Chapter 18: Cold Hands
“No. Bleedin’. Way.”
Spike’s vehement objection was followed by a weary roll of Dawn’s eyes.
“I mean it this time!” Spike insisted.
“Look,” Dawn’s patience faded, “it’s not really your decision to make. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m in charge here.”
Spike’s eyes narrowed. “Kayeri,” he hissed. “Do I hafta spell it out for you?”
“He’s not in league with the Haunting, and he wants to help us out!” Dawn insisted.
“That part’s not bein’ disputed,” Spike shot back.
Dawn brought her hand up to her forehead and shook her head. “What then?” she demanded.
“Don’t think I haven’t seen the way he looks at you,” Spike muttered in a gruff voice.
“Spike, you’re convinced our grocer’s a psycho serial rapist just because he helped me carry my bags to the car that one time!” she exclaimed.
“He is, too,” Spike insisted. “The way he thanks you for your business every time you go in. An’ I saw him read your address off that check you gave him.”
Dawn gave him an incredulous look. “Spike.” she began in a warning tone.
“But this is different,” he turned the subject back on course. “Those things prey upon innocent, young things like you. Do all sorts ‘f nasty things.”
“I’m not a kid,” Dawn pointed out. “I can handle myself if – and that’s a big ‘if’ – he tries anything inappropriate.”
“Still say we can’t trust the wanker,” Spike insisted.
Dawn rolled her eyes. “You don’t trust anybody,” she countered. “And, honestly, you can’t chase every potential boyfriend of mine away for the rest of my life.”
“Boyfriend?! Damn right, I don’t trust ‘im!” he exclaimed, rising up off the couch as his argument took on newfound energy. “Demons – real insidious lot, make you think they care about you, but all the time all they care about is themselves. You can’t ever believe anythin’ a demon tells you!”
Dawn looked him skeptically up and down.
“Oh, bugger,” Spike cut off in sudden realization, rolling his eyes heavenwards. He turned to their intent audience. “Anyone wanna give this a shot that hasn’t just lost all credibility?”
Buffy just stared blankly at the sudden explosion that had occurred between Spike and her sister. Beside her, Siggy was trying not-too-hard not to laugh out loud.
“They do this often?” Buffy inquired, still somewhat stunned at the bizarre little argument that had just taken place before her eyes.
“All the time,” Siggy agreed, giggling slightly at the defeated expression on Spike’s face.
“Should’ve known I wouldn’t get any help from bossy birds like you two,” he grumbled under his breath before flopping back down on the couch beside Buffy, arms crossed over his chest in a defensive manner.
Dawn gave him a soft smile. “I really do know how to take care of myself, Spike,” she pointed out in a forgiving tone.
“I know.” The comment was muttered under his breath so that it was almost entirely inaudible, but everyone heard it nonetheless. Embarrassed by the complete pansy he was turning out to be, he turned to bury himself in a bag of Doritos.
Buffy bit her lip and fought the tingling desire in her fingers to just reach over and rest a comforting hand on his thigh. She clutched her hands tighter together, resisting the urge. After all, one nude practical joke by an evil poltergeist didn’t grant her touching rights.
“I would like to see this temple,” Siggy was commenting when Buffy finally forced her attention away from the cool, lean thigh that was just barely brushing hers and back to the discussion at hand.
Dawn nodded. “You remember where it is?”
“Of course,” Siggy agreed. “It might be advisable to place some sort of warning around the opening as well. There is a danger that civilians could fall in.”
“Speaking of civilians,” Dawn agreed with a sigh, “what does dear, stubborn, old Ms. Danvers say now?”
“Uh.what?” Buffy was dimly aware that the question had been directed at her. Her attention had drifted again, however, when she noticed the way Spike’s prominent Adam’s Apple bobbed up and down when he swallowed. Her mouth practically watered, thirsting for the taste of the pale, white skin there. And she reinvented the scene between them that morning – him naked and beneath her, grinding his hardness against her inner thigh as she savored the taste of his skin, moaning aloud in need when she took his Adam’s Apple fully into her mouth and sucked, his hips thrusting up into hers and.
“.like I asked you to?” Dawn repeated the question.
