A night to end all nights, it had been; I'd nearly killed Dawn, and then I'd really killed her, turning her blood to ice and making her like me. I could still smell the petrol, the taste of smoke on the wind as the Summers house burned. I glanced over at the passenger seat where Dawn sprawled, feet up against the dashboard, all coltish limbs and
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Then Spike came back and everything changed.
Although I did become someone else, it wasn't quite what I had in mind. But it's so much better. Spike and I are more evenly matched now, and he doesn't have to hold back anymore, with me. While the games we'd play were interesting because of that edge of danger, my human fragility, now there's something else to it, something more heady and real ( ... )
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In the heat of the moment I'd agreed, o'course, and then afterwards had retracted my agreement. But Dawn persuaded me in the end. Think she's figured out I'm a bit of a soft touch, when it comes down to it.
We're driving along a dark highway, music blaring, and the signs for LA are flashing by more and more frequently now.
"Let's go see granddaddy."
"He's your great-grandpa," I point out. "How d'you feel about havin' Angel in the family?" I feel a strange squeeze of jealousy. I remember walking into a room and seeing Angel with another dark haired girl. Dru with her legs spread underneath him. I put a possessive arm around Dawn. "Not goin' to fall for the dark 'n forehead routine like your big sis, are you?"
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I wave the correction away. "Whatever." That's besides the point, isn't it? The point is that I'm dead and joined the line of Aurelius, the bloodline that's produced some of the most fearsome vampires in the world. Or something. That's what Giles always said. I guess I've got quite the reputation to live up to.
Won't be hard.
"Not goin' to fall for the dark 'n forehead routine like your big sis, are you?"
It's just so damn cute that Spike's all jealous and worried! He slips his arm around me and I slide closer to him in the seat, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and kissing him chastely on the cheek.
"C'mon, have I done anything like she did? I won't if you don't want me to." I rest my cheek on his shoulder, 'cause there's something comforting about having him nearby. "But wouldn't it be hilarious to watch him squirm?"
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"But wouldn't it be hilarious to watch him squirm?"
"Hey, wait a minute," I say indignantly, pushing her off my shoulder and prodding her, none too gently, in the side. "There will be no attempts to seduce Angel. Got that? Don't want bloody Angelus comin' back, for one thing," I say darkly. I've got too many memories of Angelus taking things I want. Far too many. "Be as nasty to him as you like. Just don't be too nice, yeah?"
I glance at the latest road sign. We're approaching LA.
"So where does the pillock hang his hat these days, d'you know?" I ask. "An' do you want to go an' find him right now, or d'you want to kill something first?"
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But after sixth months as CEO of the Los Angeles Branch of Wolfram and Hart, a little demon fighting feels like a trip to the spa. Or, well, what I imagine a trip to the spa would be like, having never been there myself, although I was subjected to a number of long lectures on the subjects of spas while Cordellia was still ali--
-- Was still awake.The trenchcoat and baggy sweater feel old friends now, after ... well, yeah. You know. And there's something freeing about not parting the damn ed hair. I may just ... skip that, from now on. Wesley says I look a bit like a late-forties aging punkster still trying to be 'cool ( ... )
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"Dunno," I said with a half-shrug, kissing him on the cheek again, then trailing light kisses down his throat, stopping just before the collar of his shirt. "Pull over."
I wait until he does. I can see the high-rises of downtown LA in the distance, but we're in a shadier part of town. Doesn't bother me. There's nothing here that can hurt me now. As he parks the car, I get out, tired of being surrounded by that much metal, feeling the evening air on my skin. It's not quite completely dark, that odd space between twilight and nighttime. I lean against the car and think, feel, listen.
"Can you hear him?"
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We step out of the car, and I watch the way Dawn takes in the night. It reminds me of when I was first turned. The way everything felt different. More alive, which was sort of ironic.
"Can you hear him?"
"I'm not a bleedin' bat, love," I grumble, but I stand still, opening my ears and nose, taking in the sounds and smells of the city.
