Chapter Nineteen
“DONNA!”
“Oh, come on, mate,” Spike growled, stalking into the foyer after the petrified man, wiping his mouth free of blood. “Can’t we all be adults, here?”
Josh’s eyes were as wide as saucers, and he practically leapt away from the approaching Cockney, fingers coming up to form a makeshift cross. It was amusing in that really pathetic sense. Did wankers really think that worked? Hell, that didn’t even work in the movies. What a waste.
The vampire had to keep himself from laughing.
“Yeh,” he said instead, nodding diplomatically. “Real effective, what you got there.”
“Stay away from me, you freak!”
“’S this the way you handle all your opposition? I can see why the gits in DC don’ like you very much.”
That seemed to strike a nerve. Josh turned to him with a face full of resolve. “I happen to be very well liked in Washington. And even if I wasn’t, why the hell am I arguing with you? DONNA!”
She was already at the top of the stairs, glaring down at him. “You bellowed?”
“Get down here!”
“He’s gonna give you a spankin’,” Spike provided cheekily. “Someone’s been a bad girl.”
“You need to shut up.”
“JOSH!”
“He’s a bloodsucking fiend from beyond the grave. Let’s go!”
The vampire shrugged. “Yeh. An’ you’re a politician. ‘S there really much difference?”
Donna was shaking her head. “I am so lost.”
There seemed to be little to say to that. Josh released an exasperated sigh, stomped up the stairs and tossed his assistant over his shoulder, which elicited a whoop of surprise from her and a hearty chuckle from the Cockney.
Spike’s irritation was floundering. It was difficult to remain angry at something so utterly ridiculous.
The blonde assistant was not nearly as amused. When it became obvious that her boss was not going to relent, she took to striking at his back, though it provided little change in demeanor. “What the hell has gotten into you?”
“We’re getting out of here.”
“What?”
Spike watched with glimmering amusement as the panicked wanker rushed through the front of the Wensel house before conceding that it was likely in their best interest to stop and explain before the overreacting went colossal. However, before he could step in with a voice of diplomacy and reason, a sweet scent hit his nostrils and drew his attention to the dining room doorway, where Buffy stood in her pajama bottoms and a tanktop.
The world stopped at that moment for the sight of her. Everything stopped. He remembered this feeling—remembered it well. Remembered when Cecily would walk into a room and command every waking breath in his body. Love was like this. Knocked the wind out of gut, or would if he had wind in his gut. Made the floor beneath his feet nonmaterial. She was so soft. So beautiful. And at the moment looked…
Delectably bedded.
Well, not in the good way, but he was finding she looked delectable regardless of temperament.
He had to shake his sinful thoughts away and get her back to sleep. In spite of the circumstances, she had not had a good night. There were certain aspects of the night that were more than pleasant, granted, but slumber was something his Slayer needed. And as long as he was around, he was going to make sure she was taken care of.
“Buffy?” Spike licked his lips and allowed himself to indulge the rouse that tickled her cheeks as he took a few steps forward. He realized dimly that a Vampire Slayer was likely the best neutral factor he could want in calming down the erratic politician, but he cared too little about Josh Lyman’s opinion and too much about Buffy to bring that to the table. “Sweetheart, you should be sleepin’.”
That sounded domestic, even to him.
“There was a phone call,” she said, glancing down. “From Willow. Something about Greek and Assyrian?”
“Right, well. ‘S gonna have to wait. You need sleep an’ I gotta take care of somethin’.”
Buffy quirked her head at that, eyes narrowing. “What happened?”
“’S nothin’. Go back to bed, sweets.”
“Spike. Look at me.” She was getting Resolved Face down to a bloody fault. That was hardly fair. “What happened?”
A sigh rolled off his shoulders. No use beating around the bush. “’S Josh. He saw me when I wasn’ at my best.” When she frowned, he gestured broadly to his forehead. “Din’t mean for it to happen, but—”
“He saw you?”
“Was eatin’. Din’t mean to—”
“You were eating blood? And in here?”
Spike scowled, emotions immediately seizing the defensive. “Oi! Was doin’ it for you, you ungrateful bint. Din’t want you to get all-squeamish ‘cause your bloody housemate keeps hordes of pigs blood under the kitchen sink. All right? An’ after a sodding century an’ more, I stop really carin’ who sees me in all my glory. So, respectfully, bugger off.”
