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by Aquae Sulis 
Set immediately after the events of "Becoming, Pt. 2".The Greyhound had broken down. *This is what happens, Buffy thought, when you travel American.* But she was too emotionally wrung out to put any real anger into her thoughts. Buffy sat on the curb with her bag, a desolate figure isolating herself in spirit if not proximity from the other travellers. Looking at her, Spike thought that the Slayer was now the pathetic one. Pathetic and forlorn. He looked down at the still unconscious form of Dru in the seat next to him. "Sorry, ducks," he said to her. "I'm feeling bloody noble." Buffy was staring at the ground when she heard the screech of tires way too near her for comfort. She looked up and saw a black '50s car with fins 10 inches from her shins. She felt panic rise in her as the window rolled down and the peroxide-blond Billy Idol reject peered out at her and smiled. Was it her imagination or did she see fangs? "Get in, Slayer. You look pathetic," Spike said. Buffy began a nasty retort and then gave up. She was too tired, and she wanted some company -- company that she didn't have to lie to. She got in. "Where to?" Spike asked. "Anywhere but here," Buffy replied matter-of-factly. Spike raised an eyebrow and was about to respond when Dru stirred slightly and sang, "And where is my Angel tonite--" she was caught off by a fist to the jaw. "Sorry, luv. Now's not a good time." Buffy looked at Spike in some surprise. The English vampire shrugged. "She's still out of it. F-for her own good, of course." "Of course." Buffy said, almost smiling. But then she thought of Angel. When hadn't she been thinking of Angel, and Willow, Xander, Giles and even Cordelia. She knew she had made the right decision to leave. She couldn't endanger them any longer. Willow had almost died -- and Buffy couldn't take much more. It had been hard enough when she had just had to handle slaying the vampires, but all this: save-the-world-kill-the-man-you-love-while-keeping-your- life-a-secret-from-the-ones-you-love just wasn't working ... it had drained her. She was surprised she could feel anything anymore. Angel was dead. She had killed him. Those two things she could deal with. But knowing that he had time to realize her betrayal -- and yes, she considered it a betrayal-- and wonder why...that made it impossible. "Look luv, just relax. You saved the world and all that so take some comfort in that." Buffy sighed, "Look Spike. I appreciate the ride and all. But you're still a vampire. You've killed some of my friends -- and you promised I wouldn't have to see your vamp face anymore!" "Well, you looked sad. And anyway, I need your help." "Oh? What? Do you need a vamp enemy of yours killed? Sorry, done that. Been there." "No. I need you to book me two plane tickets to London." "And you can't do that ... why?" "The times to book the tickets and pay are daylight hours -- and they don't let you pay over the phone." "Argh." "Say -- do you want to come with us to the Isles?" "Not on your life, you peroxide-enhanced fangboy." "Allrightallright, no need to be a prat." "That's it. Let me out." "Fine with me." "Fine." "Go home, pet. Stop running away." "I'm not running away ... I just need some time." Spike stopped the car to let her out and then did a double take as a face appeared in her doorway. "Buffy Summers?" asked the man in black. "Y-yes?" she answered nervously. "You need to come with me." The MiB replied. As Buffy tensed, he continued, "You're not in any kind of trouble--" "Can I see some ID?" Buffy snapped. The MiB grew flustered and fumbled inside his pocket. "um--" "You're new to this aren't you?" Buffy snapped. "That's fairly obvious," Spike slyly commented. "Give me a break, would you?" the MiB snapped impatiently. Spike dared to peer a little farther out of the window. "What kind of government official are you anyway?" He winced at the sunlight and dragged a pair of sunglasses out of Dru's trenchcoat pocket. Perching them on the end of his nose, he bared a centimeter of fang at the MiB. The MiB blanched dead white, which was interesting because he was black. Spike filed one fang with his tongue. "Haven't lost my touch, I see." "Spike!" Buffy said warningly. "Sorry," he mused as he watched the MiB lope back to his car. Spike cocked his head. "Hey! That car! It looks just like mine!" "And Nick Knight's." Buffy stuck her tongue out at him. "Don't you mysterious types ever drive anything else?" "We vamps don't exactly have a lot of imagination. What's his excuse," Spike retorted whimsically. "Enough of this," Buffy said. "I gotta get out of here." Spike grinned cheekily at her. "Hop in." Buffy rolled her eyes and got back in the car. The MiB was still trying to figure out how to use the CB in his car as Spike burned rubber down the highway away from him. |