“Huh?” Buffy blinked up at her and shook her head. “Uh, I mean, yeah, I talked to Ms. Danvers. Turns out there was a spontaneous evacuation after last night, anyway. So, I guess she really had no choice but to close down.”
Dawn breathed a sigh of relief. “At least that’s something,” she agreed. “Because looking after ourselves is turning out to be a big enough job.”
“A near impossible one without that book,” Buffy pointed out.
“Book?” Siggy inquired. “Has it gone missing, then?”
“Yesterday afternoon,” Buffy informed her primly, glad to some knowledge that the other woman didn’t. “And what’s our opinion on whether Rick stole it, anyway?”
“Yeah, Bit,” Spike said with a satisfied smile on his face, “what’s the verdict there?”
“He says he didn’t take it,” Dawn insisted.
Spike rolled his eyes. “And of course we believe ‘im,” he said sarcastically.
“We’re not sure,” Dawn countered. “If nothing else, it’s possible the Haunting possessed someone long enough for them to steal it.”
“Oh sure, just so long as Rrrrricardo’s in the clear,” Spike sulked.
Dawn gave him an annoyed look. “Are you ever going to drop this?” she demanded.
“No,” he insisted petulantly.
“At least he is honest about it,” Siggy teased, obviously more entertained by the situation than concerned.
Buffy bit her lip and contemplated the distance between her hand and Spike’s thigh once more.
“That’s one thing no one can deny,” Dawn agreed, sparing Spike an amused smile. “So, are we done arguing now? ‘Cause there’s a lot of work to be done.”
Spike raised a scarred eyebrow in her direction and dropped the bag of Doritos. “Yeah, yeah,” he agreed.
“Right then,” Dawn nodded. “Siggy better go check out that temple. Buffy, why don’t you wait go along to help pull her back out?”
“I’m good with the super strength,” Buffy agreed reluctantly. “What about the others?”
Dawn checked the clock. “Let them sleep this afternoon. If tonight’s anywhere near as disastrous as last night, they’ll need their rest.”
“And you two don’t?” Spike countered, gesturing to where the two women were clearly awake, despite having only gotten four hours of sleep that morning.
“We’ll live,” Dawn insisted. “We had far less during the Rusalka affair.”
A grudging snort in response. Spike was apparently going all-out in his impression of a Neanderthal male.
“Let us go, then,” Siggy stood up, plan well-defined in her mind.
Buffy reluctantly rose from her position beside Spike as well. “What are you guys going to do?” she asked, directing her question hopefully at Spike.
“Gotta get Siggy that text to translate, don’t we?” he commented.
Buffy frowned. “You know where it is?” she demanded, curious.
Spike and Dawn exchanged a conspiratorial grin. “Not a clue, luv.”
“Then, how.?” she began.
“Think we were just wastin’ our time starin’ at that gibberish?” Spike retorted.
Buffy blinked extra slowly.
“We took turns memorizing the whole thing,” Dawn provided for her. “We just need to write it all out, and Siggy’s got her text back.”
“You memorized all that?” Buffy repeated incredulously. “Why?”
“Well, it’s not exactly the first time something like this has happened,” Dawn pointed out. “And it often lulls the enemy into a false sense of security if they don’t know we’ve still got vital information.”
Siggy merely rolled her eyes. “We must leave these two to gloat to each other,” she said in her accented voice, opening the door. “A hidden temple awaits our investigation.”
With one last furtive glance in Spike’s direction, Buffy reluctantly followed Siggy out of the door.
* * *
“Well?” Buffy had never been more bored in her life, and after half an hour she couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her voice any longer. “You find anything?”
“It is quite obviously a cult temple,” Siggy’s voice echoed up from the hole in the snow.
“Oh, obviously,” Buffy grumbled slightly.
“Did you say something?” Siggy inquired.
“Nothing,” Buffy assured her in a too-sweet voice. Going with the incredibly immature impulses that had first taken over her when she realized how absolutely gorgeous Spike’s ‘secretary’ was, she stuck out her tongue in the general direction where she guessed Siggy was.
“It might be less dull for you if you were to help me investigate,” Siggy suggested.
“Then, how would we get out exactly?” Buffy shot back a bit snidely.
