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RELEASE HIM AT ONCE!

The deafening sound resonated powerfully against their breastbones, and Buffy was sure she could see the atmosphere quivering around them. The air filled with the smell of ozone, mixing queasily with the stench of blood. A figure surrounded in a fizzling, sparking blue glow floated towards them. The power in the room became almost overwhelming and the shocked humans found it difficult to draw breath.

Johnson shook himself, trying to rid his brain of the sudden cotton wool feeling, and reached for the crossbow lying on the table next to him. His fellow workman followed suit – sometimes a lack of imagination was a good thing. They raised their weapons simultaneously, but before they could fire, they both crumpled soundlessly and lay unmoving on the floor. Another gesture from the mysterious figure, and the shackles holding Spike motionless sprang open.

“Bugger me, you really know how to make an entrance, don’t you pet.”

As if Spike’s voice was an off switch, the magic suddenly left the room and the figure slowly sank to its feet. Buffy gasped as she recognised Hilda Norton. Who knew that she was such a powerful witch? The silence was broken by Spike, groaning as he raised himself to his elbows. “Got any more fancy tricks up your sleeve Hildy?”

“Well, this is another fine mess you’ve got yourself into, you silly vamp. And it’s Hilda not Hildy.” She gave him a tired smile, as the tension leached out of the room

Buffy stepped forward hastily and grabbed Mrs Norton’s arm, as the witch swayed and nearly fell. Spike pushed himself upright and, clutching his neck, dropped to the floor. Hissing with pain, he heaved the crossbow bolt from his chest, as Buffy helped the witch to a chair. Hilda sank down gratefully on it and Spike dropped to his knees at her side. Patting her hand awkwardly he said, “Are you OK pet?”

“I’ve never teleported so far before; I had no idea how tired I’d be. Anyway, you are the injured party here.”

Professor Mackness, who until now, had been gazing at the scene open mouthed, flinched as four sets of accusing eyes fastened upon him. Nothing he had read or researched, had prepared him for such an eventuality – he was completely at a loss.

“That was a disgusting, demeaning thing to have done – what do you have to say for yourself?” The witch glared at him accusingly. He stared back at her. At first glance she looked ordinary enough – around his age - petite, dark haired and rather attractive. If he had not witnessed her entrance for himself, he would have thought that she was a visiting businesswoman, or an executive.

He found that he was trembling with a strange mixture of fear and exhilaration. She had to be a powerful sorceress; something that until now he had thought did not exist. But then a short time ago he hadn’t realised that vampires swarmed round the London underground system. What an opportunity for research. He realised that she was still waiting for his explanation.

“I don’t know what to say. Sorry seems to be inadequate under the circumstances.” Mackness was quite proud at how calm he sounded, then his voice cracked. “I always gave instructions that the vampires had to be unconscious if any, um, work had to be done on them. I had no idea that this was happening, and would have stopped it if I had.” The last was said in a rush, as he saw the cold stare the vampire shot at him.

“You are different from any other vampire I have seen – the others seem to be savages in comparison.” Nothing he said seemed to melt the ice in the vampire’s eyes. “What can I do to help?”

“Well, a first aid kit would be something.” The one called Buffy said.

“Oh, of course, um, yes, first aid kit.” He was grateful to have something constructive to do, that meant that he could escape the room for a while.

Giles had been watching him with something approaching sympathy, after all the professor had been ridding London of a scourge. He took pity on the man. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

They all heard Giles saying “There is no excuse for what was done to Spike – even he doesn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

As Giles’ voice faded away, Spike raised his eyebrows in surprise – fancy the Watcher defending him. There would be winged porcines flying around next.

Now the professor had gone, the tension relaxed, and Buffy looked over at Spike and Hilda. The vampire had his head cradled in the witches lap and she was stroking his hair, whilst looking down in horror at his wounds.

How did those two get so close? Buffy thought. They had known each other for barely a day, and they now looked as though they had been friends for life. Why did the witch like him so much? She said herself that a vampire had murdered her brother – why was she treating this one like – like, well like a son? Chip or no chip, he was a cold-blooded killer who didn’t deserve sympathy or gentleness. So why did Buffy feel as though it should be she that was comforting Spike, instead of the witch?

The image of Spike placing her and Giles behind him, whilst he tried to fight off a crowd of humans against whom he knew he had no chance of winning. Why had he done that? She thought back to the conversation she had overheard, when Spike was confessing to the witch that he loved Buffy – well she knew that couldn’t be true, vampires were incapable of love, weren’t they? But then, Angel had loved her, she was sure. Buffy ground her teeth in frustration; she didn’t have anyone that she could talk to about this.

