I'll Fly Away

3-25-03

Part 4: Like a Bird

Dawn was curled up on the sofa, the very picture of teen angst. Buffy half-expected Frankie Avalon to pop out of her popcorn bowl and start crooning comfort. Everytime Buffy went near her, she cried harder.

"I'm sorry Dawnie. If there was any way…" She flapped her hands, feeling helpless.

Just then, the unmistakable odor of cigarettes and nightfall announced Spike's arrival from the back porch.

He swept into the living room, coat swinging. He took in Buffy's distress, the phone lying where she'd thrown it, and Willow sitting on the floor, digging through videotapes for something not described by the critics as "stirring" or "heartbreaking" or "gut-wrenching." She discarded The English Patient, Steel Magnolias, and Bambi, briefly considered Titanic, then set it aside. The fatherly Mr. Andrews and his clock was not of the happy. And poor Jack, who'd made Willow reconsider boys.

Spike bent to look at Dawn's splotchy face, noted that she was worse off than before.

"Slayer, what'd you do to her?"

Buffy sputtered in outrage. Insufferable vampire. I can't believe I just let him fondle me again. I hereby declare that fondling will cease from this moment on. Unless Brad Pitt, in his Tristan get-up, walks in right now.

Dawn spoke, but the barrage of words was so garbled by grief that it sounded like she was speaking Fyarl. "Da..sa….Icould…if…Buff…won' do…bitch." The last was devastatingly clear.

Willow held up a copy of Gone With the Wind. "We can watch the south rise from the ashes of defeat!"

Buffy snatched the cassette, ignoring Spike's smirk, and tossed it onto the sofa cushions. "No!"

Shrugging at Buffy's rather loud objection to hoopskirts and Reconstruction, Willow turned to Spike. "Mr. Summers offered to take Dawn to Japan with him, but his plane leaves tonight. We have no way to get her there. Xander has the flu."

"I'll take her. My car's out front."

Buffy's head shot up. "No way."

Spike looked hurt. "You've trusted me with her before, Buffy."

"That was here, at home. Not on a six-lane highway in a vehicle that looks like it belongs in the Jellicle junkyard with cats laying on it. And you are so not licensed." Dawn wasn't eighteen yet. Buffy pictured Doris Kroeger clutching her cow mug and licking her chops.

Dawn wasn't listening. She'd thrown her arms around Spike with a joy usually reserved for Christmas or the buying of shoes.

"Oh, you are a marvelous vampire!" She planted a smacking kiss on his forehead before tearing upstairs to get the bags she'd never unpacked.

Buffy glared at Spike with a hostility usually reserved for seven-foot demons and Dawn's fish casserole. The girl could open the gates between dimensions but she couldn't remember to open the oven door on time.

"I still say no. It's too far. You're too…you."

Spike puffed out an unnecessary, frustrated breath. "Fine. Come with us. Supervise. Oversee. Dictate like… like…Joseph Stalin!" He flung himself down next to Willow.

Buffy blinked at him in surprise. "Am I that bad?"

Willow and Spike just looked at each other. Buffy narrowed her eyes. She remembered them outside, on the swing, talking in low voices. Well, she'd just shock the hell out of them both.

"Fine. I'll go. We'll go to LAX, drop Dawn off and come home. No funny business."

Spike's pale head shot up. "Really?"

"Really?" Willow echoed.

"Who are you two tonight? Frick and Frack? You heard what I said."

Just then, three huge suitcases tumbled down the stairs, landing with a crash by the front door. Dawn's feet pounded on the stairs.

Buffy yanked Spike into the kitchen by his coat sleeve. He lounged against the counter where Buffy's talented mother once chopped and cooked and made hot chocolate for the likes of him.

"What is this, love? Did you want to make me a snack?"

"I'm not having sex with you again, Spike." She cut to the chase.

Something flashed in his eyes, then was gone. "Who said I wanted to?"

That was so absurd, after all he'd said and done, that she burst out laughing. Something like affection bubbled in her chest as she regarded him, her fast and funny hipster in black leather. So tough, yet so full of faults and imperfections, like an old shoe.

He looked at the ceiling instead of her. "I promise not to have my wicked way with you in the car or the airport. I won't plunder your virtue at the gas station or the rest area. I won't besmirch your lily-white reputation in the BK drive-thru or in the toll line. They'll be no humping in the hangar, no debauchery in the Desoto." He was on a roll. Buffy stared at him, mouth hanging open.

"Have I forgotten anything, sweetheart? Oh, yes, I have. The sidewalk between the airport and the car. I'll imagine that it's covered in dozens of pointy stakes and somehow resist the urge to ravage you right then and there next to the parking meter. In fact, I'll never ravage you again until I hear those three little words come out of little peachbud of a mouth. And since it's pretty safe to say that you'll never utter "Spike, ravage me," I guess we're just done."

He stomped past her, muttering, "You think a lot of yourself, Slayer."

