FIC: Iowa Field Notes 12: Revelation
Title: Iowa Field Notes 12: Revelation
Author: Trepkos
Pairing: Spike/Riley: no Riley in this though, just Spike and OCs
Rating: Gen.
Spoilers: None (except for previous stories in this 'verse)
Summary: Spike and Al ('Becca) meet up again.
Thanks for betas: shapinglight and helloapollo
Feedback: please, I beg of you ...
Links to all my fic so far: Altered States
There were days when Spike forgot he had the ring. Those days, he would catch himself jinking through the shadows to get from the cabin to the farmhouse, and shake his head at himself: but not today. Today he had remembered, and was taking the pretty way, between the kitchen garden and the paddock where The Lieutenant - the big grey - and that quarter horse - Suzie - were grazing. He was still trying to pluck up the nerve to offer up some of those horse-treats Riley kept in his pockets to their massive choppers.
Riding one of them - Suzie, most likely - wasn’t completely out of the question either.
Nothing was impossible.
As he made his leisurely way to the farmhouse, Spike held his hand up and admired the soft green glow as the Gem of Amara caught the light. He glanced up at the sky, enjoying the faint warmth from the winter sun, and remembered the time - it seemed a lifetime ago in a galaxy far, far away - when he’d worn that other Gem of Amara, and barely escaped un-scorched from the Slayer’s blistering rage.
There were times when discretion was definitely the better part of valour.
But there were other times - other battles: epic or mundane - that you had no choice about: you were involved in them, whether you liked it or not, and to run away from them meant letting someone down. This was definitely one of those times.
Truth was: Al had just spent the last half hour on the phone to him, whinging and ranting and almost in tears because her parents kept finding ‘reasons’ not to drop her off this Saturday, as had been their habit before his and Riley’s sudden leave of absence. She hadn’t seen them for weeks, and now they were back, it looked like she might not be allowed to visit for a good while longer.
So - taking up arms on her behalf - Spike wandered into the kitchen, girding his metaphorical loins.
He’d briefly considered just sitting down at the table and starting to carve her name, but decided that might be over-playing it. In his head, he had classified this battle as mundane, but - he remembered - to a nine-year-old, every battle is epic.
“’Becca coming over this weekend then?”
He tried to make it sound like an innocent enquiry.
“I don’t think so, Spike,” Sarah said, dusting flour off her hands and putting them on her hips. “Not this weekend anyway: maybe not for a while.”
“What’s goin’ on then? Why -”
She went to put a hand on his shoulder, then sighed, got a cloth and absent-mindedly flicked flour off his tee-shirt.
“You have to understand, Spike: Frank and Betsy - well, Frank’s Riley’s brother; he’s been brought up the same way as Riley. But Betsy - her family’s a little … strait-laced. It’s hard enough for a frustrated beauty-pageant mom to swallow, that Rebecca can never be a little beauty queen, now she has that scar - not that the poor kid ever wanted to be. But the way I read it, Betsy’s more than a little envious of the influence we have over her - especially you and Riley.”
“Ungrateful … so-and-so …” Josh grumped as he came in from his morning rounds. “You’d think she’d be happy ‘Becca’s stopped chewing the furniture since she started taking chunks out of this feller instead.”
He indicated Spike with a wave of his hand, then plonked himself down and spread his hands on the table, and Sarah placed a mug of coffee in front of him.
“Betsy is grateful,” she insisted. “Well, relieved anyway. But you can bet she resents that Riley and Spike - two guys, if you please - seem to be able to get through to her daughter better than she can.”
Spike glanced from one to the other, happy to let them bat this ball around between them.
“If I know Betsy, she just can’t wait for something to go wrong, so she can wag her empty head - along with the rest of her ladies’ sewing group - and say she told us so,” Josh opined.
“Well, you’re not wrong,” Sarah admitted, turning back to Spike. “While you were away, she kept calling and trying to find out where you were and what was going on. I’d have told her you’d run off to Metropolis, hopped up on Red Kryptonite, if there was a chance in hell she’d have gotten the joke.”