Buffy shook her head, prowling forward and seizing his hand in a manner that was so overly familiar that it made his unbeating heart leap into his throat. Slayer-whipped sap. “We have to get to him before—”
“He can’t bloody well go anywhere, kitten. They have no wheels, remember?”
The answer to that observation was more than foreseeable. The squeal of gravel against the tires sent a cloud of dust into the air, and the last glimpse either got of the Winnebago was it cruising at full speed the wrong way down a one-way street, swerving erratically to avoid the oncoming traffic.
The Slayer sighed heavily and her shoulders sagged. But she didn’t let go of his hand. “You were saying?”
Spike met her eyes and smiled sheepishly. “Din’t change anythin’,” he said. “They still don’ have wheels. I never said they wouldn’t take ours.”
“Giles isn’t going to like this.”
“Nope.”
Buffy bit her lip. “Wanna not tell him?”
Spike’s brows perked at the prospect. “Yeh. Yeh. Right, I could live with that.” She just looked at him. He frowned. “Or maybe you were jus’ kiddin’.”
“Maybe I was just kidding.”
He nodded, expression suddenly pensive. “Maybe we should go call him now.”
“Maybe.”
“Though I liked the other plan better.”
There was a pause at that; Buffy released an agonized moan. “You’re telling me. But no. No. Right, wrong, line. Gotta go call Giles.” She turned to glance out the door again. “But they weren’t even heading for the Eola. They’re not stopping for Toby and Sam.”
Spike shrugged. “Maybe they won’ get far.”
Their gazes met slowly, still for a long, contemplative moment; then they nodded on the same beat.
“’ll call the hotel.”
“I’m gonna go get dressed.”
He paused and winked at her, allowing his eyes to take a long rake up and down her body without bothering to conceal his blatant appreciation. “No hurry in that department, sweets. Won’ hear any complaints from me.”
Buffy’s flush deepened but she covered it with a scowl before he could call her on it. “Spike!”
“Right.” He couldn’t help but grin as she sleeked away. Rouge was a color that favored her skin well; he’d like to see her in nothing but. His girl. His golden girl.
And more than that. They were friends. It was a strange revelation, but no less true in hindsight. She was his friend, the first he had had since his death. The first that could honestly be called a friend.
Such was just one of his many firsts that included the Slayer. It was becoming harder not to lose himself in her. Especially with how far they had come.
Then again, he mused, turning to hunt down a phone, there were worse things than being lost in Buffy Summers.
*~*~*
“Really, if you stop to think about it, what were the odds that the keys would just be waiting for you in the ignition?” Donna asked for the umpteenth time. “How many cars are just available for a quick getaway when you have a nervous breakdown? One vehicle, one parking lot, and you still managed to—”
The man at the wheel released a string of curses and veered violently to the left to get them back on the highway. “I did not have a nervous breakdown,” he grumbled.
“You stole a Winnebago, Josh. That doesn’t exactly suggest the utmost in mental clarity.”
“Borrowed. The word is borrowed. Work with me.”
“Yes, and where are we going?”
“Jackson to get on the first flight back to DC and away from this freak show.”
“We’re not giving the Winnebago back?”
Josh’s eyes widened in alarm. “I’m not going back there. Nuh-huh, no way.”
“Right.” She went quiet for a flicker of a second. “Never accuse me of stealing dresses that I buy and return the next day because of my budget ever again. You have forgone that right with your random bout of insanity.”
“Speaking of stealing…”
“And we’re leaving without Sam and Toby?”
Josh shook his head, banging his fist against the steering wheel. “If you’d seen his face, you’d know why.”
“Whose face?”
“Spike’s face.”
The blonde frowned. “Spike has a nice face.”
There was an exasperated sigh. “Donna…”
“A very nice face. And he’s British.” She cocked a brow at him. “Were you threatened by his brilliance?”
A shrill titter ran through the man’s system. “Spike is brilliant?”
“All British men are brilliant. I think it’s the law over there.”
“You do realize that we’re talking about Spike, right?”
“Well, he fixed the car, didn’t he? You couldn’t do that. Neither could Sam or Toby. And you three are supposed to be of the smartest men in the country. I think you are threatened by Spike’s brilliance.” Donna licked her lips coyly and glanced down. “I bet he even knows how to change a tire.”
