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Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground	By : cousinjean Category: AtS/BtVS Crossovers > Het - Male/Female > Buffy/Spike(William) > Buffy/Spike(William) Views: 2581 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS) or Angel, the Series (AtS); nor any of the characters from them. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Dead Leaves & the Dirty Ground

by cousinjean

Chapter Six - As the World Falls Down

RATING: R
PREVIOUSLY: Buffy's back from hell, and she's definitely the worse for wear.

A/N: Title from David Bowie, as suggested by hold_that_thought.

~*~

Dawn tried to back away, but the counter blocked her. "Buffy, I�m s-"

"Please don't say you're sorry. 'Cause then I'll have to say I'm not and, well, that exchange is tired."

"Are-" Dawn's voice came out high pitched, and her lip began to tremble. She swallowed, and tried again. "Are you gonna kill me?"

"What? No!" Buffy looked genuinely shocked as she reached out and took Dawn's hand.

Dawn let out the breath she'd been holding. Maybe it wasn't as bad as she'd first thought. Buffy still seemed like herself - maybe she still had her soul. Or maybe - maybe she could be like Spike was, before the soul and the Shanshu.

Maybe everything was still okay.

"You're way too valuable to kill," said Buffy.

Then again, maybe not.

Buffy turned Dawn's hand over and traced the bandage there. "I wondered how long it would take you guys to figure it out. I was about to give up hope." Peeling back the bandage, she licked her lips. "Y'know, I've never had any human blood."

Dawn snatched her hand away. Buffy giggled, exposing a mouthful of sharp teeth. Something in Dawn's stomach broiled, and she thought she might heave. She began to edge away from Buffy - no, from the vampire that used to be Buffy - gripping the counter behind her. Her hand brushed cold metal. "Spike will be back any minute," she warned as she palmed the object and felt what it was.

Spike's lighter.

Buffy's smile grew even wider and more monstrous, her yellow eyes gleeful. Dawn swallowed. There was nothing of her sister in that expression.

"I know," said Buffy.

She stepped forward. Dawn raised the lighter between them and flicked it on.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. You really expect me to be afraid of that itty bitty lighter? I thought I taught you better than that."

"You did." Dawn held up a can of hairspray and shot it through the flame, aiming an Aqua-Net fireball at Buffy's face. The vampire jumped back. Emboldened, Dawn worked her way over to the bathroom door, makeshift flame-thrower at the ready. She knew it wouldn't hold off Buffy forever; but if she could just make it out of the bathroom, maybe she could run, or find a better weapon. Or even just keep her at bay until Spike came back.

She could do this. She'd fought vampires before. Nothing special about this one. So it looked like a Slayer. Didn't mean it was as strong as one. The Slayer - Buffy - was dead. This was just another vampire.

As Dawn reached the door, Buffy lunged. Dawn shot another plume of flame at her. Buffy dodged it, but hung back, laughing. Outside the bathroom now, Dawn grabbed the door and slammed it shut, leaning all of her weight against it as Buffy slammed into it from the other side.

Dawn couldn't hold it for long. Forcing herself to stay calm, she scanned the room for a potential weapon, or even a barricade. A wooden chair sat a few feet away, just out of reach. Between assaults on the door, she stretched her foot toward it. It took four tries before she snagged the leg with her toes; two more to pull it in reach of her hands. She wedged the chair under the doorknob and then backed away.

With every 'thud!' against the bathroom door, the chair scraped as it moved a fraction of an inch. Dawn stood transfixed, watching and praying for it to hold. When the wood began to creak under pressure, she screamed; but the sound of tires rolling over gravel outside filled her with relief. She ran. The chair exploded behind her, the bathroom door bursting open as Dawn reached the exit. She didn't wait for Spike to pull up in front, but ran to him and flagged him down in the middle of the parking lot. The Jeep skidded on gravel, kicking up dust.

"What's wrong?" he asked as Dawn climbed into the passenger seat. "Where's Buffy?"

"She� it�" God. She couldn't even say it. Not to him.

She didn't have to.

Buffy emerged from the room. Spike's whole body lit up as he turned to see her. But as blue eyes locked with yellow, the look on his face made Dawn want to cry. Except she was already crying.

