Chapter Eight
As the men approached and surrounded the two blonds, she shrugged and said, “I guess I’ll have to settle for beating something up.”
Spike laughed as he ducked a blackjack that had been intended for his head. “Guess so, pet. Have fun.”
After the man had ducked and twisted away from them so many times that they had decided to forget about him, the gang of muggers focused on the small woman who was watching Spike’s dodging and weaving with admiring interest. Since the man had made no attempt to hit anyone, and seemed unconcerned with the girl’s safety, they concluded he was a coward and would not interfere with their plans.
The leader of the small group reached out a hand to tug on Buffy’s long hair, using it to pull her toward him.
“Ow!” she complained loudly. “Did anyone ever tell you, you fight like a girl?”
Instead of pulling away as the man expected, she stepped in closer and grabbed his belt in one hand, using it to lift him up in the air until his feet were off the ground. She could hear Spikes snort of laughter behind her as the man’s eyes bugged out when he realized what was happening to him. To his credit, he recovered quickly and threw a punch at Buffy’s face.
Compared to being hit by a vampire or demon, the punch really didn’t amount to much, but it did split Buffy’s lip and she heard Spike growl behind her at the scent of her blood.
“Ok, NOW, I’m mad,” she said angrily as she dropped the man to the ground. “That was not very nice.”
While his gang members looked back and forth in confusion between the tiny, angry blonde girl and the laughing man leaning against the lamp post, the leader threw another punch at Buffy only to find it blocked very effectively by the still annoyed looking girl. He tried two more times, finding each one blocked with a speed he couldn’t even follow with his eyes. Then he found himself flying backwards to land in the street, his jaw aching and his arse in a fresh pile of manure.
With a snarl, he leaped to his feet and charged the eager-looking girl, waving at his men to get behind her. As he reached Buffy, intending to carry her to the ground with his greater weight, he was once again propelled through the air, this time over her shoulder and into two of his advancing cronies. Buffy shifted her weight, intending to land a roundhouse kick on the other men quickly moving in to the fray, only to find her kick impeded by the voluminous skirt she was wearing. Instead of knocking the remaining footpads out of the picture, she found herself off balance and unable to stop her momentum as she stumbled and tripped on the long dress.
With a triumphant shout, her intended victim brought his black jack down on her head. If he was surprised that the blow that would have killed most people only stunned the surprisingly aggressive woman, he didn’t let it slow him down as he advanced for the killing blow.
Suddenly he was being held up in the air by her previously forgotten escort who was snarling in his face, “You really didn’t want to do that, mate.”
When Spike’s face shifted and the men got a look at the monster they’d discounted as a factor in the assault, anyone not currently suspended in midair with a master vampire’s hand around his throat took to his heels, leaving the hapless blackjack wielder behind. Spike was squeezing the man’s neck, waiting for the chip to kick in and stop him, when he realized that the silent mugger was almost dead.
He quickly dropped the unconscious man on the street and backed away. He was still waiting for the pain to hit him as he checked the man’s vital signs, breathing a sigh of relief when he found the heart beat to be fairly strong and heard the man gasping in much-needed gulps of air.
Leaving the would-be murderer on the ground, he went over to where Buffy was sitting up and rubbing the back of her head. She was swearing a blue streak and Spike had to grin at the look on the man’s face when he focused his bleary eyes on the sweet looking little girl who had almost single-handedly wiped out his whole gang and realized that the words were coming from her mouth.
Spike helped Buffy to her feet, ignoring the man trying to scuttle away without being noticed by the now human-looking monster. The vampire leaned in without thinking and gingerly licked the blood off her rapidly-swelling lip. Not having realized what he was about to do, Buffy’s own tongue was coming out to lick off her lip and she froze when she realized why there was no blood left to lick. The tip of her tongue just brushed Spike’s before he withdrew with a gasp and looked at her apologetically.
“ ‘M sorry, pet,” he whispered, resisting the temptation to run his tongue lightly over her lip again. “It’s the best way I know to stop the bleeding. Should have warned you what I was gonna do, I guess.”
