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The Butterfly Effect	By : cousinjean Category: > Buffy/Spike(William) > Buffy/Spike(William) Views: 27632 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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The Butterfly Effect

by cousinjean

*

Chapter Four

***

They had tried following Mudge's scent, but Spike kept losing it, thanks to the rain. They reached the bar district before he lost it for good. He sighed. "What now?"

Buffy shrugged. "We hit Willy's? You'd better go in alone, though. Willy would recognize me, and he's a blabbermouth. It probably wouldn't be good for him to see us working together, either."

"Gotta agree. The less that gets around, the better."

Buffy's only reply was a sneeze. She followed it up with two more. Spike cocked his head and considered her. "Why don't you go home, Slayer? Dry off, get some rest. I can keep trying to sniff out this Mudge, at least until sunup."

"Yeah, I'm sure that'll go over well at Chez Summers. 'Hey, little Buffy. Sorry about punching you in the face. You mind scootching over to that side of the bed so I can grab a quick nap?' Anyway, I'm not letting you out of my sight."

He pretended to be wounded by her implications. "You don't trust me?"

She just looked at him.

He chuckled. "Smart girl."

"Smart enough not to just hand you that cross." She shook her head. "You help me, and you'll get it, Spike. But we have to do it right."

"Still� you're gonna catch your death if you don't get out of those wet clothes soon."

"Are we pretending you care?"

He looked at her, eyebrows raised, then leaned forward and enunciated clearly, "No." He straightened and kept walking. "But I care about curing Dru, and I guess that means we're stuck with each other for the nonce."

Buffy stopped walking and wrinkled her nose. "The nonce? What is that? Is that like shirty?"

He looked skyward and shook his head. "For the time being. And not a minute longer than necessary."

"Right." She hugged herself as she walked, and studied his profile. Even in the rain she could smell him, the linger of cigarette smoke and old leather tickling her nostrils. She turned her gaze straight ahead and, for just a minute, reveled in being with Spike, walking next to him, working with him, verbally sparring with him. Surrounded by his smell and keenly aware of the power that emanated from him. Even after all these months, she was still attuned to his presence. She tried to pretend that if she looked back, he'd be smiling down at her with eyes full of adoration. That if she moved closer and laced her fingers through his, he'd simply hold her hand, and she'd be able to read all over his face how much the gesture meant to him. A lump rose in her throat. She coughed to cover the sob that wanted to come out.

Spike stopped, his hands shoved deep in his pockets where there was no danger of brushing against hers. "That's it," he said. "We gotta get you dried off."

Buffy smiled at his concern, even if it wasn't actually for her. "What do you suggest?"

He looked around. "Can't exactly take you back to my place, even if I didn't want to keep it secret."

"What, you mean that old factory on Hudson?"

Spike glared at her. "I wish you'd stop doing that."

"Sorry."

He pointed. "Laundromat down the block. Come on."

"But we should talk to Willy first."

"Willy can wait," he said. "If there's one thing I know about you humans, it's how fragile you lot are. I won't have you suddenly keeling over and buggering up my future in the process."

"What happened to 'bugger my future, you'll make your own'?"

"I'm not taking chances with Dru's health."

Buffy sighed. "Fine. But my health is fine. It's just the beginnings of a little cold. Slayer healing, remember?"

He bent down in her face and repeated, "Not. Taking. Chances." He straightened and started for the Laundromat. "Now come on! Willy'll still be there when we're dry. Beauty thing about time travel, you've got all the time in the world."

Buffy took a moment to enjoy the sight of him walking away before she followed. She sighed again as she entered behind him. She hated Laundromats. The last time she'd been in one, Molly had accidentally left a stake in her pocket and busted their machine at home, flooding the basement in the process. So she'd had to take about a dozen girls - and Andrew - and twice as many loads of clothes to the Sunnydale Clean-o-Rama while Spike and Xander fixed the machine. She'd passed most of the night recalling the image of a sleepy, barefoot and bare-chested Spike splashing around in the inch of water that already covered the basement floor and grousing about his stuff getting wet. And then imagining him wielding tools and leaning over the broken washer. Wondering if he and Xander were getting along. Wondering even more at the mechanical prowess of a guy who predated pretty much every machine she'd ever asked him to fix, and trying to figure out why that was so sexy.

"I guess you had to learn how to be pretty handy with fixing things over the years," she said out loud.

Spike looked confused. "Uh, yeh, I s'pose. Say, you're not running a fever or anything like that, are you?"

"Sorry. Just consider that the caboose on a weird train of thought."