"No," he whispered.

"I'm sorry," Dawn managed.

Buffy smiled and slipped back inside.

Spike didn't say anything for a long time. He just sat there, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel - shock, horror and grief mingling on his face. His breathing grew heavier and more ragged, until finally he crumpled, dropping his forehead to the steering wheel with a sob. But in an instant he straightened back up, nostrils flaring, eyes filling with resolve.

"Stay here," he told Dawn.

"Why? What're you gonna do?"

He took a deep breath and set his jaw. "Have to take care of it." With that, he opened his door and slipped out of the Jeep, leaving the keys in the ignition. "I'm not out in five minutes, go somewhere. Call backup."

Dawn could only nod, even though Spike wasn't looking at her. He reached into the back and pulled out the dagger they'd used for the spell, then shut the door and went inside.

Dawn scooted over into the driver's seat, then reached down into the cubbyhole underneath the radio and grabbed her phone, seeing no reason to wait five minutes on the backup. She turned it on only to be greeted with a "No service" message. With a groan of frustration, she turned it off and waited. She couldn't see into the room, and had no idea what was happening. She wasn't sure how much time had gone by, either. Long enough, though. But no way would she just leave him.

Leaning over the back of the seat, Dawn found Spike's spell bag and rummaged through it. It held the pages, candles, the Wolfram & Hart file� but Spike had taken the only weapon. She attacked the glove box next, spilling its contents into the floorboards. Her efforts were rewarded with a stake that she'd held onto as a souvenir. Clutching it in one fist, and her useless phone in the other, Dawn took a deep breath, tried to still her shaking, and got out of the Jeep.

She'd expected to hear fighting. Furniture breaking, fists on flesh, bodies getting thrown into walls. But as she approached the motel room she was met with dead silence. The door hung slightly ajar. Dawns swallowed and nudged it open with her foot. There had definitely been a fight - the room was completely trashed. But Dawn saw no sign of Buffy or Spike, other than Spike's dagger stuck in the wall over the now broken television set.

"Spike?" she called, thinking he must be in the bathroom. Washing the dust off his hands. And maybe throwing up. She crept inside and crossed to the bathroom, knocking tentatively on the closed door. "Spike? You in there?"

When he didn't answer, she opened the door. And received a fist to the face.

By the time Dawn came to her senses, she heard car doors slamming outside, followed by the revving of an engine. She pulled herself up and stumbled over to the door just in time to see her Jeep peeling out, with Spike's unconscious (oh please let him be just unconscious) face slumped against the passenger window.

***

"Thanks again for dinner, guys."

"Sure," said Angel, following Xander into the hotel, a bit mystified that the boy had headed inside when they got there instead of hailing himself a cab. But no more so, really, than when he'd shown up in the first place, wanting to "hang out." Angel had been a little touched, at first. None of them should spend this night alone, and it was kinda nice that Xander considered him a friend enough to pass the occasion with. Even if he still didn't really like him. But he hadn't expected to have to entertain Xander for the entire evening. "My pleasure," he lied. He looked to Wesley and Fred for help as they entered, but they seemed oblivious to his discomfort.

"Nightcap?" Wes asked pleasantly, making straight for the counter Angel had converted into a bar last summer.

"Sounds good to me," said Fred as she hurried to help him. "What'll you have, Xander?"

"Beer for me. Nothing fancy." Xander turned to look Angel up and down. "You do have beer, right?"

"Yes, I have beer." Angel realized he still stood in the entrance, holding the door open. He let it go and sauntered down the steps. "Guinness. Real beer, not that watered down crap you're used to. Make it two, Wes."

Xander held up his hands. "No need to get touchy. I just didn't know what might tickle your taste buds now that you're not on a liquid diet. I forgot that you're from the days of grog."

"What? I'm not that old."

"No," said Wesley. "In his day, they'd graduated to mead."

"No we didn't! I mean-- Shut up, Wes." Angel took two bottles and handed one to Xander. "You know, we'd all understand if you wanted to go check on Dawn�"

Xander waved away the suggestion. "Nah. She and Spike need some quality time together. They'll help each other through tonight a lot better than I could."

"I'm just glad that Spike's getting out and being with people again," said Fred as she came around the counter to join them. "He's been so sad."

