My Immortal. Chapter 8.
You know what's the best thing to have when everything's really slippery? A pushchair [=stroller]! (With a child in, of course). *had lots of fun taking kids to school*
And after that little bit of silliness her comes the next chapter of My Immortal - I know, it's only been 2 weeks! Try not to faint. ;) Previous parts here, and many smooches to my wonderful beta kathyh for her stellar work!
Pairing: Buffy/Jack.
Rating: PG-13.
Spoilers: S2 of Torchwood.
Genre: Crossover. (BtVS/Torchwood)
Word count: 4200 words approx.
Feedback: Makes me happier than Unexpected Naked Jack!
Chapter 8
Giles: Well, that doesn't change anything. What I told you is still true. You need to learn-
Buffy: No, I think you've taught me everything I need to know.
~
Buffy: All I want to do is graduate from high school, move to Europe, marry Christian Slater, and die.
~
Jack: And we're standing there, fifteen of us, naked-
[...]
Rose: I don't believe you, I don't believe a word you say ever, that is so brilliant!
Friday 9th of April, morning.
Dating the Immortal was a bit like living in a parallel universe. ‘Going to the cinema’ in Immortal World didn’t mean ‘Let’s go see a movie’ but ‘Let’s see how close we can get to having sex in a public place, without undressing or people noticing’. She couldn’t remember a thing about what had happened on-screen the previous night, but Buffy was sure it couldn’t have been anywhere near as exciting as what had happened in their seats.
After their cinema stunt he’d come back to her apartment ‘to check that the bed was as sturdy as it looked’ - after all Dawn was staying over at a friend’s for the night, and thus didn’t get in the way of their very inventive test methods...
He had left at 2 in the morning or thereabouts, after she’d pointed out that she needed sleep and had training scheduled with her slayers the next day.
So she’d woken up alone, but rested.
She was busy shovelling cereal into her mouth when the phone rang, and swallowed as quickly as possible before replying. Hearing Giles’ familiar voice, she smiled.
“Hey Giles - how are things? Please tell me it’s not another apocalypse!”
“No... it’s... well actually it’s... it’s you I’d like to talk about.”
“Me?”
“I received a call from Willow yesterday evening, a report about the spell she tried, and in the course of the conversation she happened to mention... well...”
Oh she knew that tone. So carefully neutral, so desperate not to say the wrong thing, and yet...
“Is this about me dating The Immortal?”
She should have known this was coming.
“Um... yes. Whilst I understand that I have no right to interfere with your personal life, I also could not forget our conversation a week ago, regarding the spell that Jonathan once used. Now taking into consideration who you must have been talking about, I was... curious as to... well how you made the decision you have evidently made.”
She took a deep breath, and held it. She could do this, she really could.
And the way to do it, was to eliminate discussion.
“Look Giles... just leave it. I like him, he likes me, we’re having a... a thing, OK? A good thing. That’s it.”
There was a pause, and with a sinking heart she realised that he wasn’t going to let it go.
“I’m afraid it isn’t that simple, Buffy. He counts amongst his friends creatures and... groups that we could not possibly be seen to be approving of, however tacitly. And - although his interaction with the Council has been very brief - his arrogance and contempt for human morals and values is well known. I am very sorry to say this, but I am asking you to consider very carefully your position-”
“No!” she cut in, something snapping inside that she hadn’t even been aware of. “No, I won’t consider anything. You have no idea who he is, trust me... He’s the best thing that’s happened to me since- since Sunnydale!”
She swallowed, fighting against her overwhelming urge to throw the phone out the window and watch it smash against the building opposite. She’d forgotten how angry he could make her.
“Buffy-”
“Actually, you know what? If you don’t like it, then please go ahead and try to have him killed. Because I would love to see you try!”
She slammed the receiver down, desperately fighting against the tears that were blurring her vision and the shaking that was taking hold of her.
Why her? Why did she always have to defend every action? Why had fate or destiny or the Powers singled her out? Why was she always the one to dance with death - literally or through her lovers? Even Riley had felt it necessary to flirt with it, although at least he hadn’t actually died...
And now there was The Immortal, who spoke as lightly of death as she did, because he understood the darkness... She’d witnessed him die (stabbed through the heart, just like she had done to-) But he’d come back to her; no strings, no conditions. Death, that had taken so much from her in so many ways, had no hold over him.
Maybe, subconsciously, that was the main reason she’d decided to be with him...
The rational thought helped her calm down a little, but she still felt trampled and wrung out - the anger wasn’t gone, and neither was the all too familiar grief that she’d so successfully managed to put aside these past few days. She almost called Dawn to ask her to blow off her classes and come out shopping or something, except... Except Dawn would ask why. Everyone was always so concerned, so careful to ask the right questions and probe her bruised heart.
But she needed to get away - she didn’t think she’d be able to face the training session with her Slayers, all of them still so young and innocent.
What could she do?
Her thoughts drifted back to the The Immortal’s garden. ‘Call anytime’ he’d said...
Seconds later she was rooting through her purse, finally unearthing the card where he’d written down his cell phone number, and then she was dialling, heart beating.
It took quite a number of rings before he picked up, but then his voice filled her ear, warm and comforting and teasing.
“Buffy! Did you miss me already?”