“Well as far as I’m concerned, Betsy can just take her attitudes and stick ‘em where the sun don’t shine,” Josh said bluntly. He took a slug of coffee, to lubricate his vocal cords. “If I want to see my granddaughter, no prissy-faced evangelist’s gonna stop me, even if she is the girl’s mother.” He shook his head. “What Frank sees in -” He glanced at Spike. “Well, I shouldn’t say that in front of you - your head’ll swell up - but out of Frank and Riley, I’d say Riley’s got better taste.” He pointed his spoon at Spike. “You stick in my craw a damn sight less than Betsy-May, and that’s a fact.”
“Flattery’ll get you nowhere,” Spike responded with a smirk.
Josh snorted. “Well, that’s a relief!” He swallowed down the last of his coffee, banged his mug down on the table and stood up. “I’m taking a spin over there: had some rope to take over to Frank anyways. I’ll bring the kid back with me.”
“Shall I call ahead?” Sarah asked him.
“No - don’t give Betsy time to cook up any phoney excuses. I’ll just show up, tell ‘em ‘Becca can come back to us for the weekend, to give them a break, like usual. Make like nothing’s changed - which it hasn’t.”
Sarah nodded. “Okay - but be subtle, Josh. Try not to cause Frank any grief.”
Josh scratched his nose. “Subtle’s my middle name, you should know that by now.”
“Hmmm,” she said thoughtfully. “If it is, it’s your best-kept secret.”
~~
As soon as Josh’s wagon pulled up, Al leapt out, and Spike - waiting on the porch - got up to greet her rather more eagerly than was cool. When he saw how pleased she was with the success of his mission, he felt a self-satisfied smile breaking out over his face as he slouched down the steps towards her.
He was perplexed to see her elation quickly turn to panic as she raced towards him, waving her arms and mouthing, “Get inside!” and pointing at the sky.
As soon as she reached him, she began to try to wrestle and drag him back up the porch steps. Momentarily puzzled, Spike allowed her to win the battle.
“What’s up, Al? You gone doolali?”
“Have you?” She thwapped him hard on the arm. “Are you trying to kill yourself?” she demanded, looking pointedly at the watery sun that was breaking through the clouds.
Hmmm.
“Not gonna get skin cancer from a few minutes’ exposure in the middle of winter,” he hazarded.
She glanced back at the car where Josh was still messing around with whatever was in the trunk, then she stage-whispered - “Have you forgotten what you are?”
Spike tilted his head. He noticed that Josh was now looking over at them with a quizzical expression as he hefted Al’s overnight bag.
“What do you know about what I am?” he asked cagily.
“I know, you never go out in sunlight,” she said with deliberation.
“I burn easily,” Spike said, keeping up the bluff for the time being.
They hadn’t really decided whether or not to tell Al what Josh and Sarah already knew, but it seemed like Minnie the Minx had worked it out for herself. Still … it wouldn’t do any harm to have some fun with her.
“I know you get all jittery whenever you see anyone whittling bits of wood!” she hissed, with narrowed eyes, then quickly tried to look casual as Josh tramped past them into the house, pretending he didn’t know what was going on.
“Well, they might cut themselves,” Spike replied, all innocence.
“You wish!” she retorted. “Do I have to spell it out for you?” She lowered her voice and raised her eyebrows. “I know your fridge always has supplies of blood in it.” She tapped the side of her nose.
“What are you doin’ spying on our perishables?” Spike demanded, trying to sound affronted.
“I went to your fridge one day to get a soda,” she said, looking a little guilty. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“Well; that wasn’t blood, it was … raspberry coulis,” Spike lied shamelessly, folding his arms and just about keeping a straight face.
“No! It! Wasn’t!”
Al punctuated her denial with hard little punches to various parts of his anatomy.
“Ow!” He flinched theatrically. “It was so.”
“It wasn’t! I tasted it!”
Spike’s face creased with disgust, and Al smiled, smug in her triumph.
“We were making Black Pudd- Oh, bugger! You got me.” Spike shrugged, admitting defeat. “So… have you … told anyone?” he said, trying to sound like he didn’t care.
“My friends at school,” Al said, fluttering her eyelashes. “They all think it’s great; I showed them your picture and they’re starting a cult for you. Everyone likes me now and they all want to meet you!”
