Buyer Beware by Just_Sue

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Chapter 10

The muffled ringing of the phone from inside the house had Tara quirking a questioning eyebrow in Buffy’s direction.

“It’s probably Giles.” Buffy answered the unspoken question with a small grimace as she belatedly recalled her failure to call him today as promised. She would call him back as soon as she returned inside, but her focus now was with her friends and their quiet discussion of topics she’d thought better brought up without the presence of her vampire. “The machine will take a message and I’ll call him right back once we’re finished.”

Willow glanced down at her notebook, words just visible in the dim porch lighting, pen poised to add the next line to their growing list. Without looking up, she asked, “Are you gonna talk to him about…er…what we talked about?”

They had agreed inside extreme caution should be exercised over any mention of the Initiative, and their findings so far, without the presence of protective wards to prevent the possibility of eavesdropping. The data that Willow had supplied on the sophistication of high tech equipment available on the open market nowadays had given them all food for thought. It would be easy to let paranoia settle in if they weren’t careful.

Buffy frowned slightly as she deliberated on the wisdom of using an open phone line to put forth their intentions. ‘Nah, better to get Giles out of that office he’s so attached to and over here. We can talk face to face then and show him why he should be cleaning his glasses so hard.’ She shook her head before realising that Willow hadn’t looked up from her notebook. “Nope. But maybe I can get him to come out on a long overdue visit so he can…um…catch up with everything he’s missed.” Murmurs of agreement from Tara and Willow let her return to her biggest, and so far unvoiced, concern.

“Guys, what are we gonna do with the product if we manage to stop production?” This made Willow look up to join her blank stare to Tara’s. It was worse than a game of charades but Buffy valiantly reworded and tried again. “Well, if production stops, like we want, there are gonna be all these obsolete models around that might need to be…recycled. If you know what I mean.” She hoped they did; she was running out of ideas on how to phrase this without giving too much away.

“Oh, you mean the merchandise?” Tara offered, understanding showing suddenly. “Goddess, I hadn’t thought of that. That could mean… Oh, my!”

Willow gasped as the penny dropped. “There would be…and that would not be good…all over the place, everywhere.”

Satisfied that she had got them thinking along the right lines, Buffy let out a relieved breath. “Yep. So if you can get more details on the…specifications of the hardware involved.” Willow’s nod indicated her comprehension. “Then we’ll be in a better position to make plans for whatever needs to be done.”

Tara couldn’t stop herself from looking back to the house, to where Spike was waiting for Buffy. “And what about your model, Buffy? Will you be recycling it…if you need to?”

The Wiccan felt anxious on the vampire’s behalf, liking him despite his less than laudable past. The time spent at the mall with him earlier had been more than pleasant and she’d enjoyed helping him pick out clothes and colours which suited his pale complexion; even she could admire his lean lines and almost feminine beauty. Seeing the way Buffy’s shoulders were sagging, Tara didn’t think she was the only one who would be unhappy if Spike were to be a victim yet again, this time from their crusade.

Her friend had done everything in her power to skirt around topics that needed to be raised - but not dwelt on in the vampire’s presence. And Buffy wasn’t usually such a tactful soul; for all her shining qualities the Slayer still had imperfections. Several, in fact. Tara was looking forward to seeing what their auras together would show on her next visit.

“I really hope it won’t come to that. Depends what you find with your research, Willow,” Buffy sighed, not wanting to think of having to dust Spike but unwilling to let herself lapse into the comfort of denial she’d been indulging in for far too long. It was the reason she’d brought the subject up now, so early in their investigation. If there was a way to keep Spike alive, or undead, she wanted to find it. None of the old joy would be found in having to finish him now. If nothing else, she knew she’d never be able to look at him as the enemy he’d always been before.

The three women bade each other a sombre farewell, Buffy waving until they disappeared from view before going back inside. There was a phone call to make and a vampire waiting for a stroll around Sunnydale’s numerous cemeteries.

***

He ran.

The moment he could force his frozen limbs to move again, he ran.