"How 'bout I don't consider it at all?"

Wow. She'd almost forgotten what an asshole he could be sometimes. She shrugged. "Suit yourself," she said, looking around. They were the only ones there, thankfully. A restroom sign shown from an alcove behind a bank of washers. Buffy turned to Spike. "Give me your coat."

He blinked at her. "Pardon?"

"Your coat?" She held out her hand and waited. When he just kept staring at her, she let it drop to her side. "I have to wear something while my clothes dry."

"Oh, right." He nodded. "And meanwhile I'll just sit over here and drip-dry, shall I?"

"You can put your stuff in with mine if you want. But I'm not going to sit around here naked."

"And you expect me to?"

Buffy looked him up and down, well aware that she was leering. She raised her eyebrows. "Since when do you have a problem with nudity?"

"Since I'm stuck with pain-in-the-ass Slayers who know too bloody much." He half-growled, half-sighed as he shrugged out of his duster. "Take it," he said, throwing it at her.

Buffy shook her head. "Ever the gentleman," she said, smoothing out the leather as she headed for the bathroom.

***

Spike glared at her back as she headed off to change. He couldn't believe the nerve of that bloody bitch, demanding his coat like that. More galling was that he'd given it to her. Even worse was that he'd almost done it as soon as she asked. The way she'd just expected him to do it, like it was perfectly normal� like she was used to not having to ask.

He turned around and kicked a chair, but was deprived of the satisfaction of seeing it fly into the wall by the fact of its being bolted to the floor. He had no business thinking what he was thinking. It� it just wasn't possible. And he hadn't seen enough evidence to bother freaking out. Sure, the little things seemed to add up to� but he was doing the math wrong. Had to be.

It was wrong, even by his standards. It was an abomination, even. No way he would�

Well, yeah, okay, he would. But only once, just to see what it was like. Not like he'd ever be idiot enough to have feelings for a Slayer. Especially that Slayer. And anyway, he had Dru, who he loved, and that was never gonna change, so why was he even thinking about this?

He wanted a cigarette. But his cigs were in his coat. With her.

And why exactly did he give a bloody damn if she caught pneumonia?

He didn't. And that was that. Whatever had been going through his head earlier, he was making up his mind, here and now. He gave fuck all if this future Slayer lived or died. Didn't matter what her sob story was, or what she claimed to be to him. No amount of wide eyes and trembly, pouty lips were gonna sway him. He'd find this Mudge, get that cross, cure Dru, and bid this woman a hearty fuck off. Right?

Right.

That settled it, then. Spike blew out a sigh and dragged a hand through his hair. It came away wet, reminding him that he still had some drying off of his own to do. Sodding rain. He pulled off his damp shirt and used it to mop his hair, for all the good it would do. He dropped it on the floor with a wet plop, then sat down to remove his boots and socks.

He paused in the middle of unlacing his second boot. This was a fine how do you do. Him, half naked and shoeless, at the mercy of the strongest Slayer he'd ever met. 'Course, she'd be just as naked and vulnerable and� naked�

Bugger.

He shook his head and refocused on his laces. He pretended not to notice when she came out, but looked up in spite of himself when she called his name.

"Heads up," she said, tossing something to him.

He plucked it out of the air and stared at it. His cigarettes. "Uh� thanks."

"Figured you were out here jonesing for 'em."

"Well I wasn't," he lied, and laid them in the next chair to prove his point as he finished taking off his socks.

The Slayer just shrugged as she headed to a bank of dryers. She tossed most of her clothes in one, then started going through the pockets of her jeans, laying out the contents on top. Spike picked up his things and went to put them in with hers, marvelling at the surreal nature of this entire situation. His coat practically swallowed her up, reminding him just what a tiny little thing she was. It was easy to forget that about her. Harder to forget was the fact that she had nothing on underneath, that the coat he'd worn every day for the past twenty years was now caressing every inch of her bare flesh.

Making a big show of not paying attention to her, he surreptitiously watched her out of the corner of his eye. She was affecting him, all right; but he'd be damned if he'd let her know it. When her hand came up and absently caressed the coat's lapel, he caught himself imagining how it would feel to have it stroke his chest like that instead. He bit his tongue, hard enough to draw blood. It hurt, but at least for the moment it stopped the blood from flowing to places that would only get him in trouble.

She seemed to forget he was there as she lifted the leather to her nose and breathed in deep. That was enough of that. Time to get to the bottom of this. He went to light a cigarette, but realized he didn't have his lighter. Cigarette dangling from his lips, as casually as he could, he turned to face her and propped his hip against the dryer. "Got a light, Pet?"

