Beth ran her fingers over the open wound. "That's deep," she murmured, and she immediately pulled her bag off her shoulder. "Be still, don't move."
Spike hissed softly. "Ain't goin' anywhere, pet," he grunted. The knife had left a deep gouge in his belly; nothing fatal but definitely dangerous.
"Can you get that armor off?" Beth asked, laying out the emergency supplies.
That armor was something Beth and Buffy had developed together. It had been Buffy's idea; upper body armor to protect their vampires, and she'd brought the idea to Beth. Beth had dug out the old Kevlar and Teflon body armor left behind by Wolfram and Hart, double-layered the chest pieces together, and used Buffy for strength testing. A month and two prototypes later, both Spike and Angel were equipped with heart-protecting armor.
"Yeah, no problem." The shoulder straps unfastened easily, and Spike grimaced as he rolled his shirt up. "You sure you know what you're doin'?"
"Yes, I'm sure. Sure enough that I can patch you up, anyway. Once the sun's up, I'll make sure the windows are blocked off and check our Croat coverage. If they're still circling at nightfall, we'll have to call for help." Beth came back over and carefully examined his wound.
"At least we done what we set out t'do," Spike answered, hissing. "Christ, woman, y'ain't got a gentle touch!"
That isn't what Angel says danced on the tip of her tongue, but Beth swallowed it with half a grin. "I'll try harder, but it's gonna hurt like hell when I sew that up." She looked around. "At least we got in a convenience store." They were currently hiding behind the register, away from the windows.
All they had in the store were basic goods; band-aids, isopropyl rubbing alcohol, triple antibiotic ointment. Single serving packs of Tylenol, Advil, cold medicine, and vitamin pills and supplements. On the half aisle of baby products she'd found a tub of baby wipes, and on the household goods aisle, paper towels. Currently the paper towels were soaking up the blood on the floor, and the wipes were marinating in alcohol.
"Yeah, well, when this is done, I'm raidin' the beer cave," Spike proclaimed. He tried not to jerk when the sterilized wipes swept over his wound, but he couldn't help it. "Sodding fuck," he growled through gritted teeth.
"Sorry," Beth apologized again, sincerely this time. "Good news is, you've stopped bleeding. All you need is a few stitches to close you up and to get some fresh blood in you to replace what's on the floor as soon as possible." She busied herself by threading the curved needle with the first of the sutures.
"M'sure the Red Cross'll deliver." There was a white ash Louisville Slugger under the counter, and Spike gripped it tightly. "G'head then, do your mending."
-----
The bat had ended up in splinters before Beth was done. Fourteen stitches later, the gash was closed and covered with a clean bandage. The store was well-stocked with garbage bags, and Beth packed away the bloody wipes and gauze trimmings.
Spike was nursing the first bottle of a Heineken six-pack and Beth had snagged herself several water bottles, a Cherry Coke, and a handful of pizza Combos. She and Spike were also sharing a bag of white cheddar popcorn without comment, and Beth was studying the metal shades.
"Hold that snack a second." Pulling one of her guns out of her belt, she handed it to Spike. "I'm gonna try and close up those security shutters."
Spike took the gun, but he yanked her back down behind the counter. "Maybe the security button does that?"
Beth pondered that suggestion. Her first thought was to tell Spike to piss off, but she pushed it aside. "Yeah, maybe. Course, it might also set off an alarm that'll bring every Croat bastard in twenty blocks to camp outside our doorstep," she added after a moment's consideration.
"There is that," Spike admitted. "An' we ain't exactly an army here. I might could take them, but you…"
"Hey now, asshole, I'm just as capable as you--if not more so cause I ain't the one with my gut split open and held together with thread and tape," Beth countered.
"This is not a bloody game of one-up!" Spike shouted.
"Anything you can do, I can do better!" Beth shouted back.
"Good God you're annoying." Spike gave an exasperated huff. "No wonder Angel likes you."
"Oh, do not bring Angel into this, because I will beat you down so bad, wounded or not!"
"Just shut up and hit the sodding button already!"
"FINE!" Beth slammed the heel of her hand against the button. Two things happened; the steel shutters and rollers did lock down, but the most God-awful alarm started wailing. "Oh, that was great!" she bellowed at Spike over the din. "Great idea, that!"