"Guess whatever you said to him the other day worked," said Angel. "Just as long as he doesn't try anything we'll all regret."

"Well," said Xander, "like I said, Willow told him that those books are useless. He's given up."

"Damn," muttered Wesley. Angel looked over to see him mopping up the martini that he'd sloshed on the counter.

"You okay there, Wes?"

"Of course," he said, and downed the remains of his drink.

"Speaking of Willow," said Xander, pulling his phone from his pocket, "I should try her again. I hate the idea that she's alone ton-"

"Fly me to the moon, and let me swing among the stars�"

Lorne burst through the front door; arms spread wide, palms up. He paused to spin on the landing before waltzing down the steps and over to Fred.

"Let me see what life is like on Jupiter and Mars�"

As he sang, he swept her into his arms, twirled her around, and dipped her.

Giggling, Fred extricated herself from Lorne's embrace. "What's gotten into you?"

"Only the joy of knowing thine own self, Sugar. Alexander!"

"Huh?"

"Sing for us, bubelah!"

The Master� the Mayor� an apocalyptic demon army� Xander had faced them all, but Angel had never seen him look quite so frightened as he did just then, frozen with his phone halfway to his ear, wide eyes staring at Lorne like he was an oncoming set of headlights.

"What? Sing� Boob� What?!"

"Nothing fancy, just hum a few bars. Anything at all." Lorne was all smiles as he waited for Xander to launch into song. Angel didn't bother hiding his smirk.

Xander's phone rang. "Oh, damn," he said, doing a wholly unconvincing job of feigning disappointment. "Any other time I'd be thrilled, but I gotta answer this."

As he slunk off to a secluded corner of the lobby, Lorne didn't miss a beat. He turned to Angel. "How's about it, Lambikins? Give us your best rendition of Mandy."

Okay, now this wasn't so funny. "Lorne, what's this about?"

"Brace yourself, Mon Ange, you'll never believe it. I hardly believe it myself. But I was supervising an audition for backup singers for Christina's upcoming tour. This adorable little Celine wannabe was halfway through My Heart Will Go On, and she was bringing tears to my eyes. Not the good kind, mind you - she was about the thirtieth person to use that song and I was afraid that one more would make my head explode."

As Lorne spoke, Wesley moved from behind the counter to join them, carrying his refilled drink. "I'm having no trouble at all believing that," he said.

"Well then, stick this in your cap and call it macaroni: halfway through her song, the veil lifted and her whole life lay before me, bright as day."

He paused for a reaction, but they all just stared at him, until Fred gave a nervous laugh. "Oh, you mean that based on her singing you could imagine what kind of future she'd have, and-"

"No, no, no. I thought that might be it at first, too, believe me. But I sat through about five more auditions, and it was the same every time. I could read them all, loud and clear."

"You've got your powers back," Wesley said, a little more matter-of-factly than Angel liked. Without waiting for a confirmation, he turned his back to the group and drifted a few paces away.

"Like I never lost 'em," said Lorne.

"Wait." Angel held up a hand. "That's not� how is that possible?"

"Beats me, Boss, but I've never been one to go poking a gift horse in the mouth."

"But this has to mean something," said Angel. "They couldn't just come back, just like that. Anybody got any ideas? Wesley?"

"It's Buffy."

They all turned to look at Xander. He stood holding his phone, staring at it in disbelief.

"She's� it�" He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Can somebody take me to Dawn?"

***

There were a lot of firsts between them. Ten years, give or take, was plenty of time for normal people to build up a lot of history; they had managed to pack in enough for a lifetime. The firsts were a little more sharply etched than most of his other memories ... each one so clear that all he had to do was close his eyes to see it. Taste it. Feel it. Their first kiss� first kisses, really. The first time they'd fought each other, and then side by side� he'd thought fighting with her, either way, was better than sex, until the first time they did that, too.

The first time he knew he wanted her. The first time he knew he loved her, and the first time he knew what loving her really meant.

The first time he lost her, knowing she was never really his to lose. Then the first time he had to face life without her, knowing that she had been his, completely, heart, body and soul, and he'd let her slip through his fingers.

