For rating, setting etc see Part 1
Heroes in Hell Part 6
“What?” She stared at Marvin’s hand like it was a loaded gun about to go off.
Marvin was still smiling. “I beg your pardon?” he said.
“I said, I’m coming with you. You going deaf or something?” Spike’s voice sounded completely different suddenly – breezy, confident, even a touch smug at her expense.
She whirled round on him, to find him busy buttoning up his fly and pulling on his t-shirt. By the time she could think of anything to say, he had his boots and duster on and was stowing his pack of cigarettes and lighter in one pocket. When he saw her staring, he gave her the patented Spike head-tilt.
“What?” he said, innocently.
“Excuse me.” Marvin tapped her on the shoulder. “You have a lovely home here but even the best home can be improved. Have you ever considered double-glazing?”
“Huh?” His words didn’t seem to make any sense. In fact, suddenly nothing did. When he shoved a glossy brochure into her hands she took it without thinking – even opened it and began to leaf through it, staring unseeingly at the pictures of happy WASP families showing off their new PVC windows.
Then she frowned and shook her head.
“What do I want this for?” She thrust the brochure back at Marvin, forcing him to take it. “What are you doing here anyway?”
Marvin beamed at her. “Starting over. Well – when I say starting over, I’m still a salesman but home improvements are a change from life insurance.”
For a moment, his smile faltered but then it was back, bigger and brighter than ever. “And when we start over, better to start from somewhere familiar, right?”
“Who is this twat?” Spike was standing right next to her now. He looked Marvin up and down, his expression showing all too clearly how unimpressed he was.
“Is this your friend?” Marvin’s smile never faltered for a moment. “Guess you found him after all.”
“Yes.” Still feeling weirdly detached, like none of this was real, she turned in Spike’s direction and then, before she could stop herself, her hand had balled into a fist and connected with his jaw.
“Bloody hell!” He hadn’t been expecting it and, at the impact, he went staggering backwards to bounce off the crypt wall. Then he landed on his ass at her feet with a satisfying thump.
“Oww!” He looked up at her, rubbing his jaw ruefully. “Still sling a mean right hook, Slayer.”
“Buffy.” Her eyes were smarting again. “That’s Buffy to you.”
Marvin’s smile had disappeared somewhere around the time her punch landed. He was clutching the brochure to his chest protectively. “If this is a bad time –” he began, but she interrupted him.
“Not at all.” She reached out a hand towards Spike. “We were just going.”
Spike took her hand warily and allowed her to pull him up. A new bruise was blooming on his jawline but the sight of it didn’t make her feel sorry at all.
“That was a mean trick to pull,” she groused at him, while Marvin looked from one to the other of them in bewilderment, “keeping me waiting till the last minute like that.”
The smug look was gone from Spike’s face. He reached out a finger and touched her cheek, as if he still couldn’t quite believe she was real. “No trick. I honestly didn’t believe it was you until a few minutes ago.”
“I don’t understand. Why now? Why not before?” Her voice had that wailing note in it again. His lips tightened. Then he pulled her into his arms and held her, as if he never meant to let her go. She felt his lips on her hair.
“God, Buffy! I’m so sorry!”
For a moment, she allowed it, but then she set a hand to his chest and pushed him back. She wanted to see his face while he tried to explain himself.
He was staring at her, his eyes full of – she didn’t know what. Hope, maybe?
“You love me.” There was a touch of awe in his voice. “You really do love me.”
It wasn’t a question but she still had to answer it. “Yes, I do – but that doesn’t mean you’re not a total jerk. Why wouldn’t you believe me till now?”
His jaw worked. “Because – because this is Hell. There’s no hope here. You could’ve said you loved me till you were blue in the face and I wouldn’t have believed you, ‘cos I couldn’t believe it really was you. Thought you were some trick, even though you smelt right. Wouldn’t be the first.”
“Oh?” She’d have to find out what he meant later. Now, there was no time. Suddenly, her weird detachment was gone and that awful sense of time running out took over again. They had to get back to the door before it was too late.
