Wayward by Devil Piglet

Part 17: Down Town

They'd spent the night in a stranger's house, had torn apart the bedroom fighting about a future neither of them could control, and now it was time to go back. She wondered if this was what vampires -- what Spike felt each dawn; this weariness and dread.

She was in the bathroom, drying off from her shower. Laughing at herself for the way she neatly folded the towels and hung them on the rack. She was staring into the mirror, miles away really, and didn't know he was behind her until his arms caught her around the waist.

She didn't jump or pull away when he buried his face against the back of her neck. It wasn't new to her, his craving for contact, and she no longer begrudged his touch. She leaned back so that they were flush together, and he made a soft rumbling sound.

His hands snaked around to rest on her stomach. Rubbing there, he said, "You need to feed."

The last thing she wanted to think about now was blood. "I'm not hungry."

"I know how long it's been. I watch you, you know."

Yes, she knew. "I don't see any pig's blood around here."

"Guess we'll just have to improvise."

When she finally turned around the first thing she noticed was the gash just above his collarbone. The sight of it was heady and she moved closer.

Inhaling sharply, she said, "Dead blood. I didn't think..."

"After a while it would start to show." He ran his hands up and down her arms. "But it'll serve you well enough for now. Better than that pig's swill, anyway."

She ran a finger very lightly along the cut. "You did this to yourself?"

He held himself still. "It's worth it. Nothing compared to...you don't know. How it can be."

"I'm not sure I want to."

Now he bent his head to her ear. "Soon you won't need blood. Be dead or fixed, yeah? So think of this as a one-time deal." His tone became serious. "What happens in this house stays in this house."

She closed her eyes. It was so tempting, and his voice could talk her off a cliff. Maybe that's what he was doing.

She pulled her hand back from the wound and he grabbed her wrist. He was pleading with her now, desperate.

"Please. Can give you what you need, can give you blood. Take mine. Please, Nikki."

And it all seemed so darkly perfect that she nodded, parting her lips unconsciously. "Yes. I want it."

One hand held her neck, bringing her closer. His hands tangled in her hair as her lips descended.

She felt him harden against her as she suckled, and he backed her up against the cool porcelain sink. "Yes, yes, yes...good girl. Good girl."

He arched beneath her as she took more and more. Nikki thought dimly: We are such fierce lovers.

She thought it again as she watched Spike and Buffy confer at the entrance to the high school. Heads bent together, eyes shining. At this moment, more than ever, they seemed like kindred spirits; some weird complementary yin-yang thrown into sharp relief by the coming battle.

Could anyone mistake their love?

The group of them began filing into the school, the Slayers leading the procession. Nikki forced herself not to look back at Robin or the terrified Potentials. The air grew foul and heavy as they approached the Hellmouth, reminding Nikki unpleasantly of her first few moments back. They walked down, down...

As soon as they reached the seal the Turok-Han began swarming. Everywhere she looked there she saw pallid dead skin and wild eyes. She fought with all her skill and ingenuity but had never faced an onslaught like this. And she was having trouble concentrating. Around her she could hear the screams of the Potentials.

The red haze appeared again over her eyes. No, no. She couldn't fight them and herself at the same time. She wasn't strong enough. Reese's voice caressed her ear: "You've seen it, haven't you? What you really are. Destruction, sweet thing. Chaos and carnage and all sorts of other broken beauty. Stop fighting it."

***************************************

Spike was bleeding from every limb and a few other places, the result of impulsively thrusting himself between various ubervamps and their teenage targets. Well, a spurting artery might not kill him but it sure made things more difficult. The wounds were starting to wear him down. Buffy seemed to be having more success with her special Slayer scythe, but they were still appreciably outnumbered and he didn't see a change in sight.

He looked to his right and saw Nikki, faltering and confused. She dispatched the vamp before her but seemed unsteady. Torn. Fuck. And now he glimpsed that odd light in her eyes, the beginnings of a strident smile.

There was a lull in the battle and he stumbled over to her. "Snap out of it!" he shouted.

She wavered and recovered herself briefly. "We had a deal," she managed. Then she jerked and her eyes sharpened hatefully.

"Sod the deal, you bitch! You can fight this, I know you can!"

She just kept grinning at him. Suddenly Faith was behind her, kicking the shit out of a hapless Turok-Han. Nikki's gaze cleared. Spike didn't understand. But something was itching in his brain.

He kept looking at the two of them, Faith and Nikki in beautiful proximity, and he thought, Yeah, like that. Just like that.

"Come on." He grabbed them both and dragged them, protesting, to where Buffy wielded the scythe. She gave him an annoyed glance. "Can't -- uhh! -- really do the superhero bonding thing right now, Spike."

