Every Last Trace
by Spring Summers 10-Nov-04
=====================================================================================
BUFFY: “Honey, we need to talk about the invitations. Now, do you want to be William the Bloody, or just Spike? ’Cause, either way, it’s gonna look majorly weird.”
SPIKE: “Whereas the name Buffy gives it that touch of classic elegance.”
BUFFY: “What’s wrong with Buffy?”
GILES: “Huh - such a good question.”
=====================================================================================
Looking toward the east, Buffy realized that it was almost dawn. She’d spent the whole night on patrol: Time flies when you’re having fun, she thought. It had been a good night. She’d battled a particularly strong and experienced vampire, but in the end, she had defeated it. Buffy stretched and yawned, pleased with herself as she sauntered down the sidewalk. She’d felt too restless to sleep the last few nights, but a good slay always did the trick. With no classes until 1 PM today, she’d have a chance for a nice, sound sleep.
As she headed back to the dorm, Buffy walked past a small newsstand and noticed that the morning paper was already out. The headline read: Mysterious Death Baffles Doctors. Buffy put her quarter in the slot and bought a paper, but a quick scan of the story told her that the death was unrelated to anything Hellmouthy. She was paging idly through the rest of the small paper when she stopped in sudden alarm. OH MY GOD. There it was. She had forgotten all about the engagement picture and announcement that she’d dropped off at the paper, three days earlier and under the influence of Willow’s spell. Oh my God, no!!
Buffy inserted another quarter into the stand, only this time, she took the entire stack of papers. Tucking them into her weapons bag, she raced toward the dorm. Willow had gotten her into this, and Willow was going to help her get out of it.
Buffy shoved the door open and immediately went to Willow’s bed to shake her awake.
“Wake up, wake up! Look at this! Look at THIS!!”
Willow lifted her head, looking bleary-eyed. “Buffy, wha-“
“LOOK!”
Willow sat up, turned on the beside table lamp, and looked at the paper that Buffy shoved under her nose. “Why is there a picture of you and Spike –,” she began. Then she paused, reading further. “Oh,” she said. “Oh!”
“Get dressed!” said Buffy, sounding panicked. “You and I are going to find every copy of this paper that there is in this town, before anyone else sees this!”
Willow got up and began to dress. “But Buffy – I mean – when did you send in an engagement announcement?”
“When do you think??” said Buffy. “I dropped it off at the paper three days ago, when I was under your stupid Spike spell, when else?”
“Yeah, but then, afterward – you didn’t remember?”
“Remember! How could I remember when I – I’ve been trying my best to forget every last second of that whole day?”
“Oh,” said Willow. She looked at the paper again and then glanced hesitantly at Buffy. “This picture, it’s . . . did Giles take this?”
“No. I - a lady next door took a couple of instant pictures. For some reason, I just couldn’t wait to let everyone know that I was engaged to Spike!”
Willow, now dressed, swallowed guiltily. “It’s a good picture of you two,” she offered.
“There is no us-two!” Buffy began to pace around the room. “And did you read it? It says ‘Buffy Summers is engaged to William The Bloody!’ ”
“I can’t believe they actually printed this,” said Willow. “I mean - ‘The groom-elect died in 1880 in London, but rose shortly thereafter to join the ranks of the undead?’ ”
“The unbelievable part is that I wrote that, Willow,” replied Buffy, “I wrote every disgusting word of that!”
Once outside, Buffy laid out her plan. “We’re going to empty every newsstand between here and my mom’s house,” she said. She pulled out a set of keys. “And when we get to Mom’s, I’m going to take her car, and we are going to wipe out every last trace of this – this thing!” As she spoke, Buffy put a quarter into a nearby newspaper dispenser and swept its entire contents into a duffle bag.
“That’s stealing,” said Willow.
“I’ll send them a check!” Buffy replied.
When they arrived at the Summers’ home, they found the car in the drive and took off. Buffy screeched through the empty early morning streets, and with Willow’s help, she boldly stopped and threatened paper carriers, stole stacks of papers from the front of drugstores, and took them off of front porches. When they arrived at Giles’ apartment complex, they found that the papers had already been delivered. But since it was so early, most of them were still outside for Buffy and Willow to gather. Giles’ stoop however, did not contain a paper. And the lights were on inside.
