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Chapter 9 - Finding Out
Saturday, May 4th, 2002
Spike parked the bike in front of the house, scanning
to see if perhaps Anya had left any of her windows unlocked. It was possible
that living in a second floor flat, which these benighted colonials would
insist on saying was on the third floor, that she might have. Spike couldn't
help but think about how Anya had felt in his arms the night before. Vulnerable,
warm, welcoming and accepting of affection. He remembered how their bodies
had felt against each other; her back against his front, legs tangled
together, his cheek resting against her shoulder. He also remembered that
it had been incredibly easy to tell when she finally drifted to sleep
because she snored fit to wake the dead, except he hadn't gone to sleep
in the first place. He just lay and held her.
Sometime last night his relationship with Anya had
crossed a line. He would put his life on the line to save any of the slayer's
friends. In the case of Harris, it was entirely for Buffy's sake.
Tara was a special case in herself. He had never met
anyone so pure. He loved her, plain and simple. He doubted that there was a male outside
her immediate family who knew her to any degree who wasn't at least a
little bit in love with her. It was a love that held more than a hint
of awe in it. He had no idea how 'an evil soulless thing' was drawn to
her the way he was, because sometimes he felt her very presence should
burn like holy water or a cross, she was so good. To save her he'd do
anything within his power, but if he couldn't manage that, he didn't know
what he'd do. Tara would be appalled at the idea of violence in her name,
but he didn't know if he could let someone who harmed her go free.
Other than Buffy, she was the one he feared to lose the
most. It seemed to him that even God or her goddess would be too jealous
of her time to let her live long amongst mortals. She was just too good
for this world.
The Summers women, right down to the deepest, most primordial
level of his being, were his. He'd give his life to save either one... Or
if he failed he'd give his life to see vengeance done. His feelings for
the others occupied a grey area between the two extremes and if anything
were to happen to them, he'd just do what seemed right at the time, but
somehow last night Anya had moved onto the same list as Buffy and Dawn.
On its simplest level he'd stayed because she couldn't get to sleep when
she was alone but on another she had opened up to him at her weakest and
accepted his protection. She had become his.
He swore if someone had hurt her, human or demon, chip
or no chip, they were going to suffer. He wondered about the tranquilliser
gun that the Construction King had used on the Glarghk Guhl Kashma'nik
the other week. The chip had gone off with that replica gun Xander had
given him, but that had been when he still thought it was real. Tranquilliser
darts don't really do any damage in themselves. Interesting theory... Might
have to try that one out. Tying people up doesn't hurt either.
Buffy, for her part, was glad that she was beginning
to pick up the subtext, sense memories and emotions that went
with his thoughts. She was pleased that his memories included the feel of heavy
denim on his legs and Anya's over-size flannel shirt against his chest.
She was happy that his concern for her friend and his feelings for her
had over-ridden his physical reaction to Anya's presence.
She knew his
resolve had wavered when he remembered her last words to him, her exortation to move on. She knew that he'd
wanted so much to let his and Anya's pain wash away in a tide of passion
even if it brought them both only a brief respite. She knew that, in his mind, there had been no infidelity,
but still she felt betrayed because there had been more tenderness, more
mutual solace and a deeper feeling of connection in their platonic sharing
of a bed, than there had been in all her and Spike's shagging sessions.
She felt jealous and she felt angry at him but most of all she felt angry
and frustrated at herself because Spike would willingly have given her
everything she wanted, if she hadn't been so busy hurting both of them
by pushing him away. Finally, she admitted to herself that she wanted
Spike just as much as he wanted her.
The outer door of the apartment building had a number
keypad instead of a conventional lock although any of the residents could
"buzz" visitors through without leaving their own apartments. Spike could
remember the numbers Anya had used the night before, but it took him three
attempts to put them in the correct order. Soon after that he let himself
into her apartment using skills picked up over a century of delinquency.
He made straight for the bathroom. Her toothbrush and various toiletries
were no longer where they had been when he had had a wash this morning.
A glance in the bedroom showed the bed had been made
and various outfits now lay on top of the quilt, still on their hangers,
the wardrobe door standing open. There were no signs of a struggle anywhere.
Back in the main room, the note he had written before departing at first light
still lay on the coffee table but not quite where he'd left it, as if
she'd read it and then put it back.
Spike was willing to bet that wherever Anya was, she
might have left in a hurry, but she'd left of her own free will and she
was intending to come back.
He rang Dawn and brought her up to date. "Any chance
you can get a phone number for any of the rest of Sunnydale's answer to
Village People? I bet you Droopy Boy either put in some holiday or phoned
in sick this morning. Looks to me like he's finally grew a pair and done
the decent thing."
