A/N: This story was written for the Spuffy Ficathon and completed in April 2004 before the AtS finale aired. As such, there are some small inconsistencies between what aired and this little corner of the Whedonverse.
Oh, and how did they get out of that alley? Simple. They slew the dragon.
Of all the gin joints in all the world, she had to walk into mine.
It was a demon fight, not a bar...a demon Spike had most definitely seen first, but the comment was still apropos. Two years after they'd stood in a collapsing Hellmouth, she was suddenly at his side once more, blade flashing as she added her strength to defeating the foe. No greetings, no small talk, merely shouted warnings as they fell back into the dance.
When the fight was done and the demon lay leaking dark fluid into the ground, they found themselves staring at one another across the corpse in painful silence. A million times Spike had played this scene in his head, trying out a million lines, putting them in a hundred settings. Silence and the stink of demon guts somehow never figured into it.
"How?" she asked at last, her voice unsure. "Where?"
"It was the damn amulet," he said. "Been in Los Angeles with Angel."
He could tell that information went over real well. "You never called. Andrew had to have told you where I was."
"Yeah, well, isn't Andrew just a wealth of information...and seeing how Andrew can't keep a secret to save his life, why didn't you call?"
"First, I didn't know. Second, two words: Wolfram and Hart."
"That's three."
"'And' doesn't count."
"It's a word."
"Okay." Her face screwed up as it always did when he'd gotten the better of her. "Then try this. Evil lawyers."
"That is two words."
"So there."
They lapsed into silence, glaring at one another. The corpse uttered a rather disgusting noise as gas escaped. Buffy and Spike quickly moved away downwind. "Shame it can't just dissolve to dust like a respectable demon," Spike complained.
"If it keeps decomposing like that, I don't think we're going to have to worry about leaving something recognizable."
His head turned sharply at the "we"; it had to be just a slip of the tongue. She'd fallen back on old habits given the situation. "Mind telling me what you're doing here? I was doing just fine..."
"Which is why you were getting backed into corner."
"I was not! It was a strategic retreat. I was going to..."
Spike stopped as he realized what they were doing. This was one of the reasons why he'd never gone to find her in Rome; he'd been afraid they'd start picking at one another just as they were now. He was tired of that game. "It's good to see you, Buffy," he said with deliberate calmness. "How are you?"
She stared at him as if he'd grown a second head. "Um, fine. I was passing and heard the noise. I didn't even realize it was you until I'd charged."
He knew he had her somewhat on the defensive now with the sudden change of tone, but there was a part of him that didn't care. If they were going to talk, they were going to talk like adults. "I'm grateful for the help, though I didn't know you were in town. Must be something important if they sent you all the way from Rome."
The walls were instantly up; the frost in her eyes and tension radiating from her body. "It's Council business, not something we want to share with Wolfram and..."
Spike didn't let her finish, but turned on his heel and walked away. So she didn't trust him. Everything they'd been through, everything she'd seen him do and she still didn't trust him. Well, bugger that; he had a job to do and then he was getting the hell out of town. He'd have to drop by LA first, but then he was going to find a place where they'd never heard of Slayers and get very, very drunk.
Play it, Sam.
***
Stupid vampire.
The same thought had been pounding through Buffy's head ever since Spike had walked away from her in that alley the night before. And what was up with that? Spike never left; Spike stayed through thick and thin, pulled from her side only by death.
Death seemed to have done a pretty good job of severing the bond at last.
She headed down the sidewalk on Peachtree Street, past the museum dedicated to Margaret Mitchell. Mom had loved Gone with the Wind and Buffy made a mental note to visit before she left Atlanta. She could send a postcard to Dawn and they'd have a laugh over it when she got back to Rome.
That was assuming she managed to finish this job. She'd tracked the Youngar Demon halfway across Europe and didn't understand why Giles had seemed a bit upset at the idea of following it on to the states. He'd hemmed and hawed, suggesting that perhaps Kennedy and Willow should take over the trail and sounding for all the world like he was cleaning his glasses furiously. Considering she was calling from the Geneva Airport while she waited for her flight, it was a little difficult for him to actually stop her from coming to the states.
Buffy stopped suddenly. Had Giles known? Had Andrew told him when he'd gotten back from Los Angeles? He must have; Spike had been right when he'd said Andrew couldn't keep a secret. That had been over a year ago; why hadn't Giles told her?