Buffy moaned. “Oh – please say they haven’t opened the paper yet!” said Buffy, looking forlornly at Giles’ door.
Willow looked at her distraught friend. “Buffy – what’s the big deal? No one is going to believe that article, especially not Spike and Giles.”
“I don’t want Giles to see it! And I definitely don’t want Spike to read it or to see that awful picture!”
“Yeah. He does look all – I mean, he practically looks ready to bite you in that picture or something.”
Buffy flushed. Or something. She flushed again and swallowed.
Willow frowned and gave Buffy a speculative look, as Buffy knocked loudly on Giles’ door.
“Giles!” she called, “I need to see you!”
But it was Spike’s voice that answered through the door. “Your Watcher-man’s not here, Slayer,” he said, “He’s out on an early morning jog. Go away.”
“Well – we – Willow and I need to come in. Giles – uh – Giles has a book that we need for class this morning!” Buffy tried the door, but it was locked.
There was a long pause. Then, Spike’s voice again: “Fine. I’ll unlock this. But the sun has started to come up, so give me a second to step out of the way – got it?”
“Fine.”
Spike unlocked the door and Buffy immediately shoved her way in, opening the door as wide as possible. Spike jumped back and to the left. “Bitch,” he said to Buffy.
“Bite me,” said Buffy, as she closed the door.
Spike smirked. “Maybe if you’d let me do it real nice-and-easy-like, I could bite you,” he said. “Why not let me try? I like sweets for breakfast.”
Buffy spotted the morning paper, still folded, on the dining table. There was a cup of blood and a bowl of cereal right by the paper.
“I would,” said Buffy, as she batted her eyelashes and let her voice drip with saccharine sarcasm, “but darn it, it looks like you’ve already planned your meal.” She walked over to the table. “We wouldn’t want to spoil your appetite.”
“There’s always room for Buffy,” said Spike. He deliberately and roughly brushed by her, knocking her a step forward, as he approached the table and sat down in his chair. He frowned. “Look at this. My Weetabix is starting to set-up now, thanks to you two.”
Buffy frowned with distaste at the blue china bowl and its contents. She and Willow stared down at Spike as he took a sip of blood from a bright yellow mug. He stared back up at them. “I don’t fancy having an audience,” he said, “Get your book and piss off.” He looked down at his bowl and stirred the cereal a bit with his spoon.
Buffy looked meaningfully from Willow to the bookcase. Taking her cue, Willow moved over to the bookcase and pretended to scan it for a particular book. Buffy stayed near the table, her eyes glued to the newspaper. Spike looked up at her and noticed her gaze. He raised his eyebrows. “Something I can do for you, Slayer?”
Buffy was feeling angry at Spike, just for existing. She stared back at him, holding his wide, inquiring, infuriating eyes. Frustrated, she found herself completely unable to come up with words. Willow stepped in:
“Well, Buffy – I found the book.” She held up the randomly selected book and then tucked it quickly into her backpack. “And – and also, we’ve got that current events thing to do this morning . . . remember?”
Buffy knitted her brow at Willow.
“You know, the analysis of current, local, Sunnydale events?”
“Oh – right! The current events.” Buffy casually took a step closer to the table. “Spike – tell Giles I’ll bring this back later,” she said, as she reached for the paper.
Spike slammed his hand down on the newspaper. “I was just about to read that. And unlike you, I can’t go out in the morning sunshine to get my own. So looks like you’re just going to have to unclench and part with a quarter.”
“I’ll part you into quarters,” said Buffy. “Now give me that paper.”
Spike ignored her, very deliberately unfolding the paper and snapping it open. Buffy stood paralyzed as he paged through the paper – until he stopped with a sudden intake of breath. “Bloody hell!” he said as he shot straight up, paper in hand. He gaped at the engagement announcement. “What have you done to me??”
“Me? What have I done to you? It was your idea! ‘I want the world to know I’m engaged to the most wonderful, beautiful babe on earth!’ Sound familiar?”
“Yeah – as a matter of fact, it does. Only, as I recall, it was you saying it!”