"You're the one who hit the bloody thing! Shut up already and help me find the wiring!" Spike shouted back. He was already on his side, wriggling along the sideboard looking for the wires.
"Get up and get back before you tear your stitches!" Frustrated, Beth pulled her backup out of her waistband. "Fire in the hole." Spike reacted fast, covering his head with his jacket.
Beth shot the speakers. One in each corner of the store, and they all imploded in sparks and shorts. After the last one was demolished, the alarm was finally silenced.
"Well, that answers a lot as to how you misspent your youth," Spike commented in the ensuing silence, his tone of voice obviously impressed despite himself.
Caught off-guard by the compliment, back-handed though it was, Beth had to laugh.
Surprised at her reaction, Spike found himself laughing along with her.
-----
Spike grunted as he woke up. There was something on his arm, dead weight dragging him down. Forcing his eyes open, he realized that something was, in fact, Beth Holden. As he got more awake, he remembered she'd made him move out of that blood-sticky corner, and now he was glad of it because a crack in one of the shutters had let in a shaft of light that shone exactly where he'd been lying.
As he started to move his arm, Beth grumbled. "Wait until ten or so," she said, staying exactly where she was.
Another few moments later, and Spike realized why. The metal shutters didn't just have cracks; they also didn't overlap. In other places they were dented, or knocked completely off track, which allowed narrow slants of sun to peek through. One of those slender beams fell directly against Spike's chest and leg.
He was shocked to realize that Beth was protecting him from the sun. He realized, too, that the beam was nearly gone; the angle of the sun was moving it steadily away. In another hour, maybe two, it'd be gone entirely.
With little else to do but wait, Spike let himself fall back to sleep.
-----
When he woke again, Beth had already moved. He could hear her shifting around the store, and he stood up. When that didn't hurt, he peeled his shirt up and lifted the corner of the bandage. The deep cut across his gut was little more than a shallow scratch now, but it wouldn't heal entirely until he'd fed. "Hey, make a suggestion? When you're packin' those handy little survival kits? Toss in a nice nip of Type O. Case something else happens like this."
"That's not a bad idea," Beth admitted, closing the soda cooler door. "Especially with the bunch of us that aren't comfortable with getting bit."
Spike jumped the counter and headed for the beer again. "Ain't never let Angel bite you?" he asked over his shoulder.
"Not that it's any of your business, Mr. Nosypants, but no, Angel's never bitten me." Beth carted her soft drinks and snacks back over to their hidey-hole.
"Now that's a real shame," he answered. "You two got so bloody gooey over each other after you nearly kicked it. Thought I was gonna heave." Spike plunked two cases of Heineken on the counter, along with the plastic jar of pickled sausages. "Thought for sure he'd got a taste of you in his blood, so to speak." He jumped back over the counter to rejoin Beth, then offered her an open bottle before he thought.
After a brief hesitation, she took it. "Thanks."
"Cheers," Spike answered, opening another bottle for himself and chugging deeply.
"Can I ask you something?" Beth asked, after taking a sip from her bottle.
"Can't promise t'answer," he said after a bit. "Hey, got any smokes?"
"Not on me." Beth tilted her head back, looking upside-down at the cartons over her head. "What's your brand?"
"Don't rightly care, so long as they ain't menthol."
Beth reached up, grabbed the nearest carton, and then pitched it to Spike. "Need a lighter?"
"That, I got." It took him a minute to unwrap the carton, take out a pack, and get one lit. "Now, what's the question?"
"You're welcome," she said with a sneer. Now that she had a moment, there were tons of things she wanted to know, but didn't have the courage to ask. So she settled on something safe. "How'd the armor work?"
Spike gave Beth a strange look. "You're an odd bird. It worked fine; little heavy when I move though."
Beth nodded, finishing her beer. "Buffy and I wondered about that. Would some straps around the chest help? Hold the front and the back tight together where they're not so loose?"
That was a serious question that benefitted his own personal survival, so he gave it due consideration. "Uh, yeah, actually. Be more like one piece like that."
