"We have to get out of here," Andrew gasped. "They'll be more... we need to get away... regroup..."
"I'll go get Willow and Xander," Robin called, leaping on top of a dumpster to grab the edge of a fire escape.
"Buffy, c'mon," Andrew said, tugging at her elbow. "Let's get on the bus..."
Andrew trailed off, his eyes widening as he took in her blood-soaked shirt. "When did that happen?"
"It's not so bad..."
But it was; when Buffy touched her fingers to it, they came away soaked in blood. She felt her legs swaying, felt arms catch her, hold her up briefly, pass her into stronger, colder arms that hefted her as if she weighed nothing.
Her eyelids fluttered. Angel.
"You came," he whispered.
----------
"I'm... sorry, Blue."
Illyria stared blankly at the space where she had left Wesley's body, her small hands clenched into fists.
"I will find where they have taken him, and I will destroy them."
"Blue... it's not him anymore. You know that. It's a... shell. Nobody ought to know that better than you."
"Human shells can be used." Illyria turned on Spike, smirking slightly. "Nobody ought to know that better than you, vampire."
She advanced on him, blue fading until Fred circled him, her fingertips trailing across his shoulderblades. Spike closed his eyes, grimacing. "You know that something remains behind, don't you, William?"
"Got it. Important to find the body. Now change the channel off 'The Fred Show', it's bloody well not right."
"It distresses you to see me this way. Not as much as Wesley, but your distress is there."
"Fred was an all right girl. Helped me out, or tried to. Didn't get the chance to return the favor, and it pisses me off."
Illyria considered this a moment, morphing back into Blue Mode. "Very well. We shall find Wesley now."
"Frankly, I'm a bit more worried about Gunn."
"Why? The witch has healed him completely."
"When?"
"While we fought. Her power is impressive, for a human."
"Well." Spike tried and failed to keep an almost paternal pride out of his voice. "How's about my little Will, then."
He followed Illyria out into the rain. "Best make it quick; I don't think we want to hang around here, Blue."
"Do you wish to tell Angel where we are going?"
"Yeah, I suppose Peaches oughta..."
Spike paused abruptly, raising his head, breathing deeply.
"Small change of plans; we're goin' this way." Spike took off at a run, Illyria easily keeping pace.
"You have smelled something."
"Someone. Someone who's not supposed to be here."
Spike stopped in his tracks, taking a step backwards.
It was her, all right. Real and there and everything he'd ever wanted, sitting on Angel's lap, being held in Angel's arms, gazing into Angel's stupid fluffy puppy face, Angel's meaty man-paws stroking her hair, comforting her, protecting her.
She'd dyed her hair brown. Looked bloody awful.
Oh, who was he kidding.
She looked fantastic.
She always looked fantastic.
"Right," Spike said gruffly, pulling his pack out of his pocket. "Right, then."
"We are not going to Angel?"
Spike finished lighting his cigarette, shoving his Zippo back into his jeans. "He's busy. So are we. Let's go find Wesley."
"Perhaps we should --"
"Look, Blue, he's got other things to deal with." Spike's lips curled into a snarl. "Cookies to take out of the oven."
----------
Gunn looked back at the alley, his jaw set in a line. "I don't like it."
"We can't wait any longer," Angel sighed. "We've got wounded... this place will be full of demons again before we know it."
"It's Fred, Angel."
"No, she's not."
"Well, what about Spike?"
"I know he survived the battle," Angel shrugged. "He should have checked in by now, but..."
Gunn scowled. "So we're just going to leave him."
"I don't see that we have a choice."
"But..."
"Look, I don't like it either. But we'll lose a lot more people if we stay. We can't risk everyone for the crazy god who killed Fred and Spike."
"Wouldn't have anything at all to do with a certain Slayer on the bus, would it?"
Angel growled low in his throat. "No. It would not."
"Fine." Gunn grabbed onto the handrail, swinging himself onto the schoolbus. "Just going on record as not liking it."
"Duly noted," Angel grimaced, hauling himself up afterwards.
The bus doors closed with a squeal of metal, and the bus began to move. Angel and Gunn dropped into a bench.
"Fit a bit better on one of these when I was seven," Gunn groaned.
----------
"Y'know what?" Spike muttered as they vaulted a fence, "Cookies suck."
"That is not consistent with my information."
"No, y'know, y'see, what happens to cookies. You're a nice, baked-up bloody cookie, you're done. Nothing more to do -- 'cept get eaten. You don't grow, you don't change, you either mold and rot and die, or y'dissapear down someone's belly."
Illyria cocked her head, giving Spike a queer look.
"Y'wouldn't understand; haven't ever eaten a cookie, have you? Not as I have, recently, but..." Spike leaped over a trash barrel. "But y'know what's better than cookies, way better? Cookie dough. Y'eat it raw, right out of the little tube, with a spoon... maybe even with your fingers, standin' in front of the icebox, 'cause you're just too hungry to wait. Cookie dough is flexible. Cookie dough is promise and potential, the flavors are sharper, hell, it's got raw eggs in, it's even a bit dangerous. Cookie dough is..."
"You are no longer speaking of cookie dough. This is a metaphor?"
"She'll never be a cookie. S'not in her nature. That's the problem with her, Blue... she doesn't understand her nature. She's more like me than she knows."
Spike hurled away his cigarette butt. "Nicer tits, though."
"I do not believe I am the correct partner for you in this conversation. I do not understand what you are saying."
Spike grinned impishly. "S'why I'm havin' it with you, Blue."
"Ah."
"See, that's the thing. S'why she hates me, Blue -- I remind her of herself, all those bits of her that scare the piss out of her. She doesn't like who she is, not really; she works too hard to keep Dawn from becoming her... when she's all the Nibblet wants to be. And that's why it bothers her that the Bit loves me."
"I do not know who these people are."
"See, Buffy thinks the Bit is her, UnSlayered. Innocent-like. She tries to keep her that way -- good bleedin' luck with that one, I say. Protectin' her, protectin' herself, this vision of herself. Buffy thinks she likes me 'cause of something they did to her, some darkness they installed when she was Called, that demony bit the cavey boys stuffed in the first Slayer... but the Bit proves her wrong, don'tcha see?"
"I do not see."
Spike stopped, sniffing the air again. "Left. It's getting stronger."
----------
Angel worked his way down the aisle, rocking back and forth with the bus' movement, heading towards the back, where Buffy lay, propped against Xander.
"You're awake."
"Yeah," she smiled weakly. "Just."
"How you feeling?"
"I'm better, a little. The bandage helped." Buffy struggled up against Xander, and he helped her up by her shoulders.
"Glad to hear it."
"Did I see you... hug Spike?"
Angel's face flamed, his steadying hands digging into the padded seats. "Well, I... I mean... we've been working together almost a year, he's not so... I mean, I still hate him, I... I'm gonna go sit down."
Buffy reached up, pressing her hand against Angel's chest. "Don't be like that."
"Well, he's still an asshole, don't think he's changed, I..." Angel broke off, staring at Buffy's face. "Buffy, what is it?"
"Angel..." she whispered. "Your heart."
Angel looked down at her hand. "Yeah?"
"It's... beating."
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