“Dammit, I don’t give a crap if he can change every tire on every vehicle in the Western hemisphere. That’s not the point!” Josh struck the steering wheel again in frustration, causing his assistant to start. “He’s not human. He’s…I don’t know what he is, but he’s not human.”
“That’s ridicul—”
“He was drinking blood, Donna!” Josh whipped to gage her slackjawed reaction before focusing on the road again. “He’s a freak! Hell, he might be dangerous. We don’t know! I don’t know! But we’re getting out of here right now.”
It took several seconds that spanned into years before she could conjure a coherent rebuttal. “Oh my…you saw wrong. Drinking blood? Josh, you saw wrong.”
“I did not see wrong! He was drinking blood! I know blood when I see it! And his face—”
The Winnebago jerked to a sudden halt and rebounded off thin air as though hitting a brick wall at full speed. Josh’s arm shot instinctively across Donna’s chest to stop her before she whiplashed, his foot pressing the break pedal through the floor. They were directly at the city limits, facing an open road with no oncoming traffic. Nothing to the outside where furthered travel was impeded by an unseen barrier. Stopped. Stranded by nothing at all.
It took several minutes for either to catch their breath.
“A-are you okay?” Josh ventured shakily.
The blonde shook her head and moaned. “Oh God.”
“Donna?”
“I’m going to be sick.” She covered her face with her hands and smoothed her hair back, absently registering the reassuring massages that Josh soothed into the shoulder nearest to him. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did we hit?”
“Nothing.”
Donna’s head shot up, her eyes taking in the scene before them. “What do you mean, we hit nothing? How can we have hit nothing?”
“I don’t know. I…” Josh forced his concern away from the blonde at his side and turned instead to manipulate the gears of the Winnebago. The vehicle wanted to move forward, but was pushing at an invisible nothing. Just nothing. The tires moved and screeched and sent a horrible aroma from the concrete, but nothing. “No,” he said, slamming his hands against the wheel again. “No, goddammit! This can’t be good.”
Ten minutes later, they had moved outside to test the barrier with their hands. First try sent Josh back ten feet as though he had touched an electric fence. After Donna verified that he hadn’t hurt himself, she took to throwing pebbles and the few sticks she could scrounge at the invisible wall as her boss dug out his cell and furiously punched in the familiar numbers that got Leo’s office.
“You’re not going to tell him your idea about rooming with people who aren’t human, are you?” Donna asked dryly.
“It’s not as crazy as you’re making it sound,” he barked.
“I think you’ve gone around the bend.”
“Yeah.” Josh turned his back on her, pivoting sharply at the heel as Leo picked up the other line. “Yeah. I got a situation here, and if you could explain, that would be fantastic.”
“Yes. Leo!” Donna indulged several long steps forward, shouting as loud as she could. “Help! Josh has gone crazy!”
The man sent her a nasty glare and turned away again. “Yeah. No, this doesn’t have anything to do with Senator Davis. That’s pretty much yesterday’s news. I’m standing here at the city limits of Natchez and, while there’s nothing ahead of me, my…well, the Winnebago won’t go anywhere. Where I got the Winnebago doesn’t matter right now! I’m saying it’s functioning fine but it won’t go forward. No! Leo, I did two laps back and forth and it runs fine until I get to the city limits. It’s not letting me leave! Yes, I understand that you’re not able to fix everything, but this…and there’s this guy back at the place who’s a bloodsucking freak with a weird interchangeable facial condition. Got anything for me?”
“Other than Prozac?” Donna muttered.
Josh sent her another look before turning his attention back to the phone. “What? Uh…” He frowned and glanced at his assistant again. “Have we ever seen Spike outside?”
She just looked at him. “He did fix the car didn’t he?”
“Yeah, but he had to do that at night.”
“He has a sun allergy. He can’t be out in the daytime.”
“Yeah.” Josh nodded and leveled the phone with his mouth again. “Leo, this guy has a sun allergy and can’t—what? Yes, there was something wrong with his face. He looked…well…he looked kinda like a Klingon.”
“A Klingon, Josh? Honestly…”
“Aha!” The man whooped in victory and sent a snide leer in Donna’s direction. “Leo knows something about this. He…what?” The triumph in his voice died as abruptly as it had originated and his expression went blank. “He’s a what? What?” The blankness lasted all of two seconds. He was yelling again before his assistant could enjoy the stupor on his face. “What?! Is this a real thing, or are you just… Leo! And you knew? And you didn’t tell me? How could you not tell me this?”