His fumbling fingers unlocked the kitchen door and he slipped out into the night, pausing briefly to ensure the Slayer was still occupied before taking to the shadows and putting sufficient distance between himself and the house before breaking into a loping run. Spike knew he’d crossed a line with the Slayer now, that there was no going back to the house that could have become a home. Regret was firmly thrust away, almost irrelevant in the wake of the ominous threat posed by Angel. He’d be dust before he submitted to his tender mercies again.

Instinctively he avoided the direction of the campus, scene of the pivotal moment in his unlife that had brought him to this sorry state of being. Instead, he aimed for the district that held the old factory, a veritable warren of hiding places and shelter from the day that would find him soon enough. Spike groaned when he arrived to find that much had changed in the intervening years. The derelict buildings had disappeared, replaced with new erections indicating a thriving business district. More than one was lit up, floodlights casting illumination as workers went about their tasks, unloading pallets of goods from large trucks or loading them into others. Gone was the vampires’ paradise from yesteryear.

Leaning against an alley wall, Spike considered his options. The cemeteries were out; the Slayer would find him easily on her normal turf. So what did that leave? He growled in frustration and slammed a fist into the wall, breaking skin and losing some of the precious blood he’d only just started to replenish in his undernourished body.

‘Why the fuck couldn’t Peaches have left well alone? Why, just when my bloody unlife was getting better, does he have to bugger it all up? What is it with that ape? He’s got everything he could possibly want and he suddenly decides my arse would be the cherry on top. Wanker!’

Absently licking his knuckles clean, he backed away from the overpopulated area and made his silent way down to the docks. The same transformation had taken place here too. Rundown and disreputable bars had given way to snazzy new nightspots and bistros. Neon signs shone and blinked, enticing a small wandering crowd of pleasure seekers to enter their doors, taste their wares, and partake of the experiences on offer. Once upon a time this would have been a hunting ground full of opportunity and plump pickings. Now it was no more than a hazard to his health. Turning away, feeling the fingers of desperation tightening their grip on him, Spike reluctantly set out for the only other place of refuge he could think of: the old Crawford mansion. He just hoped he could find somewhere better along the way.

***

Buffy paused to gulp a much needed lungful of air. The mixture of anger and concern which had catapulted her from the house had steadily grown as each cemetery failed to turn up the missing vampire. Right now she wasn’t sure if she wanted to punch him for doing something so stupid as to run, or hug him in relief at getting him back. Either of those choices had to wait until she found him. ‘Doesn’t he know it’s not safe for him out here? If the police or an Initiative patrol finds him…’ Refusing to follow the thought to its unwelcome and logical conclusion, Buffy made her way to the next cemetery on her mental list.

In just over twenty-four hours the irritating, annoying, wounded and mistreated vampire had twisted her life onto a new axis. He did not get to do that and then just disappear. For a start he wasn’t even healed properly yet. And then there were all those clothes she’d have to return to the mall. Not to mention the bed and… Buffy pulled a tissue from her jacket pocket and blew into it noisily before finding a clean bit to wipe across her watering eyes. She tried to convince herself it was just the wind picking up but gave in and owned up to the fear that was starting to eat at her. As much as she’d acquired Spike as added protection against the nasties, he needed her to safeguard him from his own set of nasties - humans.

An hour later Buffy was ready to scream. She’d searched all her regular haunts and was now making her way to an area of town she tended to avoid. Too many bad memories surrounded the mansion that had borne witness as she’d sent her once only lover to hell. The first vampire she had cared about was now nothing more to her than a forcibly suppressed memory. And that’s the way she’d like to keep it.

Time might have numbed the sharpness of her pain, but her gladness at Angel’s return to the world was forever tainted with the guilt she still felt for all those who had died because of her weakness. That she’d been young and in love could never fully absolve her from the mistakes she’d made, from hesitating when her stake could have put an end to Angelus’s reign of terror. She supposed a part of her would always love Angel, in a distant ‘he was my first love but now it’s over’ way. Too much water, and not a few canoes without paddles, had flowed under the bridge since then. Sharing any part of each others lives had long since been given up. But now was not the time to get caught up in a past long dead. At this moment all she wanted to do was find a very different vampire and drag him back to the safety of home before something bad happened to him.

