Chapter Thirty-One
“I don’t know why you brought me along. She’ll love anything you pick out, even if it’s a pop top off a can,” Dawn said, looking down at the trays of diamonds in front of her. She hoped she wasn’t salivating all over the rows of gold and glitter, and embarrassing herself beyond redemption.
“I think I can manage a little better than that, Nibblet. I need you for moral support and ring size. You do know her ring size, right?” he asked, turning his eyes to her. She smiled and nodded, holding up her hand and wiggling her fingers.
“We wear the same size, you lucky dog you.” He snorted at that, and picked one up. It had caught his eye almost as soon as the tray had been set down.
“What you think of this one?” Dawn plucked it out of his hand and inspected the ring. She just knew that she had to be drooling now. The diamond was at least a carat, the color pure and clear. The band was a thin black hills gold, with roses engraved on the sides.
“It’s gorgeous,” she breathed, turning it around to study it closer.
“We have the entire matching bridal set, sir,” the thin, blonde man with dollar signs in his eyes said, a large ‘buy a lot’ smile on his face. Dawn slipped it down her finger, smiling at the fit.
“Perfect.” She held her hand out in front of her and admired the play of light off the stone.
“I’ll take it. And the rest,” Spike said with a wave of his hand. He didn’t know how he felt about wearing roses on his finger, but for Buffy he’d dance through town in a tutu.
“Very good, sir. Might I say, you have made an excellent choice,” the man purred, taking the ring back from Dawn and turning to package the three rings up. Spike pulled out his wallet and plucked a credit card from within.
“So, when are you going to ask her?” Dawn looked down at the case in front of her, not really seeing the rings. She was too intent on the man beside her.
“Dunno yet. When it feels right, I suppose.” He looked over at her, studying the azure eyes that she trained on him. He saw the flare of jealousy in them, and sighed. “Dawn, I. . .”
“No. Don’t say anything about it. I’ll get over it.” She gave him a quick smile.
“I shouldn’t have asked you to do this. I’m sorry.”
“I told you, don’t say anything. I’m glad you asked me. Now I know something she doesn’t. And if I can’t have you for myself, having you as a brother in law is just as good.” He smiled at her lie, then turned to accept the package and his card from the salesman. He nearly choked at the total on the slip, but he signed it, and thanked God that he was rich.
“So, how’s things with Connor?” The smile that bloomed across the girl’s face had relief surging through him. She was moving on, and he was glad for it.
“Oh, he’s just great. Of course, he’s not too happy right now with Angel home. It’s hard to avoid someone when they’re in your house, but he manages,” Dawn told him, walking out the door he held open.
“Well, can’t say as I blame him. Angel’s not exactly the forgiving type. Probably not real thrilled with his baby brother nailing him.” Spike chuckled at the thought of Angel’s face when his brother punched him. He would have loved to have been there. Dawn snorted herself, a tiny thread of worry working it’s way through her. She didn’t like Connor being there while Angel was home. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much choice.
They turned at the corner of the building and made their way to the parking lot in the back. It was almost time to pick up Buffy from work, and Spike was going to take them out to dinner. Dawn had just turned to say something to Spike, when she saw him hit the ground.
“Bloody hell,” Spike hissed, hitting his knees and shaking his head to clear the stars.
“Spike!” Dawn cried, her wild eyes landing on Angel. “Shit,” she spat, torn between running from the blood in his eyes, and going to see if Spike was alright.
“Hello Dawn. My goodness, you certainly have grown up.” Angel smiled pleasantly, and casually swung the tire iron around in his hand. She took a step back, her gaze darting around to see if anyone could help them. Unfortunately, the parking lot was off an alley at the side of the store. There was no one. And Angel was blocking the exit.
“Angel, what are you doing?” she asked, looking over at Spike. He was still trying to get his wits back, a thin line of blood trailing from the bottom of his hairline.
“Just figured I’d say hi to old Spike here. Been a long time.” With that, he hefted the iron again, and started to swing it towards the blonde’s exposed back. Dawn screamed a warning, and Spike rolled out of the way just in time. He sprang to his feet, rounding on Angel with a snarl.
“Well, hello Peaches. Long time no see,” he quipped, circling the larger man to keep him in his vision. Angel scowled at the name and gripped the iron like a baseball player going up to bat.
“See you’re out doing a bit of shopping. Pick up anything nice?” While he spoke, he swung, barely missing Spike’s stomach with the sharp edge.
“What’s it to you?” the other man asked, dodging another swing. He had to figure out how to get that thing away from him. Dawn had pressed herself against the side of Spike’s car, wondering if she could get around them and into the store to call the police. Angel was even more unbalanced than she thought.