Spike tried to stop his mouth from dropping open.
“All my coolest teachers know too; oh, and my parents of course.”
“You told -”
Al’s face broke out in the broadest grin imaginable.
“No! Dumbass! The ‘rents only just cope with the ‘Riley’s boyfriend’ thing that I wave in their face every chance I get! If I told them that their heads would explode!”
“So …” Spike examined his fingernails - “who have you told … really?”
Al gave him a pitying look. “I haven’t told anyone! Secrets are for keeping or they’re not worth squat.”
Spike’s eyes narrowed. “You had me there, you sneaky chit.”
“Ew!
“I said ‘chit’. Look it up on your broadband, Al.”
“So … who else knows apart from Riley?” She went back to whispering now. “And how come you’re outside? Have you been de-vamped?”
“Nah!” - Spike said; “- magic ring.” He flashed it at her.
“Wow!” Her eyes widened and she touched the Gem. “Pretty! Is that one magic too?” She pointed to the intertwined band of gold and silver-coloured leaves next to it.
“Only to me,” Spike said, feeling suddenly shy.
Fortunately she didn’t notice he’d gone all bashful, intent as she was on pursuing her first question: “Who else?”
“Told your Gran and Grandpa - couple of days ago.”
“Before me,” she said with a pout.
“Sorry.” Spike ducked his head. “You knew anyway,” he protested.
“But you were gonna tell me though, right?”
Spike studiously avoided her reproachful gaze.
“RIGHT?”
“Oh! Absolutely!” Spike affirmed, glancing over his shoulder.
“Look me in the eye and say that!”
There were times when discretion really was the better part of valour.
Now was one of those times.
“Sorry Al …” Spike said, gazing distractedly into the middle distance - “I just remembered … gotta see a man about a dog.”
She brightened. “Oh! Are you and Riley getting a new dog?”
But Spike had already vaulted the porch rail and was making off across the yard.
Cursing a blue streak, Al set off in hot pursuit.
~~
If you got this far, please leave a comment.
Information: Minnie the Minx is a comic-strip character from The Beano.
Iowa Field Notes frontispiece
by Speak_Me_Fair
Author: Trepkos
Pairing: Spike/Riley: no Riley in this though, just Spike and OCs
Rating: Gen.
Spoilers: None (except for previous stories in this 'verse)
Summary: Spike and Al ('Becca) meet up again.
Thanks for betas: shapinglight and helloapollo
Feedback: please, I beg of you ...
Links to all my fic so far: Altered States
There were days when Spike forgot he had the ring. Those days, he would catch himself jinking through the shadows to get from the cabin to the farmhouse, and shake his head at himself: but not today. Today he had remembered, and was taking the pretty way, between the kitchen garden and the paddock where The Lieutenant - the big grey - and that quarter horse - Suzie - were grazing. He was still trying to pluck up the nerve to offer up some of those horse-treats Riley kept in his pockets to their massive choppers.
Riding one of them - Suzie, most likely - wasn’t completely out of the question either.
Nothing was impossible.
As he made his leisurely way to the farmhouse, Spike held his hand up and admired the soft green glow as the Gem of Amara caught the light. He glanced up at the sky, enjoying the faint warmth from the winter sun, and remembered the time - it seemed a lifetime ago in a galaxy far, far away - when he’d worn that other Gem of Amara, and barely escaped un-scorched from the Slayer’s blistering rage.
There were times when discretion was definitely the better part of valour.
But there were other times - other battles: epic or mundane - that you had no choice about: you were involved in them, whether you liked it or not, and to run away from them meant letting someone down. This was definitely one of those times.
Truth was: Al had just spent the last half hour on the phone to him, whinging and ranting and almost in tears because her parents kept finding ‘reasons’ not to drop her off this Saturday, as had been their habit before his and Riley’s sudden leave of absence. She hadn’t seen them for weeks, and now they were back, it looked like she might not be allowed to visit for a good while longer.
So - taking up arms on her behalf - Spike wandered into the kitchen, girding his metaphorical loins.
He’d briefly considered just sitting down at the table and starting to carve her name, but decided that might be over-playing it. In his head, he had classified this battle as mundane, but - he remembered - to a nine-year-old, every battle is epic.