*******************************************************

"Bit, you're going to buy new clothes, anyway. Is this completely necessary?" Spike threw himself against the third suitcase, trying to shove it with his considerable vampire strength.

"That one's not clothes, Spike. It's everything else." Dawn threw her hairdryer, make-up kit and leather boots into the back seat.

Buffy watched them from the porch for a moment before walking up behind Spike. She tapped him on the shoulder, nudged him aside, and gave the suitcase a shove. It slid easily into the trunk.

"I'm still not sure this is a good idea," Buffy muttered, making Willow role her eyes. She was flipping through Spike's music collection. Buffy wished she'd go away, work on her addiction or something. Buffy flushed with shame at her own meanness. It was his fault. He made her act like an evil, skanky ho.

"I had other plans!"

"Like what, love? Town's been pretty quiet. Besides, the nasties will probably just follow you out of town."

Evil, bloodsucking fiend. "I had something more entertaining in mind than hanging out with you. This car is more square than my coffin.

He looked mildly interested. "Like…" he prompted.

"Like scraping grout off the tiles or stocking up on paper towels or, or…watching Bob Vila fix chimneys!"

Point made, she leaned against the car in a huff. Willow was in her seat.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Spike shoving something under the driver's seat. Her eyes narrowed. She crept up behind him and grabbed for his…box of cigarettes. Well, it wasn't a gun or anything, but she'd salvage what she could of the moment.

"I'll hold onto these. You don't need to smoke around us."

"Bloody hell, Buffy! Give 'em back!" He made a wild grab. Buffy danced away. He gritted his teeth and Dawn shot her a dirty look.

"Just get in the car, Slayer."

Willow clambered out and Buffy gingerly sat down. She stared at his glovebox, wondering what was in there. Body parts? Contraband? Her panties?

Dawn arranged herself in the back seat, then leaned out the window to hug Willow. Apparently Spike had the Lesbian thumbs-up, because Willow Benedict Arnold Rosenberg hugged him goodbye and--oh, gag--kissed his cheek. Buffy leaned over and tooted the horn, making everyone jump.

"Let's go! I want to be back in time to…be back."

Spike slid into the driver's seat, threw the car in reverse, and roared backward, narrowly missing the Johnson's mailbox. Mrs. Johnson peered out her upstairs window, probably expecting to see a Sherman tank rumbling past.

Dawn clapped on some headphones.

Buffy slouched in her seat.

******************************************************************

Dawn fell asleep when they were halfway there, leaning against a dufflebag. Buffy regarded her fondly.

Spike drove fast, determined to get Dawn where she wanted to be. Buffy wondered if their father would really be waiting at the gate, or if he'd find an excuse to take off earlier. Buffy hoped not--Spike had threatened to follow him to the orient, hunt him down like big game and make chop suey out of his parts. Buffy looked over at the source of the threat, who was chewing on one of Dawn's Twizzlers and tapping his thumbs on the wheel. Earlier, they'd stopped for gas, and Spike and Dawn had promptly disappeared into the little food mart. They'd emerged some minutes later with a huge bag of…Buffy hesitated to call it food. String gum and pork rinds and cheez whiz were not food. When Buffy made a face Dawn had tersely informed her that pigging out on a road trip was tradition.

Maybe Dawn was in a coma from all the sugar.

The wind ruffled Spike's hair like a lover. Buffy wondered what it had looked like in the days of the erstwhile poet William.

"What color was your hair?" The question popped out, unbidden. "I mean, I know it was brown because of the hair on…" She caught herself.

Embarrassed, she reached out and flipped on the radio. They'd fought for fifteen minutes over the station, until Dawn demanded that they turn it off completely.

He leaned over and switched it off again.

"My mum used to say it the color of chamomile tea, weakly brewed. We drank a lot of tea in those days. Drank it when we were happy, when we were sick, when we nervous, and when we were grief-stricken. Had tea on the brain."

Spike had a mother. Imagine that. "What happened to her?"

I didn't kill her, if that's what you're asking." Buffy flushed. "She lived a long life and was buried with my father at Highgate, among the believers."

They were quiet for awhile. Dawn grunted in her sleep. Buffy fished some gummy bears from the shopping bag of doom. She munched them absently, until Spike interrupted.

"Hey, now. You're doing that wrong."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You don't nibble on the bear's feet first. You bite of his head." He was actually serious.

"I don't do it that way. I leave the head for last."

Spike snorted. "And they call me cruel."

"And I suppose you've killed a real, live bear before, Mr. Traveling Man." Buffy pitched a green bear at his head, hoping it would stick in his hair.

"Damn right I have. Alaska, 1950. Dru and I toured the tundra. Killed a great big Kodiak, then gave it to the natives. They invited us to eat it with them, and then we---"

"Butchered the Inuits and left them stacked in their igloos?"

"I was going to say we made offerings to the bear spirit, gave thanks for its life and the gift of its death."