"Yeah, that's what Buffy wanted, but I wondered if it'd be too restrictive," Beth admitted. "Buffy wanted test fittings for both of you, but then we didn't really have time. Maybe when we get back, you and Angel can come in for some fittings."
Spike tossed Beth another beer. "Long as me'n nancy-boy ain't stuck at the same time slot, I'm in." He opened another bottle for himself between drags. "Why you care s'much anyway? You could just ask sodding Angel and--Hey!"
The cap to Beth's beer bottle struck Spike right between the eyes. "I told you to leave Angel out of it."
"You're the one who brought 'im up!" Spike protested, rubbing his forehead where the cap bounced off. "Your aim's… pretty damn good, actually."
Beth cracked up, nearly choking on her beer. "You sound so shocked!"
"Well, yeah! You're so tiny. Guns I get, but it don't seem right, you bein' a Slayer'n all."
"There's a height requirement now?" Beth rolled her eyes. "Might wanna let the mystical force that picked me know that, cause according to them I'm tall enough for the ride." To make her point, she chugged the second bottle empty.
"I stand--well, sit--corrected." Spike tossed her a third bottle.
Beth caught it, then glared at Spike for a moment. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"
Spike paused, self-preservation kicking in. "If I say yes, are you goin' to kill me?"
"Maybe. Why are you trying to get me drunk?" she demanded.
"Cause you're such a bloody tight-ass! You're almost as bad as the pouf, but y'got spunk, too. I seen it myself. I can't stand you, but if y'loosened up the sphincter a little, y'might be okay," Spike responded, bracing for physical retaliation.
Beth did some mental arithmetic, trying to figure out if that sentence--taken as a whole--turned out a compliment. When she decided it didn't, she ignored it. "I am not a tight-ass."
"You totally are. Nobody can bloody breathe wrong 'round you but you go flippin' out. And don't even make me bring up how off the sodding rails you get over Angel! If you'd just calm down and be human for five minutes…"
"I am human!" Beth took the bottle and opened it defiantly.
"Prove it," Spike dared. "Have a few. Loosen it up, get comfortable." He offered her the pack of cigarettes.
Beth took one of the cigarettes and let Spike light it for her, then settled back with her cigarette and beer with a challenging look.
Spike stepped up to the challenge. "So why didn't y'let me burn?"
"Because you're part of the team," Beth explained. "I may despise you, and I do, but you're on the team and we need you. Croats ain't dangerous to you, unless they stab you in the heart, and you're strong."
"But… you don't like me. Angel could do all--"
"Yeah, he could, but when we got you, that means double protection," Beth explained, butting in and interrupting Spike. "Two groups can go out, you on one and Angel on a second. You're useful."
"So, how'd we get stuck together?" Spiked asked. "Seein' as how I can't stand you and you can't stand me?"
Beth shrugged. "After the last time, Angel and me decided we shouldn't go out on the same team. I don't really listen to him, and Angel's gotta be able to trust the ones he's with. So when my turn came around again, I got stuck with you."
"That's… shockin'ly logical," Spike said after a moment. "Didn't figure you'd quit, but I had pegged you for stickin' to Angel like glue."
"Sometimes, people do think with their upstairs brains," she pointed out snidely.
"Technically, y'ain't got a downstairs brain, pet. Not unless you're hidin' somethin'," Spike pointed out.
Beth made a very rude gesture towards Spike. "Don't make me drop trou and prove it."
"Speakin' of, where's the loo?" Spike pushed up to his feet. "Don’t think I've seen you go."
Beth pointed to the back of the store. "I copped a squat this morning before you woke up."
"Copped a squat? God, that's disgusting." Spike boosted himself over the counter. "Try not to have any fun without me."
By the time Spike got out of the bathroom, Beth's head was no longer visible over the counter. "Holden!" he shouted.
A booted foot appeared waving over the counter, but there was no verbal response. Curious, Spike leaned over.
In his absence, Beth had apparently raided the magazine rack and had helped herself to a pile of crosswords and Sudoku puzzles. She was biting her lower lip and tapping a pencil against her teeth. "Help yourself," she said, gesturing towards the books as Spike hopped the counter again. She tossed Spike a two-pack of blue pens and shoved the stack of books over.
