Spike slowly came to. He seemed to be lying at the foot of the stairs, bones aching and skin sore. How the hell had he got here? Looking up he saw Hilda, who was sitting on the bottom step, looking at him worriedly.
“What happened? How’d I get here?” Then he remembered. The pain. The panic. The loss of control. It was still going on in the back of his mind. “Oh hell, didn’t hurt you did I?” He saw her rubbing absently at a large scratch on her arm. He slowly got to his feet and approached her.
“They cast a spell and it took away your humanity.” The witch said slowly.
He stepped back as if she had struck him. What was the woman raving about? He hadn’t struggled all these years to create and sustain a persona for himself, just for her to destroy it with a few words.
“Humanity? Don’t be daft woman – have you gone completely sack’o hammers? I’m a demon – no humanity here!”
“That’s not what your aura is telling me. It’s the only explanation that fits. Why you can love and care for people….”
“No!” he said desperately, “I’m a demon through and through – big bad! Evil!” He began pacing back and forth. This was when he missed his leather duster the most. Feeling it swing round him, heavy and – bad.
She carried on as if she hadn’t heard him, “The human part of you wasn’t completely destroyed when the demon entered your body,” she raised her head and stared deep into his eyes, “it’s still there and it’s slowly getting stronger.”
“You must be out of your tree.” Spike said roughly, “you haven’t had enough sleep, that’s what’s wrong with you.”
“All right, let’s not argue,” She said testily, “we have a much bigger problem on our hands – Alice and a couple of her cronies. What I can’t understand is how they managed to pinpoint you so accurately. For that they’d need something of yours – the more personal the better.”
“I think I might know what it is.” Spike looked at her thoughtfully. “When that scrawny witch was pulling at my arms last night, she put her hand on the back of my head and pulled some hair out. I just thought she was being vindictive…”
“She has some of your hair! Oh, no, that’s not good.” The witch put her head in her hands, and then rubbed her face tiredly. “We’ll have to get out of here as quickly as possible, before they try something else. I have added a stronger protection spell to the ward, but it’s not going to last forever.”
She hurriedly washed, dressed and gathered together some spell ingredients, put them in a shoulder bag then collected his blood from the fridge. Spike watched her move about, feeling somewhat helpless. He could still feel the effects of the magic - pain, terror - but the protection spell was keeping it in the background of his mind.
“Spike, could I have a couple of strands of your hair? I need it for a spell, to try and fool them that you are here, after we have left.”
He had no idea what she was talking about, but willingly pulled out some hair for her. She put a kitchen chair in the middle of the room, placed his hair on the seat and drew a circle round it. Scattering herbs and other magical items into the circle, she began to chant. After a few seconds the area round the chair began to shimmer and shine. An outline of a seated man began to emerge. Spike watched in fascination, as the image solidified. Who was it? Then he took in the white blond hair, the black jeans and t shirt clad body and realised that it was a simulacrum – an exact likeness of himself. He felt his respect for Hilda increase. What a powerful witch she was.
He looked at it critically. Well, no wonder the birds swooned over him. What a handsome fellow! He circled the chair slowly, looking at every detail. So that’s what the collar looked like on. Not bad, not bad. Mmmm it could do with a black leather duster, though.
“If you’ve quite finished admiring yourself!” Hilda had been watching him with some
amusement.
“I’d forgotten just how bloody good looking I am.” He grinned over at her. “Quite a party trick, love.”
She grew serious; “It should keep them guessing for a while. I’m not strong enough to hold off three witches for any length of time. We’ll need help from a witch outside of my coven. The problem is I don’t know any. But first things first – we must get away from here - now.”
She cast another spell to shield Spike from the sun and make him invisible to the other witches. She told him to keep as close as he could, as she manoeuvred out of the door. They made their way to the car and, with a collective sigh of relief, drove away.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So, where’re we going pet?”
“I have absolutely no idea – I’m just trying to get us as far away from the house as I can.” she said grimly.
They drove in silence, each of them deep in their own thoughts. Spike, who had never been any good at silence, spoke first. “So, you don’t know any other witches?”
“Oh, yes I know quite a few outside of the coven, but of course so do the others. They’d track us down easily. Anyway, I don’t think anyone would be likely to help a renegade and a vampire.”
“Look, why don’t you just drop me off here? I’ve got a good head start. Then you can wait until they’ve cooled off a bit, and go back home.” Spike said earnestly.
“I told you before, that is not going to happen. I don’t abandon my friends!” she retorted sharply. “We’ll find a way out of this – I just don’t know what it is yet.”
He looked at her in wonder. So this is what having a friend meant. Sticking with you through thick and thin – he was learning all the time.
“OK love, if that’s what ……” He got no further. His body suddenly convulsed and the feelings of terror and pain flooded back, along with an almost uncontrollable blood lust. He felt as though his body was infested with burning snakes. Writhing, stinging, biting at his insides. This time he used the pain to focus his mind – to concentrate on not losing control.
Hilda looked over at him, the car swerving dangerously. She saw his face morphing from human to demon and back again, as he struggled with the spell. “Oh, goddess!” She shouted. “Hold on!” Steering the car to the side of the country road, she pulled up. Watching him the whole time, she reached over to the back seat and her shoulder bag. The spell book was on the top and with trembling hands; she began to flick through it feverishly. He was gasping and panting with effort and the clinical part of her mind watched with interest, as his chest heaved with pseudo breathing. Finding the spell she needed, she began to chant. Slowly, very slowly he began to relax, his breathing eased and then stopped.