The words struck to close to home. Buffy turned the radio on, and this time he didn't switch it off. Buffy let the music lull her into a semi-doze. Greenday. Nice.

Buffy opened her eyes when Spike swerved around a big rig. He really was unique, like nobody else. She reached into her bag and produced one of his cigarettes, reached over and curled his fingers around it. He rewarded her with a genuine smile.

Buffy ate the rest of the gummy bears head first.

******************************************************************

"Flight 703 to Malaysia…Flight 802 to Japan, now boarding…"

Buffy tightened her grip on Dawn's arm. Spike had the other one, and they were towing the sleepy girl through the airport. Her sleepy sugar-addled brain hadn't had time to catch up with her legs, but time was running dangerously short after their latest wrestling match with Dawn's luggage.

Finally, they came to the gate. And there he stood, Hank Summers. Her father in theory if not execution.

Dawn suddenly recovered from her maidenly affliction and rushed forward into his arms. To Buffy, it appeared that Hank didn't look particularly thrilled. He seemed surprised, kept looking at Dawn like she was some imposter who'd slipped in and done away with the pig-tailed child of yore.

Buffy felt Spike tense beside her and placed a hand on his arm. He didn't have bite, but his bark would be terrifying enough to the innocents packing the airport. And it might give her Dad a fatal heart attack. His muscles uncoiled under her hand one at a time, and she felt a tiny thrum of satisfaction. She never asked for such power over him, but it was intoxicating, like honey wine.

Buffy moved forward, gave her father an awkward embrace, moved back to Spike's side.

Oh, no. Introductions.

"Dad, this is Spike, my…"

Her what, exactly? Her vampire? Her former lover? Her sometime enemy? Her ally? Her confessor? Her cheerleader? Her champion?

She'd take all of the above and call it a day.

"Friend," Dawn piped up. "Her friend." She gave Buffy a saucy wink. Oh, God. She knows. About the fondling, then and now. At least she doesn't know the details. And Buffy hoped she never would. What they'd done at the Bronze, against walls, and on the front lawn. What she'd done to him in that alley…

Hank was looking at his watch, "We have to go, Dawn."

Dawn rushed forward and threw one arm around Buffy, the other around Spike. She squeezed hard, then pulled back. "Don't kill each other while I'm gone, okay?"

Spike barked out a laugh, but it sounded sandpapery. "You watch out for those Japanese blokes, Bit. I hear they're wily."

"Dawn…" Buffy remembered her earlier thought.

But when she opened her mouth, only half of what she wanted to say came out.

"I would have chosen you." She looked pleadingly into her sister's eyes, willing her to understand.

Buffy could only hope she had as Hank grabbed Dawn's arm and pulled her toward those waiting to board. The line moved, the crowd shifted.

And then she was gone.

Buffy and Spike were left standing there, slightly dazed, like parents who'd just had a newborn taken from their line of sight for the first time, or watched a child board the school bus by themselves.

***********************************************************

The airport bar was crowded.

Spike lifted his glass. "To Nibblet. The Japanese shoe industry will never be the same."

Buffy clinked her glass against his. "It seems like just yesterday that she went parking with vamps for the first time."

Spike laughed. "Did you know she painted my toenails lilac when I fell asleep on the couch?"

Buffy choked on her drink. "Remember the wish to Halfrek on my birthday?"

"How could I forget. Dainty Richard got sliced and diced on his very first night with ye olde Scooby gang."

Buffy blushed. "He was very sweet. And wierded out by us. He's probably off writing a soon-to-be bestseller about the experience and his emotional recovery."

Spike was looking at her intently. "I was jealous."

Buffy nodded. "I know."

And just like that, the atmosphere changed from nostalgic to heated. Spike's eyes burned into hers, asking a million questions that she had no good answer for. Not yet. Soon.

**********************************************************************

Spike slid into the driver's seat. "Buckle up, Princess."

Buffy sat quietly beside him, deep in thought.

"So, Slayer. Did you want to go home the usual way or take the scenic route?" He reached across her and fumbled in the glove box for a map. Buffy bent down to look. Oddly enough, there was nothing gory or obscene in there, just crumpled up balls of note-paper and a tin of honey-lemon lozenges.

He shrugged. "Those are Glinda's."

"Tara rides in your car?"

"Now and then. She's a good girl. Now, about the route, Slayer…" He had his eyes fixed on the map. "Unless you don't want to go home," he joked.

Buffy stared straight ahead. "Okay."

He looked confused. "Okay, what?"

"Okay, drive."

"What way, Buffy?" He wasn't getting it.

"East. Or West. North. Maybe south. I don't care, Spike."

His mouth dropped open. "You don't want to go home?" Ah, that was her smart vampire.

"You're Mr. Traveling Man. Let's travel."

His mouth formed a perfect O.

The map fluttered to the ground as Spike peeled out of the parking lot.

TBC