Frustrated, he cleared the immediate area of ubervamps and earned a few more punctures for his troubles. Then he returned to where Buffy, Nikki and Faith stood. Already they were dispersing to protect the others.

"No!" Spike snarled. "You have to fight together. You get that? Together. 'A trinity of Slayers' and all that rot but you can't be apart, scattered; you have to be one."

Faith was panting with exertion, warily eyeing the perimeter of their little conclave. "Bad strategy. Consolidating our strength will leave the others vulnerable."

"Listen to me." Spike grasped Buffy's arm. "You do this -- try this -- and I promise you I will watch over the others. I'll come between them and death as best I can. Buffy, you can see we're not winning this way. Alone, that sword of yours is just another shiny plaything. Stay with them. Just this once, Buffy, trust me."

"Need some help here!" Xander's voice was strained and panicked.

True to his promise Spike was there, fighting beside Xander while Buffy stared blankly at Nikki and Faith. "Well?"

Faith shrugged. "Never been much of a team player but I guess I can make an exception this once. Nik?"

"It was Faith that kept the First from using me again. It was there, inside me but then I felt her near and it backed off." A strange expression crossed Faith's face as Nikki spoke.

"Fine," Buffy said. "We'll give it as long as we can and see what happens. This meeting of the Slayers' Activity Guild is officially adjourned."

Spike watched them from where he and Xander took on waves of Turok-Han. Giles and Willow had also paired up and circulated throughout the battle, swinging swords and occasionally cooperating in some bit of battle-magic.

Once the decision was made, their execution of it seemed effortless. Each movement of one was answered by that of another, so that to him they seemed like one being. Plus it was sexy as hell.

Gradually he noticed that the count of ubervamps in his vicinity seemed to be waning. Same with Willow and Giles. The girls had been remarkably untouched for almost five minutes now. He looked back at the Slayers.

The Turok-Han were flocking to them, drawn like moths to light. And the Slayers had become a vicious and liquid One, ancient voltage powering them as the vamps dropped at their feet. Soon, sooner than he could imagine, Spike was left merely to hustle the others to the outer hallways where they watched the strange melee from the sidelines.

And then there were no more Turok-Han. Only the First, standing a few feet away, head cocked.

"So glad you trusted me, Summers. Knew you wouldn't hold a grudge about that night in the bathroom. What's a little date-rape between a Slayer and her vamp?"

"Buffy," Spike began warningly. He left the others and moved back toward the seal.

"It's all right," she said, but her voice was unsteady.

The First laughed. "That Spike. He gets all the birds. Even the little girls are going soft on him. You sure you're up for the competition?"

Buffy's grip on the scythe tightened. "I thought you came here to die, not discuss my love life."

Spike's face morphed into Kendra's. Faith went rigid, seeing the Slayer whose death had called her. "A trinity of Slayers," she mocked in that lilting West Indies accent. "A little Judeo-Christian for my tastes, I have to say."

Faith lifted her chin. "Actually, I'm Buddhist. What?" she asked irritably as Nikki and Buffy turned to her. "I converted in prison."

It transformed into Nikki, gazing at them with a mixture of amusement and ire. "Never saw you coming, babe. Gotta admit that threw a wrench in the works, big time. Why couldn't you just do what you were told?" It was shouting, now. Screaming obscenities and threats like a mean drunk, and all the while shapeshifting faster than Spike could keep up. Joyce. Tara. Oh, sweet kind Tara with her mouth now twisted horribly. An older man that Spike didn't recognize but from whom Faith stepped away shakily. Angel. Spike moved closer.

"I can't be defeated. I live inside you." It slowly changed until it no longer resembled anything human but pure loathsome ugliness; every petty thought and moment of cruelty and cry of hatred that had ever been since the dawn of time. It was bullets tearing through flesh, railroad cars full of dead bodies, children's pleas for mercy ignored, animals left for dead and curdled love.

And it was this, this that he had worshiped for a hundred years, that had dictated his every move, this that laughed with him over the bodies of women and this beneath Dru's lashes as she coaxed him easily to even more depravity.

Its voice was choked and stuttering now but it held sway over them nonetheless. "You sustain me. The pain you feed me will be returned to you a hundredfold and every fist I raise against you will be your own --"

Spike was on his knees, utterly miserable while Nikki, Faith and Buffy remained transfixed by the First. Its image was dwindling but the words never stopped, the most filthy, abhorrent vows poisoning the air they breathed. But finally even the hoarse raging whispers disappeared as well. Only silence now.