She snapped out of whatever reverie she was in and stared up at him. "What did you say?"

He raised his eyebrows at her. "A light?" At her blank expression, he took the cigarette out of his mouth and held it up to help her understand. "You've still got my lighter." He glanced at her things and noticed it laying there. "Oh, there it is." He reached for it, but her hand shot out and grabbed his.

"That's not yours."

"Looks like mine."

"Trust me, it's not."

She was still holding his hand, and suddenly seemed very aware of that fact. Her gaze traveled up his arm and lingered on his bare chest. He tilted his head and watched, trying to puzzle her out. Her eyes flicked up to his for just an instant, then she ducked her head and jerked her hand away. He'd gotten the message, though, whether she'd meant to send it or not. She was still sending it. It was in the pounding of her heart, the scent of her arousal that was fueling his own. He smiled a little. Couldn't help it. Hell of a rush, it was, knowing that he could probably have her right here and now if he wanted. Set her up on the dryer, spread those cute little knees apart as he peeled off the coat and replaced it with his hands and mouth�

"Here," she said, digging in the coat's pockets. She pulled out his lighter and held it out to him. He took it and lit up, grateful for the distraction, as he started to pace. Walking was proving a bit painful for him at the moment, but he needed to move, to put some space between them.

Curiosity got the better of him, though, and he turned back and leaned past her to snatch her lighter. She tried to grab it back; but he held it out of her reach.

"Damn it, Spike!"

"Simmer down, Slayer. Just want to check something."

His lighter had gotten scratched up in Prague when he and Dru were ambushed by that mob. The Slayer's lighter had similar scratches. He pulled his back out and held them up to compare.

Correction. The Slayer's lighter had identical scratches. Bit more faded, but they were there.

Wordlessly, he handed hers back, trying to decide whether he really wanted answers to the questions trying to leap off his tongue.

"What's the lighter for, anyway?" he asked before he could stop himself. Keeping his mouth shut had never been his strong suit. "Don't tell me you start smoking."

"No." She turned the lighter over in her hands, then laid it back on the dryer. "It's� I carry it for luck."

"Luck."

"Yep."

"Right." Spike nodded. "So, Pet, you want to tell me what kind of future we have that you'd be carrying my lighter around for luck?"

"Not really."

"We had a deal, Slayer. You promised to be straight with me, answer my questions."

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Spike�"

"What am I to you, where you come from? What are we gonna be to each other?"

She looked up at him and smiled, a little wistfully. "You really want to know?"

"Wouldn't be asking if I didn't."

"Okay." She breathed in, deep. "We were�" Her eyes drifted past him, as if searching for the right words. Then they locked back onto his. "Best friends."

"Oh." Spike blinked at her. "Huh." That was the last thing he'd expected. Lovers, he was prepared for. Fuck buddies? Even better. But friends? And best friends, no less. "Is that all?" he asked, and cringed inwardly at the hope in his voice. Though which way he hoped she'd answer, he couldn't exactly say.

"No," she said quietly. "It was� complicated." She shook her head. "Nothing about you and me is ever that simple, Spike."

"Yeh, I'm starting to get that." He took a deep breath and forged ahead. "So, how the hell do we�"

"It's a really, really long story."

He pointed at the timer on the dryer. "We've got time to kill."

She looked at the timer and pursed her lips. Wrapping his coat more tightly around herself, she shook her head and said, "I don't even know where to start."

"How about you start with why the hell I'm so buddy-buddy with you when Dru�" Oh, bloody� No. Please� "Does�" He swallowed. "Does something happen to her?"

"What? No! No, nothing like that."

Closing his eyes, he sighed. "Then what-"

"You guys just� break up, is all."

His eyes flew open. "Is all?!" He barked out a laugh. "Nobody just breaks up after more than a century together!"

"Look, I don't know everything that happened with you guys. It's not like I was there when she dumped you."

Spike knew his mouth was hanging open, but it took a moment to summon the will to close it. "Oh, this just gets better and better," he said, turning away. "But of course she dumps me. It's not like I'd ever�"

"Spike, just calm down."

"Easy for you to say!" He threw his cigarette and watched it bounce off the window, sparks flying. Then he rounded on her. "Why? Can you tell me that much?"

"I told you, I don't-"

"Come on, Pet. You've gotta know something, what with us being 'best friends' and all."

