Disclaimer: The characters in "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy Productions Inc. Any similarity between those characters and the ones found in this work of fanfiction are purely deliberate . Again, we do not own any of them, except the few that we create, and those are available to anyone who wants them.
Rating: PG-13. Warning. This chapter contains some material of a slightly sexual nature. There is also some mildly graphic violence. Not too much mind you, but enough for me to discourage readers under the age of 13 or 14 to avoid reading this chapter.
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Chapter Six
"Something Wicked This Way Comes"
Part I
Written by Phil
*
"So what exactly do you think we should tell her?" Tara asked tentatively. "Or I mean, what y-you should say to her. I don't want to get in your way or anything. After all it's not really my business, is it?"
"Don't be silly, Tara," Buffy responded. "Of course it's your business. I keep telling you; you're part of the family now, whether you like it or not. Now more than ever. We'll both tell her."
"Okay." Tara nodded and took a sip of her coffee. "And thanks again for, you know, everything you said yesterday. It really helped."
Buffy nodded. "I meant every word of it. We're going to get through this, all of us together. Trust me on this, Tara."
She really hoped that her words sounded more convincing to her friend than they had to her own ears. The truth of it was that it had been an emotionally grueling thirty-six hours or so. Her conversation with Spike had shaken her up more than she had at first realized. His confession-and her response to it-had left her swimming in a sea of moral self-doubt and confusion. She hadn't meant to say those things to him; they'd just popped out. His pain had hurt her as well, more profoundly than she had ever thought possible- and that troubled her deeply.
Tara had been almost a complete wreck when she had made it home Wednesday night. She'd gone straight to her room and had cried so long and hard that Buffy had been tempted to kick the door in to make sure she was all right. Instead, she'd backed off and let Tara come to her the next morning. They'd talked long and hard about Willow's bizarre behavior, her treatment of Tara, and her totally strange 'relationship' with her lit professor. Buffy had always had a lot of questions about Willow's sexuality, ever since her announcement that she was involved romantically with Tara, but this was just too weird.
To top it all off, Dawn continued to play the martyred teenager, indulging in her penchant for theatrics beyond her usual level. Buffy honestly had no idea where that came from. She was fairly sure she'd never given Joyce that much trouble. She was also dreading Dawn's reaction to this morning's news; which was far from good.
It was at that moment that Dawn came sauntering sullenly into the kitchen, only half dressed for school and looking as angry as she had for the last couple of days. She brushed past Buffy, nodding to Tara with the minimum amount of politeness allowed and grabbed the orange juice out of the refrigerator. She quickly poured herself a glass and was obviously about to beat a hasty retreat back upstairs, when Buffy interrupted her.
“Dawn. Sit down. There’s something we need to talk about.”
Dawn frowned, already in mid-pout. “I don’t want to talk to you about anything. Besides, I have to finish getting ready for school...”
“Dawn,” Buffy commanded. “I said sit.” She put a clear tone of authority into that last command, one that her younger sister was sure to recognize as her ‘not fooling around voice.’
Dawn sighed, once again really overdoing the dramatics and slouched into one of the chairs, the very one Spike had been sitting in the other night as a matter of fact. Buffy cringed internally at the stray memory, shook it off, and launched into what promised to be an emotionally charged conversation.
“You didn’t catch the news last night did you?” She began.
Dawn shook her head. “You’re not letting me watch any TV, remember?” The insolence in her voice was absolutely maddening.
“Right. Then you can listen to what we have to tell you, then. Look, there’s no easy way to even start this. Those kids you were with the other night. Were they good friends of yours? How well did you know them?”
“Not well, I mean I really only met them. Janice kinda introduced me to Brad last week, and I just met Jake and the rest of them the other night.” Then her eyes widened as she picked up on what Buffy had just said. “What do you mean, ‘Did I know them'?" What’s wrong? Has something happened to them?”
Buffy sighed inwardly. This was just going to suck. “Tara... could you?”
She watched grimly as the witch gently pushed the front page over to Dawn, who read it thoroughly, the color in her face waning as she did so. Buffy didn’t have to ask her which part she was on. The horror in the young girl’s eyes was clear indication of what she was reading. Buffy knew that part only too well; she’d already read it five times this morning:
The bodies of four teenagers were found early Thursday morning at the edge of Thompson Park. The victims, Bradley Johnston (17), Jacob van Atter (17), Theresa Colifono (16) and Donny Kreutzer (17), all attended Sunnydale High School. A fifth teenager, sixteen year old Samantha ‘Sunny’ Watkins, who was last seen in the company of the victims, is listed as missing and is being sought in connection with the deaths. The police have listed the deaths as homicides and are continuing the investigation...
