could retaliate; though she didn’t stay there long, recovering enough to buck him off and bounce back to her feet. But the bravado from before failed to brighten her eyes, and that alone told him how to win.
“Know why I’m here?” he snarled. “Because I’m not Angel. I’m not some useless sod plowing through the decades, moping and weeping about my poor, battered soul. I don’t want redemption and I’m not a bleeding Samaritan. I am William the Bloody, and I have a reputation for killing slayers because I’m very good at it. Angel’ll push you to the line, sure, but I’m the one who’s not afraid to shove you over the edge. Get it, Faithy? I’m not here to rattle your chains. I’m not here to make a bunch of nancy threats. I’m here because I kill slayers. Because I am a vampire. A real one. Not a fledgling. Not a no-name looking to make a reputation for himself. I have my reputation. And you’re about to learn how I got it.”
Another smack to her jaw sent her to the ground, but she leveraged her position to sweep him off his feet. Then they were off to the races, leaping up on virtually the same beat, circling each other like hungry hawks.
“You see, I don’t even know why you care,” Faith said a minute later, not wavering. “From where I’m standing, I did you a favor. You know B’s not gonna let-up until lover-boy is out of the picture, right? I’m really failin’ to grasp where his dyin’ equals bad for you.”
Spike’s eyes darkened. “This isn’t about Angel, sweetheart. It’s about you and me.”
“Really? Well, isn’t that sweet.” She shrugged. “If that’s the case then, Willy, put on your dancin’ shoes, ‘cause I’m about to take you ‘round the town.”
He scoffed. “We’re not dancing. I know dancing. I’ve danced my lot with three slayers who knew what the dance was all about. Last one, ‘specially. And honestly, if you can’t tell the difference, maybe you need to look into a new profession.”
“Think we’re dancin’ now?” Faith spat.
He grinned and wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. “You haven’t seen anythin’ yet.”
Faith advanced, twirling a stake between her fingers. “And I suppose you’re gonna show it to me. Fucking arrogant asshole. Don’t you get it? I own this town. And come two days, there isn’t gonna be anything left to save. You and your girlfriend’s friends are all gonna be fucking kibbles and bits—you’re wasting your time with me.” She moved with those slayer reflexes, grasped his throat and hurled him to the other side of the street.
And that was it. He was done playing. Spike roared, the bones in his face shifting, and he launched himself toward her. They met in the middle, a clashing fury of hits and misses. Connecting and clawing and fighting the way a slayer and demon should. All out fists and fangs.
“Come on, Spikey! Don’t quit on me now.”
And Faith came for him again in a mix of blows and low kicks. All hell unleashed, hardhearted and malicious. It seemed she was everywhere at once, scratching chunks of skin through layers of black fabric. Flesh tore and nails dug. Spike hissed his pain, kneeing her with the first open shot he could manage, before kicking her back. Again, she was tossed against the pavement, and the ripe scent of slayer blood filled the air.
Yet she got up again.
“Come on! Give it to me!” She pummeled a fist sank into his gut, her knee butting up to greet his fallen head. “You said you were a vampire, Spike. Give it to me! Show me how much demon you are! Don’t flake on me now!”
Spike roared again, swinging at her with a mixture of fury and instinct, blocking her blows and landing a few of his own, but this wasn’t as easy as he’d thought it would be. It wasn’t often that he encountered someone that could give him an honest run for his money—he had with Buffy, always with Buffy, but not like this.
And they fought. Harsh and real in ways it hadn’t been before.
The slayers in his past…those had been fun. This one was the line between life and death.
The world could come to a stop without him realizing it.
Again, they drew away, both panting. Spike felt a cut on his eye, right above the scar Number Two had given him. He just needed an in.
Faith wiped blood off her chin, her black eyes dancing. “Is that all you got, vampire? ’Cause if it is, and I really hate to say this, then your fucking bark is definitely worse than your bite.” She grinned, somehow looking madder than Dru ever had. “Speaking of, I know I wasn’t here for the big soap and all, but honey, I’ve seen both sides up close and personal. The way she acts about you? Not really much for the carin’. You think she woulda sent Angel out here to hunt me down had it been you that was shot? Please. You’ve taken the passenger seat, buddy. Kinda pathetic when you think about it.”