The Slayer folded her arms. "You didn't exactly talk my ear off about your ex." He just glared at her, until finally she rolled her eyes. "Fine," she said with a weary sigh. "Last time she was in town, she said� I mean, she sort of indicated�"

"Spit it out, kitten."

"She left you because you were already in love with me." She cringed, as if bracing herself. But Spike just found a chair and slumped into it. He felt like he was gonna be sick.

"'Already'?" He looked up at the Slayer. "When does she�?"

"About six months from now."

The sympathy on her face was too much. He shut his eyes and looked away.

"Anyway," she went on, "Drusilla wasn't exactly guilt-free, you know. She-"

He held up a hand. "Don't. Just� save it." He made himself look at her. "So� what? Dru splits, and we�"

"No. I told you, it's a long story." She shuffled over and, after a brief hesitation, took the seat facing him. "It's not like we start getting along overnight. I mean, you leave town for like a year, then there's the chip-"

"The what, now?"

"That's an even longer story. And then there's the dying�"

"Whose?"

"Mine."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I got better."

"So I gathered."

She started to play with her nails. "Anyway, then there was the year from hell, and� well, that's when we�" She glanced up at him, then went back to her cuticles. "And that was� bad."

"What, you mean the sex?"

"What? No!" She looked surprised that he'd even suggest such a notion. At first he thought it was the notion that they'd even have sex, but then she smiled a bashful little smile and started to nod. "No, the sex was�" Color crept into her cheeks as she met his eyes. "It was definitely of the good."

He leaned back in his chair and smirked. "Damn skippy," he said, lacing his fingers behind his head.

"But the rest of it�" Her smile faded. "We just didn't know how to be together. It was... I think that was one of the worst years of both our lives."

His smirk faded as he studied her. "I take it we're still not to the friends part yet."

"We're getting there. So we broke up, and that was even worse on so many different levels. Then there was the soul, and the crazy and the First Evil-"

"Whoa, whoa." Spike straightened in his chair. "Back it up. Then there was the what?!"

"Oh." The Slayer had an "oh shit" look on her face, and he could practically see the cogs in her brain turning as she tried to figure out how to put that particular cat back in its bag. "The, ah�"

"The soul."

She waved a hand as if to dismiss it. "It's not what you think. I mean, it's not like Angel. You don't get cursed or anything."

Spike stood up. "But I have a soul."

"Just a little one."

"Uh huh." Spike looked around for his boots. "You know what, Slayer?" he asked as he went to put them on. "It's been fun. Wish I could stay and help, but I'm a bit busy not having a soul."

She got up. "Spike, don't-"

"And might I say, bollocks to you, and your future. And your good sex." He shoved past her and yanked open the dryer. She grabbed his arm, but he shook her off. "Piss off, Slayer."

"Spike, would you just-"

But he was already out the door, tugging on his shirt as he went. When he got outside he just stood there for a moment, letting the cool rain wash down his face as his senses took in his surroundings. There was a human not a block away. Spike started in that direction.

He'd show her soul.

***

"Great, Buffy. Just... great." She'd forgotten who she was talking to. Let herself get too comfortable, and say too much. Forgot it wasn't really him. That he still had so far to go.

She knew he needed some space, and time to process everything she just told him, but she didn't have the luxury of being able to give him either. She had to go after him, if for no other reason than to make him take the potion. Her shoes on, Buffy grabbed the vial and followed Spike out the door. She'd seen him go left, so she went that way, but she saw no sign of him.

"Damn it," she muttered. She was ready to go back inside and hope he'd calm down and come back for his coat when she heard a scream. Buffy's stomach sank as she ran toward the sound. She rounded a corner into an alley and stopped short. There he was, about a quarter way down the alley, with his back to her.

Feeding.

"Son of a�"

She ran to him, grabbed his shoulder and tore him off his victim. The girl stumbled forward, grabbing her neck as a laughing Spike staggered backwards.

"Oh my God," she said, "ohmigodohmigodohmigod�"

Buffy took her by the arm. "Hey." When she kept freaking out, Buffy gave her a shake. "Hey!"

The girl looked at her, and then at Spike, terrified.

"Go home," Buffy told her. The girl choked on a sob and ran like hell. Buffy turned her attention to Spike, still in game face, laughing so hard he had to double over and clutch his ribs.

"You son of a bitch," she said.

He straightened up. "What's the matter, Slayer? Not soulful enough for you?"

She hit him. Hard. Hard enough to cut her knuckles on his teeth, in fact, but she barely noticed as she watched him fly through the air about ten feet and then skid a few feet more. She was on him again before he even knew what hit him, hauling him up by fistfuls of his tee-shirt and slamming him into a wall.

