Chapter 39: Shiny, Vibrant, and Beautiful
By the time Angel entered the Summers’ home after his impromptu meeting with the vampires, Willow had already called, relating to Giles and the two teens what Manon had reluctantly, it seemed, reported about the events of the night.
Spike had been held by soldiers. Their chief was Buffy’s ex. Manon and Buffy had freed him without bloodshed. End of the story as far as the Slayer was concerned.
At Giles request, Willow managed to extract from her the location of the commandos’ base, and the Watcher had been pondering going there for a little chat when Angel came back. As Giles commented that the vamps should have been back by then, something on Angel’s face must have given his thoughts away, because Giles looked at him curiously, and demanded an explanation.
“Don’t tell me you expected Buffy to want her soul back”, Angel replied tiredly, happy that Dawn and Steven weren’t in the room. “They’re going to leave.”
The Watcher took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a quiet sigh.
“No,” he admitted in a murmur. “I did not expect it. I hoped she would want it, but I didn’t really believe she would.”
There was a pause, and Giles sought Angel’s eyes.
“Are they gone yet?” he asked, a little hesitant. “I wish I had told her goodbye. Told them.”
“I’m not sure,” Angel replied truthfully. “But I doubt they will be back. I’m sorry.”
Giles had a small smile. “At least we know he’ll take care of her,” he said quietly, before adding with more force: “I’m in the perfect mood for scaring the hell out of Riley Finn and whoever works with him. Are you in?”
Despite himself, Angel felt an evil grin tugging at his lips. He had never had much sympathy for the soldier, and even less now that he had been discovered hurting his Childe.
“What do you have in mind, Ripper?”
*****
A towel draped around his hips after a quick shower, Spike made his way through the mansion and toward the kitchen, leaving Buffy’s side for the first time since she had rescued him two nights before. They had come out of the bedroom to feed a couple of times already, but always together, he and his Childe. His Slayer. His hero. His lips curled up at the thought and he startled humming softly. Unlife was good. Rarely been better, actually. Except for that pesky, nagging little thought he just had trouble ignoring. Just a broken word, he would live through it. It wasn’t like she was complaining anyway.
As he stepped into the kitchen, he frowned at the unexpected sight that greeted him. A black duster was draped on the back of a chair – Buffy’s, he realized. At the foot of the same chair, two travel bags. On the table, his car keys, a cell phone, and a piece of paper, folded in half, with his name in a familiar handwriting. He picked it up with a slight shake of the head, and started reading.
“ I thought you might need your car, it’s parked in front of the garage. Thought you could use some clothing, too. I told the gang about your departure. They’re taking the news rather well, all things considered. Steven isn’t, though. You know him. I’m afraid he takes your leaving as a personal betrayal. I tried to explain, but he’s even more stubborn than you and I combined. The Scoobies would like to say their goodbyes, if you think Buffy is up to it. They’ll miss you, too, you know. Andrea Travers brought back Buffy’s soul. It’s shiny, vibrant, and beautiful. Just like her. I wish you could see it. Give us a call if you decide to stop by. ”
It wasn’t even signed, and for some reason that upset Spike as much as the content of the note. Steven’s reaction wasn’t unexpected, and Spike felt sorry about losing the only brother he had ever had. Just a few days before he had been about to ask the teen to be his best man for the wedding. He doubted the kid would even want to talk to him now. And it wasn’t like they would get married anyway, normal vampires didn’t care about such things.
The fact that the Scoobies were accepting the news was, on the contrary, surprising. He would have bet his unlife that they would be the first to come after Buffy to prevent her from doing harm. And yet, it seemed like they wouldn’t. They had seen her die too many times, he supposed.
And Angel was just a wanker. He had to leave a note, hadn’t he? He had to talk about the receptacle of Buffy’s soul being back in Sunnyhell. He couldn’t just let the matter alone. Bloody poof. He knew Spike too well.
Leaving the note on the table, Spike pulled out two blood bags from the fridge. There were only two left after that. They would need to get on the move soon. Tonight. There was no point in waiting any longer. Except… he had to try. He just had to. Then he would be able to tell himself that he had done everything he could.
He poured the content of the bags into two mugs and warmed them in the microwave, staring at them as they revolved slowly behind the door. If someone had ever told him he would get used to feeding from bagged blood and find it almost convenient…
The blood now warm, he took the two mugs to the bedroom. Not the master bedroom, he wouldn’t set foot in there for anything, and he very consciously avoided even looking at the closed door. Not even the large room next to it, that had been his, once, long ago, and in which he had spent very lonely hours stuck in a wheel chair. No, the room they had chosen was a door farther, smaller than the others, with a double bed instead of a king sized one, but they hadn’t minded so far. As in all the rooms, there were heavy drapes over the window, completely blocking out all sunlight. They had found a couple of pillar candles, however, and they provided more than enough light.