He heard Buffy as if from a great distance. "I was expecting victory to be a little more...uplifting."

Faith tossed her weapons aside and rubbed her temples. "Man, did you understand a word of that? I couldn't even see it clear."

Nikki stepped forward to the blackened and scorched area where the First had been, but Buffy was already running to Spike. "Spike? God. Oh, God, Spike?"

"Hold him down," Nikki was saying. "What's wrong with him? Look at his eyes!"

"Shh," Buffy murmured. "It's okay. It's all over, Spike. We won and everyone's okay and please, Spike, please be okay, please..."

***************************************

Nikki drove through the streets of Beverly Hills in Robin's SUV. She'd dug through his CD collection until she found some Lena Horne. She'd have to have a talk with that boy; tell him about the sounds that came out of the punk clubs and disco halls of the Seventies. His musical education was sorely lacking, influenced by the hip-hop she'd yet to acclimate herself to and the jazz that Gregory adored and good God what was that girl wearing?

The light turned green and traffic slowled inched up Wilshire again. Nikki forced her gaze back to the road. Two more turns and she was among leafy, ruthlessly landscaped grounds and Spanish-style manses. She looked at the directions again. 1325 Rexford, one block past Clifton. Please don't crash my car. Love, Robin. Hmmph. She'd learned to drive one summer at camp in the Adirondacks. Maybe she was a little rusty, she had been sixteen at the time which would have been...how many years ago? Five? No, thirty --

"Damn." A crunching scrape as she pulled into the driveway of the well-kept, shadowed home. Nikki got out to inspect the damage. The Explorer was more or less intact; surely Robin would hardly notice the bit of twisted metal. The BMW was another story. Well, Gregory had certainly forgiven her for more than that.

She rang the doorbell, curiosity prompting her to peek through the shuttered windows. Robin had told her Gregory was divorced. Was he with a woman right now? What if they were having sex? The thought would have been disturbing once but now she felt only a vague sense of irritation and possessiveness. Before she could explore the thoughts further, the door opened.

He looked the same. To her eyes, he looked the same. Kind crinkling eyes, lanky body. Hands that had held her more times than she could count. He was staring at her.

"I, um...I hit your car. Got a little sidetracked." She gestured behind her, then turned back and cleared her throat. "I was thinking, maybe, as my Watcher...you could help me...navigate?"

He gathered her up in his arms, so strong and safe. When she felt him shudder with sobs she broke down too, ridiculous really after everything but, oh. Oh. It was good to be home.

***************************************

"Spike?"

She was kneeling at his side, where he lay on the couch; he didn't have to open his eyes to know she was nearby. "Love."

He couldn't tell if she was laughing or crying. "Hi. I'm really glad you're awake. Can you look at me?"

It was a painful effort but he obeyed. She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail, her face free of makeup. She looked very young. "You okay, pet?"

"Yeah. Been kind of worried about you, though."

"And the others?"

"They're all fine. Nikki will be mad she wasn't here when you woke up; she went up to L.A. for the weekend. Said to tell you that you won't have to split your meals with her anymore."

"Good. That's good."

"How do you feel?"

"Worse than when this girl I knew dropped an organ on me."

Buffy laid her hand carefully on his forehead; a reflex action of comfort and concern since hey, he wasn't exactly going to run a fever. "Sounds like a funny story. You'll have to tell me sometime."

"Maybe for our anniversary. How long have I been out?"

"Three days. Spike, what happened? Was it a Turok-Han?"

He shook his head. "No." He chuckled humorlessly. "I think...I think it broke something inside me. Listening to it, those things it said..."

Buffy frowned. "Do you mean the First?"

He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Can't get the picture out of my head. Fucking ugliest thing I've ever seen."

Shaking her head, Buffy crawled up to curl beside him. "I don't even remember it."

Alert now, he turned her to face him. "You don't?"

"No. Neither do Nikki or Faith. We came away with some killer headaches, though. And kind of a ringing in our ears."

He sat back against the cushions. Ironic, he supposed, that only evil would recognize evil. Of course. It lost nothing by showing itself to Spike. For the rest of them....Spike understood now. Evil was about ignorance, complacence. About turning away.

"Spike?" She gave him a gentle shake. "Still here?"

He didn't want to tell her. No point to it and he wouldn't put one more weight on those shoulders already bowed with duty. And as he breathed in the scent of her hair, and above that the strawberry lip gloss of Dawn hovering at the foot of the stairs, he thought of the unexpected blossoming of good, despite everything. About Nikki's rebirth from the First's foul nest, and forgiveness he'd thought was impossible.

He pulled Buffy down to him. "Always."

.End