Because he didn't want to risk that you'd go running back to Spike.
It was the most obvious answer. Even if Giles respected what Spike had done, it didn't change the fact that he would prefer to see her with almost anyone else...except perhaps Angel. She doubted he'd even deny it if she asked him directly.
Remembering that she had a place to go, Buffy started moving again, all thoughts of tourist attractions vanished as she walked past apartment houses that had seen better days. She'd put the question to Giles when she got back to London with this Greivas Crystal -- however it was supposed to be pronounced -- and deal with the angst and anger and messiness then. For now, she had a job to do.
Stupid vampire.
***
He'd drunk a fair amount of Jack and knocked more than one pair of heads together, but Spike had gotten the information he wanted: there was a Youngar demon in town and it was toting some type of crystal. Two broken fingers and he'd learned where the demon was supposedly staying.
Maneuvering his car down dark streets lined with shuttered buildings, Spike couldn't help hoping tonight would see the end of this job. If he got his hands on the crystal, he could leave Atlanta that very night, maybe cross the state line into Louisiana before he had to find a place to hole up for the day.
It'd been decades since Spike had been in Atlanta, but it was strange to realize that many of these places looked much the same as he remembered, only a little shabbier with age. Sometimes, that seemed to be a metaphor for himself. When he and Dru had swanned through the city in the late thirties, this area had been home to comfortable middle-class couples who'd proved good eating. Now, the place looked like an old dowager waiting for a face-lift.
When the street numbers were within range, Spike found a place for the car. He needed it close enough for a quick get away, but not so close that he'd alert anyone -- or anything -- that he was coming. Surprise was a good thing.
Halfway down the block and into an alley that ran between two buildings. Didn't look like a likely place for a ritual, so the Youngar was either waiting until the time was right or he was looking to deal the crystal to someone. Whichever it was, nothing stood in Spike's way...except for the Slayer coming down the alley from the opposite direction.
Spike stopped and waited, certain that she'd realize his presence after a moment. When she did, she started almost guiltily, as if he'd caught her in thoughts she wasn't supposed to have. "Stop following me!"
"Wasn't following you, luv. For one thing, I got here first. So why are you following me?"
"I am not..." She paused as a sudden thought struck her. "What are you after?"
Spike couldn't help feeling his back get up a little. "It's not Council business; it's not Wolfram and Hart business either, if you want to know."
"But I thought Angel was working for them, running the Los Angeles office."
"The operative word is 'was'. The gig didn't last too long; seems it was a bit of a ruse on the part of the evil lawyers to distract Angel while they planned an apocalypse."
"So you're not working for them."
"Never did. I was trapped there for a while when I was a ghost; the amulet bound me to the building and wouldn't let me leave the city limits."
Buffy was looking even more confused. "You were a ghost?"
"Until someone decided they'd had enough fun and I'd be more useful to them in solid form." He resisted the urge to tell her more; let her give a little.
Buffy seemed to weigh what he said, then nodded as if settling some internal argument. "I'm on the trail a Youngar demon. He's got something known as a Greivas crystal that's supposed to be extremely powerful and is used as a focus of some kind."
"Transdimensional energies. It's used in certain rituals to pull power from other dimensions to supplement the caster. Used for some pretty ugly stuff." Realization sank in. "We're looking for the same thing. Let me guess; the Council heard it came on the market and wants to take it out of circulation."
"Actually, we had a watcher in Sri Lanka who found it. The Youngar killed him and his two slayers before I could get there to pick it up. I tracked it across Europe and here to the states. What's your interest in it?"
"We heard through the grapevine that a Wolfram and Hart client had made a deal for the crystal and we decided some interference might be a good thing. Been doing what we could to upset our former client list."
"So you want to take it back with you." Buffy had drawn closer, closing the gap between them. "Giles wants me to bring it back to London."
"And lock it up where some really nasty people will have a chance to steal it again? I think we've got a better plan."
"Actually, Giles has a ritual to destroy it."
"I like that plan better; I trust Giles doing rituals like this much more than Angel. London it is."
She laughed, her face wreathed in a happy smile. Spike felt himself soften toward her despite his previous annoyance, remembering how many times he would have killed to see her with a smile like that. She looked good, he couldn't help thinking, her eyes much brighter than they'd been the last time the two of them had been together. Then she looked up at him and shook her head, still smiling.
