Collide

By: enigmaticblue

Rating: PG-15

Disclaimer: The standard "I don't own; please don't sue."

Archive: Anywhere that already has my stuff; anywhere else just ask.

Summary: What if that house-demolishing in Smashed was a metaphor with a different meaning than the writers gave it? What if that night marked a release of a different sort? Goes seriously AU immediately after Smashed, and makes reference to my short story, "The Promise I'm Keeping," written for summer_of_spike.

Chapter 11: Revenge of the Nerds

"...The fog is so thick/I can't see my hands/It got much worse/Soon as I got in/And I know you're somewhere/Here in the water/It's ten feet deep/And the river won't stop/I'll tell you what's in it/When I make it across/You could make it too/If you let someone help you/But you gotta give in/And you gotta let go/Then you can begin/To come up slow/Like a desert rose..." ~The Wallflowers, "How Good It Can Get"

Buffy recognized the van immediately. "That's it right there."

Xander raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. Let's go."

"Buffy, wait a minute. What are we going to do if these guys are human?" Xander's voice betrayed his doubt. "It's not like you can kill them."

"I can beat them up," Buffy replied.

Xander thought about trying to talk her out of it and then decided that it was a losing battle. He was better off just following her lead. If Buffy got too out of hand, Xander was fairly sure he'd be able to talk her down.

He was almost positive.

Buffy marched right up to the front door and knocked. A pleasant-looking woman opened the door, and Xander quickly hid the tranq gun behind his back. "May I help you?"

"I'm looking for the guys that own the van parked outside," Buffy said, trying for a smile that would put the woman at ease. "It backed into my car, and—"

The woman frowned. "That Warren!"

Buffy blinked, suddenly realizing why the house looked so familiar. She had been here before when she was chasing down Warren Mears over the girlfriend-bot. "Warren Mears?"

"You know Warren?" the woman asked, obviously wondering why Buffy wouldn't have known that it was Warren's house or Warren's van.

Buffy smiled. "We met at a party last year. It's been a long time."

"Oh, okay," she replied. "Do you want to see him? I think he's in the basement with his friends."

"That would be great," Buffy replied. "I really appreciate it."

Mrs. Mears gave Xander a doubtful look. "I can show both of you down there. Or there's the other entrance."

"Why don't we use that one?" Buffy suggested. "I'm sure Warren won't mind."

She directed them around to the side of the house, and they both took off into the darkness. "Do you think they know we're coming?"

"I don't know," Buffy said grimly. "I wouldn't put it past Warren, that little sleaze. I should have brought Spike with me."

Xander looked hurt. "Why Spike?"

"Because Spike can threaten to eat them," Buffy replied with a wry grin. "I don't think that threat would carry the same weight coming from you."

Xander winced. "Probably not."

Buffy opened the cellar door with a well-placed kick, knowing that the sound would probably carry to Mrs. Mears. Hopefully the woman would ignore the noise. "Honey, I'm home."

Silence met her, and she clattered down the steps, Xander right behind her, the tranq gun held at the ready. "I know you're still here," Buffy said. "And I know what you've been up to. If you turn yourselves in, I might be persuaded not to hurt you. A lot."

Someone hit Xander from behind, but he'd been thrown around by demons. Xander might not be the toughest guy around, but he could take a hit. It was pure reflex that had him slamming the butt of the gun into the chest of the thing behind him. He heard a very human, "Ooof!" and then a thud.

"Buffy!"

"I've got it," she replied. Buffy had fought invisible assailants before. When Tara had done her blinding spell last year, she'd fought Lei-ach demons she couldn't see. Of course, that time Spike had been there yelling directions at her.

And Tara had withdrawn her spell before anyone got hurt.

Buffy had a feeling that not even Spike would be able to see these guys. It seemed they'd used their invisibility ray on themselves.

Lucky for her that they were rather inept, even when they had the visual advantage.

She could feel one of them make a grab for her arm from behind, and Buffy gave him a sharp elbow in what she hoped was his face. The crack and yelp of pain told her that she was right on the mark, and her knee found a soft target in front of her.

A grim smile grew on her face as she realized exactly what she'd hit, and Buffy reached out and grabbed for the guy in front of her. Once she figured out that she had the back of his shirt, it was easy to yank him up and lock an arm around his throat. "Okay, who am I talking to?"