Dawn dropped the paper, a look of abject misery on her face. "It-it doesn't say what time they were killed.."
"No honey. It doesn't. Why?" Tara asked, instinctively trying to comfort the distraught girl.
"It's just that it must have happened sometime after Spike picked up Janice and me..." She didn't finish the sentence. She couldn't. "Oh my God." She added, reaching the same conclusion that both Buffy and Tara had earlier.
All I can say is, thank God for Spike, Buffy thought. If he had been ten minutes later...
"Was it...was it the vampires?" Dawn had tears in her eyes now, as she realized just how close she had come to joining the others.
Her sister nodded. "Yeah, I'm afraid so, Dawnie. There are a couple of vague references to 'neck trauma', which is Sunnydale code for having all your blood sucked out of your body by demons. Honey, I'm really sorry about this. I know you liked them..."
"It's okay," Dawn mumbled, trying to sound tougher than she really was. "I guess that's life on the Hellmouth, right?"
The tearstains on her cheeks though, belied her outwardly tough facade. This was the first time she had really lost any classmates to Sunnydale's constant vampire threat. Buffy, who had lost more friends and acquaintances over the years than she cared to remember, could only shake her head at the waste of it all. There were times when she really hated this town.
"Dawn," she said carefully "I know this hurts, but it's important that you understand what I, what we've, been trying to tell you about hanging out at night here. I'm not trying to ruin your life honey, honestly, but it's dangerous and you can't afford to get careless. I mean you see that now, right?"
"Yeah, you were right. I admit it. I'll stay in my room and be a good girl from now on." Dawn replied bitterly.
"Look, this isn't about who's right or who's wrong," Buffy snapped. "It's about your safety. You're the most important thing in the world to me, Dawn and if anything had happened you, if you'd been killed like those other kids or worse, like that one girl..."She gulped a bit as the fear and anger started to get hold of her again.
"What other...oh you mean Sunny? Why what do-oh," Dawn finished weakly as she realized what Buffy meant. "Why would they- I mean why did they take her?"
Buffy heaved a weary sigh. This was not a conversation she wanted to have with her fifteen year old sister. Giles would have been better prepared to deal with it. Still there was nothing to do but to tell her the truth. She'd have to know about this stuff eventually.
"This girl, Sunny. Was she kind of pretty?"
Dawn nodded. "Yeah, she was a cheerleader. Really pretty, I guess. Why?"
Tara chose that moment to break in, giving Buffy a much-needed reprieve from her sister's morbid curiosity. "They took her for a trophy, Dawnie. Vamps do that sometimes. They see a person that they find a-attractive -and they turn them into a vampire to...well, umm..."
"Thanks Tara, I think she gets the point," Buffy finished, seeing the queasy look on the girl's face and the frozen 'O' her mouth had shifted itself into. "Anyway Dawn, that's not going to happen to you-ever. Not as long as we're around." She reached out grabbed her sisters hands with hers. "Promise. Now, maybe you finish getting ready for school. We've only got about five minutes before we have to leave. "
Dawn nodded wordlessly, hugged both women and rushed out of the room, sadder but hopefully a littler bit wiser too. Well, I can always hope, Buffy thought.
"Well, that didn't go too badly," Tara said, breaking into her thoughts.
"No, not at all. I mean after all, it's not really that big a deal to tell your baby sister that she missed possibly becoming somebody's eternal sex-toy by that much." Buffy agreed wryly pinching her fingers together as an illustration. "Let's face it, Tara. We all just had one gigantic close call and there are at least five families out there who weren't as lucky as we were."
"I suppose you're right, but what do you want to do about it-t-the vampires, I mean. You're thinking it's this new woman, right?"
Buffy nodded, slipping from concerned parent into Slayer mode. "I think so. We don't have much to go on, granted, but it sounds like her. She struck me as the aggressive type, and this is a lot more ambitious than most of the local vamps are willing to try."
"So what's the plan then? Put Spike on it?" The witch asked.
More memories of the other night invaded Buffy's thought processes. Wincing internally she replied "Maybe. I don't know." God, I really don't want to have to face Spike right now. "It's probably a good time to get the gang together, though. Anya and Xander, I mean. And we can discuss what's been going on with Willow too, that is if you're up to it?"