The mansion had just come into sight when the first tingles hit the nape of her neck. Halting and peering into the darkness, Buffy looked for any sign of the nearby vampire; she wouldn’t assume it was Spike until her eyes confirmed her hope. A movement to the right of the mansion revealed her worst nightmare. A four man Initiative patrol, complete with black uniforms and night vision goggles were beating a path alongside the imposing structure. She needed to find him now, before they did. There was suddenly no doubt in her mind the vampire she felt was Spike; she wouldn’t be lucky enough for it to be some random fledge who’d wandered into town on a whim.

And, suddenly, there was her vampire.

Off to the left of the building, almost lost in the shadow of the tree he leaned against. The rush of relief Buffy felt in finding him was offset by her fear the patrol would get to him first, try to take him from her…or worse. Backing away until she too entered the realm of shade, the dark that was deeper away from the influence of starlight, she moved towards Spike with all the stealth at her command.

***

Spike couldn’t do it. He couldn’t make himself enter the place where his world had started to become undone. Here he’d spent agonising months trapped in a wheelchair and suffered the anguish of watching, and hearing, his long time love give herself over to his bastard of a grandsire. He’d endured humiliation after humiliation until he’d dragged his sorry carcass across town to make a truce with the Slayer, to save the world from annihilation.

When had he last been happy? He knew the answer to that; it was an easy one. When the Gem of Amara had been on his finger and sunlight had shone down on him for the first time in over a hundred years. If he hadn’t been so determined to finish off the Slayer, he could have left Sunnydale behind in the dust of his trusty DeSoto and had himself some good times in a part of the world far, far from her. But no, he had to go for that last elusive kill, had to get himself a hat trick, a third notch on his belt.

Groaning, Spike banged his head back against the rough bark of the tree that supported him. ‘Idiot, idiot, idiot! Get a car, you pillock! Hightail it out of Dodge, find a place to lay low.’ The only problem now was his location; this part of town was still sparsely populated and he’d need to head back to the centre if he wanted to find something without being caught. Pushing away from the tree, he’d barely taken two strides before a movement to his left drew his attention. A second later he could feel the nearness of the Slayer.

“Bloody hell, give me a break,” he muttered to whatever Powers gave a toss about chipped vampires. It didn’t help that his demon was suddenly decidedly more communicative than it had been for ages and demanding that he go to her, give up this nonsense. The world must truly have gone mad for that to be happening, Spike thought, as he ignored the insistent voice and took off again back towards the town, keeping to the shadows afforded by the trees. It was getting harder to push his legs to anywhere near top speed and he could feel the lacerations on his chest and back opening again. They weren’t important right now, getting as much distance between himself and the Slayer was.

***

“Damn,” Buffy fumed as Spike turned towards her before running off. She knew he’d felt her presence and could only be thankful he’d moved away from the patrol when he’d gone off in the direction of town. Checking quickly to make sure the commandos hadn’t noticed the action going on so near to them, she took off after Spike, mentally calculating the possibility of taking a short cut and putting herself in front of him.

It was harder to see him in the dark than it used to be. His once platinum head had acted like a beacon, even with the rest of him draped in black. Now he blended even better with the shadows and she just had to trust he hadn’t changed course on her. And that she didn’t trip on some unseen obstacle and break her neck. The only thing – besides avoiding the Initiative guys –Buffy was thankful for right now was the stamina her home gym had helped her build and maintain. Spike had better have a good reason for his stupid behaviour because she was so not in the mood for anything less than earth shattering after chasing around trying to find him for half the night.

The half hidden track she’d been hoping to find appeared just ahead of her; she’d used it often to cut through the woods when she’d visited Angel at the mansion after he’d returned from hell. Now it was her best chance of getting closer, or in front of, Spike. Turning onto it smoothly, Buffy took advantage of the easier ground underfoot to drag much needed air into her burning lungs and make a further push on her tiring limbs to bring this infuriating jaunt to a halt.

