“Damn it!”
She intended to kick the vampire in the stomach, but he danced away from her and for a moment she almost lost her balance. Half a minute later Buffy managed to punch him in the jaw and grab his arm to pull it out of its socket. The vampire yelled, pivoted on the spot and stumbled on her waiting stake.
She turned, only to see Spike dust his opponent and they ran towards the door at the end of the corridor. Buffy realised that their element of surprise was lost the moment one of the doors was kicked open and three more vampires leapt out. It appeared that the back room meeting wasn't guarded only from the front.
A big, ugly vamp jumped at her and she greeted him with a swift kick that was supposed to smash his head in if not off, but he was surprisingly nimble on his sturdy feet; he grabbed her foot and threw her into the wall. After receiving several punches, two of which actually connected, she had to admit that her enemy was not only twice her size, but also quick and a very skilled fighter.
The vamp was coming on ferociously and soon her wrist was twisted and aching, one of her ribs broken and her left temple was oozing blood. Although the demon was really in no better condition, so far he wasn't exactly losing either. Then suddenly, there was so many of them that all she could do was to go on the defensive. One look told her that Spike was faring the same fate and she tried to move closer to him to form a united front.
While blocking two demons at the same time, she saw from the corner of her eye three more vampires coming down the corridor. Cursing her bad luck Buffy dusted one of her opponents, but the next moment she was battling three more vamps. However, one of the arrivals seemed in no hurry to jump into the fray. Quickly yet calmly he marched past the fighters and said, “Boys, the vampire is not to be touched.”
She was too skilled a fighter to let the curious statement distract her, still, somehow in the next instant somebody's fist smashed into her shoulder and she lost her balance. Then she received a kick in the lower back and her gaze turned fuzzy. For a second, all she could see was a wall; it took her a moment to realise that it was actually the ceiling which probably meant that she was lying on the floor. Some more punches landed on the various parts of her body.
As if through a fog she heard a desperate voice calling her name. Idly, Buffy wondered who that might be. For a moment everything around her became a dull red colour. She blinked when something appeared obstructing her view. It might be a face, Buffy thought.
'Oh, yes, and it's talking... to me.'
She closed her eyes and the sound of rushing blood filler her ears. Buffy groaned and opened her eyes. Suddenly all the sounds and colours returned in full Technicolour.
“Spike?” she asked in a weak voice.
“Are you okay?” She heard Spike's frantic question.
Her first thought was to nod but then she decided that mumbling would be easier.
“'Been better.”
“Shite, Buffy, you sure you're really okay?”
She thought he was losing his wits. She'd just told him that she was not at her best at the moment! Buffy felt the light touch of his fingers on her forehead.
“You have one eye,” she said.
“What?” His eye widened. “Did you hit your head?” His fingers started quickly exploring her side and back of the head.
“You're too close, you moron,” she said as she batted his hands away. She already felt better. Slayer powers were probably kicking in.
“Oh.” He sat back a little.
“Why did they leave?” Buffy saw him shrug as she heaved herself into a sitting position. “Are you okay?” she asked in turn.
“Yeah,” he breathed out. “Yes, I'm fine.” He scooped her into his arms.
“Oww...”
Spike let go of her hastily.
“Sorry 'bout that.”
She started to stand and he helped her up.
“Where are you going?” she asked, annoyed.
“Wait a mo', pet, I'll jus' check out the meeting room,” Spike replied as he moved in the opposite direction from the exit.
“What for?” Her head was spinning and the only thing she wanted was to go home, but Spike had turned deeper towards the inner rooms instead of out.
“You never know what...” He fell silent for a moment. “... scents a vamp can pick up.”
Her curiosity got better of her and she limped nearer. One glance was enough for her to know that there was nothing she could deduce from looking at the room. Buffy turned back to Spike.
“So what does the vamp say about the scents?”
Spike shrugged.
“Disappointingly little. A mess of different smells, but I can't pick up any particulars.”
They headed for the exit.
“You know, there's one thing I can't get out my mind...” Buffy said as they turned out of the dark alley and onto the main street.
She noticed Spike tens next to her and turned to stare at him as she continued, “Did you hear that vampire saying about not killing you?”