“’Becca coming over this weekend then?”
He tried to make it sound like an innocent enquiry.
“I don’t think so, Spike,” Sarah said, dusting flour off her hands and putting them on her hips. “Not this weekend anyway: maybe not for a while.”
“What’s goin’ on then? Why -”
She went to put a hand on his shoulder, then sighed, got a cloth and absent-mindedly flicked flour off his tee-shirt.
“You have to understand, Spike: Frank and Betsy - well, Frank’s Riley’s brother; he’s been brought up the same way as Riley. But Betsy - her family’s a little … strait-laced. It’s hard enough for a frustrated beauty-pageant mom to swallow, that Rebecca can never be a little beauty queen, now she has that scar - not that the poor kid ever wanted to be. But the way I read it, Betsy’s more than a little envious of the influence we have over her - especially you and Riley.”
“Ungrateful … so-and-so …” Josh grumped as he came in from his morning rounds. “You’d think she’d be happy ‘Becca’s stopped chewing the furniture since she started taking chunks out of this feller instead.”
He indicated Spike with a wave of his hand, then plonked himself down and spread his hands on the table, and Sarah placed a mug of coffee in front of him.
“Betsy is grateful,” she insisted. “Well, relieved anyway. But you can bet she resents that Riley and Spike - two guys, if you please - seem to be able to get through to her daughter better than she can.”
Spike glanced from one to the other, happy to let them bat this ball around between them.
“If I know Betsy, she just can’t wait for something to go wrong, so she can wag her empty head - along with the rest of her ladies’ sewing group - and say she told us so,” Josh opined.
“Well, you’re not wrong,” Sarah admitted, turning back to Spike. “While you were away, she kept calling and trying to find out where you were and what was going on. I’d have told her you’d run off to Metropolis, hopped up on Red Kryptonite, if there was a chance in hell she’d have gotten the joke.”
“Well as far as I’m concerned, Betsy can just take her attitudes and stick ‘em where the sun don’t shine,” Josh said bluntly. He took a slug of coffee, to lubricate his vocal cords. “If I want to see my granddaughter, no prissy-faced evangelist’s gonna stop me, even if she is the girl’s mother.” He shook his head. “What Frank sees in -” He glanced at Spike. “Well, I shouldn’t say that in front of you - your head’ll swell up - but out of Frank and Riley, I’d say Riley’s got better taste.” He pointed his spoon at Spike. “You stick in my craw a damn sight less than Betsy-May, and that’s a fact.”
“Flattery’ll get you nowhere,” Spike responded with a smirk.
Josh snorted. “Well, that’s a relief!” He swallowed down the last of his coffee, banged his mug down on the table and stood up. “I’m taking a spin over there: had some rope to take over to Frank anyways. I’ll bring the kid back with me.”
“Shall I call ahead?” Sarah asked him.
“No - don’t give Betsy time to cook up any phoney excuses. I’ll just show up, tell ‘em ‘Becca can come back to us for the weekend, to give them a break, like usual. Make like nothing’s changed - which it hasn’t.”
Sarah nodded. “Okay - but be subtle, Josh. Try not to cause Frank any grief.”
Josh scratched his nose. “Subtle’s my middle name, you should know that by now.”
“Hmmm,” she said thoughtfully. “If it is, it’s your best-kept secret.”
~~
As soon as Josh’s wagon pulled up, Al leapt out, and Spike - waiting on the porch - got up to greet her rather more eagerly than was cool. When he saw how pleased she was with the success of his mission, he felt a self-satisfied smile breaking out over his face as he slouched down the steps towards her.
He was perplexed to see her elation quickly turn to panic as she raced towards him, waving her arms and mouthing, “Get inside!” and pointing at the sky.
As soon as she reached him, she began to try to wrestle and drag him back up the porch steps. Momentarily puzzled, Spike allowed her to win the battle.
“What’s up, Al? You gone doolali?”
“Have you?” She thwapped him hard on the arm. “Are you trying to kill yourself?” she demanded, looking pointedly at the watery sun that was breaking through the clouds.
Hmmm.