“Immortal... can we run away together? You and me? Go somewhere no one knows us. Start over - like eloping or something...”
Her voice trailed off, and there was a pause. She was bracing herself, waiting for the inevitable ‘Buffy - what happened?’ that was sure to follow. She’d been stupid to think he’d be different...
“Well... how far were you thinking of running? I mean - should I bring a passport?”
He sounded calm and serious, and she could feel something unfurl inside.
“No... no passport. Just... I just need to get away.”
“Hmm, where’s a nice ‘away’? Let’s think... Have you ever been to Napoli? Gorgeous place, and I’ve not been there since forever.”
“Napoli sounds perfect.” It was impossible, but he was saying all the right things - although of course he was an impossible thing.
“Excellent! Now, who should we be?”
“Who- what?”
“There’s no point in running away if you don’t pretend to be someone else.” He laughed at her confusion. “But if you’ve not thought that far, don’t worry, I’m an expert...” There was a momentary pause before he continued.
“Ooooh, I’ve got it! Go dig out the most expensive looking clothes you own. Think ‘Clueless’ but trashier... and lots of makeup. Basically look like a label addict with no taste. I’ll pick you up in... better say an hour, although it might be less - that should be enough time if you hurry, I think. If you can’t find anything suitable, don’t worry, we’ll just go buy something OK? I’ll tell you the rest when I get there.”
“OK,” she breathed, heart beating wildly and excitement flooding though her.
Swiftly she called Andrew, informing him that she couldn’t make the training that morning and to relay her apologies to the girls, and then went to ransack her wardrobe.
Princess Buffy and Prince Charming...
***
London.
Giles slowly replaced the receiver, trying his best not to swear out loud. That had gone pretty much as badly as possible - maybe worse. He knew that he was the last person to try to make her examine her relationships, but there was no one else, really, since her friends were all unwilling to confront her.
It had only been Willow’s slip in the previous night's conversation that had alerted him to the situation (“At least Buffy is happy, and she says he’s genuine...” “Who? What? Buffy has a boyfriend?”). She claimed that she’d tried her best to ascertain that Buffy knew what she was doing, but had been forced to admit that Buffy had been ‘avoid-y’.
Giles had then called up Xander, wondering what Buffy had told him, and discovered that he, too, had been kept in the dark. After the initial surprise, however, Xander’s reaction had been laconic and deliberately laid-back. “So the Buffster is dating some immortal guy who may or may not be evil? Giles - speaking from long experience - I’m telling you: Don’t get involved!”
Dawn - his next port of call, since she had to have met the man in question - had of course been defensive in the extreme (and annoyed, because he’d caught her just as she was running out the door for a sleepover), quipping something about The Immortal being ‘disgustingly perfect’ and “Why does Buffy always get all the best ones?” Upon asking what Andrew thought of the situation (because surely he, as resident Watcher, would have done some research, especially since Buffy had clearly abandoned hers), Dawn had huffed and said that he was probably writing love-poems in Klingon to The Immortal - which had alarmed Giles to such a degree that he’d immediately called the young man.
However, Andrew had - much to his surprise - turned out to be the only semi-rational voice of them all. He had easily expanded on the many virtues of The Immortal, reassuring Giles that he - The Immortal - was most certainly very devoted to Buffy, and that she was as happy and safe as could be. But when Giles had asked if he had seen any foundation for those notorious stories, there had been an odd hesitation.
“Look - don’t say I said this, I mean, I’m not saying anything, just... I think he could... if, you know, you, like, got on his wrong side or something - not that I have, obviously, because that’s silly, ha ha, but - I think he... he might be dangerous.”
“And what led you to that conclusion?”
“Nothing! Nothing at all! Just, you know, reading stuff and things. He’s really charming, honestly. And I have to go and we never talked about this, OK? Seriously, promise me that you won’t tell anyone.”
It wasn’t so much the confirmation of the danger (Giles had been quite sure already that the man was dangerous), as the nervousness displayed that made Giles pause. Not that Andrew was the most balanced of people, but after his great success in LA it took a lot to unsettle him - he liked to play the aloof and superior card these days...
Giles had decided to wait until morning before calling Buffy, trying for a tactic of detachment and objectivity, rather than attempting to talk about her feelings - but still she’d shot him down immediately. He would need something a little more solid to back up his concerns - hopefully the books in question had not been destroyed...
Pressing a button for the intercom, he called up his secretary.
“Teresa - do you think you could find me the diaries of Stamford? Early Twenties if memory serves - the years he was stationed in Rome. I am fairly certain they were located in the lower vaults, and should have escaped damage. Thank you.”
He sat back in his chair, pondering. He really ought to have brushed up on the story earlier, but he’d not counted on his call failing quite so spectacularly.
It was unfortunate, but he needed Buffy to face facts.
***
Napoli, around 2pm.
Some days Emilio loathed his job with a passion so sharp it surprised him.
Working a couple of days a week in a cosy little café was usually pleasant enough, the extra income welcome as a top-up to his simple student life, and he enjoyed meeting and interacting with people from all around the world.
But some days...
He had noticed the couple as they sat down and immediately marked them out as rich Americans. For a start they had the telltale wholesome look going - perfect hair, shiny white teeth and clothes that made him wince. Coupled, he soon realised, with that aggravating American sense of entitlement.