“What? I never-”
“And, by the way, I thought I told you that I wanted the other picture for the announcement! The one where I was facing forward - not this one where I’m nuzzlin’ you like a lovesick sap!”
“What? You agreed to this one! So don’t blame me-”
“Oh, right. I agreed! I agreed - while you nibbled on my ear, and ran your soft little hand across my belly, and pushed all your, your - goodies up against me until I couldn’t even -” Spike stopped suddenly, set his jaw, and looked away from her. “Makes me sick to even think about it,” he said in a glum, controlled tone. “Point is, I’m never gonna be able to show my face to demon-kind again, thanks to the both of you.” Spike threw Willow a withering glance.
Willow, filled with guilt and discomfort and amazement - and wanting nothing more than to disappear into the nearest wall - said nothing. Buffy crossed her arms tightly across her breasts, hugging herself and looking off to her right. “We’ve already emptied every newsstand, and taken stacks of papers from the store-fronts, and stopped most of the deliveries,” she said, tapping her foot. Spike didn’t answer her or look at her; he just pursed his lips and turned to stare at his solidifying bowl of Weetabix. “Look,” she added, “I don’t like this any better than you do. You think I wanna be known as The Bride of Frankenstein?”
The cords in Spike’s neck tensed suddenly, but then they relaxed just as quickly, and he shrugged. “Well – at least Frankenstein’s got the look you favor - the hulking shoulders, the glowering caveman brow, the towering unnatural height.”
Buffy’s eyes snapped and she started to speak, but Willow sighed and interrupted. She stepped up close to Spike and smiled nervously at him: “Spike - we didn’t get every single paper, but I think we got pretty close. I doubt any demony-types will see it. Besides if they do – I mean, William The Bloody as The Slayer’s Sweetheart? Pfft. Please. Who would believe that - right?”
Spike looked at Willow and smiled back. It was a slow half-smile, as if he were humoring her. “Great, then. Fine. On your way, girlies - finish up the job as best you can.” He made a scooting motion with his hand. His voice was cool, almost lazy – but there was an underlying edge to it that scared Willow and she took a step backward. He gave her a calm, level look, casually blinking at her as if he might be sleepy. But Willow had the definite and alarming impression that he wasn’t sleepy at all, just . . . coiled. She widened her eyes and turned stiffly toward Buffy, feeling very grateful for the chip that was tucked so securely in Spike’s skull.
“C’mon, Buffy,” she said. “I think we should leave now.”
“Not until he gives me that paper,” replied Buffy.
Willow rolled her eyes in disbelief. “Buffy –,”
“I am planning to read that paper!” Spike was openly sneering now, as he stepped right up to Buffy and stared down at her. “But I’ll tell you what.” He slowly tore the announcement out of its page, letting the rest of the paper fall to the floor between them. Then, with exaggerated care, he ripped the article in two, right in front of Buffy’s face. He took her left hand into his own, turned it upward, and dropped the two small pieces of newspaper into her open palm. “With this trash, I thee shed,” he said. He tilted his head at her, raising a brow and giving her a self-satisfied look. “Now you’ve got what you came for, so leave.”
Buffy was very tempted to punch his smug face hard enough to send him ass over teakettle into the kitchen. But she resisted. She slipped the pieces of newspaper into her jacket pocket, and put the flat of both her hands against Spike’s chest. She gave him a light but definite shove backward. “Don’t you ever touch me again,” she said evenly. “Not for any reason.”
Spike snorted. “Except to kill you, of course. Once I get this chip out.”
“Agreed,” said Buffy. “And I’ve got a big pointy weapon with your name on it, just waiting for you to try.”
“Yeah? What a coincidence.”
Willow tugged at Buffy, and Buffy, though she was chomping at the bit, stopped herself from delivering a stinging retort about the sad and ineffectual nature of a big pile of dust. Instead, with a quick flip of her hair, she spun on her heel to follow Willow out the door. She sent Spike a silent but unmistakable look of warning before closing the door behind her with a quiet click.
Spike stared after her. A moment later, Giles’ blue china bowl, fragile and full of Weetabix, went spinning and smashing into the door.