"What're you gonna do?" he challenged. "We both know you're not gonna kill me."

"No," she said, "but I swear to God, if you try anything like that again on my watch I will beat you until you beg me to let you die."

"That so?"

She tightened her grip on his shirt and lifted him off the ground. "Do you really want to try me, Spike?"

He laughed again. "Take a good look, Slayer. This is me. I'm not some soul-whipped, lovesick pup who's content to follow at your heels. That's Angel's schtick."

She let him down and stood back. "Believe me, Spike. I know what you are."

"Do you?" He pushed off the wall and swaggered up to her until he was in her face, as close as he could get to her without touching her. Close enough to kiss. He raised a hand, and for a moment Buffy thought he might touch her face, and caught her breath in anticipation. But instead he traced a finger down the coat's lapel. "Do you know where I got this coat, Love?" His voice was a silky caress, but it hardened on the last word, challenging her to correct him. She didn't rise to the bait. "I took it off of the last Slayer I killed, while her corpse was still warm."

Buffy maintained a bored expression as she looked into his golden eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Nikki Wood. Subway, New York, during your punk phase. She had a death wish and you snapped her neck."

He sighed and dropped his hand, standing back as his face shifted back to human, the better to read his irritation.

She shrugged. "Was that supposed to scare me?"

"Well, yeh, I thought it might."

Buffy sighed and rubbed her face. "Spike, I am so tired, and I'm really not in the mood for your stupid vampire posturing bullshit." She pulled out the vial. "I have a job to do. Help me or don't, your call. But you're not going to get in my way."

He nodded at the potion. "What's that?"

"It's to make you forget that you ever saw me here. You won't remember any of the stuff I told you, so you can't go screw it up."

"Bugger that. I'm not taking that. You can't make me."

Buffy laughed. "Let me explain something to you, Spike. You might have been able to intimidate sixteen-year-old Buffy, because she doesn't know yet what she's capable of. But the Buffy you're talking to now?" She moved to get in his face. "I've fought and won more apocalypses than I can count on one hand. I've slain more demons that I can count, period, who were a hell of a lot stronger than you. Hell, half the time I had to save your ass in the process."

He lifted his chin and looked down his nose at her. "Better watch that cockiness, Pet. That sort of thing gets Slayers killed."

She shook her head. "I'm not cocky. I'm not telling you this out of arrogance. I'm not even trying to scare you. I'm just telling you how it is. You do not want to underestimate me." She stepped back. "And I'm not underestimating you, either. I do know what you're capable of, good and bad. You are strong, and you're smart-at least as long as you don't let your impulsiveness get in the way. And you persevere. That's why I'm asking you to help me. But if you don't?" She shrugged. "It's up to you. But either way, when you're done? You're going to take this potion, if I have to hold you down and pour it down your throat."

He stared at the vial, then at her, his face full of contempt. "You'd deprive me of my right to decide my future?"

"You don't understand. It's already been decided. It's already done. You're a ghost, Spike. You don't get to change the outcome."

His eyes narrowed, making him look even more hateful. God, Buffy hated this so much. If she had just gone straight to the cemetery�

"A ghost," he said. His hands shot out and grabbed her arms, yanking her against him. "This feel like a ghost to you, Slayer?"

She shoved him away. "Compared to the Spike I knew? That's all you'll ever be! He-" She swallowed, trying to keep her voice from breaking. "My Spike had to make a lot of tough choices, but they were the right choices for him. And I will not let you take that from him." She batted at a tear that rolled down her cheek. "I won't let you take him from me."

He just stared at her, and this was one of the few times that she couldn't tell what he was thinking simply by looking at him. She put away the potion. "Come back inside, and help me get this done right. Please."

He considered her a moment longer, then without a word, turned and headed out of the alley.

Buffy blew out a long sigh, then followed. After a moment she fell into step beside him. As they turned the corner toward the Laundromat, he looked her up and down.

"Nikki was pretty tough, too, y'know."

"So you've told me."

"You'd do well to remember how easily I killed her."

She nodded. "I know." They reached the door, but Buffy paused and looked up at him before pulling it open. "But do you know what I'm busy remembering?"

"What?"

"How you spared her son."

Spike snorted. "Shows what you know. I didn't even know she had a kid."

"No," said Buffy. "But you will in about five years when he tries to kill you." She opened the door and went inside. She was a little worried when he didn't come in right behind her, but she didn't turn around. When she finally heard him come in, she smiled.

*

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The Butterfly Effect

The Butterfly Effect