From a clothing perspective he wasn’t quite sure which was worse - the woman’s designer outfit, which was so clearly a case of money triumphing over (non-existent) taste, or the man’s jovial ‘Average Joe’ jeans, shirt and boots combo. Some people shouldn’t be allowed to shop.
The male half of the couple, all folksy friendliness of course, immediately introduced himself as "Christian Slater, of Slater and Sanderson Steel, Texas - I’m sure you’ve heard of us?", to which Emilio could only smile stiffly. The young woman turned out to be Mr Slater’s new wife - a blonde, giggly, cheerleader-type thing, who had shoved her wedding ring under Emilio’s nose at the first opportunity, forcing him to attempt to say something nice about what was probably the most hideous thing he’d seen in his entire life - a pink diamond of ridiculous size and cut, so vulgar and tacky he felt it was almost his duty to give them the name of a good jeweller.
But any goodwill he might have had left soon evaporated, when he with growing horror realised that they were trying to hit on him - both of them. He’d heard of swingers of course, and the whole car keys in the bowl thing, but although he would never describe himself as a prude the idea was pretty revolting and off-putting.
He made sure to be icily polite and stand-offish for the remainder of their lunch, but, unfortunately, they appeared to take this as a challenge rather than a brush-off.
To add insult to injury Mr Slater tipped exceedingly generously - accompanied, of course, with more blatant ogling and half-veiled suggestiveness.
Emilio quickly decided that the best thing to do with the money would be to buy his girlfriend some outrageous underwear - hopefully it’d help him blank out the trauma.
***
“I think he hated us,” Buffy whispered as they finally left the café, cautiously looking over her shoulder and seeing the waiter glaring daggers after them.
The Immortal laughed and wrapped his arm more firmly around her waist. “Oh I should think so. I do obnoxious rather well don’t you think? And your flirting was excellent!”
“But...” she frowned, as a new thought occurred to her. “What if he had liked us...?”
“Then we could have rented a hotel room. Still could, if you like Mrs Slater?”
Through long practice she easily ignored the offer (and who’d have sex when there was shopping to be done?), although the ‘Mrs Slater’ made her smile again. She’d never imagined that her teenage daydream would ever play out like this-
“Ooooh look - sunglasses!” she exclaimed, forgetting her train of thought as a new shop caught her eyes. Dawn was forever stealing her shades these days, so if she could get some and hide them it’d be a great triumph.
Swiftly dumping her accumulated bags on The Immortal she threw herself at the rows of shiny reflections, only wincing a little at the overly made-up face looking back at her from the provided mirror. But Valley Girls didn’t spare the war paint...
Laughing, The Immortal carefully put down their purchases and joined her, studying the sunglasses with an expert eye - he really was the perfect shopping partner, just like the ‘gay friend’ she’d first envisaged.
Trying on a pair of shades she looked at him, and he tilted his head. “Not bad... perfect for Mrs Slater, but possibly a bit much for Miss Summers - who’re you getting them for?”
“Me,” she smiled back and removed the glasses, studying him as his right hand hovered over the display.
“Can I ask... I mean, this whole made up story thing... do you do this often?”
She wasn’t quite sure how to frame the question, but the ease and smoothness with which the lies had blossomed was just a little on the uncomfortable side.
Picking out a pair of glasses The Immortal carefully settled them on his face, before turning to her, shrugging. “Used to be a con man. Lying through my teeth whilst charming the pants off people is pretty much second nature. What do you think?”
He shot himself a look in the mirror, and she faltered. “I... I don’t know...”
Pulling a face he removed the shades. “No, not ideal. A jaw line like mine needs something a bit more defined...” Perusing the selection again he didn’t seem to notice her unease.
“Have you lied to me?” she asked, feeling like she had when they first met - talking with him was like walking on quicksand.
“Yes,” he promptly answered. She was taken aback at the bluntness - of course he had said right from the start that he was keeping secrets, but there was a difference between not-telling-the-truth and actual lying.
“How... how much?”
He smiled gently. “Only the bare minimum, trust me.”
“But it’s all for my own good, right?” There might have been a snippy edge to her voice, but she couldn’t help it.
“No. For mine,” he replied, and then picked out some different glasses with an air of triumph.
“Now this is more like it!” He swiftly put them on, grinning, and she could only nod and stammer that yes, they suited him.
A while later they walked on, both of them sporting shiny new shades, but Buffy still felt a little unreal.
Would he never stop surprising her? How come she trusted him when he - by his own admission - was lying to her?
But (thankfully) today was not a day for Deep Thoughts. She looked out over the sparkling bay, holding her ‘husband’’s hand, and let him set the pace as he decided where they should go next exploring the town.
Europe was wonderful, being Mrs Christian Slater was wonderful, and most wonderful of all was running away with someone else.
***
Night.
She was going to kill him. Definitely.
Just as soon as she wasn’t naked in the ocean in the middle of the night with a police officer shouting at them from the beach...
Then she looked at The Immortal and realised that he was shaking from suppressed laughter, not the cold of the water.
Kill him a lot.
