Rating: PG for now
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, et cetera ad nauseum.
Spoilers: This goes AU after the 1st comic of S8; all the Scoobies are in Scotland but I didn't want to have to deal with any of the new issues or the upcoming Angel S6.
Notes: My first multi-chapter Spander. Betad by the lovely wildannuette, which is ironic since she's the one that introduced me to Spander in the first place. Feedback is life.
Notes 2: I apologize if I got the geography wrong about the area around the Edinburgh airport, but since I'm a Yank all I had to go on was pictures. *g*
Spike hated flying.
It hadn't been so bad on Wolfram & Hart's private Batvamp plane with the special glass and big plush seats. All those little bottles of booze had certainly helped things along too, since otherwise he probably wouldn't have managed being stuck in a small space with Broody for twelve fucking hours without breaking something.
But now it was just the two of them, trying to revive Angel's old PI business without killing each other. They had no seer, so they didn't get distracted from the paying jobs; and no secretary, so it was probably a good thing those paying jobs were few and far between. Which also meant they only had enough money to get him a coach ticket for the flight from LA to Edinburgh, sticking him with a two-hour layover in Dublin. Not even long enough to get good and drunk.
There was a flash of red hair as he approached the carousel, and for one frantic second he thought Willow had come to meet him, and his stomach clenched painfully. But it was Vi's narrow face that lit up when she caught sight of him.
"Spike!" He suddenly had an armful of slayer and had to fight to keep his true face from emerging at the jangle across his nerves. "I'm sorry," she giggled as she pulled back. "I just was so excited, and Rona and I have been fighting all day about which one of us was gonna come get you – "
"Enough, pet, I get it," he chuckled. It had been a long time since anyone had actually been happy to see him, and it did a lot to calm him. "How is the little firecracker? As to that, how're you?" he asked, then rolled his eyes; it was a sad day when the Big Bad asked how someone was and actually cared about the answer. God, he despaired of himself sometimes.
Vi, however, didn't notice. "Oh, we're both fine. It took her a while to heal up after the big fight even with the whole slayer healing thing, but she's good now."
Spike saw his bag cycle by and grabbed it, idly marveling at the fact that Angel had made him buy actual luggage instead of letting him use the old duffel he'd picked up from somewhere. Who the hell cared what his luggage looked like anyway?
He turned around to find Vi staring at him strangely. "I'm really glad you're here," she blurted out. "Xander's been a completely different person since it happened. He won't talk to anyone, and he's barely left his room for three days."
Spike snorted. "Yeah, and you think seein' me after all this time is gonna jolly him out of his funk?"
She didn't reply until they were in the car, an older model Range Rover with darkly tinted windows. "To tell you the truth, I don't think the way he's feeling has a lot to do with," she paused, shooting him a sympathetic glance, "Drusilla, at all. He won't even talk to Willow, and she's frantic – she's been practically camped outside his room for two days." She giggled. "I think Giles might even be getting worried, but it's kinda hard to tell with him."
Spike stared out the car window at the moorland rushing by, his mind's eye seeing a slender figure in white dancing under the moon. "So I hear the Watcher didn't tell anyone I was back, eh? Thought the geek would've spread the word as soon as he got back from LA."
"Andrew? He never said a damn thing except that he'd brought back a damaged slayer." Vi laughed ruefully. "Rona almost took his head off when he finally confessed that he'd known you were alive – well, undead – for over a year."
He shrugged, still staring out the window. "Had a job to do," he murmured. He really didn't want to get into it now, especially with someone who wasn't a Scooby. "How much longer 'til we're there, ducks?"
"About an hour."
"Think I'll get in a bit of kip, then." He tilted the seat back and closed his eyes, hoping she'd take the hint and leave him be for a while. The countryside was bringing back too many memories, and he really didn't feel like talking anymore.