"Warren." The name was gasped, rather than spoken, and Buffy eased her grip slightly. It was hard to tell how tightly she was holding him. "Warren," he repeated, a little more clearly.

"Tell your friends to back off."

"I don't—" She tightened her grip just a little. "Back off!"

"Good. I see that you might actually be reasonable. Now I want to see you guys. Make it happen."

There was the sound of scuffling, and then someone picked up the object Buffy recognized as the ray gun she'd seen them holding in the alley. The first to appear was Jonathan, and her eyes narrowed. "Jonathan."

Jonathan gulped when he realized he'd been recognized, and another boy who Buffy couldn't identify quickly reappeared. "And you would be?"

"Andrew Wells," the boy said. Then, when no one seemed to be familiar with him, he muttered. "Tucker's brother."

Buffy sighed. "Right." She released her hostage and gave him a shove. "Last one."

When all three of them were visible, she stared at them, hands on her hips. "What the hell am I supposed to do with you? And what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Warren pulled himself up straight. "We're your arch nemesis-es."

"Okay, that's lame," Xander put in. "We've had nemeses, and you don't fit the bill."

"We're evil masterminds!" Andrew insisted. "We're going to rule Sunnydale."

"Shut up, nimrod," Jonathan hissed. "Don't tell her that!"

Buffy wasn't in the mood for beating them up now. They were too pathetic for that. At the same time, she couldn't just let them go. Who knows what they'd do next?

"Buffy, look," Xander said, nodding at another weapon lying on a workbench.

She didn't understand what he was pointing at right away, but then she saw the diamond in the small chamber on top of the gun; it looked like the diamond from the museum heist. "What do you know? It looks like I've got all the evidence I need to call the cops."

"No!" Warren said, trying to rush her.

Xander shot him with a tranq before he could grab her, and Warren went down like a ton of bricks. "Does somebody else want to take a shot at the Slayer?"

Andrew and Jonathan shook their heads frantically.

"Where's your phone?" Buffy demanded.