“Well, it seems that I owe you a little something for moving in on my territory. Figured late is better than never.” Another swing, this one connected with Spike’s arm, tearing the material of his shirt, and drawing blood. The blonde cursed violently at the contact, barely avoiding the next swing.
“Didn’t move in. She just found out what a dickless wonder you are.” Fury passed over the brunette’s face, the feeling only worsened by Spike’s laughter. He hunched his back and charged at the amused man, his anger causing him to be careless. At the last second, Spike moved out of the way, sticking his foot out. Angel tripped over the black boot, sprawling to the ground face first, the tire iron skidding uselessly away from him. Before he had a chance to react, Spike was on his back, pressing his knees into his elbows to keep him down. “Now, this is more like it.”
“Get off of me you bastard. Just wait until I get up,” Angel warned, struggling to buck the blonde off. Spike just grinned, hanging on better than any rodeo cowboy.
“Oh, no. Don’t think we’ll be having any of that now.” Spike reached into his pocket, and pulled out a cigarette and his car keys, tossing the former back to Dawn. “Nibblet, get in the car and dig my cell out of the glove compartment. Be ready to speed dial the police. Alright?” Dawn nodded, eyes wide, and scrambled into the car.
“The police. We don’t really need them, do we?” It was amazing how quick Angel had calmed at the threat of law enforcement.
“Well, I’d say that depends on you.” The snap hiss of Spike’s lighter was the only sound that was heard for the next few minutes. Angel’s mind was spinning at how to get out of this, and quick. He had way too much to lose if the cops were called.
“What do you want?” he finally asked, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of the man on his back. Spike brought the cigarette to his lips, crossing the other arm over his chest. He stared at the brick wall in front of him, a thoughtful look on his face.
“What do I want?” he repeated. “Hm. Such an interesting question. World peace, a race car that’ll win the Daytona. Oh, and most important, I want YOU to fall off the planet. However,” Spike continued, talking over the indignant sputtering of the man on the ground. “Since that isn’t likely to happen any time soon, I’ll take the next best thing. Leave town. Today. And don’t bother Buffy or Connor ever again.”
“And what if I don’t? Even if you call the police, my lawyer will get me out of it before you can blink with those worthless eyes of yours.” The sentence was ended with a cry of pain when Spike dug his knee even more firmly into his elbow.
“Now, no need to get nasty, is there?” The blonde flicked the cigarette away and leaned down to speak intimately into Angel’s ear. “Let’s just say, that if you don’t, I will not ONLY call the police, I will also call every reporter, every tabloid, and every news station that I can think of. Now, why would I do that, you might ask. Here’s the answer. I will call all these lovely vultures and give them detailed descriptions of how Angel McKenna, vice president of park safety, has cut corners in the building of rides at the second happiest place on earth. Couple that with the little affair you’ve been carrying on with the former Miss California, a union which has spawned a child might I add, and I’d say that would put a nice end to the cushy little set up you have. You’ll be tossed out of your corner office with a shitload of child support to pay, left flipping burgers at the Doublemeat.” The look of fear that crossed Angel’s face had an evil smile spreading across Spike’s. “Glad to see we understand each other. Now, I’m going to get up, and if you so much as look at me wrong, I’m going to signal to Dawn to push that speed dial, and send your ass to jail. Understand?” Angel’s face was a hard mask of anger and spite, and he seemed to be struggling with an answer. Just as Spike was getting ready to signal Dawn, Angel gave a curt nod. “Wha? ‘Fraid I didn’t catch that.”
“Yes,” Angel bit out. “I understand.”
“Ah, now that’s a good lad.” Spike patted the broad back under him in a friendly fashion, and rose to his feet. He backed away from Angel, warily watching him as he stood. They eyeballed each other while Spike slipped into his car. The powerful engine roared to life, filling the alley with the sound of a well maintained machine. With one final glare at the brunette, Spike put the car in gear and peeled out of the parking lot, spitting gravel up from his tires.
~*~*~
“Oh my God, are you alright?” Buffy gasped at the sight of the blood seeping into Spike’s collar.
“I’m fine, pet.” Spike was leaning against the side of the car, waiting outside of the bank for Buffy to get off. Dawn was still inside, the passenger door open, her feet tapping against the pavement.
“What happened?” She reached up to brush gentle fingers over the cut at the base of his hairline, a pained expression on her face.
“Got nailed in the back of the head with a door. No worries pet. I’m alright.” He and Dawn had decided on the ride over that there was no need to worry Buffy with the details of the attack. Angel, if he was smart, would be a memory now.
“Well, let’s get you home and clean you up. You wanna just rent some movies and pick up some chicken or something?” she asked, sliding into the seat Dawn vacated.
“Ooh. Kentucky Fried here we come,” the teen squealed. Nothing put a smile on her face quite like the promise of deep fried food. Spike and Buffy rolled their eyes simultaneously.