***
As usual it was all because of a vampire. She’d spotted it on the way back to the car and set off in pursuit when it did a runner; had eventually ended up on a private beach (where the vamp’s mates were obviously hanging out for the night) and proceeded to do some nifty slaying. The Immortal had sauntered along behind, carrying all the bags she’d dropped, and had then just stood by, apparently not even remotely considering giving her a hand. Although he’d been having fun playing ‘the protective male’ all day, in reality really he was about as protective as a can-opener. A very naughty and inappropriate can-opener, who - despite his non-participation - quite clearly got turned on by violence, and, after a rather breathless and body-crushing post-slayage kiss, had decided that skinny dipping was just what the day had lacked so far.
It wasn’t supposed to end up with nudity and police and... oh god, her purse was on the beach, with all her identification inside; and it would be no good saying her name was ‘Mrs Slater’ when her cards said ‘Buffy Summers’ and Giles was going to have a fit - not even when she’d been sleeping with Spike had she been charged with ‘indecent exposure’ or whatever it was called in Italy.
The Immortal was so going to pay for this!
She glared at him, but he just burst into actual laughter and then kissed her - possibly to shut up the tirade on her lips - before catching her eyes, speaking more or less seriously.
“Buffy - don’t worry. The vampires were your show. This... is mine. Stay here for a minute and let me handle it, OK? Honestly, everything will be fine.”
She didn’t get much of a choice, since the next second he swam for the shore.
A few moments later she got proof - if such proof were still needed - that he really didn’t have a problem with nudity, as he walked onto the beach with no apparent worry or embarrassment.
The police officer - a woman, of course - wasn’t impressed however, shouting at him in explosive Italian. Buffy didn’t understand the words, but the meaning was clear. The Immortal shrugged and leisurely pulled on his pants, before stepping closer to her, speaking so quietly that Buffy couldn’t catch a single word... But after a moment the police woman got out a cell phone and there was some more intense back-and-forth.
And then - to Buffy’s immense relief - she left!
The Immortal watched her go, and then signalled to Buffy to come ashore. She was shaking with cold now, and he gallantly lent her his shirt to use as a towel.
“So... what now?” she asked when dressed again, feeling clammy and sticky all over. Skinny dipping had many unpleasant and unforeseen consequences.
“What now what?” he countered, and she waved a hand in the direction the officer had left. “What happens? Did we get let off with a warning or... something...”
He shook his head. “Never happened.”
She blinked, feeling as ditsy and blonde as she’d been pretending to be all day. “What do you mean?”
“As far as the police are concerned, we were never here, and neither were they. Don’t worry - your permanent record is as shiny as it was before. Presuming that it is shiny - I haven’t actually had a look.”
“But how... how did you...”
He shrugged, clearly wanting to change the subject. “Well I can either lie to you, or leave you in the dark - your choice.”
Telling her when he was about to lie was a nice courtesy, she thought, even if wasn’t especially helpful to finding out more. Choosing not to say anything she picked up the bags (pretty things still pretty. That was good.) and they made their way back to the town.
After loading up the trunk with the fruits of their shopping spree, Buffy turned to The Immortal and with a wistful smile pulled the ring off her finger, handing it to him.
“Guess you better have this back, huh?”
He shook his head, hands firmly in his pockets.
“Keep it.”
“But it cost a fortune!”
He hesitated momentarily. “Look... when a man buys a woman a wedding ring he doesn’t like it back - it’s just one of those things, trust me. I know it’s so ugly it shouldn’t exist, but still. Will you keep it? You can always pawn it when I’m gone.”
She nodded assent, and solemnly he picked up her hand and put the ring back on her finger; keeping her hand in his as if to make sure that she wouldn’t change her mind and remove it.
“Thank you,” he said, a ready smile on his face that didn’t reach his eyes, which were focussed on the ring still. Reaching up she cupped his face, forcing him look at her - she was beginning to be able to read him pretty well, and he wore his heart on his sleeve too much for his own good.
“Immortal... were you ever married?”
“Yes,” he whispered, so softly that she could barely make it out, but there was that haunted look in his eyes that she recognised far too well...
Silently she pulled him down for a kiss, and in the bright passion of his mouth and hands and body she could feel how he wanted to drown in her; forget everything until there was only pleasure left - but he was no Angel, and whatever oblivion he could find in her arms could only ever be temporary.
But that didn’t make it any less real.
“Let’s go home,” she whispered against his lips, and he nodded.
***
Later, in the cosy cocoon of the car, she half-drowsed as lights flickered past in the darkness, and she felt as if they were flying.
She mentioned this, and he shot her a thoughtful look, the lights from the dashboard gently outlining his handsome face and steady arms.
“Flying is much better,” he eventually answered. “Would you like to try sometime?”
“Try flying?”
He nodded. “There’s... oh quite a few places within driving distance that I could take you. We could do some cover story about you being my pupil or similar. I’ll work something out.”
She smiled wryly. “So - you know how to fly a plane, on top of everything else?”
The soft chuckle she got in response was comforting in its smugness.
“They have yet to invent something I can’t fly - and it’s highly doubtful that they ever will.”
He did a half shrug, half head-dip, that said ‘I’m awesome and I know it’ and she shook her head fondly.
Sleepily she drifted off again, watching the stars and thinking to herself that it was ridiculous for them to be whole other worlds... they looked like nothing more than tiny lights suspended in space; fairy dust scattered over the dark sky.