"He's been here before, I reckon," I say. "C'mon. We'll walk a bit." I put two cigarettes in my mouth, light them and pass one to Dawn. "Let's find the poof."
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We walk for a while, and I can hear the tiniest noises around us, and all the while, I'm keeping an eye out for Angel. The dark hair, the sweep of trench coat that I monk-remember. There's a feeling. I know Spike must feel it too, since he's higher up in the line. It's weak and vague but it's there.
I tug on Spike's arm and we follow it.
I can hear the fight from far away, miles, it seems. And the humans in the area don't notice a thing. Not that they'd care. LA is a whole other world. I might like it here. I squeeze Spike's arm and grin in the dark. I feel like having fun tonight.
I whisper, "This is gonna be fun."
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"This is gonna be fun," whispers Dawn, squeezing my arm, and I smile down at her, unable to resist smiling back at her glee, though I'm not altogether convinced visiting the poof is the best of ideas.
I can sense him long before I see him. S'pose cos he's family in a way, much as I don't want to think he is.
We lurk in the shadows of a building. Angel's doing his usual saving-the-day poncy bollocks. Gives some pretty girl help but doesn't even try to cop a feel, or flirt with her. What is the point of heroism if he has to be so po-faced about it?
"...you can come out. I know you're there. ...your hair smells."
I roll my eyes and drop my half smoked cigarette to the ground. Then, gesturing at Dawn to stay behind for a moment, I step out. I know she'll make a grand entrance at just the right moment.
"Angel," I say. "Fancy seein' you here."
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"Spike," I turned squarely to face him and pulled the wooden stake back out of my coat pocket, fingering it and glaring at the bleached wonder. "Thought I made it clear you weren't ever to come here again. What happenned? Dru dump you again? You get lonely?"
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I mean, Angelus would've been more fun.
I drop the cigarette to the ground and grind it out with my shoe. I'm dressed simply today, in dark jeans and a plain black tshirt that sets off the color of my skin - or lack thereof, I guess. Angel pulls out a stake. I guess it's my turn to make a move.
Stepping out of the shadows, I toss my hair back and wrap my arms around Spike's shoulders from behind, watching Angel over his shoulder. "Lonely?" I say softly, and laugh. "Hardly." If Angel's any smart at all, he'll notice that I'm not exactly the same girl as I used to be all those years ago. In more ways than one.
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Dawn steps out from behind me. I can hear her grinding her cigarette beneath her shoe. As she wraps her cool arms around me, I can smell the smoke clinging to her. The press of her body against my back is enough to get me hard, and I'm tempted to throw her down and screw her right here in front of Angel, shag the hell out of her, because it'll hurt him. Because she's all that's left of Buffy, his true-sodding-love, and I've killed her and made her mine. Seems fair, given how much he's taken from me.
"Lonely? Hardly."
Dawn's voice is Dawn's girl voice, but now with something harder behind it, and I grin at Angel's dumbfounded face.
"Upgraded," I say, smiling. "Now I'm nobody's whipping boy."
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I snorted, looked to the left with a smirk, and fingered the stake in my hand. I wanted to wipe that smug look off his face, I wanted to hurt him. It was... so... It was instinct.
"Spike--"
And that's when ~she~ came around the corner, and my world ~stopped.~
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He's not very good at hiding his emotions, that much's for sure.
Slowly unwrapping my arms from Spike's shoulders, I slip my thumbs into the back pockets of my jeans and step around him, pausing for a moment to look at Angel appraisingly. Then, before he knows it, I'm next to him and the stake is in my hand. He's older than me, and stronger, but I surprised him. He wasn't expecting it and I got the better of him. Don't think it'll happen again, but oh, well, it was fun.
"Don't think you'll be needing that," I say, twirling the stake between my fingers. "What? Cat got your tongue?"
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"What? Cat got your tongue?"
"Angel's never been much of a conversationalist, pet," I observe. "Unless it's to give a lecture. So, Grandpa," I said, smiling at him, "are you going to lecture us for being very bad children this year?"
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