Be Thou My God--Chapter 14

[pepperlandgirl]

Chapter 14

The dinner itself was remarkable in its dullness. A more mundane meal Buffy had never enjoyed. Angel and Spike did talk about the Ministry, but nothing interesting. They criticized each other’s ineptness, commented on the upcoming schedule, and commiserated over what a right bloody bastard Rayne was. When Cordelia talked, she focused on her favorite subject—herself. A topic altogether boring for Buffy.

Over dessert and coffee, Cordelia mourned her ineffective visions. “They aren’t working anymore.”

“They weren’t working before,” Spike pointed out.

Cordelia shot daggers towards Spike and Angel held up his hand. “The problem might be that they’re too vague.”

“Well how else am I supposed to deliver fake visions?” She glanced at Buffy. “You didn’t buy them for a second, did you?”

“Don’t worry about her opinion,” Spike drawled. “She didn’t buy any of it. She’s not even impressed by my considerable talents.”

Buffy shifted, uncomfortable. She had no desire to be part of the conversation on any level. She just wanted to listen and gather what information she could. In fact, she didn’t even want them to remember she was there. She would be happy to just blend in with the background. But now all three of them were looking for her like they were expecting an explanation.

“You were very convincing,” she finally said.

“But not convincing enough?” Cordelia demanded.

“I didn’t say that….”

“But I knew what you meant. Angel, we cannot tolerate this.”

Angel put down his coffee cup. “Tolerate what, Cordelia? We can’t make Elizabeth believe us.”

“Oh, I don’t care about her! I’m talking about all the other potential customers we’re losing!” She threw her napkin down on the table.

Angel leaned toward her, obviously concerned. “Cordelia…calm down. Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Angel and Spike looked at each other, their eyes quizzical, over the table and Buffy tried to sink into her chair. Even Buffy could tell there was something wrong with the normally chipper girl, and she barely knew Ms. Chase.

“Why are you so wound up about the show? Look, if you’re worried about the visions, Spike and I can write you new ones.”

“Never mind,” she said, lifting her glass of water. She took a sip and then smiled brilliantly. “See? I’m fine!”

“I know you better than that?”

“Even I know you better than that,” Spike interjected.

Cordelia looked from Spike to Angel, and Buffy tried to make herself even more inconspicuous. Something told her that whatever was bothering Cordelia might be important. At any rate, she couldn’t afford to ignore any minor details now.

“Don’t mention this to anybody, ok?”

“Of course we won’t,” Angel assured her. Buffy noticed that Spike didn’t say anything.

Cordelia took another swallow of water…then a bite of her chocolate cake…and mixed cream and sugar into her coffee and took a dainty sip.

“For Christ’s sake,” Spike snapped. “Get on with it.”

She glared at Spike again, but she did start talking. “Ethan wanted to talk to me the other night—after the Lincoln show. It’s why I wasn’t there to help you count the money.” She smiled apologetically at Angel. “I heard you were left there to do it yourself.”

Angel waved her off. Don’t worry about it.

“Anyway, you know how creepy Ethan’s trailer was? It’s worse now. He’s got these weird…things…hanging on the ceiling and it was all dark in there. They looked like hands. He was waiting for me at the table, and it was an absolute mess. I mean, really disgusting. He needs to get a cleaning service or have Fred straighten up or something. Humans shouldn’t live like that.”

“We get the picture, Cordy.”

Buffy was too busy trying to figure out if there were actually hands hanging from the trailer’s ceiling to be impatient with Cordelia’s tangents.

“He told me that he’s been meaning to talk to me about my place in the show. He hasn’t been impressed with me lately and he says it’s my fault we’re not making as much money as we used to. He said the little old ladies aren’t impressed with my tits and I need to try harder.”

“Or he’ll fire you?” Angel asked.

Cordelia shook her head. “He didn’t say anything about firing me.”

“Then what did he say?”

“He said if I don’t shape up, nobody would ever see me again.”

Buffy’s eyes widened. “Did he threaten to kill you?” She blurted.

Cordelia stood up. “I don’t really feel like talking about it anymore. I’m tired. I’m going up to my room.”

Angel stood up too. “I’ll take you back to the hotel.”

“You don’t have to do that Angel. I’ll be fine.”