"Sure. I-I can handle it. Pain is a growing experience, right?" Tara smiled wanly at her.
"If it is, then we all must be like, a hundred feet tall by now..."
"Okay," a fully clothed Dawn re-entered the kitchen, with her backpack on her shoulder. "Got all my stuff."
Buffy and Tara both got up from the table, the witch grabbing the keys to Joyce's SUV from off the countertop. I really should start driving for myself, Buffy thought as they headed out the door. As they got in, Dawn asked, "Hey, Buffy have you talked to Spike? He hasn't been by to see me since the other night and I kinda wanted to thank him for, you know."
"Nope," her sister replied, just a bit too quickly. "Haven't seen him either."
"Weird. I wonder where he is?" Dawn mused.
"Yeah, so do I." And more importantly I wonder what the hell he's up to? She pondered worriedly.
**
"Now, isn't this just a bleedin' pain in the posterior," Spike muttered to himself as he approached the back door to Willie's Bar. Standing next to the entrance were two very large Mrix demons, the only size they came in really, looking decidedly unfriendly. Which, to be perfectly honest, was quite all right with Spike. He wasn't in much of a mood to make new friends either. In fact, he was in a seriously belligerent frame of mind and in need of a bracing bout of violence, and it looked like he had come to the right place.
Taking another swig off the bottle of bourbon he had been drinking out of for the better part of the hour, the vampire lurched drunkenly towards the two demons, taking care to exaggerate his condition by humming loudly. As he stumbled into the light provided by the fixture above the door, he brushed up against one of the Mrix, who oddly enough, appeared less than happy to see him.
"Get lost, vampire," it snarled at him in what Spike had to admit was a fairly menacing tone. "Your kind isn't welcome here."
"Is'sat so?" Spike slurred, putting on his best drunken impression. It helped that he was already half in the bag for real. "It's a bar, in'nit it? Bottle's getting empty, need a refill, mate."
"This is a private room. If you've got to get something else to swill, try a liquor store. I’m not going to waste any more breath on your worthless, undead carcass." The Mrix shoved him hard, nearly knocking him off of his feet.
"Here, now. No need to get all violent and the like. I get the point. No vampires allowed. Gotcha. Just gonna finish me drink and be off then," he replied genially enough on the surface, to seemingly placate them.
Spike made a show of dusting himself off and drinking deeply from the bottle, all the while moving closer to the two demons, who had dropped their guards, ever so slightly, thanks to his pseudo-drunken antics. Seeing an opening, he quickly brought the bottle down on top of the one demon's head, while delivering a powerful roundhouse kick into the right knee of the other one. Both of them went down, howling in pain as Spike viciously alternated kicking each one into unconsciousness. He was having fun now, working off the anger and frustration that had been plaguing him for the last two days. Every kick and punch that he delivered served to channel his rage, and he reveled in the release that it provided him. Is that monster enough for you, bitch?
Finally, seeing that neither one of them was moving anymore, Spike ceased the beating, allowing for one more well placed kick to the one demon's groin, and proceeded to focus his energy on the door itself. It flew open with a pleasurable 'thump' and the vampire strolled into the back room of Willie's bar and Grill, the site of the largest underground poker game among Sunnydale's demonic community.
It took him a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to all of the smoke that lingered in the small and overly crowded room. The overpowering smell of demon musk though was something that his heightened sense of smell would never allow him to adjust to. Combined with the affects of the bourbon, it caused his stomach to engage in several somersaults, but he forced the queasiness down, and walked over to the card table, which was being presided over by a lizard-like creature, known to Spike as a major player in the demon underworld.
"Hey Vrock, how's the wife and hatchlings?" He asked nonchalantly, exactly as if he hadn't been banned from this card game two months earlier.
The demon regarded him critically through hooded eyes-slits for a moment before hissing back "Ssspike. You've got a lot of jshlugash, smashing your way into one of Teeth's games. He'll have your fangs on his charm bracelet for this," Vrock threatened, referencing Sunnydale's chief demon crime lord.
"Yeah well, you can tell baby-seal breath from me that he can kiss my undead wrinklies. I go where I please in this bloody sinkhole of a town, and do what I jolly well like. Any of you buggers disagree with that, can sod off. Or better yet, line up for a good thrashing. I'm just in the mood for a good bloodletting" None of the assembled demons moved a muscle, Spike's reputation being what it was. The vampire grunted in satisfaction. "Didn't think so."