Jonathan handed over a cell phone without a word. She dialed 911 and waited for the operator's voice. "Yes, I have information on the robbery at the museum."

~~~~~

It was late when Buffy finally got home. The police had had questions on how she and Xander had known about the nerds' role in the robbery. Xander and she had managed to throw them off with the same story they'd told Warren's mother. They had come by about a car accident and had seen the diamond.

When the cops had asked Xander about the tranq gun, he'd replied, "Well, you can't be too careful after dark, can you?"

One of the officers had laughed a little at that and let them go.

All in all, it had been a very productive evening. Buffy was a little disappointed that she hadn't been able to beat anyone up, but the nerds were behind bars where they belonged, and her friendship with Xander was back on solid ground.

The whole thing had been kind of—fun.

"How'd it go, luv?" Spike emerged from the darkness of the kitchen, bringing the scent of smoke with him. "Get the bad guys?"

"They are now behind bars," Buffy replied. "So that's one less thing to worry about."

Spike brushed her hair back. "What else are you worrying over? Anything I can clear up for you?"

"Just the usual," she responded. "I think Xander and I are going to be okay, but I'm not so sure about Willow."

Spike ran the back of his hand over her cheek. "Give her time, Buffy. She'll come around eventually."

"You don't know that."

"No, I don't. Wish I did."

"I didn't think you liked my friends."

Spike shrugged. "Not about me, is it?"

Buffy didn't want to think about what those words meant. The depth of feeling they revealed. She knew he loved her, but most of the time she could push that information aside. She could fool herself that what they had was an easy, casual thing.

What she and Spike had wasn't easy, nor could it ever be casual. It was just that she didn't particularly want to think about what it was going to be. Not when it was so good right now.

So Buffy did what she was best at in moment like these. She changed the subject. "How's Dawn?"

Spike's expression told her that he knew she was trying to change the subject, but he let it slide. "She's sleeping."

"What did you guys do?" She started wandering towards the kitchen.

Spike followed her, watching as Buffy rummaged through the refrigerator. "I made dinner, checked over her homework, that's about the end of it."

"You looked over her homework?" Buffy turned to stare at him.

Spike looked off to the side, refusing to meet her eyes. "Yeah, well, dunno how much help I was, but I checked it over."

It hit her again—how little she really knew about Spike. He was such a mystery to her. All angles and hard edges, until he revealed some soft spot. Who would have ever imagined that the same vampire who'd come roaring into Sunnydale would have turned into the guy that made sure a teenage girl didn't go hungry and got her homework done?

Buffy wanted to pull him upstairs, lead him to her bed, and never let him go. She also wanted to run away, for fear that she ended up loving him so much that she lost herself.

There was no way she could go through that again. If she had to kill the man she loved again...

"It's not going to happen."

"What's not going to happen?" Buffy asked, startled out of her thoughts. She didn't think she'd spoken aloud.

"Whatever it is you're thinkin' about," he replied. "I don't know what it is, but it's not going to happen."

A smile touched her lips, if not her eyes. "How did you know?"

"Your face gives it away every time, pet." Spike's fingers passed over the lines in her forehead, around her mouth. "You get that worried look I hate seeing."

Buffy met his eyes. "Promise me that no matter what happens you'll be on my side, Spike. Even if that chip of yours—"

He cut her off with a kiss that was half-angry, half-tender. "If you have to ask me for that, then you don't know me all that well, Slayer."

"I told you that I didn't know you." Buffy stared into her eyes. "Swear to me."

"I swear. You know I'd never do anything to hurt you." Spike's mouth came down over hers again, and suddenly Buffy was frantic to feel him, to have him inside her. It all felt too fragile, too transient. Spike could leave tomorrow. She could be forced to stake him tomorrow because of some weird Hellmouth-y thing.

She wanted him now.

Enough rational thought remained for Buffy to mutter, "Dawn" in Spike's ear. Without breaking contact, Spike spun them both around, steering her towards the back door. His hand left her breast for just long enough to turn the doorknob, and then they were on the porch, fumbling with clothing.

They slammed into the side of the house, both of them at the edge of their control. "Spike!"

"I know, I know," he muttered, not releasing her. Instead, they both stumbled down the steps.

"Dawn can see us from out here."

"Then where?"

"I don't know."

It was Buffy's turn to steer, and she moved them both deeper into the shadows in the backyard. Spike went down, pulling her on top of him. They were both trying to keep quiet, stifling gasps and moans as best they could. The darkness seemed to insulate them from the rest of the world, making everything that much more unreal.

When it was all done, Buffy started snickering.

"I didn't think it was that bad," Spike muttered.

She snorted. "It wasn't bad at all, and you know it. I was just imagining what my mom would say if she found us."

"Probably tell me to get the hell away from her daughter again," Spike replied, amusement in his own voice.

Buffy smiled. "I think she would have come around to us dating eventually."

"Is that what we're doing?"

"What?

"Dating?" Spike raised himself on an elbow. "It's just I never know with us."

Buffy was quiet. "I don't know," she confessed. "It sounds so weird to say. I mean, you're a vampire, and you live in a crypt and you've been around forever."

"I am not that old!" Spike protested, although he didn't sound terribly insulted by the idea.

"You know what I mean," she replied, smacking him on the chest. "It's more that saying we're dating or that you're my boyfriend seems inadequate somehow."

"So it's more than that?"

"It's like comparing apples to oranges," Buffy replied. "Or maybe like comparing chocolate to spinach. Because apples and oranges are both fruit, so I don't know why you couldn't compare them."

Here, in the darkness of her backyard, Buffy could say these sorts of things out loud. If they had been in her house, or at Spike's crypt, she wasn't sure she would have allowed herself to be so honest. They were in between worlds now, though, in between times. At some sort of happy medium where they could co-exist peaceably.

Buffy could just make out Spike's features. He was mostly hidden in shadow, but she could see the glint of his eyes, and the reflection of the moon on his hair. She watched as his face twisted in pain or discomfort, she couldn't be sure.

"I don't know what to do for you," he confessed. "Want to make you happy, luv. I want you—"

He stopped there, but Buffy thought she might know what he'd left unspoken. Spike wanted her to want him, he wanted to know that she wasn't using their relationship as a crutch, that when she was ready to move on, she wouldn't leave him behind.

She wanted to make him a promise. Buffy wanted to reassure him that this wasn't just a passing fancy on her part, that this would be lasting.

And she couldn't say the words. Not because she didn't want to, but because she had no idea how to make a promise like that, not when Buffy still felt as though every day was a battle to be fought. So she gave him what little she could, hoping that it would be enough.

"You do make me happy, Spike."

His smile was wistful, knowing that he would settle for that much when he really wanted so much more.

