Scene 8
They travel to Sunnydale in the Volkswagon bus. It’s a quiet trip—everyone lost in their own thoughts. Spike and Miranda are in the seat furthest back. Duncan and Cordelia are in the next seat up. Alex is alone in the third seat and Angel is front, driving. Miranda is not awake and hasn’t moved. Spike is holding her on his lap, with her legs along the length of the seat. Both his hands are free of the irons now. Duncan had insisted they be removed back at the hotel. Though disapproving (and scowling), Angel did not put up much of a fight—detecting the almost imperceptible improvement in Miranda’s breathing and heartbeat, he couldn’t deny the fact that being with Spike was promoting her recovery. With his uninjured hand, Spike gently strokes her hair—his other arm is wrapped around her shoulder and neck, supporting her head. At one point during the trip, Cordelia silently removes the blood-soaked pillowcase from Spike’s injured hand and puts a proper bandage on it. By the time they get to the house, it’s the middle of the night. They pile out of the van. Angel tries to call Buffy with his cell phone, but keeps getting the answering machine. Spike, carrying Miranda, gets to the door first. He stops.
Spike: [tired, hoarse] “Someone needs to get the key out of my pocket.”
His voice startlingly breaks the mood of silence. He looks back. Awkward glances abound. Soon everyone is looking at Cordy.
Cordelia: “What?”
Duncan: “Womanly things?” [Quoting her excuse for coming along.]
Cordelia: “I don’t see why ‘womanly-type things’ should necessarily involve sticking my hand down Spike’s pants.”
More awkward shifting.
Cordelia: “Fine. But can I point out that you guys are clinically homophobic.”
She steps up to Spike and on his indication, thrusts her hand down his left pocket. She frowns after rummaging a bit (not finding a key).
Spike: “ooh—watch the wandering fingers, luv. [Smirking—enjoying her frustration/disgust at his implication.] Sorry, must be in the other pocket.”
She rolls her eyes, knowing he did that on purpose and goes to the other pocket, emerging with the key.
Cordelia: [as she’s unlocking the door] “And for the record, there was no wandering of any kind.”
She holds the door open and Spike strolls in, followed by Cordelia, Duncan and Alex. When Angel tries to go through, he hits the vampire barrier.
Spike: “Sorry, mate. Shoulda mentioned that got reset since the last time you were here.” [He’s smirking knowingly.]
Cordelia: “Come in, Angel.”
He tries, but is still unable to pass through the door.
Spike: “Oh, right—must’ve slipped my mind. The girls helped her fix it so that only Miranda can do the inviting—seemed extra safe that way. Oops, guess you’ll have to wait ‘til she wakes up.”
Angel: [v. angry at being duped] “Spike. This was your plan the whole time. She never woke up, did she?”
Spike: “I wouldn’t have risked moving her if I didn’t know that’s what she wanted. Believe whatever the hell you have to believe. I’m going to bed.”
With that, he heads to the stairs leading to the master bedroom.
Duncan: “I’ll keep an eye on them. I don’t think he’ll try to go anywhere.”
Angel: “Cordelia, you should come with me to Buffy’s.”
Cordelia: “Seems awfully rude to leave Duncan here all by himself. Besides, I’m really tired—it’s been a long few days. [fake yawn—she just wants to stay with D]. Between the two of us, I think we can handle a one-handed Spike.” Ahem.
Duncan: “Go on. I’ll give you my cell number and you can check in.”
He’s quite happy to spend the night with Cordy as well—plus, he’s not convinced they’re in any real danger.
Angel: “Don’t let him take her anywhere.”
Duncan: “We’ll figure out a way to lock them in.”
Angel: [He nods and is about to turn to go. But then he stops.] “Where’s Alex?”
Cordelia: “Oh, right, I completely forgot he was with us. [They look around—he’s nowhere to be seen] Guess he’s off doing his stealthy-stalker thing.”
Angel: “I’ll be back with Buffy.”
Cordelia: “No rush. I mean, can’t wait to see her, but no need to pull her out of bed or anything.”
He just frowns and heads off on foot. Cordy closes the door and looks around.
Cordelia: “This is some place.”
Duncan: “It’s nice—she loves it. Stayed for the night once last year. She seemed more at home here than I’ve ever seen her. Even put a bit of effort in fixing it up. There are four bedrooms upstairs—it goes on quite a ways to the back.”
Cordelia: “Probably would be best for us to stick close, don’t you think? In such a big house.”
Duncan: “Seems sensible.”
Spike comes up from downstairs.
Spike: “Getting a midnight snack.”
Cordy looks at Duncan rather uncomfortably (midnight snack?), but then Spike reaches in the freezer and pulls out two bags of blood. He puts them in the microwave to defrost.
Duncan: [a bit sheepish] “We might rig something of an alarm on that door (indicating the one leading down to master bedroom) once you go back down—had to promise you wouldn’t skip town or anything under my watch.”
