Till the End of Time: Chapter Three
Chapter Three
Leave it to Henry to have his own jet. How did a cartoonist - no, that’s what Mike called him, a graphic novelist afford a jet? Surely he couldn’t make that much money. A piece of important trivia clicked in her brain. Not only was he a graphic novelist, but he was also the Duke of Richmond. There had to have been money squirrled away somewhere - something. She made a mental note to ask once he was done with his nap and returned to her.
Looking out the window on his plush airplane couch (how bizarre), watching the sun start to fade, Vicki sighed. She couldn’t help but feel a little guilt about Mike. She knew he had her best interests at heart, she knew he was worried about what she’d gotten herself mixed up in and she also knew that he blamed Henry for it. But Henry hadn’t put her on the path; she had done that well enough on her own. Henry had just been there trying to do his own job in keeping the world a safe place when their paths crossed. Since that moment when he’d first knocked her out and then took care of her, she’d been faced with the supernatural at every turn.
Gazing down at the demon marks tattooed on the insides of her wrists from her near sacrifice to the hell raising Astaroth, Vicki had to wonder if those marks were why she couldn’t just do a “normal” case, and that all of them seemed to involve something not of this realm. She remembered Henry teasing her and saying he’d had lunch with the Boogey Man, she’d returned the tease by asking how he was as she hadn’t seen him since she was five. She had to wonder now if there actually was a Boogey Man.
Mike didn’t get it. Namely because he didn’t want to get it. So, was she slighting him because of his resistance to accept that these things existed (as she had once done) or was it because she felt pulled toward something else?
“Vicki.”
Or someone else. Looking up and seeing Henry standing there, black pants and purple velvet something-or-other as a top, his hair mussed from sleep, but his eyes radiant as he looked at her, Vicki smiled. “Sleep well?”
“I did. Did you sleep at all?”
“A little,” she shrugged.
“Not out here, surely. You did use my bed, right? I assure you, you wouldn’t have disturbed me.”
He sat down next to her, so close he was almost on top of her. Scooting back a bit, Vicki shook her head. “No, the couch here - and I can’t believe you have a couch on this thing-was just fine.”
Reaching out, Henry fingered a strand of her hair and smiled. “We shared a bed once, remember?”
“You were hurt. I was keeping watch.”
Henry grinned, “Seems I’ve been returning that courtesy every day since.”
“Well, no one asked you to!” Vicki huffed.
Henry chuckled and slid his hand down her arm, meeting her eyes with an expression she just wasn’t sure she wanted to define just yet. “You’re right, no one has asked me. I want to do it. I have to do it.”
“Have to?” that piqued her curiosity while simultaneously made her heart race.
He nodded, “Have to. I told you I hadn’t met anyone like you in over a lifetime. I don’t want to have to wait another lifetime for another you. I’d like to keep you alive and with me for as long as I can.”
Vicki’s breath hitched and she looked away. “Do you think Mike’s head exploded after we left?”
The classic subject change and the mention of another man in that subject change no less. Classic.
“If it didn’t, I’m sure it’s coming soon,” Henry quipped, giving her some space by scooting back on the seat.
“What did you two say to one another when I went to your car?”
“He warned me to protect you; I promised I would.”
“That’s it?”
“He accused me of dragging you in this dangerous world of demons and zombies, and I told him you were already there, I just gave you some guidance. You know the routine by now.”
“Yeah, I do. It’s getting old, huh?”
“Do you love him, Vicki?”
“My feelings for Mike are…well, they’re a jumble.”
“A jumble? Elaborate, please.”
“Henry! You know I hate talking about this crap. How about we talk about the Slayer some more instead? Now you’re sure that locater spell thingy you did is right?”
Henry smiled, “It led us to Astaroth didn’t it?”
“Good point. So, tell me about her powers again…and how can I get some?”
Henry laughed, “Vicki, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but you have powers all on your own.”
“I do? The tattoos?”
He smiled softly, “No.”
“Are you going to tell me or is this one of those times where you’re all cryptic and later I’ll have some kind of Eureka moment.”
“Make sure when you figure it out, you do shout Eureka so I know.”
Vicki laughed. “Yeah, that might happen.”
********
Xander was back, having gone away after leaving Anya at the altar, to get some much needed thinking time. Watching him, the sadness that lay in his eyes even though he was smiling, Buffy couldn’t help but feel for not only him, but for Anya as well.
It was a strange predicament to be in. Xander had been one of her best friends since her move to Sunnydale and Anya had been her friend by association. However, as a woman, Buffy couldn’t help but feel for the girl. Having been jilted many a time herself - thankfully not at the altar-she was sure that the heartbreak Anya felt was cutting her to the quick. It sucked to be the one let loose. On the other hand, it wasn’t all fun and games to be the one to do the letting go.
It had hurt her to hurt Spike. Even if she had done the right thing, it was not fun to see that look of abject pain on his face, to see him trying to grab onto something and to hear him tell her that she could go right on using him. She remembered that feeling, that desperate feeling of being willing to take any scrap of the person you loved - she’d done it with Angel many times. To be reduced to that…the thought made her shiver.
Now she watched Xander pile a slice of pizza in his mouth at her dining room table and honestly didn’t know what to say. It was a good thing Willow was there to fill the void.
“Buffster, you here?” Xander asked, breaking through her musings.
“Here and accounted for. I think. Just got a lot on my mind,” she answered.
“Like what?”
“Just the usual crap with bills and stuff…nothing major.” And nothing I can talk to you about. It’s not like I can share my now done relationship with Spike with you. Well, it wasn’t even a real relationship --- grr! I have no one to talk to about this!
“Well, if you need to talk…”
Buffy smiled softly, “I’m all right Xander.”
“Buffy,” Willow said, handing her a paper plate, “Eat something. There’s plenty here.”
What did it mean when something as mundane as eating pizza reminded her of Spike? She remembered once having a grand ol’ time flinging pepperoni at him.
I am sad and pathetic now.