He walked in quietly, only to find Buffy stretched out on the bed, gloriously naked, the barest smile fluttering on her lips. Her eyes were closed, but he knew she wasn’t asleep. He doubted either of them would be able to fall asleep without the other holding them for some time.
He sat down with his back to the headboard, and immediately she turned to her side and crawled up his body, until her head was resting against his chest. He gave her one of the mugs, and sipped on his own, the simple contact of her skin on his as delightful as the warm blood sliding down his throat. He drank slowly, his free hand playing mindlessly in her tangled hair. Idly, he wondered if Angel had thought of putting her brush in the travel bag.
“What are you thinking, baby?” she asked him softly after they had both discarded the emptied mugs.
Her cheek was still on his chest, and she was drawing light patterns on his front, surprisingly leaving the towel at his waist alone.
“We’ll leave tonight.”
She shot up a wide grin at him, but it faded when he added:
“I’d like to stop by the Magic Box. Say our farewell to the Scoobies. Is that alright?”
Her mouth twisted for a brief second, before she returned to her resting place on his chest.
“Whatever you want,” she replied with a light shrug. “Where will we be going?”
He suppressed the sigh that was rising in his throat. “Anywhere you want to go, Princess. We have passports and money, your wishes are my command.”
He realized, just an instant too late, what he had called her, and steeled himself for her reaction. It was just that, sometimes, lately, she reminded him of Dru, minus the insane ramblings. She pulled away from him and sat up, observing him with an unreadable expression. When she talked, it was nothing he had expected.
“We have passports?” she repeated his statement. “And money?”
Nodding, he gestured to his duster on the floor, and she got out of bed to pick it up. She found the envelope quickly, and opened it as she sat back next to him. She pulled out two passports and several straps of fifty-dollar bills. She let out a little whistling sound at the sight of the money.
“Ten thousand dollars?” she exclaimed after she had quickly counted. “Why would he give us all that?”
“Because he is my Sire and your Grand-Sire, luv. Family.”
She raised a perplexed eyebrow, but did not voice her question, instead turning her attention to the passports. She opened the first one, the American one, and read the name out loud:
“Elisabeth Angela Winters.“
She chuckled softly and shook her head, and Spike couldn’t help smiling wryly.
“Peaches has quite a sense of humor, uh?”
“Lets see what he got for you,” she replied as she opened the second passport, the one that was branded with Great Britain’s symbol and name.
Spike glanced at the booklet as she laughed, and he couldn’t help rolling his eyes.
“God, what a ponce,” he muttered.
“William Connor Winters,” Buffy read with a stifled giggle.
“I swear,” Spike said gruffly, “just for that, I should have let that wanker bleed to death.”
Still laughing softly, Buffy put the money and passport back in the envelope and settled back against him, holding him as she made a quiet purring sound. For a little while, they just enjoyed each other’s presence, but the same thought as earlier was still annoying Spike, amplified now by Angel’s note. In the end, he decided to just ask her and be done with the brooding. Either she would refuse and he would never think of it again, or she would accept, and they would see what happened then.
“Luv… Can I ask you something?”
She tightened her hold on him for just a second, and breathed a quiet “Anything, Sire”.
“Do you remember the night I turned you?”
He felt her smile against his skin, and she shifted to place a soft kiss on his lips.
“Yes, I remember,” she replied in a whisper.
Unwittingly, Spike closed his eyes, and images flooded his mind. She had pleaded for him not to do it, had begged, cried. And accused him of stealing more than life from her.
“You were afraid,” he said with a voice that was slightly trembling. “Not afraid to die though. You had accepted your own death, even if we couldn’t. Afraid that I would damn you, and that you’d never see Heaven again. Remember that?”
“I remember that too.”
Her voice was puzzled, now, as she obviously wondered where this conversation was going. He opened his eyes to see her looking at him, seemingly troubled by his words. Oh, yes, she remembered. She didn’t only remember that night. She remembered Heaven too, he was sure of it. She had that odd look on her face, the same as when she had confided in him, trusting him for the first time with a secret she couldn’t share with her chums.
“Remembered what I said then?” he asked, caressing her cheek with his fingertips.
There was a pause, just a couple of seconds, which seemed to stretch forever for Spike as he waited for her to speak.
“You said… you said I would go back there some day.”
He nodded slowly. “I more than said it, luv. It was a promise, in spirit if not in words. And you know how I feel about my promises.”
She frowned just a little, and he smiled sadly. She had realized what his point was.
“Spike”, she started, but he interrupted her with a finger across her lips.
“Do you still want it, luv?” he managed to ask despite his tight throat. “Do you still want to go back to Heaven some day?”