Spike: [shrugs] “Don’t plan on leaving just yet—might need to come up and get her some food once she wakes up, though.”
Duncan: “It’s just for tonight, while we’re sleeping.” [He gives a sideways look to Cordelia.]
Spike nods and takes the blood out of the microwave and pours it into a big glass.
Spike: “She’s made up all the rooms upstairs—had a bit of time on her hands after we got back from our trip. Take your pick. [He downs half the glass. Noticing the mood between D & C] There’s some whiskey in the bar if you want a nightcap.”
Duncan gives him a little acknowledging smile.
Duncan: “Thanks.”
Spike: [finishing the glass] “Night then.” [He puts the glass down and disappears downstairs.]
Cordelia: “What’s the plan for the door?”
Duncan: [Thinking for a moment, he shrugs and in a loud-ish voice:] “Alex, you let us know if Spike leaves the basement?”
Cordelia: “But he’s...” [before she can finish]
Alex: [voice only—not seen] “Sure thing.”
Cordelia: “Ok, that’s the tiniest bit creepy.”
Duncan: “Shall we have a drink?”
Cordelia: “Yeah, sure.”
As they head into the living room (where the bar is)...
Cordelia: “So is it true what Miranda says about Immortal men?”
Duncan: “That depends—what did she say?”
Cordelia: “Good things—something about experience if I remember correctly. Hey, do you smell cat litter?”
**
In the master bedroom, a few hours later. Miranda is lying on her back on the bed—the room is dark, lit only by a dim candle. We see her open her eyes—blinking them like someone who’d been asleep for days. She barely manages to lift her head and glances down at her body, which is covered by a blanket. She frowns and looks confused. She manages to push the blanket down a few inches with her good arm, revealing two hands, holding one each of her breasts under her t-shirt—she glances over to the hand that she used to push the blanket and then smiles. Just then, there is movement next to her.
Spike: [sleepy] “You’re awake. Knew you were close.”
He’s lying on his side. He pulls one hand out from under her shirt and props himself up on his elbow.
Miranda: [in a soft whisper—smirking slightly] “Good thing you were protecting my breasts.”
Spike: “You know the left one warmed up faster than the right—it was downright perky almost an hour ago. Like little hot water bottles. I was thinking about naming them. Laverne and Shirley or Thelma and Louise or [short laugh] Seigfried and Roy.”
Miranda: [concerned] “What happened to your hand?”
Spike: “It’s nothing—scraped a bit of skin off is all, getting out of those bloody irons. I had a couple of pints of your finest when we got here and it’s healing properly now. Be good as new soon enough.”
Miranda: “We’re home.”
Spike: “Just like you asked.”
Miranda: [turning her head to face him] “I was afraid you wouldn’t hear me.”
Spike: “No worries, love.”
Miranda: “Did you kill them? ‘Cause that would be Ok if you had to.”
Spike: “Nah. And NO, it wouldn’t. You’re not really on board with the whole heavenly creature thing yet, are you?”
Miranda: [weak smile] “I’m not that kind of angel. [beat] Where is everyone?”
Spike: “We’re sort of under house arrest at the moment. Duncan and Cordelia are going at it upstairs. Alex is lurking about. Angel’s gone off to find Buffy—told him you were the only one who could invite him in. It’s fun to make him angry.”
Miranda: “You’re naughty.”
Spike: “Well if he knew I could invite him in, he’d stand there screaming at me all night, or convince Duncan to threaten me or something. Where’s the fun in that?”
Miranda: “It’s for the best. I’m not much in the mood to see him.”
Spike: [more serious] “I was worried we’d lost you—it was you who went away, wasn’t it? Not something ol’ Lucy did.”
Miranda: “I had a bad dream. You’d think I’d be able to tell the difference by now. [It’s difficult for her to even say.] Angel killed you—in front of me. I saw you disappear into dust. And then there was only him—his voice. I ran inward—found a quiet place and dug in my heels. I imagined a casket made of ice, climbed in and let myself fall asleep in the cold. Didn’t expect it to work so well.”
Spike: [leaning in closer] “Well, I’m not dust. [He kisses her on the forehead] Not yet anyway—it’s going to be tricky dealing with tweedle-dee and tweekle-dum. Best not to think about that just yet. How do you feel?”
Miranda: “You tell me.”
Spike: “You’re breasts feel about normal, but I don’t think your parts are quite up to speed. Last I checked, anyway.”
Miranda: “I’m tired. Still can’t feel my leg.”
Spike: “From the looks of it, that’s probably for the best.”
Miranda: “I’d love a cup of tea. Maybe something light to eat.”
Spike: “That’ll be a trick without waking the masses.”
Miranda: “Won’t they be up in one of the bedrooms?”