“I presumed you would be able to pull yourself back out on the rope,” Siggy said simply, “but if you cannot-“
Buffy refused to back down from a challenge by that woman, even an unwitting one. With a graceful leap, she landed in a crouched position at the direct center of the temple.
“Or you could just do that,” Siggy shrugged, returning to her inspection of the text on the back of one of the statues.
Buffy looked around at the eerie wooden statues surrounding her and felt a little shiver run up the back of her spine. “Nice place,” she said sarcastically.
“But fascinating,” Siggy commented, making several notes in a notebook that looked to be the identical twin to Dawn’s.
“Oh, quite,” Buffy grumbled, scrunching up her nose at a bear-like demon with a second head growing out of its stomach.
Siggy looked up at that, frowned, and returned to her work. “You do not like me,” she commented off-handedly.
Buffy froze. “I didn’t say that,” she insisted.
“But you are implying it quite frequently.” Siggy turned to the inscription on the next statue, not slowing down her work for a second, despite their conversation. “It is perhaps because you see me as a challenge to your amorous intentions for Spike?”
Inwardly, Buffy was swearing. Dammit, why did the other woman have to be smart and perceptive, too? And Swedish? And she didn’t know what that last one had to do with anything, but she was sure it had to be some sort of reason not to like Siggy. And wasn’t there anything about this woman that wasn’t perfect? “S-Spike?” Buffy said incredulously, trying to laugh it off.
“I have known you for less than an hour,” Siggy didn’t back down in the slightest, “but it is clear that you desire him.”
“D-Desire him?” Buffy gulped, her face flushing slightly.
“It is nothing to be ashamed of,” Siggy assured her. “He is quite a skilled lover.”
“I know what kind of lover he is!” Buffy snapped back defensively. “A-And why do you know?” she demanded.
Siggy sighed and paused in her work to look at Buffy at that. “So you are that Buffy,” she commented with a sigh.
“What do you mean ‘that Buffy’? And you didn’t answer my question?” Buffy was developing a sinking feeling in her stomach. She’d noticed Spike had been a bit distant, and if he had this bombshell to go home to, that certainly explained it.
“The Buffy who broke his heart,” Siggy clarified. “And it surprises you so much to learn that Spike and I have been intimate together?”
Buffy felt the sudden urge to retch, the panic was swelling up so violently in her gut. “I.”
Siggy frowned at the ragged expression on the other woman’s face. “We are no longer together,” she assured her quickly. “I love Spike very much, but I am not so much a fool to fall in love with him.”
Buffy didn’t feel reassured. “You and Spike.?” she repeated. Inwardly, a nasty little voice was making all sorts of inappropriate comments. How could he even manage to screw her? Her chest is so big, he wouldn’t even be able to hold her. The snark wasn’t alleviating her fears any, though.
“You love him?” There was a definite frown on Siggy’s face now as if she were pondering the mysteries of the universe itself. She quickly came to the conclusion that her assessment of Buffy was correct. “You are not as I imagined,” she said in a surprised tone.
“Imagined?” Buffy’s head was still spinning with confusion and possibilities. Above it all, though, was the horrible fear that Spike was slipping from between her fingers once more. “Spike told you about me?”
Siggy let out a weary sigh and sat down on a stone bench that lined one of the walls, gesturing for Buffy to sit as well. Hesitantly, Buffy followed her lead, her hands balled into tight fists, nails threatening to cut deep into her flesh.
“Spike almost never mentions your name,” Siggy began slowly, deliberately, considering the other woman intently, “and when he does, it is with such pain that I have never questioned him about you. But that does not mean that I do not know what happened between you. I need only observe him to understand.”
“How?” The answer hadn’t been what Buffy had been expecting. The turmoil in her gut remained, but a hint of curiosity lay on top of it as well now.
Siggy sighed. “I know Spike very well,” she commented, “better than any other, save perhaps Dawn. And even her knowledge is colored by her feelings towards him.”
“You said you loved him,” Buffy countered, a catch in her voice.
A small smile lit up Siggy’s face. “He has shown me a kindness and respect that few other men have,” she admitted. “He is perhaps the greatest friend I have ever had, and I truly believe that he values my friendship as well, but there can never be anything more between us.”
“And you’re telling me this, why?” Buffy asked curiously.