“Ye- yes, warning would have been good. Then I wouldn’t have put my tongue out there and your tongue and my tongue…oh, God…”
Before they could follow up on the way their bodies were leaning toward each other, the potential mugger/rapist/murderer made a noise as he got to his feet and tried to run away. Spike was in front of him before he had gone three steps and he whimpered in fear, turning to go the other way, only to find himself facing the girl he’d tried to kill.
Buffy hiked her skirt up around her waist, freeing up her lower legs, and swept her leg around toward his face in the kick she’d intended to take in the first place. The man’s head snapped back and his eyes crossed as he flew backwards and landed in the gutter. When it was clear that he was down for the count, Buffy released her breath in a relieved “whoosh.”
“I feel much better now,” she said brightly, dropping her skirts and shaking them out. “Let’s go find something else to fight.”
Spike was staring at her with glazed eyes and she walked up to him, waving her hand in front of his face.
“Spike? William? Are you in there?”
He blinked a couple of times and then gave her a slow, lip-licking smile.
“You do know you aren’t wearing any knickers under there, don’t you, Slayer?”
“What? That’s crazy! Of course I’m wearing…knick- whatever. I distinctly remember…remember…remember deciding I didn’t want to wear those ridiculous bloomers and getting my own…own…oh…my…god. I forgot my underwear. I’m naked under here!”
She clutched her skirts tightly around her and tried not to notice the way Spike’s eyes lasered in on her crotch as though he could see through the layers of fabric. One look at his face and she knew she’d said the wrong thing.
“I…we…need to go home now,” she said in a small, squeaky voice.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” he replied, licking his lips again and moving closer to her. “I thought you wanted to slay something.”
“If you don’t get that look off your face, it’s going to be you,” she said as firmly as she could while she backed away slowly. Her heart was beating like a trip hammer and she could feel moisture seeping from her as the vampire continued to advance, still boring holes in her with his darkened eyes. She suddenly felt more naked wearing the modest, ankle-length dress than she did in her smallest bikini.
(Who knew not wearing underwear could feel so…so…sexy. No! Not sexy. So freeing. That’s it. It’s freeing. I’m free to….to kick people and flash the sexy vampire. No, no flashing the vampire. Bad Buffy!)
“Oh, look! I think I see a vampire! I’ll beat you to him!”
With a frightened squeal, Buffy took off running just before Spike’s reaching hands could touch her shoulders. She threw a look over her shoulder to see him glaring after her with a frustrated look on his face. Laughing, she shouted, “If you’re just going to stand there, you’ll miss the show when I kick this one.”
She heard him growl and sped up, hiking up her skirt just enough to give her some freedom of movement. She could hear his pounding feet behind her and knew she wasn’t going to be able to stay ahead of him dressed the way she was. The vampire, though, had stopped growling and was laughing himself as he chased her, staying close enough to keep her running, but not so close as to end the chase.
After a couple days spent in enforced lassitude, Buffy was reveling in the feeling of the wind in her face and the comfortable stretching and flexing of her muscles. She had given up the pretense that she was chasing a vampire and was just enjoying the run through the velvety night when the nagging thought occurred to her that they were mimicking the scene in her first dream.
No sooner had she had that thought and begun to slow down, then she felt the tingles that told her there was a vampire near-by. She was so used to Spike’s signature, that she easily discounted it coming from behind her and focused on what was in front of her. She slowed even more, waiting for Spike to catch up to her before going into a fighting stance.
She could sense that he was in game face, and knew he was feeling the same thing she was. Just as she was pulling the stake from the deep pocket in her dress, he grabbed her arm and said, “No, Buffy. Not this time.”
Frowning at him in confusion and anger, she asked, “What do you mean, not this time? There are vampires ahead and I’m the Slayer.”
“I can feel the vamplres, pet. They’re family. MY family. And you’re not dressed to take them on, even if you do have me to help you.”
“Family? You mean…” Her head spun back toward the shadows ahead of them, her eyes frantically searching for any sign of Angelus or the two female vampires she knew would be with him. She was seized with a sudden fear that left her almost hyperventilating as she flashed back to her dream and her helplessness.
“My dream,” she whispered, backing up behind Spike just as she had in the dream.
“Hiding behind Will isn’t going to help you, little girl,” came an eerily familiar, yet cold and cruel voice from the shadows.
“Wrong again, Peaches,” Spike snarled, placing himself between Buffy and the now visible vampires ahead of them.