Spike realised that he was completely and utterly exhausted, but for once didn’t curse himself for his weakness. The witch’s hand stroked his hair rhythmically and he felt compassion and sympathy flowing from her, as she whispered inconsequential, comforting words only he could hear. No one, not even in his human days, apart from his mother, had treated him like this. The feeling was so good, he wondered how long he could make it last, before she tired of him.

All too soon, the Watcher and professor were back with the first aid box.

“Come on Spike,” Buffy said more sharply than she meant to, “get your ass up here and I’ll take a look at those wounds.” When he made no effort to move, she grasped his upper arm and started to drag him to his feet. The humans were shocked into stillness by his bloodcurdling growl.

“It’s okay,” Hilda said to him mildly, “it’ll make you feel more comfortable.” He allowed the witch to help him to his feet and, wrenching his arm from the Slayer’s grasp, heaved himself up on to the table with a grunt. While Hilda gently cleaned and dressed the wound in his chest and back, he glared at Buffy. What a difference there was between the two women. Buffy had looked both astonished and disgusted when it had been suggested that there might be a connection between them. She was like the bloody sun – burnt him with her touch, her words and her looks. All right, he decided, he would treat her like the sun, and avoid any contact.

“These men would never have been able to take the ward from you,” the witch was saying, “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, but the only person who can remove it is the person who put it on.” She put her hands up to his neck, but before she could take the collar from his throat, he stopped her gently.

“No, Hilda, leave it.”

“But I can’t dress the wound properly……” The witch started to say.

“It’ll be fine, don’t worry – I heal real quick.” He wanted to keep any connection he could to her. “Is that how you knew I was in trouble?”

Hilda grinned at him, “When I felt the pain, I thought I was having a heart attack. I didn’t cast the magic for such a link – perhaps it’s because you’re a vampire or something. I really don’t know I’m afraid.”

“Doesn’t matter pet, I’m grateful for however it works. Got me out of a shitload of trouble.”

Giles cleared his throat, “Um, loathe though I am to break up this conversation, I really don’t think we should loiter here much longer. The professor has offered to take us to his home, so that Spike can recuperate.”

“Oh, yeah, got another operating theatre there have you? Get me all better so you can have another go?” Spike said bitterly. “I think I’ve had enough of your hospitality.”

The professor flushed and shuffled his feet nervously. “It’s the only way I can think of to make reparation for what was done to you…. ” his voice trailed off as Spike stared at him, grim faced. He swallowed hard, “My home isn’t far from here, and, and you are all welcome for as long as you like.”

“What about these two?” Buffy gestured at the unconscious workmen.

“I’ll make sure that they don’t remember anything about this when they wake up,” the witch promised.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


After putting the workmen in the dorm room to sleep off the spell, they made their way back up to the surface. Spike was surprised to see that the sun had set. Bloody hell, he thought, he must be slipping not to have sensed that - mind you, he had been a bit busy lately.

Buffy reached out to lend Spike support, but he pulled away, insisting he could make his own way. Head high, teeth clenched, the vampire walked on rubbery legs alongside the witch. Every step was excruciating. He began to worry that he wouldn’t be able to maintain his façade of strength, if the wretched journey didn’t end soon. Just then, thanks to a short cut to the car park known only to Mackness, they were soon on their way.

The vampire sank gratefully into the soft leather upholstery and had to force himself not to nod off to sleep as the car made its smooth way along the London roads. Too soon they had stopped outside a large terraced house, which was one of many surrounding a small, landscaped area, which in its turn was surrounded by railings. He jumped as he heard Buffy gasp, his reflexes ready for battle.

“It’s like something out of “Notting Hill!”

“Not bloody surprising, since this IS Notting Hill, you stupid bint,” muttered Spike

“Be nice, Spike,” the witch said mildly, “Buffy has never been to this country before.” She pinched him before he could say anything else.

Spike rubbed his arm and smiled ruefully, “Yeah, sorry Hilda, I’m a bit knackered is all.”

Why the hell was he apologising to her, I’m the one he snarked at, thought Buffy. That stupid vampire was driving her crazy, one minute all over her and the next -

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard an, “Ah, hum.” She looked up to see Giles holding the car door open for her, studying her curiously. Everyone was heading into the house, except her. She quickly tried to look as though she was looking for a lost earring in the upholstery. Smiling weakly, she climbed out of the car and followed the others.

The house was a well-proportioned building, four stories high in the neo-classical style popular at the beginning of the 18th century. Buffy looked around with pleasure at the high ceilings and wood panelled walls. The professor showed them into the sitting room, telling them to make themselves at home. Spike chose the nearest comfortable chair and collapsed into it, instantly falling asleep. He was too tired to keep up the “master vampire” façade any longer.