Siggy bit her lower lip and flipped her notebook closed on the stone bench beside her. “Spike cannot fall in love,” she said simply.
Buffy shook her head vehemently. “You’re wrong,” she insisted. “I believed that for so long, but-“
“You are not listening to me,” Siggy chided her gently. “I said that he cannot, not that he never could.”
“But what.?” Buffy was confused again now.
“The details of what transpired between the two of you are unknown to me,” Siggy explained. “I know only that he loved you and you hurt him badly.”
The agitation in Buffy’s chest turned from fear to guilt. “Yeah,” she agreed softly, “I did.”
“You were not the first,” Siggy pointed out. “You were merely the last in a long line. Given his past, I cannot say I blame him for what he has become.”
“You blame me?” Buffy countered.
“I blame no one,” Siggy corrected. “It is not your fault that he has known so little kindness in his life. When I first saw him, I knew him to be a broken man. I was surprised, then, to discover that he could still demonstrate affection for Dawn, his sister.” A pause. “Your sister.”
“He always had a soft spot for her,” Buffy said with a nostalgic sigh.
“It drew me in,” Siggy agreed. “He is not a man devoid of softer emotion, just one who buries it so deep that it can never see the light of day.”
“Well, he is a vampire,” Buffy couldn’t help but quip.
Siggy giggled before shooting an annoyed look the Slayer’s way.
“Sorry,” Buffy winced, “but you were going on metaphorical on me.”
“It is quite all right,” Siggy assured her with a little smile. “I am used to it.” She cocked her head to one side, studying Buffy intently. “The two of you are quite alike,” she finally decided.
“Yeah, it was kind of his campaign to show me that for a while,” Buffy grimaced.
“You do not believe it?”
“I didn’t back then.”
“And that has changed?”
Buffy sighed. “What’s that old saying? ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder.'”
Siggy nodded sympathetically. “And your heart has not grown less fond now that you are with him?” she inquired.
“New saying,” Buffy shot back, ” ‘Presence makes the heart grow fonder.'”
Siggy smiled at that. “It is quite a challenge,” she commented.
“What?”
“To win Spike’s heart.”
Buffy gave her a curious look. “I thought you said it couldn’t be done,” she pointed out.
“I said that he is no longer able to fall in love,” she corrected. “But for someone whom he has once already let in.” She shrugged. “Perhaps you are still fortunate enough to be there. I do not envy you your task, though.”
Buffy groaned at that as well. “It’s like.like he’s warm to me one minute and cold the next. And every time I think that maybe, yeah, he wants me.” She shook her head. “Trying to decipher what’s going on in his head could take a lifetime.”
“But at least it is never boring,” Siggy agreed. She frowned for a minute. “He is.afraid now, I think,” she began hesitantly.
“He was never afraid before,” Buffy pouted slightly.
“If you cannot understand how one can be burned so badly as to never wish to risk their heart again, then perhaps you two are not so alike after all,” Siggy commented.
Buffy bit her lip. Angel. “I know,” she whispered softly.
“Then perhaps you can show him what made it worthwhile for you to love again,” Siggy suggested.
Images flashed before Buffy’s eyes of Spike in the final year that she’d known him – laying a comforting hand on her shoulder as they sat on the porch steps together, tending to her bleeding knuckles after she’d crawled from her grave, the soft jokes he’d used to make her smile on even the worst days, the passion that burned within him when they joined, the complete and absolute devotion to her even when she was at her worst.
“He does deserve better than the half-life he is living,” Siggy said.
Inwardly, Buffy couldn’t help but agree.
* * *
“You’ve an evil, disgusting thing!”
“You’re beneath me.”
“The only chance you ever had with me was when I was unconscious.”
“You were just…convenient.”
“There’s nothing good in you.”
“I could never be your girl!”
“Soulless…”
“Disgusting…”
“Monster!”
Buffy snapped awake with a gasp, body shaking slightly from the memories that had bombarded her in her sleep. Almost fearfully, she reached out beside her on the bed and was relieved to find herself alone. The nightmare images had been just that – a nightmare. Wherever Spike was, he wasn’t bleeding and broken, shattered to pieces at the force of her blows, her words, and.
With a disgusted shake of her head, Buffy got up. That was years ago, she reminded herself. Different life, different Buffy. There’s no danger now. Spike is.