“Buffy didn’t send me anywhere,” Spike snarled. “Came of my own will.”
“Oh. To stand up for Angel? How fucking sweet.”
He smirked. “Like I said, pidge, this isn’t about the wanker. It’s about you and me.”
“I get the funny feeling that you’re lying.”
“That would be your problem.”
It hit from nowhere then. The scent he could have identified anywhere. And without warning, everything went still. He felt his insides freeze and his blood run colder than normal. The art of falling in the worst way imaginable. A kid with his hand caught in a cookie jar.
A very big cookie jar.
“Oh, don’t take it personally, Faith. Tonight’s the night for lying, it seems.”
Faith fell to the ground with the brunt smack of a hard punch, and Buffy stood on the other side. Her eyes were stormy with a plethora of emotion and studied him with a mix of hurt and anger that drove the proverbial knife into his chest before giving it a good twist.
He had known this would happen, of course. That didn’t make it hurt any less.
“Ohhh…” Faith cooed, sitting up. “Somebody’s in trouble. B, glad you could make it. And here I thought you were gonna miss all the fun.”
That was all it took to drag away his girl’s gaze from his. Better now.
Though he couldn’t ignore the way she flinched when he attempted to approach.
“Wouldn’t miss this,” she retorted coldly. “Not for all the world.”
“Your boy seems to think it wiser, otherwise.”
“This isn’t about my boy, and you know it.”
The other Slayer shrugged, hopping to her feet once more. “His words, not mine. What, B? You here to gut me? Take back what I stole from you? Right then. Steppin’ up in big sister’s shoes. Gotta say I’m impressed.”
Buffy smiled. He knew that smile.
“This isn’t even about you, Faith. Not really. It’s only about one thing.”
“Oh. And what is that?”
A window of opportunity opened, and Spike leaped through without looking. Before either could react, he dove for Buffy’s legs, ripped away the concealed dagger and turned it on Faith without a second’s hesitation.
Strange. He was a vampire, and yet he was surprised at how easily the blade slipped into Faith’s side. How effortlessly it sliced through skin and released the rich smell of her blood into the air. He had seen daggers work more times than he could count, yet watching Faith fall to the ground had him momentarily captivated.
Still, he managed to gather his bearings. The chit wasn’t dead, and the Scoobies wouldn’t allow her to become so. He instead turned his attention to Buffy, who was staring at him with a mixture of horror and awe.
“There,” he barked, defensive. Easier that way. At least he would be prepared. “Are you happy now?”
Her face crumbled and he felt a familiar pang in his chest. This wasn’t her fault. She had done nothing except what she said she would. And here he was, mucking things up even further.
Stupid, heartless wanker.
But that didn’t mean he could stop. Not for her. Not even now.
There were more important things.
“Do I look happy?” she fired back, eyes brimming with tears. “You lied to me. I knew you had…but…God, Spike—”
“We got the bird. That’s all that matters.”
“No!” She covered the space between them and seized his elbow. “No, that is not all that matters. I can’t believe you! First with earlier, and then…what happened? I don’t get it! I don’t…”
“You can’t.” Spike sighed, looking away. “This is not the time, sweetheart. Break my heart rightly when we get her back, okay? After all…that’s all that matters, right?”
There was a long pause, and her confused anger burned him until it was his. Hell, it always had been. That knowledge of being in the wrong for the right reasons reemerged. He didn’t know what the fuck either of them was playing at anymore.
“Why…” she said a minute later, voice thick. “Why don’t you trust me? I don’t…I…”
For the second time that night, the sound of an arrow whizzing through the air caught his attention. For the second time that night, he knew its course without having to be told. And before either of them could react, the arrow tore through flesh and bone at his chest, inches from his heart, but a bulls-eye nonetheless.
He fell to the pavement in Buffy’s arms, vaguely aware of her scream.
He suspected it was the last thing Faith saw. Lying there on the pavement with her crossbow curled in grasp. Last fucking hurrah. Watching Buffy sob and plead with her poisoned lover before the world tumbled around her.
They were truly even now.