"Bugger me! That was bad. Good job I’ve got the ward you gave me, I think it helped me fight” He croaked.
When she didn’t reply, he glanced over at her and was shocked at her appearance. She was grey with fatigue and her face was drawn and lined. She suddenly looked years older.
“What’s wrong?”
“Too much magic, in too short a time. There are always consequences Spike, always.”
“Then I should drive, pet, you look all in.”
“Didn’t know you could drive.” She murmured.
“Been driving since there were cars on the road,” he replied trying to lighten the mood.
“Took a driving test once. Got fed up with all the bloody stupid questions. Ate the instructor instead. Driving improved though.”
They swapped places, she smiled at him faintly and then closed her eyes. He hoped that she didn’t need to be conscious for the spell to keep working. Concentrating on going as fast as he could, but staying within the speed limits, he started to wrack his brain to think of somewhere they could head for.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Giles glanced up from his newspaper and across to Buffy, who had just returned from what she called her “retreat” – the garden in the centre of the square. They had had a leisurely breakfast and agreed to spend a lazy day at Michael’s home, after their fun packed previous day. Well, thought Giles, fun packed would not be the way he would describe it – but he had known that it was what Buffy had needed – some retail therapy. She had seemed so down after yesterday’s telephone conversations with her family and friends. Perhaps she was more homesick than she was letting on. This had to be the strangest holiday he had ever experienced.
Staying at Michael’s, was turning out to be better than he had first thought. They had so much in common. Giles was having real, intellectual discussions with someone who knew what he was talking about. It was like finding an oasis in the desert.
It was such a shame that Hilda had acted like a lovesick teenager – going off with that irritating bloodsucker. Giles would have liked to get to know her better; she was a very interesting woman, who seemed to have extensive knowledge of magic.
A loud pounding on the door interrupted his musings. Throwing down the newspaper, he got to his feet, grumbling loudly as the pounding went on. He opened the door and was almost bowled over as Spike, carrying Hilda’s limp form in his arms, stumbled through.
Spike tottered to the sitting room and gently laid her on the sofa.
“What have you done to her?” Giles whispered.
“Oh, shut up you bloody stupid wanker!” Can’t you see she needs help?” Spike picked up her hand and started to pat at it ineffectually. It was what they used to do for young ladies who fainted, back in the day.
“I said WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” Giles shouted, his face suffused with rage.
“Do you really think I’d bring her here, if I’d hurt her? Even I’m not that stupid!” the vampire yelled back.
“Get out of the way.” Pushing Spike aside, Giles took over examining the witch, as best he could.
Buffy stood watching silently. Spike, she thought stupidly. He’s back. “What happened?” She asked softly.
Spike didn’t seem to hear her, so she said again more loudly, “What happened?”
He turned and caught sight of her for the first time – it was like a hammer blow. Her scent surrounded him, her face, so beautiful, so troubled. All the time he’d been away, he’d consciously fought against thinking about her. But now she was here, within arms reach. He groaned to himself, why the bloody hell did he love her so much?
“I didn’t. I haven’t hurt her.” He muttered.
“So, tell me what happened.” Buffy said patiently.
Spike recounted the events that had occurred since he and the witch had left this house.
“The second time they attacked me, I was able to fight it for long enough for Hilda to reinforce the shield around me. I think the mojo was different though - the bloodlust was almost too much for me to control. The first spell was against me, but I think that one was against us both. They wanted me to kill her and then run.” He was pacing up and down, running his hands through his hair.
Buffy longed to comfort him, maybe put her arms around him. But he was obviously over her, and now Hilda was all he could think of. Instead, she smiled at him encouragingly, as she awkwardly patted his arm. “I’m sure she’s gonna be fine.” Oh, great, Buffy, way to go she thought, next you’ll be offering him a nice cup of tea.
Giles had realised that the witch was in a deep sleep, and not injured in any way. He moved her into a more comfortable position on the sofa and turned to the Slayer and vampire.
“Now, what are we going to do about Spike? He should be contained in some way.”
“What do you mean?” Buffy asked belligerently.
“He’s right Slayer – those bloody witches could strike at any time, and without Hilda to repel the magic, I could hurt someone.”
Buffy turned to the professor, who had come downstairs to see what all the fuss was about.
“Do you have a secure room we could lock him in? Maybe in the basement?”
He looked puzzled, until Spike translated. “She means the cellar.”
“Oh, yes. Uh, no. The cellar is one large room which, I’m afraid, is rather crammed with a hotch potch of things that I can’t bring myself to get rid of.” He smiled apologetically.
“Well then, do you have any chains?”
“Not here.” He said thoughtfully. “But I have at the station. I also have a secure room for him.” He suddenly smiled. “Do you think that it would confuse the witches, if Spike was in a place with other vampires?”
Giles looked thoughtful. “Yes, that might work.”
“Come on then people – we can’t hang about. Never know when they’re gonna catch up again.” Spike was conflicted. He didn’t much like the idea of chains and a ‘secure room’.
But if it meant that he was made safe, then he’d go along with it.
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