Turning toward one of the players, who had been sitting quietly this entire time, Spike grinned evilly. "Why Clement, me old son, I haven't seen you in ages. Bout since the time I loaned you that 100 dollars, wasn't it?"
Clement, a floppy eared creature with loose skin, and a serous overbite, smiled weakly back at the vampire. "Uh, yeah. Hiya, Spike. I guess it had been a while."
Spike nodded. "Yeah, time flies when you're trying to welch on a debt. Pay up mate, or I'll beat it out of your mangy hide."
"Well, you know I'd like to but I'm a little short this week and um..." Clem stammered out nervously.
"Right, plan B it is then," Spike said, as he grabbed Clem by his shirt and dragged him out of his chair. "Uh, with your kind permission of, course," he asked mockingly of Vrock.
"Take him and good riddance to you both," the demon snarled . "He's losing badly anyway. But don't kill him until Teeth gets his cut or there'll be Hell to pay. Literally."
Spike grinned back at him and then yanked Clement towards the door. "Guess it ain't your lucky night, is it?"
"Oh and Sssspike," Vrock called after the retreating vampire and his helpless prey. "If I catch you in here again, you'll be dust, and hiding under the Slayer's petticoats isn't going to save you next time."
"Yeah, I'm all a-quiver," Spike replied cheerily and forced Clem through the wrecked exit.
The demon continued to howl as Spike dragged him around the corner and onto the next block.
"Bloody hell, Clem," Spike said. "You're making enough racket to wake up the dead and I don't mean me. It's not like I'm hurting you all that much."
"Yeah, I know, but I've got really sensitive ears," the demon complained. "The tiniest of pressure and they bruise for a week"
"Oops, sorry about that," Spike apologized. "Had to make it look convincing, though. Seem to remember you insisting on realism though."
"S'ok, I'll live." Clem shook it off and grinned at the vampire. "So what's so important that it couldn't wait until tomorrow? I was about to draw into an inside straight."
Spike genuinely liked Clem. It was rather hard not to. The demon had a certain air of, well... niceness, that the vampire found irresistibly refreshing. He was also the only member of Sunnydale's demon community that would speak to Spike these days without threat of great bodily harm. As it was, they had concocted this elaborate fiction that allowed them to communicate in front of the seedier elements in town without raising too much suspicion. Even so, Spike counted the demon as one of his two closest friends, the other being Dawn Summers.
"Information," he relied. "New vampire gang in town. For some odd reason I can't get the locals to cough up on their whereabouts or the like. Usually, they can't wait to spill their guts for a free pint of plasma. I was hoping you could point me in the right direction."
Clem looked rather pensive for a moment. "Well, I can tell you what I know but it's not much, and to tell the truth I'm not sure that I should be saying anything to you at all." As Spike gave him an annoyed look he continued. "Okay, okay. All I know is that they showed up sometime in late September from L.A. or thereabouts and that they've been recruiting a bunch of the vampires around here."
Spike arched an eyebrow. "For? Other than the usual, I mean."
Clem shrugged. "No idea, really. All I know is that a few that told them to get lost wound up with major cases of getting the crap kicked out of them. That, and they're supposed to have some kind of major league heavyweight from the demon realms behind them, but I have no idea who. Or what."
Spike snorted. "Lot of good that does me. I need to know what they're up to specifically."
"Dunno, Spike. I really don't. Maybe it's just to cause trouble. This leader of theirs is supposed to be kinda, well you know-out there."
"Right, a brunette skank in a slutty red dress?" Spike pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it, taking instant pleasure from the acrid taste as he pulled on it.
"Yeah that's her. I hear she's a pretty nasty customer, even for a vampire. Umm, no offense meant of course."
Spike chuckled a bit at that. Clem had to be about the most polite demon he had ever met. "None taken, mate. I've met the bint. Nasty doesn't begin to describe her. And we vampires do seem to have the corner on the 'nasty' market, don't we?" As he said that, a feeling of melancholy came over him, as Buffy's words the other night came back to haunt him yet again. I don't love you. There's too much monster in you for me ever to trust.
"You okay, Spike? You look a little down," the demon asked with a concern in his voice that somehow managed to touch the vampire.
"It's nothing, Clem. Honestly." For some reason though, a part of Spike desperately wanted to share his pain with somebody and since he could never talk to Dawn about something like this, Clem seemed a logical choice. "Well, it's just a spot o' woman trouble. The same old thing really. I'm just not good enough for 'er, no matter what I bleedin' do."