"Tito."
Spike sighed. "Niblet, for one thing Tito was one of
the Jacksons not Village People and for another I wasn't really talking
about bands I was talking about the guys that Mr Staypuft works with."
"Tito is one of the guys he works with-," Dawn informed him, "and he did our
plumbing when the basement flooded. I just need to find the bill in Buffy's
file. Couldn't you check on Xander's place as well to be on the safe side?"
"No... Couldn't. Never been invited... and even if I had,
getting the stuff from The Magic Box so Glinda can find out what's wrong
with Buffy's more important. I only checked Demon Girl's first 'cause if
she'd come home she could have let me in properly and it was on the way.
Otherwise, I'd have picked up the stuff you want and then gone for a nose
around while Tinkerbell did her job. So just run over that list again."
Buffy realised that the 'No Entry' zone around Xander's
apartment and the lack of acceptance for him within the group which it indicated bothered Spike more than he would ever admit.
"Are you going to tell me why I'm climbing in a fifteen-year
old girl's bedroom window like a sad impersonation of the paedophile Poofter
instead of coming in through the front door, Niblet?" Spike inquired, skipping the
usual formalities.
"Because I don't want to disturb Will and Tara until
we have to. It looked like they might be settling their differences before,
so I cleared out."
The Big Bad didn't quite manage to quell a smile at the happy news. "Fancy takin' me to see your sis then?"
Dawn led the way through into Buffy's room, where her sister's
body lay motionless on the bed.
As soon as he saw the lifeless husk, Buffy felt the anxious lump
Spike had been carrying round in his stomach since Clem's phone call turn
into a physical pain. He moved to the bedside and held her nearest hand
in both of his.
"I shut her eyes before," Dawn said, "but I don't know
which is worse. This way she looks dead. With them open..."
Spike's attention seemed to be fully taken up by the
figure on the bed but Buffy could tell that what was going on inside was
roughly three parts love and concern to one part thirst for vengeance.
'He already is incredibly sorry, you pillock,' she
thought. 'No! Using Spikisms! Must get out of Spike's head now!'
Finally, Spike regained enough composure to return his
attention to Dawn.
"How are you coping, pet?" he asked.
"Holding together... just," answered the teen with a forced smile.
"So what do the witches think is going on?"
"Tara says her essence is missing. She's going to try
to do a location spell to see where it is and then we might find out who
did it. Willow thinks you and Anya formed some sort of pact to liquefy
Xander's entrails and do whatever this is to Buffy." When she caught Spike's outraged expression she was quick to reassure him of her own allegiance. "I think she's been
channelling Xander's paranoia... oh, and Xander put in a week's holiday,
so I think you're right."
"Have you told Willow that? ...And why does she think it's
me and Anya?"
"'Cause she knows there was something going on with you
and Buffy, 'cause of Buffy's face when she saw you and Anya at the Bronze
...and she saw you too. Well, we all did, but I don't think Willow knows
that you and Buffy were boinking. I didn't get it until I saw the way she
was looking at the screen and then it all made sense."
"Glad it did for you, pet. How about we go down, get
that bag of eyeballs and everything off the porch and let Glinda do her
spell? ...Then, you can explain again in English from the beginning."
He waited till Dawn had turned away to go downstairs
before he placed a chaste kiss on Buffy's forehead.
"Whatever it takes, love. We'll do whatever it takes
to get you back," he whispered to her.
'...And when you do, you're going to get another smack
on the nose for perving on my body when I'm not in it... and it's not my
fault that I smell of hamburger. If it wasn't for you I'd have had a shower
hours ago... Pig.'
"No, Red, I did not know Demon Girl was a demon again.
I always call her that. No, I couldn't tell you if I made any wishes in
front of her because, A, I had a bit to drink before I went to the shop
and, B, I wouldn't really pay any attention to whether I did or not seeing
as Anya, formerly known as Anyanka, patron saint of scorned women, wouldn't
pay any attention to me if I did, what with me being in possession of a
Y chromosome and therefore ineligible for her professional attention.
I can tell you that I sure as hell didn't say anything remotely
resembling a wish in front of Cecily or whatever she's calling herself
these days.
And, C, I don't happen to believe it's any of your business
what I have or haven't been doing with either Buffy or the demon bint.
If either of them want to say anything that's up to them, but you're not
going to hear it from me, Miss Stay Away From Her She's Our Friend And
We Can Take Care Of Her. You were keen enough to assume I was as popular
as the Hellmouth equivalent of Typhoid Mary last week so why don't you
just stick to that?