“Yeah...” he drawled slowly. “I did. Jus'... Not sure what that means or why he would say it.”
“Could they be your creditors? Lost bucks to some big shots lately?”
“No,” Spike said thoughtfully. “Not that I remember anyway.” He shook his head again. “No, I'm pretty sure that's not it.”
“Pretty sure?” Buffy said incredulously. She didn't know if she should get angry or laugh. “We were almost killed just now and you say you're pretty sure?”
“Look.” He stopped under a dim lamp post. “I don't know who those guys were, or why they would run off just to keep my head attached, all right? All I can guess is, that some powerful underground vampire gangs are making deals and it can't be good.” He shrugged and took out his cigarettes. “I thought I knew all the players in Sunnyhell, but it seems that either a new one has arrived, or there's a whole new game starting and I'm already enrolled.”
“What do you mean, the meeting was interrupted?” Eleanor whirled to look at the cowering vampire in front of her. “The deal was supposed to be secured tonight!”
Marcel was not a coward but in the face of his Mistress' wrath he was slightly afraid. There were rumours that she could put a curse on you, and although she was merely a vampire, her prowess in magic was said to be quite high.
“I-I'm so very sorry, Mistress!” he stuttered. “But the Slayer and William the Bloody killed our sentries and I-”
“What?!”
Eleanor's voice rose in pitch and Marcel straightened himself. It would've been worse if her countenance had become lighter and voice quieter. Calming down, he fluently without even searching for appropriate words explained what had happened, although the thickening of his accent still betrayed his slight nervousness. Marcel hated when that happened. In a few words he described how reckless the blond vampire had got when the slayer went down and assured his Mistress that as soon as it had become apparent they couldn't take out the Slayer without injuring the vampire, Marcel had immediately pulled his men back.
“So, you're saying he knows about the deal?” Eleanor's usually light eyes were almost dark and sparkling maliciously.
“I don't know how much he knew about it before coming to the bar, but he certainly didn't learn anything while being there, I'm sure about that.”
His Mistress nodded to him and turned back to the mirror. She looked at her reflection for what seemed to Marcel, for ages. He willed himself not to fidget. Eleanor appeared contemplative and calm, but Marcel knew better than to interrupt her musings.
“Well then,” she muttered as if to herself, “if he didn't know about the game before, maybe it's time to introduce him to the key players?” She turned to the other vampire.
“Set the camera up.”
When several minutes later Eleanor stepped into the room adjourning hers, she saw that the camera was already directed at the bed. Everything was just as she wanted.
“Darling,” she said to the woman on the bed, “get up, please.” Eleanor smiled sweetly as she sat next to her captive.
The older vampiress opened her beautiful eyes and stretched sensuously, almost like a cat. Then the look in her eyes turned uncertain and she sat up.
Eleanor smiled again. A lustful twinkle appeared in her eyes as she continued, “I want you to do something for me, kitten.” She cupped the milky white cheek of the other woman and sat even closer. “I want you to tell me everything you remember about Catherine.”
“And then we will play?”
The question sounded so meek and trusting that the twinkle in Eleanor's eyes became amused. And cruel.
“The best game ever,” she said.
”What are you doing here?” she whispered and sat up on the pillows. Even astonished she looked beautiful but he didn't think it was the time to tell her so.
“I crept in when your nanny left for her chamber,” he said instead.
She grabbed his forearm in alarm.
“Did she leave just now? How could you be so foolish, William! You must return this instant!” Catherine attempted to push him towards the door. “To think that she should come back and discover you!”
“Shh...! Please, do be quiet, you might alert the maid!” He stepped back a little so that she had to let go of him. “I shall not be punished, or well, at worst, Mr Brocklehurst will make me memorise some more psalms.” He was gratified to see her lips quirk in a gentle smile.
“He has yet to understand that you like studying, has he?”
They laughed quietly for a moment, but then William remembered that there had been a reason that he was out of bed at this late hour. Suddenly it became awkward; he worried the side of his breeches as he fought a blush. William chastised himself; he was almost fourteen and men didn't blush!