***
by Spring Summers 10-Nov-04
=====================================================================================
BUFFY: “Honey, we need to talk about the invitations. Now, do you want to be William the Bloody, or just Spike? ’Cause, either way, it’s gonna look majorly weird.”
SPIKE: “Whereas the name Buffy gives it that touch of classic elegance.”
BUFFY: “What’s wrong with Buffy?”
GILES: “Huh - such a good question.”
=====================================================================================
Looking toward the east, Buffy realized that it was almost dawn. She’d spent the whole night on patrol: Time flies when you’re having fun, she thought. It had been a good night. She’d battled a particularly strong and experienced vampire, but in the end, she had defeated it. Buffy stretched and yawned, pleased with herself as she sauntered down the sidewalk. She’d felt too restless to sleep the last few nights, but a good slay always did the trick. With no classes until 1 PM today, she’d have a chance for a nice, sound sleep.
As she headed back to the dorm, Buffy walked past a small newsstand and noticed that the morning paper was already out. The headline read: Mysterious Death Baffles Doctors. Buffy put her quarter in the slot and bought a paper, but a quick scan of the story told her that the death was unrelated to anything Hellmouthy. She was paging idly through the rest of the small paper when she stopped in sudden alarm. OH MY GOD. There it was. She had forgotten all about the engagement picture and announcement that she’d dropped off at the paper, three days earlier and under the influence of Willow’s spell. Oh my God, no!!
Buffy inserted another quarter into the stand, only this time, she took the entire stack of papers. Tucking them into her weapons bag, she raced toward the dorm. Willow had gotten her into this, and Willow was going to help her get out of it.
Buffy shoved the door open and immediately went to Willow’s bed to shake her awake.
“Wake up, wake up! Look at this! Look at THIS!!”
Willow lifted her head, looking bleary-eyed. “Buffy, wha-“
“LOOK!”
Willow sat up, turned on the beside table lamp, and looked at the paper that Buffy shoved under her nose. “Why is there a picture of you and Spike –,” she began. Then she paused, reading further. “Oh,” she said. “Oh!”
“Get dressed!” said Buffy, sounding panicked. “You and I are going to find every copy of this paper that there is in this town, before anyone else sees this!”
Willow got up and began to dress. “But Buffy – I mean – when did you send in an engagement announcement?”
“When do you think??” said Buffy. “I dropped it off at the paper three days ago, when I was under your stupid Spike spell, when else?”
“Yeah, but then, afterward – you didn’t remember?”
“Remember! How could I remember when I – I’ve been trying my best to forget every last second of that whole day?”
“Oh,” said Willow. She looked at the paper again and then glanced hesitantly at Buffy. “This picture, it’s . . . did Giles take this?”
“No. I - a lady next door took a couple of instant pictures. For some reason, I just couldn’t wait to let everyone know that I was engaged to Spike!”
Willow, now dressed, swallowed guiltily. “It’s a good picture of you two,” she offered.
“There is no us-two!” Buffy began to pace around the room. “And did you read it? It says ‘Buffy Summers is engaged to William The Bloody!’ ”
“I can’t believe they actually printed this,” said Willow. “I mean - ‘The groom-elect died in 1880 in London, but rose shortly thereafter to join the ranks of the undead?’ ”
“The unbelievable part is that I wrote that, Willow,” replied Buffy, “I wrote every disgusting word of that!”
Once outside, Buffy laid out her plan. “We’re going to empty every newsstand between here and my mom’s house,” she said. She pulled out a set of keys. “And when we get to Mom’s, I’m going to take her car, and we are going to wipe out every last trace of this – this thing!” As she spoke, Buffy put a quarter into a nearby newspaper dispenser and swept its entire contents into a duffle bag.
“That’s stealing,” said Willow.
“I’ll send them a check!” Buffy replied.
When they arrived at the Summers’ home, they found the car in the drive and took off. Buffy screeched through the empty early morning streets, and with Willow’s help, she boldly stopped and threatened paper carriers, stole stacks of papers from the front of drugstores, and took them off of front porches. When they arrived at Giles’ apartment complex, they found that the papers had already been delivered. But since it was so early, most of them were still outside for Buffy and Willow to gather. Giles’ stoop however, did not contain a paper. And the lights were on inside.