Maybe that’s all they were, really... after all, life itself was a fairy tale today.
Chapter 9.
And after that little bit of silliness her comes the next chapter of My Immortal - I know, it's only been 2 weeks! Try not to faint. ;) Previous parts here, and many smooches to my wonderful beta kathyh for her stellar work!
Pairing: Buffy/Jack.
Rating: PG-13.
Spoilers: S2 of Torchwood.
Genre: Crossover. (BtVS/Torchwood)
Word count: 4200 words approx.
Feedback: Makes me happier than Unexpected Naked Jack!
Chapter 8
Giles: Well, that doesn't change anything. What I told you is still true. You need to learn-
Buffy: No, I think you've taught me everything I need to know.
~
Buffy: All I want to do is graduate from high school, move to Europe, marry Christian Slater, and die.
~
Jack: And we're standing there, fifteen of us, naked-
[...]
Rose: I don't believe you, I don't believe a word you say ever, that is so brilliant!
Friday 9th of April, morning.
Dating the Immortal was a bit like living in a parallel universe. ‘Going to the cinema’ in Immortal World didn’t mean ‘Let’s go see a movie’ but ‘Let’s see how close we can get to having sex in a public place, without undressing or people noticing’. She couldn’t remember a thing about what had happened on-screen the previous night, but Buffy was sure it couldn’t have been anywhere near as exciting as what had happened in their seats.
After their cinema stunt he’d come back to her apartment ‘to check that the bed was as sturdy as it looked’ - after all Dawn was staying over at a friend’s for the night, and thus didn’t get in the way of their very inventive test methods...
He had left at 2 in the morning or thereabouts, after she’d pointed out that she needed sleep and had training scheduled with her slayers the next day.
So she’d woken up alone, but rested.
She was busy shovelling cereal into her mouth when the phone rang, and swallowed as quickly as possible before replying. Hearing Giles’ familiar voice, she smiled.
“Hey Giles - how are things? Please tell me it’s not another apocalypse!”
“No... it’s... well actually it’s... it’s you I’d like to talk about.”
“Me?”
“I received a call from Willow yesterday evening, a report about the spell she tried, and in the course of the conversation she happened to mention... well...”
Oh she knew that tone. So carefully neutral, so desperate not to say the wrong thing, and yet...
“Is this about me dating The Immortal?”
She should have known this was coming.
“Um... yes. Whilst I understand that I have no right to interfere with your personal life, I also could not forget our conversation a week ago, regarding the spell that Jonathan once used. Now taking into consideration who you must have been talking about, I was... curious as to... well how you made the decision you have evidently made.”
She took a deep breath, and held it. She could do this, she really could.
And the way to do it, was to eliminate discussion.
“Look Giles... just leave it. I like him, he likes me, we’re having a... a thing, OK? A good thing. That’s it.”
There was a pause, and with a sinking heart she realised that he wasn’t going to let it go.
“I’m afraid it isn’t that simple, Buffy. He counts amongst his friends creatures and... groups that we could not possibly be seen to be approving of, however tacitly. And - although his interaction with the Council has been very brief - his arrogance and contempt for human morals and values is well known. I am very sorry to say this, but I am asking you to consider very carefully your position-”
“No!” she cut in, something snapping inside that she hadn’t even been aware of. “No, I won’t consider anything. You have no idea who he is, trust me... He’s the best thing that’s happened to me since- since Sunnydale!”
She swallowed, fighting against her overwhelming urge to throw the phone out the window and watch it smash against the building opposite. She’d forgotten how angry he could make her.
“Buffy-”
“Actually, you know what? If you don’t like it, then please go ahead and try to have him killed. Because I would love to see you try!”
She slammed the receiver down, desperately fighting against the tears that were blurring her vision and the shaking that was taking hold of her.
Why her? Why did she always have to defend every action? Why had fate or destiny or the Powers singled her out? Why was she always the one to dance with death - literally or through her lovers? Even Riley had felt it necessary to flirt with it, although at least he hadn’t actually died...
And now there was The Immortal, who spoke as lightly of death as she did, because he understood the darkness... She’d witnessed him die (stabbed through the heart, just like she had done to-) But he’d come back to her; no strings, no conditions. Death, that had taken so much from her in so many ways, had no hold over him.
Maybe, subconsciously, that was the main reason she’d decided to be with him...
The rational thought helped her calm down a little, but she still felt trampled and wrung out - the anger wasn’t gone, and neither was the all too familiar grief that she’d so successfully managed to put aside these past few days. She almost called Dawn to ask her to blow off her classes and come out shopping or something, except... Except Dawn would ask why. Everyone was always so concerned, so careful to ask the right questions and probe her bruised heart.
But she needed to get away - she didn’t think she’d be able to face the training session with her Slayers, all of them still so young and innocent.
What could she do?
Her thoughts drifted back to the The Immortal’s garden. ‘Call anytime’ he’d said...
Seconds later she was rooting through her purse, finally unearthing the card where he’d written down his cell phone number, and then she was dialling, heart beating.
It took quite a number of rings before he picked up, but then his voice filled her ear, warm and comforting and teasing.
“Buffy! Did you miss me already?”
“Immortal... can we run away together? You and me? Go somewhere no one knows us. Start over - like eloping or something...”