Clem nodded sagely. "Yeah, I think we've all been there before. This is still that human girl you were telling me about, right?"
"Yep. Same girl. Always going to be the same girl for the rest of my sodding existence."
"Well, gee Spike. I dunno. These inter-racial relationships are pretty tricky things to manage. I mean, I know it's the 21st century and all, but cultural differences being what they are, maybe you should try to meet somebody that you have more in common with. Maybe find a nice lady vampire or something?"
Spike grimaced at that. "No thanks, mate. Had me one of those. Well, two actually, tho I suppose Harmony really doesn't count for much. Fraid moving on is not an option here. This girl's the one for me. It's just convincing her that I'm the one for her that's the problem. It seems like no matter how much I do for her or try to change for her, it just isn't enough. I mean, it's not like she doesn't like vampires. Her first boyfriend was my grandsire for Chrissakes."
"Hmm, well then, I'm not sure what to tell you, Spike," Clem replied. "Sounds like it's more her problem than yours. All I can say is that if she really loves you, you just gotta hang in there until she comes around. If she doesn't...well, then I guess you're just screwed."
"Thanks ever so. You've been a big help," Spike groaned as he flicked his cigarette butt on to the pavement and ground it in with his boot.
Clem gave him a goofy grin. "Hey, what can I say? Women. Can't live with them..."
"Can't drink 'em dry and sire them." Spike finished for him playfully. "Or I can't anyways, since they put this bloody chip in my skull. Thanks for the pep talk though. You're probably right."
"Glad to help out a friend. Um, if there isn't anything else you need though, I really should be getting back to the game. I think I've figured out the dealer's giveaways. Uhh, I don't suppose you could let me hold a twenty, could you? Just until payday that is."
Spike sighed heavily as he fished a twenty-dollar bill out of his wallet and handed it to the demon. "Worth it for the sympathetic ear, I recon. Oh, and Clem..." he added as his friend started to turn and walk back to the bar.
"Yeah? OWWW!" Clem yelped as the vampire's fist came crashing into his jaw. "What the frilly heck did you do that for?" he whined, rubbing his jaw in pain.
"Had to make it look convincing, din't I?" Spike grinned back at him evilly. "You can't just stroll back in there pretty as a picture after I threatened to knock you about a bit. Relax. If I wanted to hurt you, you'd really be in pain about now."
"I'll take your word for it," Clem muttered, still massaging his rapidly bruising face. "Talk to you later Spike, and hey...I hope everything works out with your girl," he added, trotting back in the direction of Willy's.
"You and me both, mate," Spike said to himself as he watched the demon disappear around the corner. "Oh well, suppose I should do a quick recky before I call it a night."
Spike turned around and headed off away from the downtown area of Sunnydale, planning on doing a sweep of the residential areas in the vicinity of Revello Drive. Not that he planned on talking to the Slayer again, but maybe he could get a quick glimpse of her before she headed out for her nightly patrol. God, you're a pathetic sod, he chided himself. All this misery over a tiny chit of a girl who wouldn't know her own mind if it reared up and kicked her in her perfect little arse. Oh Bloody Hell.
As he walked along, a tune popped into his head, a song that he had first heard when he had been living with Drusilla in London in the 1960's. Spike thought it was a silly piece of nonsense, but it had delighted his sire to no end. There were many times that she had insisted on him singing it with her as they had prowled the East End looking for unwary victims in the wee morning hours. For some odd reason, it comforted him and it wasn't long before he was singing it out loud as he strolled along.
"Oh, I'm Henry the eighth, I am.
Henry the eighth, I am, I am.
I got married to the widow next door,
She's been married seven times before.
And every one was an 'enery.
Wouldn't have a Willie or a Sam.
I'm her eighth old man, I'm Henery.
Henery the eighth I am.
As Spike reached the 'second verse, same as the first' line, his cynical mind began creating his own lyrics, directly linked to his own personal troubles.
"Oh, I'm William the Bloody I am.
William the Bloody, I am, I am
I fell in love with the Slayer next door,
She's been bedded many times before.
And every one was a wanker,
Wouldn't have a William or a Spike
I'm not her fourth old man, I'm not anything
No matter what I'd bleedin' like.