Grabbing his hand in hers, she dragged him after her, out the crypt door and into the gloom of the cemetery, which seemed gloomier than ever somehow. Plus, there was a wind rising – a strong one, that seemed to be doing its best to push them backwards. And it was raining again.
She gritted her teeth and put her head down, battling into the rising gale, Spike behind her. Dimly, she was aware of Marvin behind both of them.
“Wait up!” Marvin called. “I have all these great offers to tell you about. And how about this door, huh? Don’t you think it’d look so much more welcoming with a nice, glassed-in front porch?”
Buffy ignored him.
The hissing of rain as it struck the bare ground was almost as loud as the wind. She was completely soaked in seconds. Glancing back over her shoulder at Spike, she saw him clutching his ribs tightly as he struggled to keep up with her. He must still be hurting from the fight in the bar, but there wasn’t time to spare him. The mark could be gone any moment and they had a long way to go. She began to run but his hand in hers dragged her back. She could hear his laboured breathing.
In spite of that, she had to know. “What swung it, then?” she shouted to him, above the noise of the wind. “How come you realise it’s me now?”
“Because you turned your back on me –” he shouted back. “Because – oh sod it, because you were ready to do your duty and leave me.”
“But –” This was crazy. She slowed down a little to let him catch up, but before she could say any more, it was his turn to put a wet finger to her lips and shush her.
“Learned my lesson well in the school basement in Sunnydale, love. My Buffy – the real Buffy – she doesn’t turn her back on her duty for anyone. Not for Angel – put a sword through his heart to save the world, didn’t she? – and not for me. And I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
“You are impossible!” She didn’t know what else to say. It was bizarre – that he didn’t believe she loved him until she was ready to leave him to his horrible fate. It was all backwards.
“I know,” he said smugly, while rain sluiced down his pale face. “But that’s why you love me, yeah?”
For two cents she would’ve punched him again then, and maybe he sensed it, because he ducked his head and looked contrite.
“Sorry.”
“Oh you will be.” In fact, she thought, as they hurried on, when she’d gotten him home, she was going to put him over her knee and tan that lilywhite ass of his until it glowed. No need to tell him that, though – or at least, not until he was all tied up and at her mercy.
If they made it to the door in time. She didn’t dare look at the mark again. Maybe, as long as she didn’t look at it, it would still be there.
They came out of the cemetery gate and onto Main Street, where the tawdry stores were all shuttered up for the night. As they battled their way along the deserted sidewalk, rain lashed at their faces, vicious as stinging insects, and the branches of the stunted trees thrashed wildly in the wind.
Marvin was still with them, Buffy noted. He was lagging badly now but still smiling away and waving his brochure. It seemed he hadn’t given up hope of making that sale just yet.
In the meantime, the events of the past day or so – if you could call them days – were beginning to fit together, like a bizarre sort of puzzle, inside her head.
“So did you ever think it was me before now?” she asked, as they squelched through puddles like miniature lakes, which the wind blew all into ripples. “Ever at all?”
His hand tightened on hers. “On and off. Wanted to believe it so much when we fucked – then thought no, the real Buffy’d never do that with me again after – what happened. Only some demon screwing with my head – trying to make me believe all was forgiven.”
For a moment, she was tempted to stop. It seemed important to look him in the face when she said what she had to say, but there was no time, so she carried on half-walking, half-jogging, towing him along behind her.
Instead, she said, “But it was forgiven, Spike – maybe not right away, but the moment I knew you’d gotten your soul back.”
His voice was full of pain. “Don’t –” he began, but she squeezed his hand in turn.
“It’s okay. We can talk about it, you know. In fact, maybe we should – clear the air? I’m not – I’m not traumatised or anything. I’m a super-powered Slayer, not a helpless victim.”
“Maybe one day,” he conceded, the wind whipping his words away even as he spoke them. “Dunno what good talking about it’ll do, though.”