Her voice trailed off, and there was a pause. She was bracing herself, waiting for the inevitable ‘Buffy - what happened?’ that was sure to follow. She’d been stupid to think he’d be different...
“Well... how far were you thinking of running? I mean - should I bring a passport?”
He sounded calm and serious, and she could feel something unfurl inside.
“No... no passport. Just... I just need to get away.”
“Hmm, where’s a nice ‘away’? Let’s think... Have you ever been to Napoli? Gorgeous place, and I’ve not been there since forever.”
“Napoli sounds perfect.” It was impossible, but he was saying all the right things - although of course he was an impossible thing.
“Excellent! Now, who should we be?”
“Who- what?”
“There’s no point in running away if you don’t pretend to be someone else.” He laughed at her confusion. “But if you’ve not thought that far, don’t worry, I’m an expert...” There was a momentary pause before he continued.
“Ooooh, I’ve got it! Go dig out the most expensive looking clothes you own. Think ‘Clueless’ but trashier... and lots of makeup. Basically look like a label addict with no taste. I’ll pick you up in... better say an hour, although it might be less - that should be enough time if you hurry, I think. If you can’t find anything suitable, don’t worry, we’ll just go buy something OK? I’ll tell you the rest when I get there.”
“OK,” she breathed, heart beating wildly and excitement flooding though her.
Swiftly she called Andrew, informing him that she couldn’t make the training that morning and to relay her apologies to the girls, and then went to ransack her wardrobe.
Princess Buffy and Prince Charming...
***
London.
Giles slowly replaced the receiver, trying his best not to swear out loud. That had gone pretty much as badly as possible - maybe worse. He knew that he was the last person to try to make her examine her relationships, but there was no one else, really, since her friends were all unwilling to confront her.
It had only been Willow’s slip in the previous night's conversation that had alerted him to the situation (“At least Buffy is happy, and she says he’s genuine...” “Who? What? Buffy has a boyfriend?”). She claimed that she’d tried her best to ascertain that Buffy knew what she was doing, but had been forced to admit that Buffy had been ‘avoid-y’.
Giles had then called up Xander, wondering what Buffy had told him, and discovered that he, too, had been kept in the dark. After the initial surprise, however, Xander’s reaction had been laconic and deliberately laid-back. “So the Buffster is dating some immortal guy who may or may not be evil? Giles - speaking from long experience - I’m telling you: Don’t get involved!”
Dawn - his next port of call, since she had to have met the man in question - had of course been defensive in the extreme (and annoyed, because he’d caught her just as she was running out the door for a sleepover), quipping something about The Immortal being ‘disgustingly perfect’ and “Why does Buffy always get all the best ones?” Upon asking what Andrew thought of the situation (because surely he, as resident Watcher, would have done some research, especially since Buffy had clearly abandoned hers), Dawn had huffed and said that he was probably writing love-poems in Klingon to The Immortal - which had alarmed Giles to such a degree that he’d immediately called the young man.
However, Andrew had - much to his surprise - turned out to be the only semi-rational voice of them all. He had easily expanded on the many virtues of The Immortal, reassuring Giles that he - The Immortal - was most certainly very devoted to Buffy, and that she was as happy and safe as could be. But when Giles had asked if he had seen any foundation for those notorious stories, there had been an odd hesitation.
“Look - don’t say I said this, I mean, I’m not saying anything, just... I think he could... if, you know, you, like, got on his wrong side or something - not that I have, obviously, because that’s silly, ha ha, but - I think he... he might be dangerous.”
“And what led you to that conclusion?”
“Nothing! Nothing at all! Just, you know, reading stuff and things. He’s really charming, honestly. And I have to go and we never talked about this, OK? Seriously, promise me that you won’t tell anyone.”
It wasn’t so much the confirmation of the danger (Giles had been quite sure already that the man was dangerous), as the nervousness displayed that made Giles pause. Not that Andrew was the most balanced of people, but after his great success in LA it took a lot to unsettle him - he liked to play the aloof and superior card these days...
Giles had decided to wait until morning before calling Buffy, trying for a tactic of detachment and objectivity, rather than attempting to talk about her feelings - but still she’d shot him down immediately. He would need something a little more solid to back up his concerns - hopefully the books in question had not been destroyed...
Pressing a button for the intercom, he called up his secretary.
“Teresa - do you think you could find me the diaries of Stamford? Early Twenties if memory serves - the years he was stationed in Rome. I am fairly certain they were located in the lower vaults, and should have escaped damage. Thank you.”
He sat back in his chair, pondering. He really ought to have brushed up on the story earlier, but he’d not counted on his call failing quite so spectacularly.
It was unfortunate, but he needed Buffy to face facts.
***
Napoli, around 2pm.
Some days Emilio loathed his job with a passion so sharp it surprised him.
Working a couple of days a week in a cosy little café was usually pleasant enough, the extra income welcome as a top-up to his simple student life, and he enjoyed meeting and interacting with people from all around the world.
But some days...
He had noticed the couple as they sat down and immediately marked them out as rich Americans. For a start they had the telltale wholesome look going - perfect hair, shiny white teeth and clothes that made him wince. Coupled, he soon realised, with that aggravating American sense of entitlement.