The first time he saw her. He remembered that moment like it was yesterday. What she wore, how she moved, what song had been playing as she danced. He'd meant to take her measure as an enemy, but had immediately been struck by her beauty and vitality. She'd still been joyful then. That was before she'd known true heartbreak and loss. Her smile hid no underlying grief or weariness, instead exuding a light and life that had burned into him and left an indelible mark even as he plotted ways to snuff them out.

The first time he saw her after she came back, that last time� she'd been damaged, then, but that light was still in her. It was how he'd known her, even before catching her scent. It was something a hundred Buffybots couldn't reproduce. When it hit him, it had been wondrous. One of the happiest moments of his entire existence - Harris had been right about that much.

He liked to imagine that the look on his face at that moment matched the look on hers when she found him again, after his turn at the Death & Resurrection Hokey-Pokey. That had been another first, in more ways than one; a new beginning for them both. All forgiven, the past forgotten, cards out on the table, both sides, finally, equally in love.

But the first time he saw her wearing a demon's face was blotting out all of the rest, and he feared it would for the rest of his life - however many more minutes that might be.

"I know you're awake," said the vampire with Buffy's voice.

'Course she did. But Spike didn't open his eyes. He didn't want to see that again, those ridges screwing up Buffy's face. Anyway, didn't need to look to get a vague impression of where she'd brought him. He lay on something soft and scratchy, his hands bound above his head, his feet tied at the other end. Felt like a sofa - a rotting one, by the smell of it. The whole place smelled of damp and must and dust and neglect. Too much noise and traffic outside for the desert.

Spike licked his dry lips. "Dawn�"

"Still a few hours off. We've got plenty of time."

"Not what I meant."

"I know. She's fine."

He breathed a sigh of relief, though he knew he shouldn't take her word for it.

She sat beside him and untied his wrists. "Open your eyes," she said softly. "I only want to talk."

"Didn't get the impression back at the motel that talking was on your mind."

"Well, you did come in all hell-bent on dusting me. Which, if you ask me, seems kinda counterproductive, considering all the trouble you went through to bring me here."

Swallowing hard, Spike opened his eyes and made himself look at her. Her face was, thankfully, human, illuminated by the phosphorous glow from the city lights that drifted in through the windows and� the great, gaping hole in the roof. They were in her old dojo. He'd come back and cleaned out the demon remains, but he hadn't had the heart to clear out the rest of it. He'd meant to repair it, but, well, he'd gotten preoccupied elsewhere, hadn't he?

His eyes met hers� God, they looked like Buffy's eyes. He searched them, hard, for that light, or for its absence - he didn't know what he hoped to find, and he couldn't be sure what he saw. Her gaze was tender as she reached down to stroke his cheek. She smiled.

"Hello, Lover."

He automatically pressed his face into her hand, but at the coolness of her touch he remembered himself and jerked away.

"You're a vampire," he accused.

She sighed. "You catch on to that just now?"

He closed his eyes again, envisioning a hundred scenarios that he didn't want to imagine. At least she could narrow it down to just one for him. He looked at her. "What happened?"

"Oh, you know. Hell dimension. I was kind of outnumbered. Once they had me, somebody decided it would be funny to turn me. It's not like there's a lot of entertainment there. We had to make our own fun."

"Who�"

"Sired me?" She shrugged. "I don't really know. It was pretty much a gang bang."

"Oh, God." Instinctively, he sat up and reached for her, but she caught his wrists.

"Please, Spike. Spare me. I mean, sure, the dying part wasn't much fun. But you should know better than anybody how good the rest of it feels." She let go of him. "What was it you told me once? Becoming a vampire made you feel alive for the very first time?"

"I was full of shit then."

"Mm. Maybe." Placing her palm on his chest, she leaned in. "Your heart's pounding." A wistful smile played on her lips. "I remember the first time I felt your heart beat. Like this." Her fingers trailed down his chest and stomach, slipped underneath his tee-shirt and slid back up to rest over his heart, which had sped up even more. "I was so thrilled by it." She glanced down to where the beginnings of an erection betrayed him, and smirked. "Kinda like you are by this." She raised her eyes to his. "Doesn't that piss you off?"

He frowned, puzzled. "What?"

"That I didn't really want you until you became human?"

"We both know that's not true," he growled.