“I insist.” He took his wallet out and dropped several bills on the table. “Maybe I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Spike nodded, seemingly uninterested. Buffy wished she had kept her mouth shut. If she had, it was possible that they would have kept talking and perhaps even said something incriminating. Spike continued to eat his chocolate covered chocolate brownie and chocolate ice cream.

“Do you really think he threatened her,” Buffy finally asked.

“Yeah, probably. That’s how he operates.”

“Do you think she’s in any danger?”

“Don’t know. I imagine if she was, Angel would take care of it pretty quick.” His tongue snaked out and caught the line of chocolate trailing down his chin.

“What would Angel do?”

“It’s foolish to underestimate him, pet. He used to be quite the boxer…no, that’s too civilized. He used to beat the shit out of people for fun,” Spike informed her.

“And you?”

His smile was toothy and covered in chocolate. “I’ve had my moments. Are you going to finish your cheese cake?”

Buffy shook her head. “No, I’m stuffed over here.”

“Let’s go get a drink then.”

“Sounds good.” Buffy grabbed her purse and pulled out her wallet. She figured forty would cover her meal and her tip…

“Hey, what are you doing?” Spike asked, putting his hand over hers. “I’ve got it.”

Buffy shook her head. “I can pay my own way.”

“I wouldn’t be a very good date if I made you pay.”

Buffy looked up, surprised. “Is this is a date?”

“I thought so…and a pretty nice one until Cordelia started.” He pulled out his own wallet and contributed several twenties to the pile of money left by Angel.

“Aren’t you even a little worried about her?” Buffy asked, surprised by his tone.

“Like her, I’m not interested in talking about it right now.”

Buffy made a mental note to pursue the question later, possibly after he had a few more beers in him. He took her to another roadhouse, though The Cat’s Tail wasn’t nearly the dive the other one had been. No bloodstains on the walls, no puke in the corner. And she noticed that he didn’t become the center of attention. As she suspected before, when he didn’t want to be noticed, he was like a ghost. Nobody even glanced at him as they took a seat at a table near the jukebox.

“You’re not just having diet Coke tonight, are you?”

“I really shouldn’t drink,” Buffy said. “One of us needs to be the designated driver.”

“One drink won’t hurt,” he pointed out.

“I’ll just have a diet Coke.”

Spike shrugged and went to the bar. As the night progressed, he didn’t exactly get smashed, but his words did start to slur a little. He regaled her with funny stories and jokes, but nothing important, nothing that would give her any substantial information. She found herself laughing, feeling light-headed and a little tipsy herself. Spike wasn’t bad company, especially when he had a few drinks and was feeling particularly witty and charming.

Buffy was nearly doubled over with laughter from a story that started, “So there we were, me, Angel, and two boxing, albino midgets…” when somebody tapped Spike’s shoulder and interrupted him.

“Hey, I know you.” A woman in a bright turquoise shirt that barely covered her sagging breasts tapped his shoulder. She looked more than a little drunk, and she swayed on her feet. She had a lit cigarette in her other hand, and ashes fluttered to her feet as she waved it around wildly.

Spike looked up briefly. “I don’t know you.” He looked back to Buffy. “So anyway, Angel said…”

“Hey! Don’t ignore me, you fucker.”

Spike turned around. “Look lady, I’ve never seen you before in my life. You must have me confused with somebody else.”

She grabbed his arm so he couldn’t turn his back on her again. “I know exactly who you are. You’re the asshole who stole five thousand from my mother. When she died we didn’t have any money to settle her bills because she gave it all to you.”

“That’s very sad, but I never took your mother’s money…”

“Edna Kinzie.” The woman spat. “That was her name. Does it ring any bells?”

“Look, lady, I don’t want any trouble with you…”

“Give me back my money and there won’t be any trouble.” She yanked on his arm, and he looked down at her fingers, curled like a claw around him.

“Let me go.”

“Hey, Bob, this is the motherfucker who stole Momma’s money!” She yelled over her shoulder.

Spike yanked his arm hard, pulling it free. The force was enough to send her stumbling back several steps, right into Bob’s arms. Buffy stiffened when she saw that Bob wasn’t alone. There were several men and women surrounding him, and all of them looked as angry as the woman that accosted Spike.

Spike jumped to his feet and put his hands up, palms out. “I’m sure we can settle this…”

“Give Sondra her money.”