“That’s fine,” he answered, changing direction and heading towards the video store.
“We can go home first. You are kind of bleeding.”
“S’just a scratch,” Spike said with a shrug. “I’ll stay in the car, let you birds pick out the movies. Nothing too chick flicky though,” he warned, sliding a glance at Buffy.
“We promise. Don’t we Dawn?” Dawn nodded her head enthusiastically, her hair bouncing around her shoulders.
An hour later, they were sitting in the Summers’ kitchen, eating chicken while Dawn and Buffy stifled their grins at the scathing looks Spike was sending them.
“I thought I said no chick flicks,” he growled, ripping into a piece of chicken.
“You said nothing TOO chick flicky. Big difference,” Buffy clarified, delicately dipping a french fry into ketchup. “Besides, that one’s actiony,” she said, pointing to the one on top. Spike snorted, wiped his fingers off, and grabbed the action one in question.
” ‘Runaway’. A desperate man with cops on his tail kidnaps a school girl, and they go on the run. Yeah, what do you think is going to happen? A guy, a girl. Dangerous circumstances. Perfect combination for lots of gratuitous romance. And this one, this one has absolutely no testosterone in it at all. ‘Take A Chance’. Two people unlucky in love meet for one night of passion. Three years later they meet again.” A scarred brow shot up, and he eyed the chuckling girls, annoyance written plainly across his features.
“Oh, come on Spike. Life is nothing without romance,” Buffy told him.
“All I wanted was some guns, a few explosions. Maybe some car chases.” Spike spoke to the ceiling, as if he was complaining to God, causing the girls to giggle once more.
“Poor baby,” Dawn said, unsympathetically. “That’ll teach you to stay in the car.”
“Next time, we get something with lots of destruction. Hear me?”
“Absolutely,” Buffy agreed.
“Sure thing.” Dawn nodded, talking around her food. Spike shoved more food in his mouth, not sure he should trust the innocent faces staring back at him.
~*~*~
“You have everything?” Willow asked, watching as Mark packed. He nodded, zipping the bag closed, and turning to face her.
“I’ll call as soon as I get there,” he said, holding his arms open. She went to them immediately, breathing deep his scent.
“I’ll miss you,” she whispered against his chest, fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill. Mark rested his cheek against the top of her silky hair and ran his long fingered hands over her back.
“You know I’ll miss you,” he replied. This was always so hard on them. He had just gotten back and now he had to leave again. This time for a bunch of promotional crap that he didn’t feel like doing. Then, they had to tour for six months, before taking a month off, then heading off to Europe. That wouldn’t be so bad though. Willow would be out of school by then and planned to go with him. It was every minute before then that tore him up. They would see each other at least two weekends a month and he would be home for the holidays. But he missed her so much in between, it was near crippling.
“Call me a lot. And think of me.”
“I think of nothing else. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Mark leaned down and captured her lips with his, kissing her like she was his lifeline. They pulled apart when the knock on the door sounded.
“Johnny’s here,” Willow said with a sigh. They held each other a little longer, waiting until the knocking became insistent to pull away.
“COMING!” Mark yelled, grabbing his bag and walking out of the room, pulling Willow behind him.
“Lord, I hope not,” Johnny quipped when the door swung open. Mark rolled his eyes and threw his duffle bag at his cousin. The drummer just grinned, stepping inside and closing the door.
“You need anything, call. There’s plenty of money in the bank, so don’t worry about that. I also left word with my lawyer that you are allowed to authorize anything that Spike needs. Alright?” Willow nodded and gave him a shaky smile. Mark ran his hand over her hair, the look he gave her causing Johnny to avert his gaze from the emotion in it. “I love you,” he told her again.
“I love you, too. I’ll be fine. You better get going. You’ll miss your flight,” she said, leaning up for another kiss. Mark’s fingers played along her cheek and his black eyes took in every detail of her face.
“I’ll call.” She nodded, blinking back tears as he stepped away.
“Bye Johnny.” She smiled at the pink haired man, giving him a small wave. He grinned wide at her and hefted Mark’s bag, preceding him out the door. With one last, heated look, Mark turned and left, the soft closing of the door punctuating his departure. As soon as he was gone, Willow let the tears flow, turning towards the kitchen. Looked like it was a night for the whole pint of rum raisin.
~*~*~
“So, what happened with Crystal?” Mark turned in his seat to look at Johnny, a cigarette smoldering in his hand. Johnny chuckled and lowered a window a bit to release the smoke.
“Not much. Tossed her out on her ass. She said a whole bunch of shit that she had hoped was going to piss me off, then left.” He shrugged when he finished, expertly maneuvering onto the turnpike. “Oh, she did threaten me in a rather lame way. And Willow. I told her to stay away from Willow, and she gets this crazy idea that I’m in love with her.” They both shared a chuckle at that. It wasn’t the first time someone had thought that. Johnny’s protectiveness over the redhead had long fed fodder in the tabloids. Nobody thought that it might have to do with the logical extension of his love and loyalty to his cousin.