Angelus stopped in confusion, taken aback both by the nickname and the completely defiant and unafraid stance of the vampire in front of him. Drusilla drifted up beside him to coo, “Ooooh, it’s my darling William, all grown up. How delicious he looks.”
“Time to go, pet,” Spike whispered, taking her hand and backing away.
Although Buffy was furious at herself, she knew that he was right. She was in no shape, mentally or physically to take on three fourths of the Scourge of Europe. And she had no idea where the fourth member might be.
She yanked her dress up again, not caring if she flashed all of London, and flew off behind Spike, sprinting until they were back in a busier part of the city and among crowds. As soon as they could sense there was no pursuit, Buffy dropped her skirts and ran as best she could with the long dress flapping around her legs and tangling between her knees.
When they had reached the relative safety of a populated area and mingled with the crowds leaving nearby theatres and bars, they slowed to a brisk walk. Spike didn’t drop her hand and Buffy found herself grateful for the continued physical contact as she tried to deal with the terror she’d felt when pieces of her dream seemed to be happening in front of her.
They walked slowly back toward the residential area, hands still linked. When passers-by gave shocked glances at the two blonds strolling along hand in hand, one flash of Spike’s true face was enough to make them avert their eyes quickly and find something else to be shocked about.
They reached the house and let themselves back in quietly. When Buffy went to speak, Spike squeezed her hand for silence while he listened carefully to be sure Molly was still asleep. Nodding his head in satisfaction when he heard her rhythmic breathing and steady heartbeat, he reluctantly released Buffy’s hand and gestured toward the stairs.
As soon as they were safely in her room, Buffy threw herself back on the bed, exclaiming, “Well, that wasn’t exactly how I hoped the night would go, but at least we’re safe from them now.”
Spike looked at her, lying spread across the bed, her arms out in a gesture of relief and wondered when and how this slip of a woman became so important to him.
“Wish you were right, pet,” he said slowly, taking a hard look around the room.
She sat up abruptly, glaring at him.
“What do you mean, you wish I was right? We’re inside, they’re outside, they can’t get in without an invita- oh, shit.”
She threw herself back on the bed in disgust.
“The house’s owner is a dead man. They don’t need an invitation, do they?”
“Fraid not, luv. Not at the moment, anyway. Gonna fix that tomorrow, but for now, want you to sleep downstairs so I can watch over both you and Molly for the rest of the night.”
“How are you going to fix it?” she asked, picking up her nightgown and going behind the screen.
“Don’t you worry about it; I’ve got it figured out. Just can’t do anything about it until tomorrow.”
She frowned at him curiously, but didn’t press the issue. She changed quickly and, carrying her pillow and a blanket as well as a couple of stakes, she followed him downstairs to the study.
“This ought to do it,” he said, looking around at the leather couch by the window. “Although I think I’d be more comfortable if that was over here.” As he spoke, he was moving the couch effortlessly into the middle of the room in front of his desk.
“What are you going to do while I’m sleeping?” Buffy inquired softly as she settled herself on the old, but comfortable couch.
“I’ve got some paperwork to keep me busy. You just get some kip.” He came over to the make-shift bed and knelt down beside her, stoking her hair softly. “And how about no more dreams about the great Poof until we suss out what’s going on?”
“You don’t think I LIKE being terrified every night, do you?” she demanded indignantly. “Maybe I should just stay awake with you – no sleep means no more Slayer dreams and…oh god, it almost happened. They ARE Slayer dreams.”
With a groan, she dropped her head onto the cool hand still touching her hair. After a second’s hesitation, Spike began to rub his thumb in gentle circles on her cheek as he tried to reassure her.
“Seems like,” he agreed, “but it didn’t go like your dream, did it, pet? You didn’t go all catatonic on me, and I’m not all beat up and what not. We got away without any damage, so that’s all good, yeah?”
“That’s the thing about Slayer dreams,” she grumbled, still leaning into his caressing hand. “You never know what parts are real and what parts are just embellishment to confuse you!”
He grinned at her pouting tone and stood up after giving her one last lingering caress. In spite of the danger they were in, her nearness was having it’s usual effect on his libido and he needed to get behind his desk before he was tempted to follow up his reassuring touches with something less reassuring and more dema
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