A chorus of agreement rose up around them, and now people who weren’t connected to Sondra in anyway showed interest. Everybody in the bar was watching them, and Buffy could feel the violence in the air. She thought any second somebody would snap and throw a punch. She stood up as well and stood beside Spike.

“Why don’t we sit down and talk this over…” Buffy tried, in her most diplomatic tone.

“Why don’t you sit down and shut the fuck up,” Bob snarled. “This has nothing to do with you, Blondie.”

“Elizabeth,” Spike said from the corner of his mouth, “why don’t you just have a seat? I’ve got this under control.”

Buffy ignored him. She knew he probably thought she would be weak and useless in a fight, getting in his way and underfoot and causing more problems than she solved. But he didn’t know about her training, and he certainly wasn’t aware that she was armed. She estimated that in a fair fight, she could take down anybody in the room, even the burly, angry, muscle-bound Bob.

“I can promise you that I never met an Edna Kinzie in my life.”

“He’s lying!” Sondra shrieked. “He’s lying!”

“Do you swindle so many little old ladies out of their life savings that you forget their names?” Bob asked. “You probably never even knew her name. Probably didn’t know anything about her except that she was a trusting, lonely little old lady. Well you know what? You’re never going to do that again.”

He took a threatening step forward, but Spike and Buffy held their ground. She could see his body tense, bracing himself for the inevitable impact. Bob was surprisingly fast and agile for such a large guy. His fist connected solidly with Spike’s jaw and sent him flying back against the table. Their full glass smashed to the ground, sending liquid and glass flying everywhere. The table toppled over and caught Spike behind the knees, dropping him hard.

“Hey!” The bartender shouted. “I don’t give a fuck what you do, but you’re not doing it in here!”

Bob smirked. “Then we’ll meet you outside.”

They turned around and moved in a wave to the door. Sondra looked over her shoulder and shot Spike one more withering glare before following Bob out the door to the parking lot. Buffy quickly helped Spike up and winced when she saw the blood trickling out of his mouth. Silently she wiped it away with a napkin. He took it from her and held it against his mouth.

“It’s not safe for you to go out there, Elizabeth. They mean business. And they’re drunk.”

“So you’re going to go out and fight them?”

Spike shrugged and pulled his duster on. “I either go out there and face them like a man, or they drag me out there kicking and screaming like a baby. Either way, they’re going to have their fight. Might as well face them head on.”

“Then I’m going out there too.”

“No, you’re not.” His tone had a strong note of finality and Buffy found it more amusing than infuriating. He didn’t know any better.

“You’re not my keeper, Spike.”

His eyes widened and his voice lowered. “You are a sick woman, Elizabeth. Your husband would have my head if anything happened to you, and rightly so.”

“Are you scared of him?” Buffy asked, surprised.

“No, I’m just trying to make you see sense.”

“Get out here, Chickenshit!”

“I think that’s you,” Buffy said, patting his back.

“I’m coming!” He shouted as he walked to the door. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist!” Buffy took a deep breath and waited until he was outside before following him. She hadn’t done any hand-to-hand fighting for several months, but she felt ready now. Even if a part of her suspected that Spike really deserved it and he should just take his lumps.

From the edge of the parking lot, Buffy could see the large circle around Spike and Bob. They were circling each other warily, and Spike looked impossibly small in comparison. Sondra was shouting and crying from her perch on a nearby call. “Get him! Get him for Momma! Get that goddamned cocksucker!”

Buffy quietly slipped through the crowd until she was at the edge of the circle, and nobody stood between her and the fight. Bob took the first swing, which Spike dodged easily. Bob tried again and again, and Spike dodged again and again, not trying to get any punches in yet. Spike’s feet were quick and graceful, moving like a dancer’s, keeping him just out of reach.

“Get him!”

“Punch his fucking clock out!”

“I got twenty bucks on Bob!”

“Come on, nobody will take that bet!”

“I will!”

Spike moved in quickly and hit Bob in the nose, then bounced out of reach, his fists up. Bob paused, a look of comical surprise on his face. He touched his nose, and when he saw the blood on his fingers, he growled. It almost sounded inhuman. Buffy gulped. For a moment, a hush settled over the crowd, and everybody was locked in a tense, unmoving second. Spike’s eyes widened slightly and before he had a chance to move—or even brace himself—Bob charged and knocked him onto the pavement, his head barely missing a broken bottle.

