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| You Know Not the Day, Nor the Hour... |
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| Rating: PG-13 (very light swearing) Award-Winner: Setting/Spoilers: Anytime post-Potential (7.12); conclusion post-Chosen (7.22) Summary: Spike contemplates the unknown culmination of The First's anticipated apocalypse, and takes steps to prepare. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "What do you mean, he went out?" Buffy stared at Rona, uncomprehending. "Just what I said -- He. Went. Out. What, was I supposed to restrain him or something?" The potential slayer rolled her eyes and returned to rummaging through the Summers' refrigerator. "And are we out of Dr. Pepper again?" "But where did he go?" "Daaamn, Buffy, I don't know! He's supposedly one of us, older than most of us put together, and way stronger than me? Why would I ask where he was going? Last thing I want to do is piss him off! He's probably out of cigarettes again!" Her words were punctuated by the slamming of the refrigerator door. She stared somewhat sullenly at Buffy as she popped the top on the generic cola she'd finally fished out of the back of the fridge. "Sorry, Rona...I'm just surprised is all. The last thing we need is him falling back into The First's hands..." "Well, that's all I know. He left maybe a half hour ago." The younger girl turned back towards the living room, pausing to add over her shoulder, "he did say he wouldn't be gone long -- whatever that means." And then Buffy was alone in the kitchen. Her imagination immediately kicked into gear, presenting an array of dire fates which could befall the vampire. What if The First's minions are lurking in the neighborhood? What if there's too many of them -- his injuries still aren't all healed... What if -- Buffy mentally shook herself to derail this somewhat panicky train of thought. Okay, calm down. He is a big boy and can take care of himself...mostly. She glanced at the clock on the microwave, and noted that it was still an hour or more until sunset. Leave it to Spike to run errands in broad daylight! He's always been one weird vamp. She realized that in all the years she'd known him, Spike had never seemed particularly inclined to be nocturnal. Weird. This time she actually did shake her head, and gave a tiny chuckle. Okay, no worrying until... she looked at the clock again... 5:30? Sure, 5:30...two hours is plenty to run a mysterious errand before I begin to think about getting wiggy! Resolved to be calm and trust in the momentary beneficence of The Powers That Be, she turned to the sinkful of dishes, grabbed the sprayer, and began hosing off the evidence of her packed home. And she tried to pretend that she wasn't counting the minutes as they passed. ~ / ~ "Gee, Spike, are you sure you don't want me to clear out of here?" "Neh...Slayer seems to want to keep an eye on me -- Kinda circling the wagons, I think." Spike lolled sideways across the armchair in front of the now-dark television set. He gestured with his cigarette as he spoke, scattering ash on the floor. " 'Sides, she's got all these teenagers running around, 'n' needs another minder for 'em." "Well, you say the word, and I'll be out of here, and you can have your crypt back to yourself," replied the demon who sat cross-legged on the vault. "Sure, Clem...maybe once this business with The First's over with...." Though, how that's gonna happen's anyone's guess.... The vampire took a thoughtful drag on his cigarette, forgetting momentarily that he wasn't alone. The silence had stretched to several minutes before Spike realized it, coming back to the present with a start. "But, thanks for the company, mate. All those giggling girls, 'n' I include Harris and the pale kid with the rest of 'em, can sure get on a fellow's last nerve. Now, though, I'd best be going, seein' as it's dark enough to get around without the blanket." Spike unfolded himself from the chair, ground out his cigarette, and picked up the cardboard box and rolled-up blanket that sat at his foot. "Sure thing, Spike. Swing by whenever you want...it is your place, after all." Clem slid off the sarcophagus and joined him at the entrance to the crypt. "And --" The demon shifted uncomfortably for a moment, and scratched behind one of his ears, before continuing, "I was real sorry to hear you'd been worked over so badly...take care, okay?" "Right. Well, you know, it takes a bit of