“I apologise for waking you, cousin,” he said. “I just had to know how you were feeling.”
“I feel much better now.” She ducked her head shyly. “Thank you for your concern.”
Now he felt hot as a violent blush spread all over his cheeks and he adjusted his spectacles nervously.
“I did try to come and inquire after you before the dinner but Mr Brocklehurst-”
“Oh, William, do not vex yourself.” She cut off his anxious babble gently. “Your trip would have been in vane; I must admit that I slept the whole day in fever.”
“Fever?” He stepped closer and forgetting himself, put his hand on her forehead.
Spike lifted his hand from Buffy's forehead as if burned. He didn't want to remember. It seemed that any innocuous thing he did these days had the power to awaken memories that he'd thought were long forgotten. Buffy was lying on the bed in her room, resting. Her eyes were closed but he knew by her breathing and heart rate that she wasn't really sleeping. Spike resisted from stroking her hair.
Why the hell did he even touch her forehead like that? It was no problem for a vampire to sense a human burning up without touching. The pills and her Slayer constitution would take care of it in no time; no need for acting like a poof!
“So, Dr. Vampire, what's the diagnosis?” Buffy asked drowsily. Her eyes opened.
Spike gave her a wry grin.
“You'll live.”
She smiled tiredly and took his hand in hers.
“Will you stay the night?”
He dropped his gaze on the blanket.
“Can't. Got to do this... thing in the morning. I thought I'd go back and shake up the bartender, see what he knows, but you don't have a good sewer access here.”
Buffy closed her eyes.
“You can do that later. Tomorrow.”
He frowned.
“Do you think it's a good idea?”
She sighed.
“No, I guess not,” Buffy said tiredly, but then she opened her one mischievously twinkling eye and pouted. “But I'm sick, my tummy is aching and I have a headache. Stay. Pleeease?”
Spike smiled.
“Of course, pet.”
She had succeeded on the first try; Eleanor was satisfied. She stood and gently tapped the top of the camera.
“Download it and cut what's necessary, Steven. Make sure that they won't be able to discern where or when it was filmed. I want it dark and dramatic but her face should be clearly seen.” She glanced again at her two minions. The tall and lanky one was fidgeting; Eleanor hated cowards.
“Steven!” Her voice resembled a whip lash and the fledge startled almost dropping the tripod and the camera. Eleanor had to suppress the urge to yell at the man. It didn't help though; the youth was now even more terrified. So uninspiring... Even her weak-willed husband hadn't been...
Eleanor made an effort to reassure the pathetic creature and the tone of her voice dropped into calm cadences when she spoke next. “Just remember to show it to me before you burn it, Steven.”
“Yes, Mistress,” the vampire croaked finally managing to dismount the camera.
Eleanor's lips twisted in disgust and she turned to the other vampire.
“Marcel, tonight is your second chance. Prove that you are not a complete cock-up. Secure the deals with both our new partners, and make sure they know what to do.”
She didn't wait for the man's nod. Eleanor turned away from them and smiled to herself. Now she just had to decide when it was the right time to send the message. For a moment she observed Steven the Nerd putting the camera in its case with his trembling fingers and contemplated if his body would satisfy her for tonight. But the cowardly slump of his shoulders convinced her that there was no spine to break.
Another set of strong, angular shoulders appeared in front of her eyes. His cocky smirk, the self-assured gait... The way he rode was like a dance and when he held her in his arms swaying to music her soul melted... Eleanor suppressed a shiver. It was a shame they would never dance again, she thought lightly. But there was no going back and she doubted that she'd really want to. No, her sole pleasure would lie in the future she would build for herself.
Eleanor's pose straightened as she calmly walked back to the bed. Breaking the spirit of one stubborn vampire was what she really wanted, but for now this would have to do. The other woman was half sitting half lying on the pillows and muttering something unintelligible. The hard line of Eleanor's lips softened.
Revenge would have to wait just a little bit more. Instead, she sat next to the huddled figure on the bed. The woman was now humming something under her breath. Yes, completely broken that one. But Eleanor knew that possessing her in any way she could was the next best thing. For now punishing William this way would have to be enough.
To Be Continued