***

Crashing through grasping undergrowth, Spike drove himself forward at the best speed he could make on the uneven terrain. Only when the tingles faded and then stopped did he slow his pace a little, letting his body catch an unneeded second breath. He didn’t want to think, to remember, that mere hours ago the sense of the Slayer’s nearness had given him a semblance of comfort, of peace. He didn’t want to listen to his demon’s haranguing that he was making possibly the biggest mistake of his unlife. The chance of ending up in Angel’s totally legal possession was enough to turn his blood to ice…and with that, even his demon agreed wholeheartedly. Still, the regret was there, almost had its own taste in his mouth. Like ashes. The ponce always managed to take something away from him, always.

Striding into a small clearing, he was assaulted with the sense of her closeness again just before he saw her stepping out from the shadows and into the meagre starlight. The gold of her bedraggled hair shone warm silver. Her chest was heaving and he could hear her laboured breathing coupled with pounding heart clearly across the few yards that separated them. There was more than enough illumination for Spike to see the fury in her eyes. For a moment he’d thought there was something else there too, a sort of …relief? Gladness? Now there was nothing but pure, pissed off Slayer.

Spike understood then; this was the end. He couldn’t fight her - the chip made that impossible – the most he could hope for was a quick ending at the point of her oh-so-wooden stake. Because there was no way this side of hell he was going to let her hand him over and, more than that, there was no way he was going to take a chance of being even in the vicinity of Peaches when he came breezing into his home tomorrow. Later today. ‘My home? Yeah, right. When was there a place I could ever call that?’ The vision of a prettily appointed drawing room skidded through his mind, recalling to him most effectively the only other place he had ever referred to, even to himself, as home.

It was too late to take the thought any further as an infuriated slayer stomped towards him with menace in her eyes. His eager demon leapt forward, happy now he was where he wanted to be. Even knowing, relishing the fact he couldn’t harm her - the one who’d tempted him forth again after so long – he still longed for one last dance. It wouldn’t be up to his old standards, what with the not being able to attack an’ all. Not being at full strength - and more than a mite knackered after the half marathon he’d completed so far tonight - would slow him down a bit. But he reckoned he might be able to give the softly panting Slayer a bit of fun before making that final journey to a hell more permanent than the one he’d inhabited for the last four years.

Spike rolled his head, knots grinding together and loosening the muscles of his neck and shoulder. Bringing his hands together before linking his fingers and stretching them out, brought an audible crack to the clearing as the knuckles popped. He didn’t try to hide the smirk that formed on seeing the Slayer wince slightly at the noise. ‘That’s my girl!’

Straightening, he gave a hitch to his shoulders and swaggered forth to meet her, push a few buttons to get her good and mad at him. He remembered how. Get her to strike up the first chord, let her be the man and lead into the music. He pulled the words from memory and tilted his head. “Hello, cutie.”

Buffy had stopped dead as the feeling of déjà vu descended.

***

A weight lifted from her shoulders when she crossed paths with Spike. She wouldn’t have the hassle of getting him back from the police, or somehow dealing with a patrol of the very people they’d been investigating – and sorta plotting against.

Having to decide whether she’d have to dust Spike to stop him from: a) falling into their hands and having who knows what done to him if she couldn’t get him back, and; b) having who knows what – apart from the pretty graphic specifics given in the evil manual – done to him and spilling the beans about the sorta plotting… Those were the type of decisions Buffy was more than happy not to have to make. Now she knew he wasn’t going to get himself, or her and her friends, harmed, she felt free to give in to the anger she felt at the betrayal of her trust. A trust she had bestowed without thought. Somehow it had just been there. So now she felt stupid as well, for giving away something she had refused all but Tara for the last few years, hoarding it away like a miser only to act like a spendthrift when a blast from the past came her way. The damned vampire had made her feel, shown her that she really wasn’t the only one to have suffered, made her see a little bit more than her own narrow world.

And it hurt.