doin' to do me in. Bloody ironic it was, that my blood let that Turuk-han loose, and that's what did such a number on me." He snorted derisively and shook his head. "But, I figure maybe it's all part of some cosmic scale-balancing -- after all the havoc I wrecked in my day." "Yeah, well...anyway, I'm glad you made it out. Say, let the Slayer know that if there's anything I can do to help, she can count on me to pitch in." "Will do." Spike headed out into the lowering dusk, calling back to the demon in the doorway, "And thanks, mate!" ~ / ~ 5:25...Still not quite panic time... Buffy was aimlessly flipping through a month-old fashion magazine. She'd finished the mountain of dishes, then moved on to folding the mountain of laundry that had been pulled out of the dryer and heaped up on top of the appliance over the last several days. Willow, Dawn and Vi, and Kennedy had, at various times passed through the kitchen, going various directions, generally with stops at the fridge or the pantry on the way. Buffy had kept sufficiently busy to minimize the need for conversation with them, focusing intently on not focusing on Spike's absence. 5:26...Still not quite -- ooo, that's a fun lip gloss...kinda sparkly. I wonder if the glittery stuff sticks to your teeth, though...Hmmm, if it does, I wonder if it shines in the dark.... At 5:27, the kitchen door opened and Spike strolled in. "Where have you been?" The sparkly lip gloss now forgotten, Buffy stood, addressing Spike with more sharpness than she'd intended. "Down, Buffy. Just ran by my crypt to pick up a few things, since it seems I'll be needed here for a while yet." "Oh. Well...you could let someone know, how was I to--" "I told that Rona chit I was goin' out, and din't 'spect to be long. Not my fault if she didn't let you know. What, the Slayerettes getting out of hand without something to keep 'em lookin' over their shoulders?" "She told me that much, but...well...." Buffy was feeling a bit silly for her worry, and wished she'd not been caught waiting for him like he was an errant husband. "What if you'd been set on by a pack of 'bringers? I wouldn't have even known where to start looking..." she finished, a bit weakly, not meeting his eyes. Spike set his carton and blanket down on the table, and hunkered down until he was looking Buffy in the eye. In times past, he might have tilted her chin up to achieve the effect, but he was still wary of touching her, lest she recoil from him again. He sighed at this realization. Long way to go before even that scale balances, mate, never mind all the others.... "Buffy, I'm fine. Just had some personal things I'd been wishin' for, so I nipped over to get 'em. I figured daylight was as safe a time as any. At the risk of bein' trite, if we let ourselves be prisoners in this house, The First has already half-beaten us. But, I appreciate the concern...." Buffy crossed her arms, looked away, and smiled wryly. "Yeah, well...we just can't have you getting broken all over gain. Sorry I jumped on you." The vampire had straightened, and stepped back to lean against the counter. Now his lips twitched and an eyebrow lifted. "Er, that I snapped at you -- was...what I ...meant." "Yeah, 's a'right." Spike didn't pursue her slip of the tongue, knowing things still weren't comfortable enough between them for innuendo to go over well. Besides...his desire for intimacy with he went so far beyond the physical, that it seemed almost to profane the depth of his emotions to treat what remained a very real physical desire in the flippant and throw-away manner he might once have done. He sighed again, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and regarding her intently. "What?" She knew that head tilt...It pretty much always meant Deep Spike Thoughts, something she'd never really learned how to deal with. Weird vamp. In every way. And how does that make you feel, Buffy? Shut up, she warned her inner shrink. You know we don't like to get into that. "Nothin' for you t' worry yer pretty head about." He smiled at her as he pushed off the counter and walked to the table to gather up his goods. " 'Cept sometimes you look so much like yer mum." He paused before turning towards the basement steps, telling her, "and, I am sorry if I worried you. With everything goin' on, I s'pose I should have let you know." He then left a dumbfounded Buffy staring at his retreating back. ~ / ~ |
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