Chuckling at his own cleverness, and suddenly feeling the affects of that bottle of bourbon that he had consumed earlier, Spike continued down the street , wavering a bit as he went. He stopped for a second, just to get his bearings, and as he did so, he heard a voice hiss in his ear:
"You sing very well. Do you scream so prettily, I wonder?"
"What the..." was all he managed to get out as the world exploded in a bright flash of extreme pain, right before his vision went black.
***
Spike came awake slowly, and groaned loudly as an incredibly intense wave of pain washed across his entire body. It felt as if every fiber of his being was on fire.
"Oh goody," a sultry feminine voice said, somewhere in front of him. "He's awake. Now you can have some real fun, Karl."
It took a few moments for Spike's vision to adjust and he also had to make allowances for the fact that his left eye was swollen shut and his face felt like somebody had been beating on it with a mallet. Apparently his captors hadn't been able to wait until he regained consciousness before they started the party. They'd smashed him in the mouth a few times as well, judging by how badly his tongue and lips had swollen up. Deliberately, and very carefully, he tried to sit up but he found himself restrained by iron manacles on his wrists and ankles.
"Absolutely bleedin' typical," he managed to grit out amid the torrents of agony, before sinking back down onto the table he was chained to.
"What's the matter, sweetie?" cooed another female voice. "Accommodations not to your liking? Sorry about that but we haven't the maid in...since- Hey when was she last here, Karl?"
"Right before we ate her, I'd have to say, Clary," came back the amused reply.
"Oh well then, there you go. Good help is just so hard to find these days. They keep making the most impossible demands. Pay me; feed me; don't suck out every last one of my blood vessels. Bah."
Spike heard several grim chuckles at that. Seemed this bint liked playing to her audience. Fine, he could play to, even if he was trussed up tighter than a Thanksgiving turkey. "Nah, pet the lodgings are fine. All the comforts of home, in fact. It's the company I could do without."
That little piece of insolence earned him another fist to the side of his head, courtesy of the big male vampire leaning over him, but the female standing behind him merely laughed.
"Well, well what a delightful houseguest you are. William the Bloody, I presume? What an imaginative name...and so appropriate too." She moved up close to him and dipped one of her fingers into the blood that welled up from one of the gashes on his forehead to illustrate her point. As she sucked on her bloody finger, she gave the other vampires in the room a sadistic grin.
Spike could see them better now. The female who had been talking to him was the one he and Buffy had tangled with last week. There was another dark haired one in a black dress hanging off the arm of the bastard who had been beating on him. Behind the leader was another male who was positioned in a protective stance to guard her back. That would be the boyfriend, Spike mused. To his side were two more females, both blondes. The younger of the two was a fledgling, and Spike bit his lip as he recognized her as one of the kids that Dawn had been with the other night. Bugger. Buffy will have my guts for garters when she finds out I let this happen. I should have made them all go home. The girl, who was wearing very little, hung off the older blonde and smiled lustily at him as he continued to stare.
"Like what you see?" the leader inserted herself into his line of vision. "Maybe after we have our little talk, I'll let you play with her. Or if you're a very good boy, I'll let you play with me."
"Don't see what we've got to talk about," he managed to growl back at her, spitting up blood as he did. "An' if it's all the same to you, I'll pass. I'm allergic to skank."
"Ooh, fiesty," she grinned back as Karl smashed him in the stomach with a meaty fist and Spike let out a stifled grunt of pain. "But that's not what I heard. Maybe it's only human skanks you like though."
Spike didn't reply to that, preferring to weigh his options, which he had to admit, were far from good. These vampires had him, no two ways about it and this bitch was a professional.
"So," she continued, "You've got nothing to say? I'd strongly suggest you start talking soon. It's either polite conversation or..." She pointed to Karl. "Not so polite screaming. Take your pick, honey. No skin off my ass, whichever way you play it."
Ahh, what the hell. Might as well play this out. "Fine," he said, the pain in his mouth making each word agony. Bollocks, they've knocked out a tooth. "If we're gonna be all polite about this, then maybe you should introduce yourself. You know my name but I dunno yours. Makes it harder to pick you out a nice Christmas gift."
"It's Clarissa, if you really must know. Not that I'd expect any of the hicks up here to know who I am. That's about to change soon though."
"That so?" Spike queried her, figuring that as long as he kept her talking, he'd keep his body parts relatively intact. "How do you reckon?"
Clarissa smiled at him very sweetly. "Why I plan to be the vampire who kills that precious Slayer of yours, that's how, Gorgeous."