From a clothing perspective he wasn’t quite sure which was worse - the woman’s designer outfit, which was so clearly a case of money triumphing over (non-existent) taste, or the man’s jovial ‘Average Joe’ jeans, shirt and boots combo. Some people shouldn’t be allowed to shop.
The male half of the couple, all folksy friendliness of course, immediately introduced himself as "Christian Slater, of Slater and Sanderson Steel, Texas - I’m sure you’ve heard of us?", to which Emilio could only smile stiffly. The young woman turned out to be Mr Slater’s new wife - a blonde, giggly, cheerleader-type thing, who had shoved her wedding ring under Emilio’s nose at the first opportunity, forcing him to attempt to say something nice about what was probably the most hideous thing he’d seen in his entire life - a pink diamond of ridiculous size and cut, so vulgar and tacky he felt it was almost his duty to give them the name of a good jeweller.
But any goodwill he might have had left soon evaporated, when he with growing horror realised that they were trying to hit on him - both of them. He’d heard of swingers of course, and the whole car keys in the bowl thing, but although he would never describe himself as a prude the idea was pretty revolting and off-putting.
He made sure to be icily polite and stand-offish for the remainder of their lunch, but, unfortunately, they appeared to take this as a challenge rather than a brush-off.
To add insult to injury Mr Slater tipped exceedingly generously - accompanied, of course, with more blatant ogling and half-veiled suggestiveness.
Emilio quickly decided that the best thing to do with the money would be to buy his girlfriend some outrageous underwear - hopefully it’d help him blank out the trauma.
***
“I think he hated us,” Buffy whispered as they finally left the café, cautiously looking over her shoulder and seeing the waiter glaring daggers after them.
The Immortal laughed and wrapped his arm more firmly around her waist. “Oh I should think so. I do obnoxious rather well don’t you think? And your flirting was excellent!”
“But...” she frowned, as a new thought occurred to her. “What if he had liked us...?”
“Then we could have rented a hotel room. Still could, if you like Mrs Slater?”
Through long practice she easily ignored the offer (and who’d have sex when there was shopping to be done?), although the ‘Mrs Slater’ made her smile again. She’d never imagined that her teenage daydream would ever play out like this-
“Ooooh look - sunglasses!” she exclaimed, forgetting her train of thought as a new shop caught her eyes. Dawn was forever stealing her shades these days, so if she could get some and hide them it’d be a great triumph.
Swiftly dumping her accumulated bags on The Immortal she threw herself at the rows of shiny reflections, only wincing a little at the overly made-up face looking back at her from the provided mirror. But Valley Girls didn’t spare the war paint...
Laughing, The Immortal carefully put down their purchases and joined her, studying the sunglasses with an expert eye - he really was the perfect shopping partner, just like the ‘gay friend’ she’d first envisaged.
Trying on a pair of shades she looked at him, and he tilted his head. “Not bad... perfect for Mrs Slater, but possibly a bit much for Miss Summers - who’re you getting them for?”
“Me,” she smiled back and removed the glasses, studying him as his right hand hovered over the display.
“Can I ask... I mean, this whole made up story thing... do you do this often?”
She wasn’t quite sure how to frame the question, but the ease and smoothness with which the lies had blossomed was just a little on the uncomfortable side.
Picking out a pair of glasses The Immortal carefully settled them on his face, before turning to her, shrugging. “Used to be a con man. Lying through my teeth whilst charming the pants off people is pretty much second nature. What do you think?”
He shot himself a look in the mirror, and she faltered. “I... I don’t know...”
Pulling a face he removed the shades. “No, not ideal. A jaw line like mine needs something a bit more defined...” Perusing the selection again he didn’t seem to notice her unease.
“Have you lied to me?” she asked, feeling like she had when they first met - talking with him was like walking on quicksand.
“Yes,” he promptly answered. She was taken aback at the bluntness - of course he had said right from the start that he was keeping secrets, but there was a difference between not-telling-the-truth and actual lying.
“How... how much?”
He smiled gently. “Only the bare minimum, trust me.”
“But it’s all for my own good, right?” There might have been a snippy edge to her voice, but she couldn’t help it.
“No. For mine,” he replied, and then picked out some different glasses with an air of triumph.
“Now this is more like it!” He swiftly put them on, grinning, and she could only nod and stammer that yes, they suited him.
A while later they walked on, both of them sporting shiny new shades, but Buffy still felt a little unreal.
Would he never stop surprising her? How come she trusted him when he - by his own admission - was lying to her?
But (thankfully) today was not a day for Deep Thoughts. She looked out over the sparkling bay, holding her ‘husband’’s hand, and let him set the pace as he decided where they should go next exploring the town.
Europe was wonderful, being Mrs Christian Slater was wonderful, and most wonderful of all was running away with someone else.
***
Night.
She was going to kill him. Definitely.
Just as soon as she wasn’t naked in the ocean in the middle of the night with a police officer shouting at them from the beach...
Then she looked at The Immortal and realised that he was shaking from suppressed laughter, not the cold of the water.
Kill him a lot.