God help him, Spike actually thought she was adorable, lying on her stomach and counting boxes under her breath. "I need a bloody drink," he muttered, grabbing the first puzzle book off the stack.
Beth ignored that, working diligently on her own puzzles. She didn't speak until…
"Oi. You. Seven letter word for hairy?"
Beth paused. "Hirsute. H-i-r-s-u-t-e," she spelled out.
"Ta," Spike answered, filling the answer in. He worked a few more clues. "Six letters for reanimate?"
Beth glared, sitting up and looking away from her puzzle. "Are you for real?"
"What?"
"Zombie, you idiot."
"Damn. I should've known that."
"Considering the state of the world right now, yes, you should've." Beth closed her book and sighed. "I miss Evil Dead."
"You miss what now?" Spike raised an eyebrow.
"Evil Dead. It's a movie. Slow, ugly zombies. A shotgun, a chainsaw, a few quippy one-liners, a shot to the head and the zombie's toast."
"And they're different from Croats how?" Spike demanded.
Beth snagged another bottle of beer as she scooted back against the counter to pontificate. "Well, you've seen how they work. The Croats, they're fresh. Fast. Like normal people. They walk, they run, they move like we do. They still use weapons--simple ones, sure, knives, glass shards, crowbars, clubs--but they're still weapons. And they're thinking; they want to infect, to kill." She took another drink. "Movie zombies, the good ones anyway, they're one hundred percent different. Take Night of the Living Dead, the original Romero movie. They're slow movers, shufflers. They're real dead bodies--Croats aren't. The real ones, they're dead. But they're hard to kill since they're already dead. Like I said before, a head shot, destroy the brain, or wade in with a chainsaw and hack off some heads."
She paused, taking another long sip to keep her throat wet. "The Evil Dead zombies, they're called Deadites, and the Deadites are alive until they're taken, then they're dead. With Deadites and zombies, it's brain. You can double-tap a zombie in the heart and it'll just keep coming. Double-tap a Croat in the heart, and you can drop it in its tracks."
Spike's mind was boggled at the amount of information Beth was spewing out. His eyes glazed over at the mention of George Romero, but he was able to re-focus when her tone of voice indicated a wrap-up. "That's such a lame distinction."
Beth's eyebrows shot up. "What? Lame?" Disbelief colored her tone. "Lame how?"
"Of course if you wade in with a bloody chainsaw, you're going to kill things. It's a cop-out! Real killin's an art form, an' you can't get that from a bleedin' saw." He smirked. "A chainsaw ain't sportin'."
"Sporting!? Are you insane? You've lost your damn mind! Did the peroxide rot all of your brain cells?" Beth couldn't help sputtering.
"Oh, you're one to talk, Miss Natural Blonde With Dark Roots!" Spike made air-quotes around "natural."
"I've never bleached my hair! Sure, I maybe dyed it black that one time in high school, but this is my natural color," Beth protested hotly.
"Sure it is," Spike patronized.
Beth was going to retort, but then noticed the time. "Holy shit, it's almost sundown."
Spike was glad they were getting out, and he pulled himself up. "Let me hit the shutters," he called out.
The metal shades rolled back. The streets were empty, no Croats in sight. "Hey, check it out!" Beth said happily. "Okay, you're the wounded man. Pack up anything here you want to take back and I'll meet at the entrance with the truck."
Spike yanked Beth back by the arm. "Careful. Could be a trap. 'Specially if they heard the windows goin' up."
"Which is why you're hanging back," Beth said calmly. "If it is a trap, I'm counting on you to watch my back and save my ass."
"How about I watch your ass and save your back?" His hand groped her ass quickly, and then braced for the slap. It didn't come, much to Spike's surprise. "Guess you really did loosen up."
Beth glared. "That was a freebie. The next time I feel your hand on my ass, you lose it." Pulling away, she headed for the door.
Spike hastily shoved all the puzzle books into the bags, along with all their snacks and drinks. The cigarettes went in on top of the bag, and his head snapped up as she gave a short beep of the horn.
That was Holden-speak for get your ass moving, and Spike did just that. Beth leaned over and pushed open the passenger side door just as Spike cleared the front door. He landed in the seat beside her, and barely had a second to toss the bag in the back seat before she had the gas pedal on the floor. "Hey now, I'd like t'keep all my teeth in m'head."
