Contains foreshadowing for episode 17.
“Any idea how much further?”
“Why? You getting tired, Spike?”
“Probably not much longer.”
“Long way for a walk, don’t you think?”
I turned around now, “Xander’s moving
potentials. It’s not like we had a choice.” I faced forward again and
quickened the pace, “And you don’t care anyway.”
“You’re right,” he stepped up next to me, “I
don’t. Not really.”
“So what’s with the big are-we-there-yet?”
He shrugged, “Like to have a smoke.”
I felt my face scrunch, “So have one.”
“Right. Repulse you. Like I need to do more of
“You don’t repulse me.”
“You know I do.”
God, he’s talking a lot tonight. “I think you
“You’d think right,” he muttered low, thinking I
“Stop it.” I crossed my arms and looked at him,
“I thought you hated pity, Spike.”
He glanced over, “Exactly. I hate your pity,
and I hate my self-pity.”
“So stop it.”
His teeth clenched, “I’m trying.”
“No, you’re not.” I almost laughed at him,
“You have no idea what it’s like!”
He must’ve picked up on the laugh anyway…
“Buffy, you went wrong for a couple of months…”
he shoved his fists into his pockets, “And you still try to repent.” He looked
up to the stars, “I’ve been wrong for centuries.”
My eyes followed his to the sky. The bright
lights twinkled for us like fireworks. I sighed, “But you don’t see the
“No,” he pulled out a cigarette, “You don’t.”
This time I did laugh, “I think I know that
we’re different, Spike.”
He’d already lit the cigarette, and sucked in
the smoke, “I don’t think you do.”
Silence took over then, and I listened to the
trees rustle, and his smoke hissing from his lips. We walked like that for
“She said she liked Poe,” he suddenly said.
“One of the girls…” he fixed on his boots, “A girl I killed… we
were talking about Poe.”
“Isn’t that a Teletubby?”
He frowned, “Edgar… old poet. Wrote a lot of
horror stories…” he trailed off, then glanced over, “How do you know names of
I shrugged, and he let it go. “So you talked
about Poe? So what?”
“And she liked the Grateful Dead… and she loved
“Spike?” I searched for a point to all this
“She’d be alive right now if…” he brought
another cigarette to his mouth.
It got quiet again, and for once I decided to
say what I was thinking.
“My mom, she always used to say ‘If ifs and buts
were candy and nuts, oh what a Christmas it’d be.’”
“Yeah, I never really got it either…”
More quiet, but I knew both our minds were deafening.
“Never heard it before.” Spike muttered.
“She said a lot of stuff I never really got…”
Dead quiet. Long quiet. More suffocating than
just a pause.
He broke it, “Sometimes… kids make mistakes, I
“Yeah,” I sighed, “But we all make mistakes.”
My clicking heels bugged the hell out of me, and
I fought to make them stop without slowing down.
“Am I one of your mistakes?”
I could feel his eyes on me, prying for the
answer. Always searched for it in my body language and facial expression if I
didn’t answer him directly. Doesn’t he see how unfair that question is? But I
kept silent, and tried to hold in any reaction.
And I let him guess from that.
“Here’s our spot?” he peeked through a window,
“Don’t see any lights on.”
“Maybe he’s out getting new glasses.”
“I’ll get the door.” I readied for a kick, “You
get my back.”
“Pleasure,” he stepped behind me.
The door crashed down and the lights flicked on.
“Slayer…” Spike whispered, “Tell me you see
“Ooooooh,” Drusilla danced around the demon in
the middle of the apartment, “We can have our picnic now!”
I nodded, “I see her.”
“Not her.” Spike muttered.
“But it is, my Spike…” she hissed, “And his
I felt Spike stand up straighter, and we both
listened. I eyed the demon as she spoke.
“But where has my Spiky gone…” Dru wiggled her
fingers in the air, coming closer, “To bring nothing more than this shadow?”
Anya’s demon never spoke… it growled, in the
middle of the room, waiting for the action to start. I know how you feel,
pal. I felt like if the fighting started now, Dru would still only talk to
“Broken. Beaten. Bitter.” Dru smiled, “Like
smashed dollies with no arms and no homes… forgotten and—”
She glared at me.
“It’s not her, Slayer.”
“Oooooh, naughty words! Bad
“Shut up!” I turned to Spike,
“Buffy, it’s The First.”
“No! Nasty lying soul!” Dru
shouted, “I’m the last!”
Real easy way to figure this one
out. I lifted a lamp and threw it at Dru. It passed through her and smashed against the wall. The demon seemed
to wake up, watching it shatter to pieces.
“You’ll pay for that, Slayer!” he suddenly
“You know—the last time I checked—I think you
demons owe me.”
He charged, and I tripped him into a table. It
smashed underneath him and he pounded the floor with his fists.
“Clumsy Slayer follows glasses…” Dru chuckled,
pointing at the window, “Bites the hook.”
“Bringers…” Spike muttered, “Whole lot.”
I glared at The First as I snapped the demon’s
“You alright?” he took my hand, pulling me off
He dropped my hand and waved his in the air,
“Right. Saving my life. That’s nothing.”
“I didn’t save…” we made our way out the door, “You would’ve been
I flinched, clutching my hand to my side. Please, not a broken
“Think it’s broken?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Let’s have a look?”
I stopped walking, raising my eyes to his. He
kept his eyes focused in mine… and concerned, lacking any look of lust or…
intention of sliding hands…
I stepped behind the trees, gasping as the pain
shot up my body while lifting the shirt.
Spike crouched low, studying my side. He shook
his head. His hand slid around my stomach, pressing in soft spots that jolted
pain to my spine… and other parts jolted in the good way.
The hand slid up my side then... close to… to
that place he needs to stay away from. My heart raced, and he dropped his
“Think you broke one.”
I let the shirt drop as he stood, “Thanks, doc.”
He let some air out in a smile, and blinked up
“So, um…” I looked him over, “How about you?”
His eyebrows jumped, “Fit as a fiddle.” He bit
his lower lip.
I slid my hands over his stomach. His head
tilted, and then he closed his eyes. I ran my fingers around his sides, and he
winced slightly when I pinched him. I brought my hands back. His eyes opened.
Continued in Part 21