“What were you thinking with that one? I mean, she went all stalker on Spike, and all he did was fuck her once.” Johnny just shrugged a cavalier shoulder, checking the rearview to change lanes. He never noticed the car, two cars back, do the same.
“Bad judgment on my part?” he offered, sliding a glance to his older cousin. They were two years apart, and cousins by marriage. They looked like brothers, except for the rainbow hair the drummer often sported. Mark snorted, and tossed his cigarette out the window, watching the scenery pass by. Johnny signaled to change lanes again, the traffic thinning out, and his exit coming up. Again, the car behind them followed.
“When you going to settle down?”
“When I find a Willow of my own. Or a Buffy, or Cordelia. I mean, is it my fault they were all taken when I met them?” The brunette let out a laugh at that.
“You snooze, you lose, man. Shoulda been paying more attention.” Johnny grunted in agreement, slowing the car to the required speed for the exit. Normally, he would have just flown down the ramp, but Mark was a whiner. The ramp said 35, do 35 by God. Granted, this one was a bad one. The ramp nearly circled around itself, with nothing but trees on either side. The drop past the guardrail was a good ten feet. Neither noticed the car exit with them, or that it sped up until its headlights flared brightly in the rearview mirror.
“Son of a bitch,” Johnny spat, speeding up a bit to try to get the car off his bumper. Mark swiveled in his seat, grimacing at the seatbelt when it pulled across his throat.
“Jackass,” he spat, turning back around. The car matched their speed, seeming to be waiting for something. They both cursed violently when they felt the bone jarring collision of bumpers. “Shit.” Johnny hit the steering wheel with his fist, and started to pull over. He was so going to kill somebody. This was a mint condition ’69 Camaro and that bastard was going to pay for every dent. As soon as the car came to a stop, he was out the door, leaving Mark in the front seat to wait. When the loud pop came, the Indian ducked, looking behind him at the same time. His heart was slamming in his chest at what he thought the sound was, and fear slammed into him when he couldn’t see Johnny. Hell, he couldn’t see anybody.
Quickly, he unbuckled his seatbelt, and slid out of the car, keeping his long frame tucked close to it. As he approached the other vehicle, he saw the prone figure of his cousin on the pavement, a large crimson pool forming around him.
“Johnny?” he gasped, moving over to him quickly. Johnny looked up at him through pain clouded eyes, his breathing coming in gasps. “Johnny?” Mark watched in horror as blood pumped out of the hole in his chest, the person that did this a distant memory. Without thought, he pulled his shirt off and held it against the wound, pressing his cousin’s weak hand over it. “Hang on, I’m going to get help.” Johnny gasped a few times, as if trying to tell him something. “Just lay still. I’ve got to get the cell.” Almost as soon as he stood to leave, he found himself faced with the enraged face of Crystal, a thirty two aimed at his chest.
“Hey Mark,” she said casually. Mark’s eyes widened to comical proportions, and blinding rage slammed into him.
“You bitch,” he spat, taking a step forward. She raised the gun higher, aiming it between his eyes.
“Ah, ah, ah. I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I’m an excellent shot.”
“Why?” was all Mark could gasp past his fury. Anguish tore through him as he thought about his cousin dying on the pavement behind him. The man he had grown up with, snuck down to the quarry with to swim on hot Arizona nights. The one who lied to get Mark out of trouble with their grandmother when he’d left the barn door open, and all the horses got free. The one who had been his friend, as well as his cousin.
“Why? Well, I didn’t really want to shoot him. But, that’s our Johnny. Always the substitute.”
“He was never yours, you little slut. You will die, if he dies,” Mark promised, raising himself up to his full height and taking a step towards her.
“I said stop,” she reminded him, backing up when he took another step. “Do you want to die?” she asked, cocking back the hammer.
“No. I want to kill you.” His voice had lost all of its usual warmth. Now, it made her blood run cold. This wasn’t going the way she’d planned. He was supposed to be quaking with fear, his proud form at her complete mercy. Then she would show him just who the little whore was. She had planned on making him beg for his life, then have him show her how much he wanted to stay alive. Instead, he was advancing on her with the purpose of a man possessed, and she found herself afraid.
She was so engrossed in her thoughts, that she didn’t pay attention to where she was walking. The spiked heel of her boot slid into a hole in the concrete, causing her to stumble. Mark took that opportunity to lunge. They started to struggle, his superior height and weight quickly turning the fight in his favor. His eyes widened in surprise when the gun went off, the sound echoing into the clear, quiet night.