Despite the serious situation he was in, Spike couldn't but laugh out loud at that. Karl moved to hit him again, but Clarissa stopped him.
"Now, what's so funny about that, William? Or is it Spike? I'm not even going to bother to ask how you got that one." She leered at him. "But as for your Slayer, it shouldn't be too hard. After all, I took out that silly machine of hers easily enough."
Spike snorted. "The bot was nothing. Look, do you any idea how many bleedin' idiots have tried to take this girl out over the years? Can't be done. She's the best. Trust me, I learned that the hard way."
"Oh, really?" Clarissa appeared intrigued by that. "Is that why you fight for her now? Because you couldn't beat her?"
"Not exactly," Spike said through gritted teeth. "I'd tell you of course, but then I'd have to kill you. And I know you wouldn't want that."
"No indeed. I must say dear, that as much as I admire your ferocity, I'd be considerably more impressed if you weren't strapped to a lab table in the science department of a dilapidated old school building. So, if you're not going to tell me, then I suppose I should guess, is that it?"
"Suit yourself," he snarled at her, really not liking this game.
"Hmm, let's see now," she said, obviously relishing his discomfort. "I understand that you can't kill humans anymore. Something about a piece of government hardware in your brain? Tsk tsk. What a perfectly horrible thing to happen to such a sweet boy like yourself. See, now this is exactly the reason why I don't pay taxes. Well, one of several reasons really. You just can't trust the government. Those people give me the creeps." She shuddered mockingly, which elicited several throaty chuckles from her assembled henchmen.
Spike said nothing. He just glared at her, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing just how uncomfortable this conversation was making him.
"So here's poor little Spike with a problem," Clarissa continued. "He can't hunt anymore. So what does he do? Does he try to get it out? Well if you did, it certainly didn't work now, did it? Failing that, does he set up shop running the local fiends to do his dirty work for him? That would have been my choice, and I'd think it would be easy for you because from my vantage point, slick, it sure looks like you can hurt us. Again, I am forced to conclude that the answer is ‘no.’ So..."
"So what," Spike broke in. "Are you gonna bleedin' talk me to death?" He winced in preparation for the inevitable blow from Karl, but it never came. Clarissa merely sighed and went on.
"Such a poor audience you are, sweet William. Can't even let a girl finish her train of thought. Now, where was I? Oh yeah, so instead of actually acting like a vampire and doing something about your admittedly revolting predicament, you turn around and get all house broken. I mean, really. A vampire playing tag along to a Slayer? And not just any vampire either. William the Bloody, the guy who killed two Slayers in mortal combat. I'm sorry, but I just gotta ask myself: What the hell does he think he's doing?"
"It's a free country," he spat back at her, although the pain was slowly draining his ability to maintain a decent level of belligerence.
Clarissa ignored him this time. "The question is then, what exactly is so different about this girl, that instead of trying to kill her you want to act like her tame little puppy? Come on Spike. Tell me. The suspense is killing me." She grinned at him again, which only served to fuel his going rage and frustration at being prodded and poked like a lab rat.
"Get stuffed," he told her.
This time, his defiance did earn a blow, as Karl brought a fist down into his jaw. Clarissa, still grinning moved in very close to him, and bent down so that her lips were hovering just above his ear.
"You know what I think, hon? I think you are getting something out of this deal. Tell me, is she as good in bed as I think she is? A Slayer must have all sorts of interesting muscles. To tell the truth, I wouldn't mind a taste of that myself. After all, if she'll spread her legs for one vamp, why not another one? Heck, why not the entire gang? Say, wouldn't that make for a really fun party."
Somewhere in Spike's consciousness, a little voice was screaming at him to keep control of himself, that this was just a ploy to provoke him. Unfortunately Spike had never made a habit out of listening to little voices. He reared up with what strength he had left and tried grab Clarissa's throat, hoping to twist her head off with his bare hands. "Shut your filthy gob!" he snarled at her, the pain and anger pushing him past the point of reason. He was doomed to fail though, and Clarissa easily jumped out of his grasp, while Karl moved in to rain a series of heavy punches on his already badly damaged face. Spike screamed in intense agony, as the rest of the vampires leered at him. No question about it, they were all thoroughly enjoying this little drama.
Clarissa, still playing the consummate ringmaster, was far from being finished with her victim.
"Well, well. I appear to have struck a nerve here. Protective of the little wench, are you? What's the matter; did I cast aspersions on the good name of your piece of tail? Don't tell me you have genuine feelings for her?"