***
As usual it was all because of a vampire. She’d spotted it on the way back to the car and set off in pursuit when it did a runner; had eventually ended up on a private beach (where the vamp’s mates were obviously hanging out for the night) and proceeded to do some nifty slaying. The Immortal had sauntered along behind, carrying all the bags she’d dropped, and had then just stood by, apparently not even remotely considering giving her a hand. Although he’d been having fun playing ‘the protective male’ all day, in reality really he was about as protective as a can-opener. A very naughty and inappropriate can-opener, who - despite his non-participation - quite clearly got turned on by violence, and, after a rather breathless and body-crushing post-slayage kiss, had decided that skinny dipping was just what the day had lacked so far.
It wasn’t supposed to end up with nudity and police and... oh god, her purse was on the beach, with all her identification inside; and it would be no good saying her name was ‘Mrs Slater’ when her cards said ‘Buffy Summers’ and Giles was going to have a fit - not even when she’d been sleeping with Spike had she been charged with ‘indecent exposure’ or whatever it was called in Italy.
The Immortal was so going to pay for this!
She glared at him, but he just burst into actual laughter and then kissed her - possibly to shut up the tirade on her lips - before catching her eyes, speaking more or less seriously.
“Buffy - don’t worry. The vampires were your show. This... is mine. Stay here for a minute and let me handle it, OK? Honestly, everything will be fine.”
She didn’t get much of a choice, since the next second he swam for the shore.
A few moments later she got proof - if such proof were still needed - that he really didn’t have a problem with nudity, as he walked onto the beach with no apparent worry or embarrassment.
The police officer - a woman, of course - wasn’t impressed however, shouting at him in explosive Italian. Buffy didn’t understand the words, but the meaning was clear. The Immortal shrugged and leisurely pulled on his pants, before stepping closer to her, speaking so quietly that Buffy couldn’t catch a single word... But after a moment the police woman got out a cell phone and there was some more intense back-and-forth.
And then - to Buffy’s immense relief - she left!
The Immortal watched her go, and then signalled to Buffy to come ashore. She was shaking with cold now, and he gallantly lent her his shirt to use as a towel.
“So... what now?” she asked when dressed again, feeling clammy and sticky all over. Skinny dipping had many unpleasant and unforeseen consequences.
“What now what?” he countered, and she waved a hand in the direction the officer had left. “What happens? Did we get let off with a warning or... something...”
He shook his head. “Never happened.”
She blinked, feeling as ditsy and blonde as she’d been pretending to be all day. “What do you mean?”
“As far as the police are concerned, we were never here, and neither were they. Don’t worry - your permanent record is as shiny as it was before. Presuming that it is shiny - I haven’t actually had a look.”
“But how... how did you...”
He shrugged, clearly wanting to change the subject. “Well I can either lie to you, or leave you in the dark - your choice.”
Telling her when he was about to lie was a nice courtesy, she thought, even if wasn’t especially helpful to finding out more. Choosing not to say anything she picked up the bags (pretty things still pretty. That was good.) and they made their way back to the town.
After loading up the trunk with the fruits of their shopping spree, Buffy turned to The Immortal and with a wistful smile pulled the ring off her finger, handing it to him.
“Guess you better have this back, huh?”
He shook his head, hands firmly in his pockets.
“Keep it.”
“But it cost a fortune!”
He hesitated momentarily. “Look... when a man buys a woman a wedding ring he doesn’t like it back - it’s just one of those things, trust me. I know it’s so ugly it shouldn’t exist, but still. Will you keep it? You can always pawn it when I’m gone.”
She nodded assent, and solemnly he picked up her hand and put the ring back on her finger; keeping her hand in his as if to make sure that she wouldn’t change her mind and remove it.
“Thank you,” he said, a ready smile on his face that didn’t reach his eyes, which were focussed on the ring still. Reaching up she cupped his face, forcing him look at her - she was beginning to be able to read him pretty well, and he wore his heart on his sleeve too much for his own good.
“Immortal... were you ever married?”
“Yes,” he whispered, so softly that she could barely make it out, but there was that haunted look in his eyes that she recognised far too well...
Silently she pulled him down for a kiss, and in the bright passion of his mouth and hands and body she could feel how he wanted to drown in her; forget everything until there was only pleasure left - but he was no Angel, and whatever oblivion he could find in her arms could only ever be temporary.
But that didn’t make it any less real.
“Let’s go home,” she whispered against his lips, and he nodded.
***
Later, in the cosy cocoon of the car, she half-drowsed as lights flickered past in the darkness, and she felt as if they were flying.
She mentioned this, and he shot her a thoughtful look, the lights from the dashboard gently outlining his handsome face and steady arms.
“Flying is much better,” he eventually answered. “Would you like to try sometime?”
“Try flying?”
He nodded. “There’s... oh quite a few places within driving distance that I could take you. We could do some cover story about you being my pupil or similar. I’ll work something out.”
She smiled wryly. “So - you know how to fly a plane, on top of everything else?”
The soft chuckle she got in response was comforting in its smugness.
“They have yet to invent something I can’t fly - and it’s highly doubtful that they ever will.”
He did a half shrug, half head-dip, that said ‘I’m awesome and I know it’ and she shook her head fondly.
Sleepily she drifted off again, watching the stars and thinking to herself that it was ridiculous for them to be whole other worlds... they looked like nothing more than tiny lights suspended in space; fairy dust scattered over the dark sky.
Maybe that’s all they were, really... after all, life itself was a fairy tale today.
Chapter 9.