Chapter 49: Welcome to SD
Speeding on the highway, Spike gave a quick glance to the rearview mirror. Dawn was asleep in the backseat, draped in Buffy’s duster. Buffy was in dreamland too, her cheek resting against his shoulder, and covered by his duster. When Dawn had complained earlier about the night being chilly, Buffy hadn’t hesitated a split second before wiggling out of the leather and handing it to the teen. A few minutes later however, she had whined about feeling the cold, which of course was a blatant lie, until Spike gave up and let her have his most prized possession.
They had a couple more hours before sunrise, but they would be back to Sunnyhell long before that. Goodbyes had taken longer than he anticipated. Or rather, the burial had. That had been a weird thing, really. Three vampires, a teen made of mystical energy and another who was at least part demon, paying their last respects to a man who, so Spike had been told, hated anything non-human with passion. Almost comical, really. Far less funny had been the discovery of the dead man, across the lobby floor, when Spike, his Sire and his Childe had returned from the clinic the night before.
Unable to wipe the grin off his face, Spike followed Angel and Buffy inside the Hyperion. They both stopped right after the door however, and he had to push them gently to be able to close the door behind him. And then he saw them. The dead man on the floor, telltale punctures on his neck. Steven standing right by him, a stake in each hand. Dawn crouched on the round sofa, her knees drawn against her chest, her arms around her legs. His grin disappeared at the look of fear on her face. His first instinct was to go to her and make sure she was ok, but Buffy beat him to it. Angel was completely immobile, his gaze alternating between the dead man and his son.
Spike noticed that the kid was looking not at Angel but at him. In his eyes glowed rage and grief, but surprisingly the rest of him was perfectly still, composed, though poised for attack. When their eyes met, he asked Spike in a too cool voice:
“Did Angelus leave your side tonight?”
Angel flinched visibly at the name, and Spike understood suddenly who the dead man was. The kidnapper. The man who had taught Steven to hate Angel and all demons. The man Angel had almost gone to see. Almost.
“He was with me and Buffy the whole time,” Spike answered truthfully, hoping his word would be good enough for the obviously shaken kid.
Steven looked at Buffy, who nodded, frowning.
“We went straight from here to the clinic,” she confirmed. “And then back here directly. Your father was within my sight all.”
“My father was murdered!” Steven interrupted her with a growl.
Again, Angel flinched at his son’s words. When he spoke, his voice was very quiet, laced with a pain so well hidden Spike doubted anyone but him could recognize it.
“I am sorry you lost someone you cared for so much,” he said slowly.
“She said you killed him!” Steven accused angrily.
He gave a quick glance at Spike then at Buffy, before shaking his head and adding very low:
“All demons. ‘Could be lying. Why should I believe you?”
“Because we’re not lying,” Spike muttered, lighting a cigarette.
“Whoever ‘she’ is, she’s the one who lied to you,” Angel pleaded. “I hadn’t seen Holtz since. before he took you away.”
The kid gathered both stakes in one hand, pulled a piece of paper from his jeans pocket, and threw it at Angel’s feet. Before the vampire had even picked it up, Steven was ready for attack again, one stake firmly held in each hand. Spike looked over the brunette’s shoulder, reading the address as he unfolded the crumbled sheet.
“I can explain,” Angel said quickly. “He called me this afternoon. He wanted to talk to me. But I didn’t go. I called him back, I told him if he had anything to say, he’d have to say it over the phone because I didn’t want to see him. He hung up on me. I did not go there, I did not kill him, you have to believe me.”
“Next you’re going to say if you had done it, you would tell me,” Steven hissed. “I still don’t see why I should believe you. Any of you.”
Spike was getting annoyed. This should have been one of the best nights of his unlife, a true rebirth, and instead it was turning into a bleeding soap opera. Throwing the remaining of his cigarette to the floor, he stepped on it and walked around Angel to get closer to the body. Steven tensed as he approached, but Spike feigned not to pay attention to him. Crouching next to the dead, he examined his neck without actually touching him. The kid probably wouldn’t like him to, and he thought it was better not to provoke him, considering he was carrying stakes and knew how to use them. His quick inspection gave Spike the answer to the problem. Standing up, he shed his duster and pulled the right sleeve of his shirt up to his elbow. Walking back to Angel, he thrust his wrist toward the shocked vampire and demanded:
“Bite.”
Angel’s eyes widened and he took a step back, growling menacingly.
“What the hell is wrong with you? Do you think that’s the moment?”