Spike, as physically damaged as he was, still felt a jolt of embarrassment as the vampire prodded at the one great weak spot he had. When he didn't say anything, she began to cackle victoriously.
"You've got to be kidding. You mean I was right? Okay, now I've heard everything. A vampire in love with a Slayer? How utterly..."
"Poetic?" cut in the brunette female, who had moved closer to the table and was grinning along with Karl and the others.
"Well, I was going to say 'lame,' but since I absolutely detest poetry, why the hell not?" Clarissa replied mischievously.
She turned back to Spike "You poor loser. That's got to be the most pathetic thing I've ever heard of. What is this crap? The 'old monster being transformed back into a man because of the love for a good woman' thing? Words cannot express how much I hate that old chestnut of a plot." She began to laugh out loud. "Jeez, Buffy and the Beast? Sounds like a really bad Disney flick."
The rest of the vampires joined in her raucous laughter, as wave after wave of humiliation and derision washed over Spike. He'd never been this low in his life, not even when Glory had nearly killed him earlier in the year. This is what she's forced you to become, a voice seemed to say. You're a miserable excuse for a vampire.
"So anyways," Clarissa finally stopped laughing. "As amusing as this conversation is, I think we need to discuss what we're going to do with you, William. After all, you do need to pay for your crimes."
"What the hell are you talking about you daft trollop?" He could barely speak now but he had to admit that his morbid sense of curiosity was getting the better of him. Either that or the pain was driving him bonkers.
"You've broken the oldest law in the book, William. Vampires do not kill other vampires."
Spike couldn't help but snort at that. "Rubbish," he rasped out. "What sodding Anne Rice novel did you get that one from?"
"Oh please. Like anybody reads anymore. But I saw "Interview with a Vampire" about ten times, now that you mention it. I'll probably go see "Queen of the Damned" when it comes out too. I just love a good comedy." Clarissa paused for a moment, a positively feline smile playing across her lips. "You know though, you've given me the most delicious idea."
"You actually think?"
"Silly boy," she purred at him as she moved closer and linked some of the blood off his face. "You're not really in a good position to keep up with this macho stuff. Now, since you're such an expert on Anne Rice, do you remember what happened to the little girl in the story?"
Spike's eyes widened with horror as he realized what she was getting at. It was the one thing that terrified all vampires beyond all other things.
"Relax, stud," she said clearly reveling in his fear, "That's a little too extreme even for me. Still, where there's smoke there's fire. It's time to send the Slayer a little message, and baby...you're gonna be my special delivery package."
Clarissa was interrupted from expansion on her plan by one of her minions, a vampire Spike recognized as being one of the bottom feeders that still haunted Sunnydale. A barely contained whispering match followed for a few minutes, with the master vampire finally throwing up her hands in disgust. “Look,” she snapped at the minion. “I know he’s got a time table to keep, but I do things at my own pace. Tell ‘his magnificence’ that as much as I appreciate all the information on the Slayer and her little brat-pack, I’m running things on this end. We’re making our move tonight. Now, get lost. I’m busy.” The minion lost no time in beating a hasty retreat out of her irritated presence.
Turning back to the rest of her henchmen, she clucked her tongue in frustration. “Boy, do I hate ‘hands-on’ employers. You’d think my word would be good enough for him but no; we have to be all ‘professional’ about it. Fine, whatever. I’m done playing with this idiot anyway.”
“What do you want me to do with the traitor while we wait for sunset?” Karl asked ominously.
Clarissa shrugged her shoulders, the dark hair swirling around her neck making Spike think of Drusilla for some odd reason. “Leave him be for the time being. He’ll suffer enough later tonight, along with his girlfriend. “
Spike, who had allowed himself to relax slightly on hearing that the physical torture appeared to be over at least for now, found himself tensing again. Whatever this bitch had planned for Buffy, it didn’t sound good. He was also forced to admit that he didn’t really care for his own chances at the moment either.
Having apparently lost interest in Spike, Clarissa turned and addressed her little cadre of henchmen with a wicked gleam in her eye.
“Now, since we have some time to kill, what do you guys say to a George Cloony marathon? I’ve got “Three Kings and “The Perfect Storm” on DVD.”
It could have been the severe trauma that he had suffered playing tricks on him, but Spike was fairly certain that he wasn’t the only vampire in the room groaning in pain at that particular moment.
(To be continued)
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