“Not gonna get skin cancer from a few minutes’ exposure in the middle of winter,” he hazarded.
She glanced back at the car where Josh was still messing around with whatever was in the trunk, then she stage-whispered - “Have you forgotten what you are?”
Spike tilted his head. He noticed that Josh was now looking over at them with a quizzical expression as he hefted Al’s overnight bag.
“What do you know about what I am?” he asked cagily.
“I know, you never go out in sunlight,” she said with deliberation.
“I burn easily,” Spike said, keeping up the bluff for the time being.
They hadn’t really decided whether or not to tell Al what Josh and Sarah already knew, but it seemed like Minnie the Minx had worked it out for herself. Still … it wouldn’t do any harm to have some fun with her.
“I know you get all jittery whenever you see anyone whittling bits of wood!” she hissed, with narrowed eyes, then quickly tried to look casual as Josh tramped past them into the house, pretending he didn’t know what was going on.
“Well, they might cut themselves,” Spike replied, all innocence.
“You wish!” she retorted. “Do I have to spell it out for you?” She lowered her voice and raised her eyebrows. “I know your fridge always has supplies of blood in it.” She tapped the side of her nose.
“What are you doin’ spying on our perishables?” Spike demanded, trying to sound affronted.
“I went to your fridge one day to get a soda,” she said, looking a little guilty. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“Well; that wasn’t blood, it was … raspberry coulis,” Spike lied shamelessly, folding his arms and just about keeping a straight face.
“No! It! Wasn’t!”
Al punctuated her denial with hard little punches to various parts of his anatomy.
“Ow!” He flinched theatrically. “It was so.”
“It wasn’t! I tasted it!”
Spike’s face creased with disgust, and Al smiled, smug in her triumph.
“We were making Black Pudd- Oh, bugger! You got me.” Spike shrugged, admitting defeat. “So… have you … told anyone?” he said, trying to sound like he didn’t care.
“My friends at school,” Al said, fluttering her eyelashes. “They all think it’s great; I showed them your picture and they’re starting a cult for you. Everyone likes me now and they all want to meet you!”
Spike tried to stop his mouth from dropping open.
“All my coolest teachers know too; oh, and my parents of course.”
“You told -”
Al’s face broke out in the broadest grin imaginable.
“No! Dumbass! The ‘rents only just cope with the ‘Riley’s boyfriend’ thing that I wave in their face every chance I get! If I told them that their heads would explode!”
“So …” Spike examined his fingernails - “who have you told … really?”
Al gave him a pitying look. “I haven’t told anyone! Secrets are for keeping or they’re not worth squat.”
Spike’s eyes narrowed. “You had me there, you sneaky chit.”
“Ew!
“I said ‘chit’. Look it up on your broadband, Al.”
“So … who else knows apart from Riley?” She went back to whispering now. “And how come you’re outside? Have you been de-vamped?”
“Nah!” - Spike said; “- magic ring.” He flashed it at her.
“Wow!” Her eyes widened and she touched the Gem. “Pretty! Is that one magic too?” She pointed to the intertwined band of gold and silver-coloured leaves next to it.
“Only to me,” Spike said, feeling suddenly shy.
Fortunately she didn’t notice he’d gone all bashful, intent as she was on pursuing her first question: “Who else?”
“Told your Gran and Grandpa - couple of days ago.”
“Before me,” she said with a pout.
“Sorry.” Spike ducked his head. “You knew anyway,” he protested.
“But you were gonna tell me though, right?”
Spike studiously avoided her reproachful gaze.
“RIGHT?”
“Oh! Absolutely!” Spike affirmed, glancing over his shoulder.
“Look me in the eye and say that!”
There were times when discretion really was the better part of valour.
Now was one of those times.
“Sorry Al …” Spike said, gazing distractedly into the middle distance - “I just remembered … gotta see a man about a dog.”
She brightened. “Oh! Are you and Riley getting a new dog?”
But Spike had already vaulted the porch rail and was making off across the yard.
Cursing a blue streak, Al set off in hot pursuit.
~~
If you got this far, please leave a comment.
Information: Minnie the Minx is a comic-strip character from The Beano.
Iowa Field Notes frontispiece
by Speak_Me_Fair