...And, D, if you'd stayed quiet long enough for Dawn to
tell you what we've found out so far then you might have realised how
ridiculous your bloody trumped up accusations are. There's her scarf so
Glinda can do your location spell on her, too, and if she isn't somewhere
where there's no waiting for a marriage licence and Harris isn't there
with her I'll be very surprised."
Spike stormed off in the direction of the back door,
pulling cigarettes and lighter from his pockets as he went.
Buffy knew that if she'd been sitting in the room during
his little outburst instead of sitting in his head then she would have
been furious with him, but from in here she could tell just how scared,
helpless and isolated he felt. She knew he was reliving what it had been
like for him and Dawn when she died. She knew that only his responsibility
to her sister would stop him from watching the sunrise if she didn't come
back. '...And knowing our luck, when you turned to dust I'd end up back
in my body, either in a loony bin or a coffin.'
Fifteen minutes later Dawn came and joined him on the
back step. There were already four butts at his feet and he was close
to finishing his fifth.
"I would have come out sooner but I wanted to see what
happened with the spells and I thought you might want a bit of time to
calm down."
"Was never mad at you, Bit. So do we know what's happening
yet?"
"Surprise, surprise, Anya and Xander are in Vegas."
Spike gave an almost inaudible snort before his expression turned to one of mild amusement. "Wonder if he knows she got her powers back? And Sis?"
"Well, either the spell didn't work or she's here. Tara
was wondering if she could check out your aura."
Comprehension finally began to dawn on the unfortunate
vampire. "Dawn, this thing with Buffy... It wasn't, say, around sundown give or take half an hour, was it?" he asked, trying to make the question sound as casual as possible and failing miserably.
"Yeah, she was on her way home after work," Dawn answered, giving him a rather curious look. "It was still
light but the sun had set."
"Bollocks!" Spike hadn't quite worked out exactly how, but this had
to be his fault.
"So, can Mrs Harris ever forgive me for being such an
idiot that I almost let her get away?" Xander asked from his recumbent position on the satin-draped bed.
"She can and she will, once we have the blessing and reception
back home, but this time we just have close family and that's it." Setting aside her bouquet on top of the nearest bedside cabinet, Anya moved to join him.
"How close are we talking Ahn?"
"Willow, Giles, Buffy, Dawn, Tara and Spike."
"You don't want to invite my parents but you want to
ask Spike?"
"Xander Harris," Anya reprimanded her husband, even as she took the glass he passed to her. "Spike didn't publicly humiliate his partner or start a fight last time around and I think if you're prepared to marry a
demon, you should be prepared to make friends with one. Spike isn't the
monster you like to think he is."
"Spike is a demon. You're an ex-demon. There's a big
difference."
"Actually, sweetie-pie, I'm a former ex-demon and you
couldn't tell the difference." Anya did a rapid change into demon face
and back.
Xander emptied his champagne glass in one enormous gulp. "Ahn, honey, I love you to bits but don't you think you should
have mentioned this before now? When were you planning to tell me?"
"Now-ish, when we were ready to exchange gifts."
"Ahn, I don't think I can live with it if you're going
to be giving guys boils, or turning them into perpetual patio torches
for their ex-girlfriends."
"That's why this is my wedding gift to you... as long as
you promise not to smash it." She removed the antique locket that acted
as her power centre and passed it to Xander.
"As long as you're not wearing it, you're human, right?"
"Either that or I'm a demon in human form with no powers..." Anya replied. "Either way I'll be the girl you fell in love with."
Xander looked about to protest and then shut his mouth.
He didn't really want to try to work out whether that meant his wife did
or didn't have a soul. She was right. Either way she was the girl he fell
in love with... till death did them part.
"So why does it make a difference whether I smash it
or not?" he asked rather warily.
"If you do, Spike's wish will be reversed and I wouldn't
like that."
"Back with the Spike again..." Xander answered any trace of good-humour banished by just the mention of the vampire's name. "And what exactly did Deadboy
Jnr wish that's so important?"
"Nothing much," she gave a little shrug, just enough to spill a dribble of champagne over the edge of her glass so that she had to lick it from its outside with the tip of her tongue before it dripped onto the sheets or her dress. "Just that you and someone else would be
brave enough to follow their hearts."
"So you're saying that we're married because of Captain
Peroxide?" The groom looked horrified.
"No, we're married because we love each other. Spike
just inadvertently gave you a hand making up your mind." Anya pulled the empty champagne glass from Xander's
hand and placed it, along with hers, on the bedside table. "And, since we're married now, it's time you gave me lots
and lots of orgasms. We haven't had sex in over a month so it should
be really good."
Xander couldn't help but give a gentle laugh. "I love
you, Anya."
Anya smiled, reaching out to cradle his face in her hand. "I love you too, sweetie."
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