“For God’s sake Peaches! Can’t you trust me once in your bloody unlife? Just bite!”
An angry flicker ran through Angel’s eyes as he vamped out. Without a word, he bit down the proffered wrist and let it go without tasting the blood that seeped out, returning to his human features instantly. Licking his own blood as there was no reason to let it go to waste, Spike threw a quick glance at Buffy, who was staring at him, obviously puzzled and maybe even displeased. He had to repress a smile at the thought that she was jealous. He would make it up to her later, but right now he had to clear the poof of murder charges. Why he cared about what Steven thought of Angel, though, was the real mystery.
He returned to the body, and lowered himself once again, placing his wrist just next to the man’s neck. He looked at Steven, who was staring at the two sets of punctures with wide eyes. Two sets of punctures completely different from each other. The holes on the man’s neck were far too close to each other and too thin to have been inflicted by Angel, and by his look, the kid understood that. Spike held out both hands, palms up, toward him.
“Proof enough?” he asked quietly.
Steven did not say a word, but he placed the stakes in Spike’s hands. He turned away from them all and started walking toward the elevator. After a few steps however he fell to his knees, his whole body shaking as he sobbed. Dawn rose from the couch and went to him. She knelt in front of him and hugged him awkwardly. Angel was there a second later, kneeling behind him and resting his large hands on the boy’s trembling shoulders.
Watching them warily, Spike let the two stakes on the floor and fished out another cigarette from his back pocket. However before he could light it Buffy was by his side, plucking it from his lips, replacing it by a soft kiss.
At the memory, Spike’s hand instinctively rose to his lips, touching where her mouth had rested. He could be with her for centuries, he didn’t think he would ever get used to the feel of her lips on his. So soft even when they were bruising. So passionate even when the kiss was chaste. Always so intense it felt like an electricity shock.
He briefly turned his face toward her, allowing his fingers to thread through her hair for an instant. She smiled in her sleep at the touch, and instinctively he smiled back. Her smile had been what he was looking at while the surgeon was having a close look at his brain, since he hadn’t judged necessary to put the vampire under general anesthesia. She had been standing behind a glass wall, the poof next to her, and for the whole operation her eyes had not left him, her smile had not wavered, though he could tell she had to force herself. He had admitted to her his nervousness, and she had supported him the only way she could, with the quiet reassurance that she loved him, trusted him, and knew he would be ok. All of this in the curve of her lips.
Gruenwald took a last few stitches before indicating to the two other vampires that they could enter the room. Gingerly, Spike sat up, touching delicately his scalp were it had been cut and sewn back.
“Everything went just fine,” the surgeon said cheerfully, “just like I told you.”
Buffy was by his side now, and she took Spike’s hand carefully.
“How do you feel?” she asked softly.
“Peachy, luv. No dusting for me quite yet.”
He winked at her, noticing the quiet sigh she let out. He turned to Gruenwald, who was getting rid of his gloves and mask.
“Can I see it?” Spike asked.
Grinning like a child on Christmas morning, the man carefully grabbed the chip from a tray with thin pliers and presented it to Spike. Such a small thing, the vampire reflected, that had caused him so much pain. Not even half an inch long, half that in width, the perfect creation of demented scientists.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” the surgeon said, almost with awe.
“Not quite,” Spike muttered.
In a quick movement, he grabbed the offending object between his thumb and index, and, ignoring Gruenwald’s protest, he crushed until it was broken in several pieces. Not wanting to give the Council of wankers even that to study, he stuffed the remains of his electronic leash into his pocket and jumped to his feet. Shifting to game face, he turned to the man who had just freed him from the Initiative for good and gave him a very toothy grin.
“Tell me a thing, doc,” he said as he approached the man, who was backing away. “You’re completely human, right?”
The man only stuttered, and Spike took that as a yes.
“Spike,” came the Slayer’s warning voice behind him. “You changed your mind about needing a dusting?”
“Just have to make sure, luv,” he replied without ceasing to stare at the surgeon, running his tongue on his lips.
He struck with all the rapidity he was capable of, if not all the force, and brought his booted foot down on the doctor’s toes. The man cried as much in surprise as in pain, and Spike let out a relieved laugh, changing back to his human face thoughtlessly. He turned to Buffy and the poof and came back toward them. Buffy was trying to give him a dirty look, arms crossed below her breast and frown creasing her forehead, but he could tell she was amused. Angel seemed quite surprisingly almost ready to laugh. Almost, but of course being the poof he was, he contented himself with smiling.