She decided not to argue the point – not now anyway. Maybe there were therapists that treated vampires. If so, she was getting him to a shrink stat.
At last, they rounded the corner into the side street where the exit stood, and there was the warehouse in the distance, through the sheeting rain. Suddenly, the wind was buffeting at them harder than ever, trying to keep them back from their goal– which couldn’t be a coincidence. They had to lean into the blast to make any progress at all.
They managed about fifty yards, Spike lagging more and more until both their arms were at full-stretch, connected only by the tips of their fingers. Then he said, “Wait, love – can’t go any further. Chest hurts. I need a rest.”
He planted his back to the nearest wall and braced himself with his legs apart, panting like a marathon runner who’d reached his physical limit. Then, in spite of her protests, he tugged on her arm and reeled her in tight against his body.
“No time –” she began. She glanced frantically down at her hand, but he covered it with his own so she couldn’t see if the mark was still there or not. He brushed a strand of hair off her face and then set up a gentle stroking motion. In the end, she leaned against him, while Marvin stood some distance off, hands on knees, trying to get his breath back.
The guy was persistent, she had to give him that.
“I didn’t believe it was you after we had sex.” Spike’s eyes were on hers all the time. His breath wheezed in his throat. “Wanted you to bugger off but didn’t want you to, if you see what I mean, hence the trip to the bar – the fight – wanted you to see the worst of me.”
“And you almost believed it was me again after that, didn’t you?” They shouldn’t be standing here like this. She ought to be hurrying him across the street to where the door – the way out of here – could be dimly seen through the blowing curtains of rain.
But it was nice here, held in the shelter of his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder and listened to his voice purring in his chest as he answered her.
“Like I said, the way you threw those demons around, you seemed like the real Buffy, all righteous and golden. But then –”
“Then?” She gazed up at his face. He looked like a drowned rat now too. In fact, they probably both did.
“You said you’d stay here with me – and Buffy would never do that. See, that’s something else I learned in the school basement. When you were telling me what I wanted to hear, it was never you. It was the First.”
“Spike –” Her chest hurt too now, though not for the same reason. He reached out and brushed moisture from her eyelashes, tears or rain or both.
“Don’t even think of apologising, love. You were in the right then and you were in the right now. No one’s worth turning your back on what you are for. Think Angel knew that too all those years ago, if it helps.”
She hadn’t been thinking about Angel but in spite of that, she felt lighter suddenly – as if a burden of guilt she hadn’t known she was carrying had just been lifted. Still, she had to be certain.
“Spike – it’s great that you’re so understanding and all, but you do believe I love you now? You’re not just saying that?” Somehow, whether they made it to the door in time or not seemed to depend wholly on his answer.
His eyes were steady on her face. “I believe it. After all, you came all the way to Hell for me, didn’t you? And like you said, the fact that you’d do it for other people too – even the old man – doesn’t change that you did it for me.”
This felt like her cue to kiss him so she took it, leaning up on tiptoe to set her lips to his. He held her tight – then tighter still, and a familiar sort of ripple seemed to go through him. His breath was loud in her ear.
“Wanna fuck you,” he hissed. “God, Buffy, you smell so – wish we were still in the crypt. Wanna throw you down on that bed right now and fuck you senseless.”
And just like that she was wet between the legs again and her heart was racing. For a wild moment she even wondered if there was time to go back before the mark faded. But then the sound of hands clapping brought her back to reality.
“That was beautiful!” Marvin’s voice broke. When they turned to look at him, he was wiping his eyes with his pocket handkerchief. The soggy remains of the brochure lay on the sidewalk at his feet.
Buffy pushed away from Spike but she kept hold of his hand. They were going to make it. Suddenly, she was sure of it, and just as suddenly, the wind dropped, as if an unseen person had turned off a wind machine, and then the rain stopped.
She glanced up at the sky and frowned, not trusting the seeming reprieve. Then she set off towards the warehouse. The road was more like a stream now and her sneakers made a horrible squelching noise with every step. Spike followed her, still holding onto her hand, and Marvin brought up the rear.