Giles and Hilda volunteered to help with the cooking, and soon a delicious aroma crept into the room. Buffy contented herself with exploring the house, marvelling at the beautiful staircase and the huge rooms.

After they had eaten, the professor showed them the bedrooms. Spike chose one at random and sprawled gratefully on the bed.

Exhausted though he was, sleep evaded him and after half an hour of tossing and turning, he became aware of a low chanting sound and decided to investigate. He didn’t have far to go, the sound was coming from the next room. Hilda was sitting cross-legged on her bed, eyes closed as if she were meditating. Before he could retreat, she said, “Come in Spike.”

“Uh, sorry I’m interrupting you,” he mumbled.

“I couldn’t sleep either, it must be all the excitement – got my mind working overtime,” She smiled at him and patted the bed next to her. He raised his eyebrow and gave her a questioning look that made her laugh. He sat down, mirroring her lotus position. They sat in companionable silence for a while, enjoying each other’s company. Then the witch stirred and, head on one side, she said, “Spike, can I ask you a very personal question? You don’t have to answer, just tell me to mind my own business if you like.”

“Ask away, Hilda.”

“If the chip stopped working would you go back to the hunt?” She had been turning this over and over in her mind, since she had learned of its existence.

He leaned back on his elbows and regarded her, his eyes glittering in the low light. His first instinct was to tell her what he thought she wanted to hear, but he owed her complete honesty. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to think about the subject he had avoided for a very long time. The hunt – his heart hungered for it. The skill he had honed over the years, studying his prey, choosing the most beautiful female – just ripening into womanhood, and then cutting her from the crowd. And then the chase – ah, the chase. He could keep a girl running until she was desperate, frantic, giving off exhilarating waves of panic and terror. And when he decided the time was perfectly right - the kill. Her screams music to his ears, he would sink his fangs into her ripe, luscious flesh, feeling the hot, nectar-like blood flowing down his throat…….

He suddenly became aware of the room again and, forcing his game face away, he sat up and opened his eyes, to find Hilda looking at him with a sad but understanding expression. It cut him like a knife. He could cope with disgust, fear or hatred – after all, that was the only reaction that he’d ever had from a human. But this was different. Compassion. Caused him to feel all kinds of confusion. He struggled to make sense of his feelings.

The fact was, he hadn’t wanted to give it up, until now. The hunt. The killing. It had been his only reason for existence.

He realised that he had a better reason now. This woman accepted him as he was - none of this “you are an evil, soulless monster, you don’t deserve to live. You can’t love” Hilda was smart, powerful, and she saw him, really saw him. And she knew. She knew he could and did love. Soul or not. His confusion dropped away and he knew what to say.

“No pet, I wouldn’t. It’ll be good ol’ pig’s blood for me from now on, even if the chip does go west. Well, maybe I might nick some human from the blood bank, now and again.”

“What?” she said faintly. She had seen his expression whilst he had been “reminiscing” and how his instincts had pulled at him. She had been quite prepared for him to smirk and say, “What d’you think?” But there were only his crystalline blue eyes staring into hers, as empty of lies as a clear sky. For a moment, just a second, they existed within a space of complete understanding and trust.

A sharp knock on the door interrupted them. Before either could say anything, the door swung open, revealing Buffy standing there holding out a steaming mug. Spike looked at her without expression, “What do you want?”

“I went to your room, and then I heard your voices” She looked uncomfortable and embarrassed. “I, uh, brought you some er, food. Where do you want me to put it?”
Sudden rage gripped Spike. She couldn’t even bring herself to call it what it was – blood. Every time she opened her sodding mouth she hurt him, and suddenly it was all too much. “Just put it down anywhere,” he said icily and turned away from her.

Buffy’s mouth opened and closed silently. She had brought the “food” for him as a peace offering, and he was treating it as if she had brought him poison. What else did he want her to do for goodness sake, get down on her knees and beg for forgiveness, when she didn’t even know what she’d done wrong? She stalked across the room and slammed the mug down on the dressing table, turned and left, closing the door noisily behind her.

Hilda watched the exchange wearily. When were these two going to sort this out? They were both so stubborn and bloody-minded!

Her thoughts were interrupted by Spike, “Can I ask you a question now Hildy?”

She smiled and said “Ask away, Spike.”

“I’m buggered if I’m going back to the States with that bitch. What would you think if I were to come and stay with you?” He said in his most seductive voice.

Her heart suddenly clenched. Had she heard him right?





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