"Buckle up, cowboy," is all Beth answered, flicking the headlights on high. The roar of the engine and the brief honk had awakened a small group of Croats that were heading towards the truck.
"Oh, bollocks." Spike jammed the seat belt into the buckle and braced himself on the dashboard.
Beth used the truck's grill as a battering ram, plowing the Croats under the tires. The windshield wipers cleared the most of the blood off, enough that she could see where she was going, and she swerved to crush one last creature before leveling off into the proper lane as they roared back towards the Pod.
"You okay over there?" Beth asked, peeking at Spike out of the corner of her eye.
"Pull over. You're never driving again." Spike did not relax from his brace against the dash. "That was idiotic and insane and stupid. What if they'd broken in? What if they'd gummed up the works? What if--"
"Gunn designed these things to do exactly that. What, you want a cow-catcher on the front?" She snorted. "We're as close to a tank on wheels as we can get without being a tank or a Humvee. Quit your bitchin' and have a cigarette." She reached over and thumped him on the shoulder. "You're alive. Relax."
Spike leaned over quickly and put his hand on the wheel to keep her from drifting into the other lane.
"It's not like there's any oncoming traffic," she pointed out, veering into the other lane just to prove her point.
Spike just glared. "You know, I suspect this is the reason why nobody ever lets you drive. And if you hadn't beat me to it, I'd have driven us back this time."
Beth cracked up. "Quit being such a big baby. You survived the ride, the bad guys didn't, it's all good." She patted his shoulder again. "I never knew you got your panties twisted up about driving like this."
"I never been in a car with a maniac before. Tends to make me a bit dodgy," he snapped. Truth be told, her driving wasn't really that bad, all things considered, and he didn't know why he was so edgy.
"Okay, okay." Beth let the speedometer drop back into double digits, and she drove sedately and calmly until they reached the Pod. She pulled the truck into the open bay, and glared at Spike. "Stay in while I rinse the blood off," she ordered, and got out of the truck.
"Where the hell have you been?" boomed across the garage, and Beth waved at Angel as she pulled the hose off the wall, and started spraying the front of the truck off. "Elspeth Alexis Holden!"
She flicked a stream of water towards Angel and he danced back as she directed it back towards the truck. "Don't call me Elspeth. Me and Spike got pinned down at the store after we rigged the generator to run the pumps," she explained. "We camped out there during the day, and soon as the sun went down, we headed back."
Spike got out of the truck as soon as the hose was hung back on the wall, and he tossed the bag to Beth. She caught it and grinned at him, then slung it over her shoulder as she turned the smile on Angel. "It's okay, Angel. We're fine--"
"Speak for yourself, pet. I got knifed in the gut and I'm a little hungry, so while you and the forehead play, I'm gonna go get myself fixed up." He looked at Angel over the top of Beth's head, which wasn't hard for him to do. "Might want to take her keys away, though."
Beth raised her middle finger to Spike, and swung the keys around. "Over my dead body, Spike."
"Could be arranged," he answered with a wink, and laughed when Angel grabbed them off her finger.
"We need to have a chat. I thought you weren't going to do anything stupid any more?" Angel demanded, grabbing Beth and dragging her behind him.
"I didn't do anything stupid this time," Beth pointed out. "And leggo!" She stomped on his foot to make her point, and went back over to the truck. She dragged out a second, empty duffel bag, and packed Spike's booze, his cigarettes, and half the puzzle books and snacks in the bag before tossing it to him. "Here, that's yours." She didn't realize she'd shoved her own book in there as well.
Spike caught the bag as it was thrown at him, and he watched with bemusement as Beth let herself be dragged out by Angel. Looking through the bag, he'd meant to pull out a pack of cigarettes, and instead, he pulled out the Sudoku puzzle book that Beth had been working on.
He leafed through the book as he walked, picking up on the solving method pretty quickly as he looked at the ones she'd completed. He remembered what she'd looked like, lying on her stomach and grinning at him over the puzzle book, or lip caught between her teeth as she'd concentrated on solving a block. Closing it quickly, he thought about giving it back. But instead, Spike stuffed it in the bottom of the bag and headed for the infirmary.
The End