Spike: “Yeah, but Duncan said he was going to set some sort of alarm on the door—Angel’s idea.”
After a moment, there’s a knock at the door to the bedroom. Spike gets out of bed, pulls some pants on and heads up the stairs. He opens the door, but there’s no one there. He’s about to close the door, when he looks down to see a tray with a teapot, some toast and chocolate covered strawberries. He carries it down. Miranda is trying to sit up, which she manages with the help of some pillows.
Spike: “Must be from Alex. Think we’d have heard if the other’s were up.”
He puts the tray down on the bed and sits down next to it.
Miranda: “Blimey. He’s got serious ‘personal assistant’ potential. Look, he’s even put a couple of pain pills under the butter.”
Miranda pours the tea for them both and she nibbles on some toast. Spike feeds her a strawberry.
Miranda: “How long was I out for?”
Spike: “Uh, about three or four days, more or less. Ok, three days, 19 hours and 30 minutes. Not that I was counting.”
Miranda: “God, and you were in that chair the whole time? Did you get anything to eat?”
Spike: “Pig’s blood. Cold.”
Miranda: “Bastard. [pause] So, uh...I guess you had plenty of time to think about...stuff.”
Spike: “We’ve already had this conversation, love. Don’t you remember?”
Miranda: “I believe I was unconscious at the time, so I may need a refresher.”
Spike: [frowning] “Thought you probably heard anyway.”
Miranda: “Sorry. I knew you were there—I heard your voice, but not the details.”
Spike: “But there was a whole speech—I’m not going to repeat it.”
Miranda: [disbelieving] “A speech. Really?”
Spike: “Well, yeah. There was humor and, you know, emotion and drama. [smirking] It was bloody fantastic and you missed it.”
Miranda: “Let’s hear it then.”
Spike: “Sorry—it was a one-off.”
Miranda: [pouting] “Aw, William.”
Spike: “No. It’d sound rehearsed if I tried to repeat it.”
Miranda: “So give me the nutshell version.”
Spike: “Don’t really know if I’m in the mood now.”
She touches his cheek with the back of her hand, gently.
Miranda: [in a more serious voice] “I know you want to play now, love. I do too, but we should have things worked out before the others arrive.”
Spike: [He takes hold of her hand and restlessly moves it around a bit. After a few minutes he sighs. finally…] “I’m happy, M. That’s all there is, really. Don’t know as I’ve ever been just...happy. I love being with you—the things we do. I love you. [She closes her eyes when he says this—it’s been so long.] I can’t imagine anything better than this...and I’ve got a pretty wicked imagination. The thing is, I want to live this life—I’ll try to live this life, but it isn’t the life I was made to live. What if I can’t do it? What if I mess up? I don’t want to hurt you—I don’t want to mess things up for you. I try not to think about it—how easy it would be to walk outside right now and suck the life out of someone like I used to do EVERY bloody DAY—but the thoughts come flooding in. [trying to help her understand] The high you get from the Quickening, yeah—think it's not unlike the feeling I get from hunting, killing. I want to resist it, but I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”
Miranda: [smiling] “Open the drawer in the bedside table for me and pull out the little blue bag.”
He does as she asks and hands her the bag (it’s from Tiffany’s). She pulls a box out from the bag—in the process, she realizes that her arm has healed enough for her to use it. She opens the box and takes something from it, which she quickly hides in her hand. She moves the box and the bag aside.
Miranda: “This is for you.” [She opens her hand towards him to reveal a ring. It looks very similar to the one she has, only it’s bigger and more masculine.] “I had it made to match the one you gave me—I should’ve thought to bring it to L.A., but I wasn’t expecting you to agree so quickly to the whole commitment ceremony thing. Guess it worked out. I don’t see a reason to wait anymore. [She takes the ring between her thumb and index finger and holds it up.] This is me, saying that I know you’re strong enough. The way you were in Europe—the way you’ve been since we’ve been back. You saved me, William, in more ways than one. You know how to do this. I’ve seen it in you. If you know what’s right for me, then you know what’s right for you. And I’ll be there to help. Always. So maybe we’ll mess up once in a while—doesn’t matter. I promise to love you forever. I promise to be with you, no matter what, so long as you try. I believe in you, Spike. With all my heart. Will you take it?”
He looks at it a moment, then takes it and slips it on his ring finger without saying a word. No one has ever said anything like that to him. It makes him feel strong, but in a different way than he’s ever experienced strength before. It’s something other—something foreign. Who knew after 100 years of being dead, you could suddenly experience a completely new emotion. So it’s a challenge. There doesn’t seem to be anything to say about it—too many words already today for his taste. Ok then. With his left hand, he takes her left hand and pulls it up to his lips and kisses it. They look into each other’s eyes for a moment. Then he takes another strawberry and feeds it to her.
Spike: “Let’s have a bath.”
Miranda: “Fantastic.”