It hurt to know she’d been so involved in her own tragedies it had taken a vampire’s physical and mental abuse to pull her out of it. She didn’t want to be such a shallow person. She wanted to be good, and insightful, and… She wanted to live whatever life she had left and not just survive. Not just go through the motions of being alive; she wanted to do some living. It wasn’t enough anymore to think of her calling as just something she could treat like a nine to five job – even if the hours were more like the graveyard shift.

And it hurt that when she had subconsciously given something to the same vampire, he had thrown it back at her as if it were of no importance. Perhaps she should have known better…but that was the point, she did. She knew darned well a vampire couldn’t be trusted. They were cunning and crafty, as long as they weren’t total fledglings or mindless minions…or Harmony. ‘Wonder what happened to her?’. It was one thing to want to tear apart the evilness that was the Initiative, and quite another to trust their raw material. But she had. She’d trusted him in the mall, going as far as to leave him alone with Tara and never thinking he would harm her – because, hey, he couldn’t – or that he would try to escape. She’d trusted him to be inside the house when she came in from saying goodnight to her friends, but he’d left and made it pretty obvious he hadn’t popped out for a quick sniff of the night air.

Now she was going to find out why he had led her on this not so merry chase tonight. She’d scratched her boots more tonight than the rest of the year put together, and she was trying to ignore the tear in her newish leather jacket. Just the sort of thing that would once have had her howling at fate, and whatever had caused the damage. Her priorities had shifted and Buffy was determined to find out why Spike had gone AWOL. Right now it was taking all her best efforts to remember he had a chip.

She’d just started to approach him, searching in her mind for the best words to convey both her anger at his actions and, more importantly, her thankfulness at finding him in one piece, when he changed. And how.

One moment she had Spike in her sights, faintly to be sure, what with the lack of a moon tonight. He blended well with the forest background; blue denim losing its colour in the small amount of star cast light. But it didn’t need perfect clarity to see the metamorphosis. Buffy was tempted to liken it to a butterfly escaping from a chrysalis - but Spike had never been a caterpillar, and it was more than unlikely he would ever have wings. Still… Golden eyes shone back at her though his ridges were still hidden in shadow. There was a joy in them that Spike had not shown before. Ever.

As he rolled his neck she continued towards him; it would take more than a show of fangs to deter her from getting answers. Then he cracked his knuckles, one of her top ten most irritating noises, maybe in the top five. The grimace came naturally. But before she could complain he was moving; first his head, then his shoulders, and then…oh. Spike was stalking towards her. Before she could take another step he was there, a pace away. His head tilted to one side, a smug grin pulling away from his fangs.

“Hello, cutie.”

His tongue made an issue of curling up to touch the inside of the top rank in his arsenal and do a slow stocktake. From the way he raised a suggestive eyebrow at her, amusement written in capital letters, Buffy had no doubt she was no longer facing the man who had held her earlier. This one she wouldn’t trust at all. His hands would have taken advantage of her weakness, probably his fangs too. And just like that, an overlay fell in place and she had a moment of déjà vu.

She’d been here before. Her mind’s eye saw slicked back silver and black leather. A mouth made for kissing that was totally wasted on a member of the undead. ‘And where did that come from?’ Images followed one another, all their meetings, and she saw it, for the first time since the Angel/Angelus thing, she saw it. The Spike in front of her now wasn’t the same Spike as before…and not because he’d suddenly developed schizophrenia. Well, not exactly. Buffy almost had it within her grasp when he decided to ruin her breakthrough by talking. And doing stuff.

“See anything you like?” Spike almost purred, as he ran his left hand across the softness of his tee shirt and lightly caressed his left nipple. The widening of her eyes and slight drop to her jaw gave him the first jolt of true pleasure, absolute pleasure, in…in… Hell, it didn’t matter because he was still undead and the Slayer was even more beautiful in starlight than he remembered.

He could smell her fear now, knowing without rancour it wasn’t because she was afraid of the face, the being before her. His escape attempt had caused her to fear, and Spike knew very well indeed you were only afraid when something threatened you…or something, someone, you cared about. And as nothing had threatened him – bloody phone call notwithstanding – that had to mean that she…cared? ‘Bloody, sodding, hell! The Slayer cares. Too bad you’ve burnt your bridges, mate. Right. Best get her riled now and start the main event.’