Donna’s eyes were wide. “What is it?”
The Deputy Chief of Staff shook his head and took to pacing again, ignoring her for the moment. “I don’t believe this,” he griped into the phone. “Who’s in on it? Who knows? Fitz and McNally? That’s it? What about the President? You haven’t told the President?! Leo!”
“Josh!”
He stopped and expelled a deep breath. “There’s a government conspiracy, Donna. Run for cover.”
“What the hell is going on?”
He opened his mouth to reply but Leo started in again before he could get anything out. Josh nodded, more to himself, and held up a hand to signify that she needed to be patient for a few more minutes. When the call finally concluded, he hissed out a deep breath, closed the phone, and promptly threw it to the ground to crush it under his weight in the spontaneity of a Lyman hissy fit.
Donna bit her lip. “Josh?”
“Don’t. Fucking. Believe. This.”
“Josh, you have to tell me what’s going on.”
“Well, I was right about Spike.” He shook his head. “And trust me, I can’t even begin to grasp the words that are about to come out of my mouth, so bear with me.”
“What is it?”
“Spike’s not human. He’s a vampire.”
The air fell still around them. They stared at each other for a few excruciatingly long seconds. There was always something about Josh’s demeanor that Donna could read when others couldn’t—the line between truth and slander. And he was telling the truth now. No games. No hoaxes. No practical jokes. This was the truth. The truth as he believed it.
She was trembling when she got her voice to work again. “Wh-what?”
“Oh yeah. And that’s not even the best part. Evidently, the government has funded a private organization to keep vampires and all other kinds of—and here I go again using a word I never thought I’d think, much less say…” He trailed off with a short laugh, shaking his head. “An organization that keeps other kinds of demons under control.”
“This is a joke, right?”
“It’s called the Initiative. And the only people in the White House that we know who have access are Leo, Fitzwallace, and Nancy McNally.”
“The President…?”
“Plausible deniability. He can’t know anything like this without being asked to lie to Joe Crazy and his neighbor Billy Conspiracy Theorist the next time we hold a press conference on Mars. This is crazy!” Josh grumbled in disgust and gave the nearest tire a good kick. “I…gimme time. Then we’re gonna have to go back.”
“Go back?”
“Well, I don’t really wanna camp out here, do you?” He expelled another deep breath and shook his head. “And we left Sam with a vampire.”
“Spike…he hasn’t hurt us, Josh. Are we even talking about this?”
“He’s a vampire, Donna.”
“Yeah, and he hasn’t hurt us. Don’t you think he would’ve tried to hurt us by now if that was his prerogative? Besides…Buffy trusts him.”
“Buffy probably doesn’t know. How many sane people do you know that would look at him, say ‘vampire,’ and move on? We gotta go back.”
“And do what?”
“I don’t know, but it has to be something. The guy’s a vampire.” Josh shook his head, motioning for her to get back into the Winnebago. “And you thought he had a nice face.”
Donna blinked. “He does have a nice face.”
“Inside.”
“I don’t see what his being a vampire has to do with the quality of his being man-candy.”
“Inside!”
“I think you’re threatened by his brilliance.”
“Donna, he’s a vampire. If anything, I’m threatened by that. Inside.”
“Okay. Just give me time. Spike’s a vampire. Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?” One look from him verified that he did. “Maybe it’s all a mistake. Vampires? Secret government agencies that specialize in demon research? It has to be a mistake.”
“Inside.”
“All I’m saying is, I’m not going to panic until Spike explains everything.”
“Donna, please get into the Winnebago.”
She nodded, still a little numb, and made the roundabout trip around the vehicle and climbed in the passenger door.
Two minutes passed before the car started up again and performed a U-Turn back for the Wensel house. Neither noticed the enclosing storm clouds or the roll of thunder that followed. They were too engaged in selective silence. Contemplating the world they had lived in all their lives as belonging to creatures known through the ages as being fictional. It wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t possible.
Vampires in America.
That thought was enough to silence anyone.
And oddly enough, Josh spent the majority of the car-ride back hoping against hope that Congress hadn’t secretly passed legislation that legalized voting rights for the undead.
Perhaps he really was going crazy.
TBC