"Ooh!" Grinning, she leaned in closer. "There's my boy. I knew he had to be in there somewhere." She nipped his ear, then nuzzled it as she whispered, "Let's see if we can let him all the way out."

He shoved her off the couch. She landed on her ass, and giggled as she got to her knees.

"So, you're gonna kill me now?" he asked. "That it?"

"Are you gonna kill me?"

He motioned to his feet, still bound at the ankles. "I'm the one trussed up here, Pet. Seems to me the ball's in your court."

She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, considering. Then she crawled to the end of the sofa and untied him. She held up the rope and dangled it over his lap. "You used to like it when I tied you up."

"Things change."

"Do they?" She dropped the rope in his lap, then turned and strolled over to the weapons display that still hung on the wall. "I'm surprised nobody looted this place," she murmured, running her fingers across the display. Her hand paused on a sword, then picked it up. She swung it, testing its weight, then went through a few maneuvers. "Do you know how long I was there? I don't, really, but it was long enough for me to lose count." She thrust the blade, then spun and slashed. "No weapons� at least, not the kind I had to reach for�" She paused to cast him a sideways glance. Spike lowered his eyes to the rope he now held in his hands. "But I've still got it." She tossed the sword in the air, putting a spin on it before catching it with a flourish. "Guess some things don't change that much." She hung the sword back up. "I know everything Buffy knew. I remember her life� her loves�" She turned to face Spike. "So what does that make me?"

"Not Buffy."

"Just like that?"

"Yes." He still couldn't look at her. "Buffy's d�" He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed to keep from choking on the phrase. "She's dead."

"Right. And that makes me, what? A demon in her body?" She pursed her lips and shook her head. "I'm not sure it's that cut and dried, William. Are you?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but he didn't know what to say. The soul argument sounded lame. Not that he didn't believe it� he knew his soul had given him what he needed to finish growing into � into someone she could trust. Completely. But even now, sometimes, he wasn't entirely sure where he had ended and the vampire began. What if it was the same for her?

"So. Still wanna slay the evil vampire?"

"I� she would've wanted�"

"Yeah, I would've." She shrugged. "But what did I know? Maybe I was the one who was full of shit." Her hand went to a row of stakes on the display and caressed them. "Then again, maybe not." She plucked one and threw it at Spike. He caught it before the blunt end cracked him in the face and stared at her, astonished, as she prowled toward him. "Guess it's up to you to decide."

He scooted as far back as he could on the sofa as she approached. When she reached him, she put her hands on his knees and leaned in to bury her face against his neck. Spike stiffened, bracing himself for the bite, but it didn't come. Instead she inhaled deeply. "Mmmmm." She pulled back and looked into his eyes. "Is all that adrenaline because you're scared, or�" Her eyes flicked down to his lap, and she smiled. He hated himself for being turned on by her. It didn't help when, slowly, oh God, so slowly, she moved her hands up to his thighs.

He grabbed her wrists and pried them away. "Stop it."

Undeterred, she climbed onto his lap and straddled him. Her lips brushed a trail along his jaw to his earlobe. She sucked it into her mouth before whispering, "Make me."

His grip on her relaxed, and she ran her hands over his chest as she ground into him, making him groan. "When I make you scream my name, what will it be?"

Spike gritted his teeth and grabbed hold of her arms. "I said, stop!" He pushed her back and held her at arm's length. He was breathing hard now, and she was still as a corpse. Talk about turning the tables� "It's not going to happen. You're not�" His voice, thick with desire and emotion, threatened to break. "Please, just stop."

Her sweet little mouth twisted into a frown. "Fine." She picked up the stake from beside him on the couch and forced his fingers around it, then brought the point to her own chest. "Then do it."

He stared in horror at the stake in his hand.

"What's the matter, Spike? If you're so sure she's gone, you should do it. Dust me. Kill the perversion and preserve her memory. Hell, honor it."

His hand began to tremble, and the breaths he drew became ragged.

"It's the right thing," she continued. "Me, vampire. You�" She laughed, once. "I don't think they've invented a category yet for you. But killing vampires is always the right thing to do. Doesn't that conscience of yours tell you that? It's no different from that time I staked you-oh, wait." She snorted, but he didn't see the funny. When he didn't respond, didn't meet her eyes, she put a finger under his chin and made him look at her. "Here. I'll make it easy for you." Her face shifted to expose her demon.