It was hard to carry on when he wanted nothing more than to throw himself to his knees and beg her to hear his version first, ask her to refuse to see Angel and take his side instead of her honey’s. He knew she and the Poof could never be friends, so what else was there? No matter how much he might want to test the extent of her feelings for an ex-Big Bad, he couldn’t allow himself to believe that the wonderful, shining, beguiling being before him would chose him over Angel. It didn’t work like that. He knew.

Drinking in the sight of her, breathing in what would be the last thing he smelt on this world, Spike let gravity take charge of his arm as it traced a path down to the erection he would take an ironic pleasure in dusting with. He cupped himself, and ran his palm languidly upwards, leering at her in a way designed to drive her further into righteous fury.

***

‘He…he…oh, now that’s just… What is he doing? Does he have a death wish? No…no… Don’t do that, Spike!’

“Stop it, Spike,” Buffy hissed at him. “You would not believe how not in the mood for this I am. You have two choices. Lose the face and come home with me or I’ll drag you back. I’d prefer number one, but hey, with the way my night’s going I’m probably pissing in the wind!”

The best laid plans of mice and men…and Spike. He couldn’t help it. He’d never dreamt to hear such words from the Slayer’s punning, but prissy, mouth. The visuals tipped him over the edge…and he sniggered. The demon took a step back, but not away, as fangs retracted and skin smoothed. He had nothing to lose. He could still force the dance, if he needed to – and he had no doubt he could drive her to it – but maybe it was time to give a little trust, see where it got him. Nothing to lose.

“Did you listen to the message? On the phone?” When she frowned at him and shook her head, he played the next question carefully in his head. “Would you sell me or give me to somebody else?”

Her raised heartbeat gave an honest answer, but it was sweet to have both. “Never. I feel bad enough things are the way they are, Spike. The only way you’ll leave is if you want to be with someone else more. You only have to ask.”

“What if I ask you to let me go?” Spike watched her face drop, watched the battle as emotions chased across the Slayer’s face. It had been a spurious question and he hadn’t expected her to give it any serious thought. Her large eyes seemed liquid as she stared at him.

Buffy was numb. A thousand thoughts chased through her stunned mind. Ridiculous things like worrying about the Council money she’d spent and how she’d explain it to Giles, and again thinking of returning all those clothes. Which meant she wouldn’t keep him. That was a shock. Because she knew she’d miss him, and worry about him, always wondering if he were alright. And she knew it was mad, stupid, to let him leave with the knowledge of their sorta plotting. Keeping him would put her beyond hypocritical. In a way, weirdly, he had already served his purpose; Buffy didn’t think she’d need a bodyguard anymore, not since he’d woken her up.

Closing her eyes briefly against an unexpected desire to cry, Buffy swallowed before releasing him into the wild, hard world. “If that’s what you want, go. I’m not cut out to be one of your masters; I don’t have it in me. But please, before you go, just tell me this,” she had to ask. “Is it because you want to get away from me?” His hooded eyes hid any reaction to her words. The silence dragged out until she thought he wouldn’t answer.

“Forget I asked. Good luck, Spike. Be careful. Oh,” Buffy fumbled in her jacket pocket and pulled out a small roll of bills, her hand trembling noticeably as she held it towards him. “It’s all I have on me. Unless you’d like to come back to the house...?”

Instead of taking her offering, the vampire sighed. Looking into her open face, taken totally aback at her acquiescence to his request, he knew he wouldn’t be leaving. If she would only answer his next question in the way he hoped she would.

“Angel will be coming to see you tomorrow…or maybe today?” It was difficult to be exact at this time of night. “He wants to take me away. Would you let him?” A home he wanted could be his, if only the Slayer would prove him wrong, take him over Angel.

“What! Angel’s coming here? For you?” Buffy’s anger found a welcome outlet. “Not over my dead body!”

That was all that was needed for a demon to fall in love, and a man to wonder if he could.

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