Just in the other room.
The thought was sobering. She was a different person now, living in a different world, and so was he. But the memories of the pain she had inflicted – those were real. Exaggerated through the nightmarish haze of her subconscious to be even more nauseating, true, but she had still inflicted so much pain.
With nothing else to distract her mind, Buffy quickly slipped into the jeans and pale blue sweater she’d been wearing earlier. The evening had been a bust – with only the group of demon hunters left in the inn, the Haunting hadn’t dared showed itself to the group at large. Buffy had been unable to catch Spike’s eye all evening, largely because he had been glaring pointedly at where Dawn and Rick had been sitting quietly beside the fireplace, discussing the case. Cheeks flushing from the pointed looks Siggy had been sending her way, Buffy had ultimately retired early despite the previous peaceful night in Spike’s arms.
Admittedly, it hadn’t been the best of moves, since now it was one in the morning and she was wide awake.
“A little extra patrol never hurt anything,” she sighed to herself, catching her hair up into a sloppy ponytail before venturing out into the corridors.
She passed by the open doors to the recreation room and could still hear the sounds of Xel and Lena’s argument; the demon pair hadn’t ventured from their places at the pool table since she’d gone to sleep. Dawn and Rick were also still awake, deeply intent in some discussion. Buffy was surprised that the dark shadow hanging over their shoulders – namely, Spike – had gone. Maybe Dawn had finally kicked him out.
She just gave her sister a small wave as she passed, however. She wasn’t particularly in the mood for company at the moment. As much as she hated to admit it, that dream had gotten to her, made her question whether everyone was really better off without her.
She turned down a blackened corridor, now entirely devoid of life that the hotel guests were gone. The window at the far end of the hall was frosted over with ice crystals, creating the eerie illusion that the entire building was buried in snow and they were all trapped.
Buffy felt an involuntary shiver run down her spine at the strange feelings of helplessness the thought invoked in her. Pulling the long sleeves of her sweater down so that her hands were buried within the soft silk of the fabric, she ventured ever onward and.
She froze dead in her tracks, every muscle coiled and ready.
The silence seemed to surround her for an instant, a thick black cloth draped over her and smothering her. And then, slowly, the sound trickled back in. Slow, scattered notes. Haunting harmonies and a melody that could only come from beyond the grave.
Instinctively, her feet carried her over to the open door of the sitting room. She hadn’t been aware of it until this moment, but this was what she had been searching for. The same feeling of peace – of rightness – settled over her as the piano’s tones wound their way deep inside her mind, and she felt almost hypnotized, mesmerized by the siren sound.
She stilled as she reached the door. It was only slightly ajar, as usual, and aside from her first encounter with the phantom pianist, she hadn’t dared to enter the room lest it stop its beautiful music. Tonight, though. Tonight something felt different, as though something deep within her had changed, the previous night’s experiences giving her the motivation she needed to slowly open the door.
It didn’t creak this time, and the soft music continued, circling round to the beginning of the verse once more.
Buffy drew in a deep breath at the sight of the ghostly specter before her. A phosphorescent, disembodied hand slid gracefully over the keys, its movements as agile as a spider’s legs. The back of her apparition’s head gleamed a pale white-blue in the bands of moonlight that cut through the gloom of the inn, let in through the skylights overhead.
Buffy paused for an instant but then finally dared to continue. This had gone on long enough, and she was finally prepared, finally ready.
She took one step into the room and made her away around the bookcase that obscured the rest of the phantom from her view, her footsteps as silent as a prowling cat’s. Her eyes widened in sudden realization as she got her first direct view of her specter, and she made the last few steps over to the piano bench with renewed confidence.
The song she had so come to love over the past weeks didn’t abate in the slightest as she reached out with one shaky hand toward its composer. The feel of familiar, worn leather warmed her soul, even as the music came to a startled halt, fingers slipping onto atonal keys.
“You know,” she began, a small smile curving the corners of her lips, “we’re going to have to find some way of getting you a tan, ’cause honestly? I thought you were dead. Which, technically, you are, I suppose.”
“Ha bloody ha,” Spike retorted with a roll of his eyes. “And haven’t you ever heard of knockin’, Summers?”