Buffy moaned. “Oh – please say they haven’t opened the paper yet!” said Buffy, looking forlornly at Giles’ door.
Willow looked at her distraught friend. “Buffy – what’s the big deal? No one is going to believe that article, especially not Spike and Giles.”
“I don’t want Giles to see it! And I definitely don’t want Spike to read it or to see that awful picture!”
“Yeah. He does look all – I mean, he practically looks ready to bite you in that picture or something.”
Buffy flushed. Or something. She flushed again and swallowed.
Willow frowned and gave Buffy a speculative look, as Buffy knocked loudly on Giles’ door.
“Giles!” she called, “I need to see you!”
But it was Spike’s voice that answered through the door. “Your Watcher-man’s not here, Slayer,” he said, “He’s out on an early morning jog. Go away.”
“Well – we – Willow and I need to come in. Giles – uh – Giles has a book that we need for class this morning!” Buffy tried the door, but it was locked.
There was a long pause. Then, Spike’s voice again: “Fine. I’ll unlock this. But the sun has started to come up, so give me a second to step out of the way – got it?”
“Fine.”
Spike unlocked the door and Buffy immediately shoved her way in, opening the door as wide as possible. Spike jumped back and to the left. “Bitch,” he said to Buffy.
“Bite me,” said Buffy, as she closed the door.
Spike smirked. “Maybe if you’d let me do it real nice-and-easy-like, I could bite you,” he said. “Why not let me try? I like sweets for breakfast.”
Buffy spotted the morning paper, still folded, on the dining table. There was a cup of blood and a bowl of cereal right by the paper.
“I would,” said Buffy, as she batted her eyelashes and let her voice drip with saccharine sarcasm, “but darn it, it looks like you’ve already planned your meal.” She walked over to the table. “We wouldn’t want to spoil your appetite.”
“There’s always room for Buffy,” said Spike. He deliberately and roughly brushed by her, knocking her a step forward, as he approached the table and sat down in his chair. He frowned. “Look at this. My Weetabix is starting to set-up now, thanks to you two.”
Buffy frowned with distaste at the blue china bowl and its contents. She and Willow stared down at Spike as he took a sip of blood from a bright yellow mug. He stared back up at them. “I don’t fancy having an audience,” he said, “Get your book and piss off.” He looked down at his bowl and stirred the cereal a bit with his spoon.
Buffy looked meaningfully from Willow to the bookcase. Taking her cue, Willow moved over to the bookcase and pretended to scan it for a particular book. Buffy stayed near the table, her eyes glued to the newspaper. Spike looked up at her and noticed her gaze. He raised his eyebrows. “Something I can do for you, Slayer?”
Buffy was feeling angry at Spike, just for existing. She stared back at him, holding his wide, inquiring, infuriating eyes. Frustrated, she found herself completely unable to come up with words. Willow stepped in:
“Well, Buffy – I found the book.” She held up the randomly selected book and then tucked it quickly into her backpack. “And – and also, we’ve got that current events thing to do this morning . . . remember?”
Buffy knitted her brow at Willow.
“You know, the analysis of current, local, Sunnydale events?”
“Oh – right! The current events.” Buffy casually took a step closer to the table. “Spike – tell Giles I’ll bring this back later,” she said, as she reached for the paper.
Spike slammed his hand down on the newspaper. “I was just about to read that. And unlike you, I can’t go out in the morning sunshine to get my own. So looks like you’re just going to have to unclench and part with a quarter.”
“I’ll part you into quarters,” said Buffy. “Now give me that paper.”
Spike ignored her, very deliberately unfolding the paper and snapping it open. Buffy stood paralyzed as he paged through the paper – until he stopped with a sudden intake of breath. “Bloody hell!” he said as he shot straight up, paper in hand. He gaped at the engagement announcement. “What have you done to me??”
“Me? What have I done to you? It was your idea! ‘I want the world to know I’m engaged to the most wonderful, beautiful babe on earth!’ Sound familiar?”
“Yeah – as a matter of fact, it does. Only, as I recall, it was you saying it!”