“What are you doing here?” she asked Marvin, because she was still curious, especially in face of his incurable optimism, which seemed all wrong in this place. “What made you go through the door?”
Marvin stuffed his sodden handkerchief back into his pocket.
“I’m glad you asked me that, Buffy – do you mind if I call you Buffy? You never said.”
“No,” she said, at the same time as Spike growled, “Yes, she bloody does mind.”
He was scowling at Marvin. She tugged on his hand.
“Behave!”
Marvin didn’t seem to have taken offence, though.
“After you went through the door,” Marvin said, indicating it with his head, “Skep said maybe I should think about following you.”
“Skep?”
“The guy with the horns behind the desk?” Marvin was beaming again, in spite of being soaked to the skin. “Nice guy – not that scary when you get to know him.”
Then suddenly he’d gotten a critical expression on his face. “Do they have mains drainage in this town? It smells kind of funny after all that rain.”
“Stick to the bloody point, can’t you?” Spike was still half-growling at Marvin, but then he did seem to have taken a particular dislike to double-glazing salesmen while he’d been in Hell, for some reason – which was another story for later. Buffy tugged on his hand again and shook her head at him.
However, Marvin seemed unconcerned by Spike’s rudeness.
“Anyway, Skep told me that mistakes happen all the time around here – something to do with the change in ownership. He said he’s sure that once the new owners really get a feel for things, it’ll be better – more cost-efficient – more profitable for the shareholders.”
“The new owners being Wolfram and Hart,” Spike muttered. “Which reminds me – what you said about Angel, love – the old man and me’ll be exchanging words on that subject sharpish, I can tell you.”
That is, she thought, if you’re allowed to come back home with me. Of course, that might not happen but she wasn’t going to tell him so because she didn’t want to think about it. She just wanted to get him through that door while there was still time.
They’d reached the other side of the street and the door was almost within reach. A moment later, she had her hand on the handle. She tugged on it hard. It wouldn’t give. She frowned and tugged again.
“I think it’s kind of a one way deal,” Marvin said, helpfully. “I tried to go back myself when I first came through, but no luck. It just won’t open from this side.”
“This is Hell, you twat,” Spike snarled at him. “‘Course it’s a one way deal. You’re the damned. You don’t get to change your mind about being here just because you don’t sodding well like it.”
Buffy shook the door handle harder and harder. It still wouldn’t move. This couldn’t be happening – not now, when she’d so nearly gotten him back.
Marvin gave Spike a superior look.
“There’s no need to get personal. Anyway, I’m not planning on staying. Skep told me there’d clearly been a mistake in my case and that if I’m only patient, it’ll all be cleared up. Look.”
He fished in his pocket and brought out a damp slip of paper with a familiar symbol stamped on it. “He said if I take this down to City Hall, they’ll sort it out in no time.”
“Sound familiar?” Spike raised a cynical eyebrow, while Buffy went on tugging at the door handle.
It did sound familiar, but it sounded sort of wrong too. She was so rattled by the door’s refusal to open that at first, she couldn’t quite put her finger on why, but then it struck her. Abandon hope all ye who enter here. Could Marvin really be said to have abandoned hope if he expected to get out of here? No, it was more like he’d been tricked through the door under false pretences.
Suddenly, Buffy felt almost sorry for the guy, even though he was a total asshole.
Not that any of that mattered right now. She had to get the door open. She set her shoulder to it and brought her full Slayer strength to bear but still no luck. It wouldn’t budge. It was unbudgeable.
“Spike – help me!”
She was becoming more and more frantic but from the look on his face, he didn’t seem to share her anxiety. Instead, he seemed almost peaceful, like he’d suddenly gone all zen on her.
“Doesn’t matter, love,” he said, gently. “All that matters is that you tried.”
“Spike –”But whatever words she might have said got lost somehow – jumbled around and around as Marvin and the grey, drowned-looking street melted away to resolve themselves into the familiar waiting room.
Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/228116.html