~~~~~

"You could have let me help, you know," Tara said with some amusement as she looked around Spike's apartment. It wasn't much, but it was better than the crypt. From a human point of view, anyway.

Spike shrugged. "Wasn't much, and I had to move everything after sunset anyway. Clem helped."

He was beginning to appreciate the merits of having an apartment. With the money from his treasure trove, he'd managed to not only pay rent on the apartment, but also to get cable. Spike had even managed to get a package that included football coverage—just in time for the World Cup. There seemed to be some definite advantages to living above ground.

Well, not quite above ground, since it was a basement apartment, but it certainly wasn't your average vampire's lair.

There was a part of Spike that wondered what exactly he was doing, and if he wasn't being an utter fool, turning his life upside down for a girl who had no idea what she wanted.

On the other hand, he had a place that Buffy probably wouldn't mind Dawn visiting now, as well as cable and a consistently working microwave. Not to overlook the fact that no one in the demon world knew where his new place was, save for Clem. Spike had been getting a bad feeling recently, as though he was being followed. Having a comfortable hideout was probably a very good idea.

"The place looks nice, Spike," Tara complimented him. "I think Buffy will appreciate it."

He shook his head. "You sure about that, Tara? Doesn't seem like..."

"This shows Buffy that you're trying," she said.

Spike laughed shortly. "And what about her? I know she feels somethin' for me, but I don't know that it's anything more than just a—what did Anya call them—orgasm friend?"

Tara giggled. That definitely sounded like Anya. "I don't think Buffy's the kind of girl to have an 'orgasm friend' without there being a little something more involved. Just be patient."

He snorted. "Patience is not something I'm good at."

"Then now is a good time to learn," Tara responded.

Spike let that go. He might not like exercising patience, but being with Buffy was forcing him to learn. He knew he couldn't push too hard, not when they were moving forward a little bit at a time. Spike had the feeling that if he just held on a little longer, Buffy would come to him of her own accord. They'd manage to find that place in the middle.

If living in an apartment would speed the process—as Tara seemed to think it would—then Spike would do it.

Recalling manners long-buried, Spike asked, "Do you want a cuppa?"

"That would be nice," Tara replied.

The silence that fell was soothing, rather than awkward, a reversal of a familiar scene from the previous summer. On occasion, Tara would stay behind from whatever Scooby meeting was taking place to look after Dawn. Since Spike was trying to stick close to the girl, they would sometimes wind up hanging out together by default.

Spike didn't think they had much in common besides a concern for Dawn, but sometimes worrying over the same person was enough to form a bond. It had turned out that they had a bit more than Dawn in common, however. They both liked a quiet cup of tea, and it seemed Tara had a taste for imported beer that Spike wouldn't have suspected. The gentle witch appealed to a side of him that Spike didn't let many see.

They spoke idly of Tara's classes. Spike found himself amused by her sly commentary on some of her professors and fellow classmates. She was a sharp one, with a sense of humor that had him chuckling out loud more than once.

He was almost disappointed when Tara announced that she had to leave. "I'm supposed to be meeting a study group in fifteen minutes," she said, regret shading her tone. "Thanks for the tea, though."

"Anytime, pet," Spike replied.

They looked at each other, the silence becoming awkward for the first time that afternoon. "If you need anything..." Tara offered.

"Same here," he quickly replied.

She reached out to touch his arm, giving him an encouraging squeeze. "I'll see you around, Spike."

Spike flipped on the television once Tara had gone, knowing that it would be a couple of hours before he could meet Buffy. He was supposed to meet her for patrol, and then she had suggested they go back to her place to watch a movie with Dawn.

He was feeling rather cheerful about the prospect when a knock on the door startled him. Spike hadn't told Buffy where he'd moved yet; he was saving that for a surprise while he was out on patrol with her.

Opening the door, Spike got a sinking feeling. "Willow."

Her eyes were black with anger—and power. "You had to mess with Tara, didn't you, Spike? It's not just Buffy that you're turning against us."

"I think you've done that well enough on your own," he shot back, knowing that angering her further was probably a bad idea, but unable to help himself.

She smiled coldly. "That tongue of yours is going to get you in trouble, vampire," Willow warned him. "Maybe it's time to shut you up."