“What? I never-”
“And, by the way, I thought I told you that I wanted the other picture for the announcement! The one where I was facing forward - not this one where I’m nuzzlin’ you like a lovesick sap!”
“What? You agreed to this one! So don’t blame me-”
“Oh, right. I agreed! I agreed - while you nibbled on my ear, and ran your soft little hand across my belly, and pushed all your, your - goodies up against me until I couldn’t even -” Spike stopped suddenly, set his jaw, and looked away from her. “Makes me sick to even think about it,” he said in a glum, controlled tone. “Point is, I’m never gonna be able to show my face to demon-kind again, thanks to the both of you.” Spike threw Willow a withering glance.
Willow, filled with guilt and discomfort and amazement - and wanting nothing more than to disappear into the nearest wall - said nothing. Buffy crossed her arms tightly across her breasts, hugging herself and looking off to her right. “We’ve already emptied every newsstand, and taken stacks of papers from the store-fronts, and stopped most of the deliveries,” she said, tapping her foot. Spike didn’t answer her or look at her; he just pursed his lips and turned to stare at his solidifying bowl of Weetabix. “Look,” she added, “I don’t like this any better than you do. You think I wanna be known as The Bride of Frankenstein?”
The cords in Spike’s neck tensed suddenly, but then they relaxed just as quickly, and he shrugged. “Well – at least Frankenstein’s got the look you favor - the hulking shoulders, the glowering caveman brow, the towering unnatural height.”
Buffy’s eyes snapped and she started to speak, but Willow sighed and interrupted. She stepped up close to Spike and smiled nervously at him: “Spike - we didn’t get every single paper, but I think we got pretty close. I doubt any demony-types will see it. Besides if they do – I mean, William The Bloody as The Slayer’s Sweetheart? Pfft. Please. Who would believe that - right?”
Spike looked at Willow and smiled back. It was a slow half-smile, as if he were humoring her. “Great, then. Fine. On your way, girlies - finish up the job as best you can.” He made a scooting motion with his hand. His voice was cool, almost lazy – but there was an underlying edge to it that scared Willow and she took a step backward. He gave her a calm, level look, casually blinking at her as if he might be sleepy. But Willow had the definite and alarming impression that he wasn’t sleepy at all, just . . . coiled. She widened her eyes and turned stiffly toward Buffy, feeling very grateful for the chip that was tucked so securely in Spike’s skull.
“C’mon, Buffy,” she said. “I think we should leave now.”
“Not until he gives me that paper,” replied Buffy.
Willow rolled her eyes in disbelief. “Buffy –,”
“I am planning to read that paper!” Spike was openly sneering now, as he stepped right up to Buffy and stared down at her. “But I’ll tell you what.” He slowly tore the announcement out of its page, letting the rest of the paper fall to the floor between them. Then, with exaggerated care, he ripped the article in two, right in front of Buffy’s face. He took her left hand into his own, turned it upward, and dropped the two small pieces of newspaper into her open palm. “With this trash, I thee shed,” he said. He tilted his head at her, raising a brow and giving her a self-satisfied look. “Now you’ve got what you came for, so leave.”
Buffy was very tempted to punch his smug face hard enough to send him ass over teakettle into the kitchen. But she resisted. She slipped the pieces of newspaper into her jacket pocket, and put the flat of both her hands against Spike’s chest. She gave him a light but definite shove backward. “Don’t you ever touch me again,” she said evenly. “Not for any reason.”
Spike snorted. “Except to kill you, of course. Once I get this chip out.”
“Agreed,” said Buffy. “And I’ve got a big pointy weapon with your name on it, just waiting for you to try.”
“Yeah? What a coincidence.”
Willow tugged at Buffy, and Buffy, though she was chomping at the bit, stopped herself from delivering a stinging retort about the sad and ineffectual nature of a big pile of dust. Instead, with a quick flip of her hair, she spun on her heel to follow Willow out the door. She sent Spike a silent but unmistakable look of warning before closing the door behind her with a quiet click.
Spike stared after her. A moment later, Giles’ blue china bowl, fragile and full of Weetabix, went spinning and smashing into the door.
***
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