A satisfied smirk came to the vampire’s lips as he replayed that glorious moment where he had hurt a human for the first time in what seemed like forever without being instantly punished. The feeling of power and freedom had been exhilarating. For a short second, the idea had crossed his mind to go out and hunt, a real hunt, a vampire choosing, stalking, biting and killing a human. The thought had been discarded as fast as it had come. Why would he risk all he now had? How satisfying could that hunt be if it meant losing his Slayer? He had known he would be able to control himself. He hadn’t thought it would be so easy. What the chip had done, his love for Buffy did even better, in far more pleasurable ways.
As if hearing the warm thoughts he was having about her, the Slayer stirred against him, waking up slowly.
“Hey there Big Bad,” she mumbled sleepily.
He wrapped an arm around her, driving with just one hand with practiced ease.
“Hey there to you, my Slayer.”
Rubbing her cheek against him, she repeated with a purr:
“Your Slayer. My Big Bad.”
“All yours.”
“It’s yours.”
Spike accepted the rolled sheet of paper Angel was handing him and carefully untied the ribbon that held it closed. Buffy leaned against him, looking intently as he unrolled the heavy paper. He heard her sharp intake of breath when the drawing was revealed.
“Just a small thank you gift,” Angel said quietly. “For convincing me not to meet Holtz. And helping out with Steven.”
Spike simply nodded, unable to form a word. He had known for a long time that his Sire had a true talent for drawing. Long ago, he had sometimes been the designated subject of his practice, as were Dru and Darla. Once, he had stolen a portrait of his Princess, and Angelus had beaten him to a bloody pulp when he had found out. Carefully tucked inside his duster’s pocket, he had the small drawing of Buffy she had let him have after Angel had returned to LA. But to be offered by Angel himself a drawing of his Slayer in his arms simply meant a bloody lot to Spike. More than he would ever have admitted.
Incapable of meeting Angel’s eyes, Spike rolled the paper again and looked over to where Dawn and Steven were talking. They had come back to the Hyperion after burying the dead man. Steven was still somber, but he was a strong kid, and he would be ok. He had accepted that Angel was not responsible for his other father’s death, and Spike was sure that, given time to get to know him, he would come to like Angel.
“Nibblet,” he called, “time to get on the road.”
He saw her place a quick kiss to the boy’s cheek before they both approached. Steven extended a hesitant hand to Spike.
“I’ll see you again?”
Shaking the offered hand, Spike smirked at the boy.
“Sure. If the old man drives you crazy, come visit us. I’m sure Dawn will enjoy that.”
The blushing teenager gave a vicious quick to his leg, which made him howl in surprise while her sister laughed.
“Women,” he grumbled quietly.
“‘Think they will be ok?”
Buffy’s quiet words brought his attention back to her.
“Who pet?”
“Steven and Angel. I was thinking, if Cordelia doesn’t come back, they’ll have no one to smooth the hard angles between them. “
That had been the other surprise of the previous night. The cheerleader had disappeared, without warning or explanation. Angel had been quite worried about her vanishing act.
“They’ll survive,” Spike said with a shrug. “Angel wouldn’t touch one hair from the boy’s head, and Steven has no one but him now. They’ll learn to live with each other.”
“Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
She sat up in her seat, abandoning his shoulder as a pillow, and stretched with a loud yawn.
“I wonder.” she started, and stopped abruptly.
“Wonder what, luv?”
She glanced at him, slightly hesitating.
“I wonder what the Council will ask from me. And when.”
His grip on the wheel tightened, and for a couple of seconds he fancied himself going to England, hunting down the bloody wankers, until the Council was no more than a memory. Shaking the thought away, he asked:
“What did Rupert say about it?”
“He was really surprised. And he apologized for not being more discreet while he was looking for a way to get the chip out. He said he’d try to get to know what they’ll ask from me beforehand, so that I can be ready.”
“So that we can be ready luv,” he corrected. “Think I’d let you play their game alone?”
She returned her cheek to his shoulder, rubbing against him lightly. They rode a few miles in silence, and at last they came in sight of their town.
“Uh, Spike, look out there’s a .”
The loud noise of wood against metal woke Dawn in a jump, and she looked all around as if expecting the car to be under attack.
“. Sign,” Buffy finished. “Why did you do that?”
“Tradition, luv,” he smirked, looking in his rearview mirror at the broken welcome sign that was now in the middle of the road.
“We’re home, ladies.”