Bob pulled his arm back, and his fist flew like a missile to Spike’s face. Spike turned his head and saved the delicate bones in his nose, but Bob still connected with his ear. Buffy gasped and covered her mouth. Every bone in her body wanted to move, her mind was screaming for her to get out there and kick Bob’s ass. But if she did, other people would be inspired to join, and suddenly a “fair fight” would turn into complete and utter mayhem.

Spike’s body went lax and Buffy took a step forward. Bob stood up triumphantly and turned his back to Spike, facing Sondra, holding his arms up in a victory pose. Like he had just scored the winning touchdown in the Super Bowl. Buffy was the only one looking at Spike, so she was the only one who saw him kick suddenly, bringing his knee straight up and into Bob’s groin.

Bob froze, his mouth a perfect O of surprise and pain. Spike took the opportunity to jump to his feet and dance out of the way.

“Ohhhhhh,” Bob groaned.

“Are you going to let him get away with that?” Sondra screeched, jumping up and down on the car and denting the hood with her heels. “Are you going to let him get away?”

The answer, apparently, was no. Several men separated themselves from the circle and closed in on Spike. Now was the time for Buffy to jump in, and she did so, shedding her jacket as she approached cluster of men surrounding Spike.

“Hey boys, is this party invitation only?” She asked casually.

They all turned to look at her, surprised. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Just a girl looking for a little fun,” she said, smiling sweetly.

“Elizabeth, I told you…” Spike took advantage of their distraction and punched one man in the kidneys. He kicked up and his foot connected with another man’s chest. They both went sprawling to the ground. “To stay out of this.”

“But I just want to help.” Her leg shot out and swept the legs out of one particularly drunk gentleman. She could hear someone behind her and lifted her arm, the back of her hand smashing his nose. “But if you don’t want me…”

He gaped at her. “How did you do that?”

“Behind you!”

Spike ducked out of the way of a hammy fist and elbowed the assailant in the stomach. He swung his other arm up and knocked him out with a powerful punch to the mouth. There were still three men, and Buffy wasn’t surprised they all focused on Spike. She knew none of them would willingly fight a woman. Buffy shrugged. They would just have to fight her unwillingly.

Buffy, being smaller, quicker, and smarter, not to mention sober, had a distinct advantage over all three of them. Spike held his own against them, but she wasn’t about to let him have all the fun. She tapped one on the shoulder, and when he turned to face her, she smashed his nose. He stumbled away, holding his bloody nose and cursing, but he was obviously done with the fight.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Spike sending the second man to the ground, leaving just one more person between the two of them. He looked at Buffy and she smiled charmingly at him. He glanced at Spike, and Spike smirked. Without a word, he fled, pushing his way through the crowd.

“Coward!” Sondra shrieked. “Coward!”

Buffy spun on her heel. “Will you shut the fuck up already? Or I’ll shut you up.”

“Did you hear her? She was threatening me! Did you hear her threaten me? Somebody call the police!”

But everybody had lost interest and they were already shuffling back to the bar, leaving Sondra alone and impotent on the top of the old car. She huffed and stuttered and her face turned a hectic shade of red. She half-jumped, half-fell off the car and pointed at Spike, her face a twisted and angry mask. “This isn’t over you cocksucker. Not by a long shot! This isn’t the last you heard of me.”

Spike watched her impassively as she hurried to her car and then roared off into the night. “She might just be crazy enough to mean it. We should get out of here.”

Buffy nodded. “Give me the keys. I’ll drive.”

“I got it.”

“Spike not only have you been drinking, but you took several shots to the head. Now give me the damned keys.”

He handed them over. “Just promise not to beat me up.”

She half-smiled. “I make no promises.”

“Seriously, you’re going to have to tell me how you did that.”

“I had some self-defense courses in college,” she said, walking away.

“Oh right, self-defense courses,” he said, catching up with her. “It’s like riding a bike, you never forget.”

“I work out too.”

He grabbed her arm without warning and gave it a squeeze. “Yeah, you do. I never noticed before.”

Buffy shrugged. “You’re still bleeding. Do you have a first-aid kit in the truck?”

“No, but the hotel isn’t far from here. You remember how to get there?”

“I think I have it under control,” Buffy said dryly. “Now get in.”

They didn’t speak on the drive back to the hotel, but Buffy could feel his questioning, awed eyes on her.