He choked out a sob. "Buffy�"

She changed back, and smiled a little. "There. Was that so hard?"

His face screwed up as he tried to fight the tears that wanted to spill, and he shook his head. "I� I can't�"

He still held the stake in his hand. She put her hand over his, but didn't make him drop it.

"It's okay, Spike," she said, and God, it was so easy to believe right then that it was really her. "I trust you."

The stake fell into their laps as another sob ripped its way out of his chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his head against her breast. He could pretend. Just for a minute, please, let her be Buffy.

And for a minute, she was. No taunting, no veiled threats or sexual posturing. Instead she just held him. "Shhh," she cooed, stroking his hair. "It's okay, Honey. Just let it go." She rubbed his back as he cried himself out. "It doesn't have to hurt like this. I can take it all away." She brought a hand up to the back of his neck, and kissed him on the temple. "Let me make it okay for you."

Just like that, she wasn't Buffy anymore. Spike straightened up and shook his head. "No." He licked his lips. "Please, don't. Not�" But part of him wanted to. Even more than when he'd given in to Drusilla. Hadn't exactly known what he was getting himself into back then, though. This time, he knew. Knew how quickly it would be over, and how good he would feel when he woke up. And then he wouldn't give a blasted fuck whether this Buffy had a soul or a disposition that could rival Angelus, because she would be his, and they would be together, and nothing else would matter, ever again.

But Spike kept shaking his head. "I can't." He made himself smile at her, reached up to caress her cheek, tried to connect with the part of her that still believed she was Buffy. "My humanity, Love� I fought too hard for it, worked too long to get it back. If you were really�" Her gaze turned cold. Spike dropped his eyes and shook his head. "She'd be so disappointed in me if I gave it up." He lifted his head again, his eyes hard as they bore into hers. "And so would I."

"Not for long."

"Too long, for me." His face softened as he stared into her eyes, asking himself if it were possible to love this creature before him, and wondering if even thinking the question was a betrayal. But it lit a spark of hope in him. "You could do it, too," he blurted out.

Her eyes narrowed. "Do what?"

"Find your way back." He knew it was a bad, bad idea to even allow himself to consider the possibility, let alone tell it to her, but he couldn't stop himself. "I could help you. We'd find a way� I mean, if I could do it, then surely-"

She slid out of his lap and stood up, her face a wash of disappointment. "So, that's your answer?"

He stared up at her, looking for something, some sign that she might go along with him. But she stood back from him, frowning, arms folded, closed off. Spike put a quick lid on the hope that had bubbled up inside him, and stood up. "It has to be."

She nodded. "Then what are you gonna do?"

He just looked at her, for as long as he could get away with, knowing that he had to either stake her or walk away for good. "Um�" He took a deep breath. "You should leave. Lie low. I won't hunt you, but the others will." With that, he forced himself to turn away and walk toward the door.

As he reached it, she slammed into him from behind, shoving him up against it.

"Thought you were giving me a choice," he said as he struggled against the vice hold she had on him.

"I was. You chose wrong."

She flung him backwards across the room, and he slid across the rotting floor into a pile of rubble. "Buffy," he coughed.

"Thought you said I was just a vampire," she said, changing into game face as she advanced on him. She straddled him and lunged for his throat, but he met her with a head butt. Her ridges cracked his forehead, and blood started to run into his eyes, but he'd managed to stun her long enough for him to get out from under her. He eyed the weapons on the wall, then remembered the stake they'd left on the sofa. He crawled for it, trying to get to his feet, but she grabbed his ankle and tripped him. He hit his head again on the edge of the couch as he went down.

She crawled up him from behind. "Please," he cried, struggling to turn over to get better leverage against her. "Don't do this to me."

Buffy pinned his arms behind his back. She held them there with one hand, while the other ripped the neck of his tee-shirt. "Don't fight it," she said. "You'll only make it hurt worse."

And then her teeth were in him, taking what they wanted.

She was right. The shame only mattered for a moment.

~*~
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Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground

Dead Leaves & the Dirty Ground