Faint heart never won fair lady. It was a stupid maxim, but at moments like this, Spike took it to heart. They were close enough that it was a simple matter to lean forward and kiss her. Her mouth parted in surprise and he was certain she was going to haul off and clobber him, but she relaxed into it, her hand reaching up to gently cup his cheek.
The kiss lasted far longer than he had dared hoped but when she pulled back to catch a breath, he wished it hadn't ended. They were left staring at one another, and Spike had to wonder if the surprise and awkwardness in Buffy's eyes were mirrored in his. Words vanished, leaving only enough to let Spike know he didn't have the words to fill the silence that stretched between them.
Buffy twitched, stepping back awkwardly. "I, uh, maybe we should see if the Youngar's in."
He'd overstepped his bounds; it was obvious in the way she was looking everywhere but at him. "Buffy..."
She glanced at him, then turned away. "We have a job to do."
He followed as she headed for the stairs that led down to the basement apartment. He was an idiot; that was the only explanation.
***
Buffy did her best to ignore the vampire walking behind her. Spike lips. Lips of Spike.
He must think I'm a complete slut.
She couldn't believe he'd kissed her...she couldn't believe she'd kissed back. She couldn't believe how good it'd felt.
She'd thought he was dead; she'd been putting the pieces of her life back together. She was serving as watcher to a pack of Italian slayers and she'd even dated a few guys before coming to the realization her life didn't need to be defined by whether or not she had a boyfirend. Even with slaying, her life was so much more open than before; all she had to do was reach out and grab it.
Then he'd been alive and he'd kissed her and it was as if a piece she hadn't realized was missing clicked back into place. If she hadn't wanted to encourage him, she shouldn't have kissed him back.
Did she want to encourage him?
Wondering whose side her brain was on, she stopped in front of the door. "Should we knock or just barge in?"
"It'd be more civilized to knock first," Spike said, stopping alongside her. He sounded cool and controlled, as if he'd put the kiss behind him. "Let's be civilized."
Buffy knocked and they both waited, but there was silence inside. Another knock, followed by more silence. Cautiously, Buffy tried the doorknob. It turned easily and the door opened at her touch. "This is never good."
"So either he's dead or taken off. If he's dead, we need to find who got the crystal. If he's taken off, we need to find where he's headed to." Spike stepped across the threshold. "Either way, it's a mess."
She followed, wondering what they'd find. Spike flipped on a light after fumbling for a moment and revealed a very dingy little room with little more than a few sticks of broken furniture and a sink in the corner. "Doesn't look like there was a fight," he said.
"Doesn't look like there was much of anything. Are you sure this is the address?"
"Got my information from a different source than you, pet, so since we both showed up at the same place, I would imagine it's as good as we're likely to get. Something has been here recently; I can smell it."
"So maybe it just went out. I mean, a Youngar's fairly conspicuous."
"Haven't actually seen on in the flesh; just a picture."
"Take my word for it; this one is over six feet tall and hisses when it talks."
Spike stopped poking around the little bits of rubbish at that and turned to look at her. "You've taken it on."
"Once in Sri Lanka and then in Austria. Then I tracked it to Geneva and found it'd gotten a flight to the states."
"Um, hate to say it, but I doubt the airlines would let something like that through security."
"Cargo plane. I've discovered there are some less reputable carriers that will take demons on. That may have been why it came here; that may have been where the flight was headed for."
He nodded. "Well, there's nothing here and it doesn't look like anyone's planning on coming back. Let's head out."
Neither spoke as they moved back into the alley. Buffy didn't want to call Giles and tell him the trail had gone cold, but she didn't know where to look next, either. She'd been on the road for almost two weeks now and she was starting to feel it in her bones.
She was about to ask Spike if he had a suggestion when he fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. "Hopefully I remembered to recharge the bloody battery...Angel! No, I just missed him. Any movement on the Wymere front? No, I haven't checked my voice mail, you nit; I've been out knocking heads together, trying to find where this Youngar is. Uh, huh. Uh, huh. Well, that's interesting. I'll leave right away. Of course I'll check in; what the hell do you call this?"
He pretty much signed off after this, dropping the phone back into the pocket of his duster. "The client's booked a flight to New Orleans for tomorrow. Want to lay odds that's where our demon's heading?"
It was as good an answer as any she could think of. Two weeks had also shown her that she needed to move quickly and trust her instincts. Right now, her instincts told her that if she didn't know where the demon was, the buyer was the next best bet. "When do we leave?"