[Reviews - 26]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 2655 times

- Text Size +




"Close the door, put out the light.

You know they won't be home tonight.

The snow falls hard and don't you know?

The winds of Thor are blowing cold.

They're wearing steel that's bright and true

They carry news that must get through.

They choose the path where no-one goes.

They hold no quarter.

Walking side by side with death,

The devil mocks their every step.

The snow drives back the foot that's slow,

The dogs of doom are howling more.

They carry news that must get through,

To build a dream for me and you.

They choose the path where no-one goes.

They hold no quarter. They ask no quarter.

The pain, the pain without quarter."

- Led Zepplin, "No Quarter"



* * *



"Spike."



It was a struggle to keep his customary level of annoyance in his expression as he turned to face the Watcher hovering in his crypt doorway. The Watcher wasn't exactly the last person Spike wanted to see at the moment, that was a designation reserved for the Whelp or Captain Cardboard, but he certainly wasn't high on the list of desired visitors either. The only one he really wanted to see was her but since she wasn't here and her Watcher was almost as good as an official representative he managed to keep his frustrations sufficiently under wraps, "Don't stand there in the doorway like a complete git. You're letting all the light in."



The Watcher started but, seeming to recollect himself, entered into the crypt proper and closed the door behind him. Then of course came the staring, the fidgeting, neither of them really sure what to say. They'd never had the chance of approaching anything near friendship; only an enforced camaraderie which had begun to dissipate as soon as he moved into the crypt and which had finally died when Spike's feelings toward Buffy had become common knowledge. Spike snorted; a sound which broke the tension easily, "Whatever it is you got to say to me, Watcher, make it quick. Passions is about to start and I don't fancy missing it just to play footsie with you."



A flicker of disgust spread across the man's face before it reverted back into its mask of feigned politeness, "Believe me, Spike, this is not how I wish to spend my afternoon either. Buffy, however, wanted me to check on your progress."



So there it was then, just about the only thing that could have maneuvered the man into coming to see him: Buffy. He had come less because she had asked him and more as a way to ensure that she didn't come herself. Despite the Watcher's assertions that nothing between the vampire and Slayer would ever develop, he was a smart enough man to take steps to secure the chance against there ever even being an opportunity for feelings to evolve. He knew his charge to well to know that she wouldn't be tempted. If she'd fallen for a vampire once then she could so again. It wasn't the Watcher's opposition to their potential romantic involvement that bothered Spike the most; he'd been expecting that. It was the Watcher's determination that nothing even resembling friendship or trust would develop between them either. Given enough time, he'd poison the girl against him so thoroughly that what he had done for her and Dawn wouldn't matter a whit to her either. And that kiss, the crowning moment of his whole sorry existence to date, would become nothing more than a pale ghost to haunt him down the remaining centuries, "Well then, you came, you saw, you turned up your nose. I can't rightly see that there's much left for you to do here so if you don't mind."



And with that he turned deliberately away from the man, flipped on the telly and settled back to watch his shows, his entire body issuing him an entreaty to sod off. The Watcher, hypocritical sadistic git that he was, merely stood there watching him for a time. Finally, he deigned to speak, his voice reaching Spike through the sounds of his television program, "I've also come because I have something important to ask of you."



Now that was interesting but Spike, unwilling to let the Watcher see his interest, let the silence stretch between them deliberately, his eyes studiously fixed on the TV set as he debated the best way to tell Giles exactly where he could shove his favors. But Buffy, he was certain, wouldn't take kindly to that so he decided that if the old man wanted to talk he'd let him. But he was bound and determined that it would be a one way conversation. Finally, the Watcher began again, "As I'm sure you're aware we are significantly underequipped to deal effectively with the threat Glory poses. I'm sure this is a fact that, after your last run in with her, you can appreciate as deeply as the situation warrants. There is, however, an item that could turn the tide so to speak. It would, most definitely, be of great use in bringing Glory down."



Despite himself Spike found his interest piqued by the thought of something that could help Buffy and despite himself heard his own begrudging voice answer back, "What's all this got to do with me?"



Satisfaction flared briefly in the Watcher's eyes but he quickly tempered it, "The item is not easily attainable. It was concealed by the Council some centuries ago and the magics used to dispel the traps long forgotten. It is doubtful now if anything human, or even any mundane demon for that matter, could reach it."



And so there was the crux of the matter. He was to be a glorified errand boy then, risking life and limb to retrieve some artifact so forsaken that not even its keepers could get at it any more. He tried to maintain his indignation but it faded quickly beneath the reality of his situation. There was no dilemma really: if Buffy needed that weapon to live then Spike would do everything to make sure she got it. Still, the remembrance that he needn't give the Watcher the immediate satisfaction of knowing that cheered him somewhat, "What's this all got to do with me then?"



"Believe me, Spike, if I thought for a moment that there was any other real option I wouldn't be here. You are not my first choice and to say that I am loathe to include you in any endeavor that might boost you in Buffy's good graces would be a gross understatement." The truth in that statement vibrated through Spike like a bell, rousing his resentment and, if the Watcher hadn't immediately continued he might have given into his baser urges chip or not, "Unfortunately for me, you're all we've got. The only hope for retrieving this thing that Buffy really has. I know I don't need to point out to you how easily this situation could go Glory's way. Buffy is a remarkable Slayer but even she may not be enough to stop a god. And I had thought, given your expressed feelings," here the disgust shone through strongly," for her you would be more than willing to assist us in this matter. Of course, if you feel otherwise I can simply tell Buffy that there is no hope of acquiring the item and we will simply have to make do."



"I never said I wouldn't do it."



A small smile graced the Watcher's face and there was a clear aura of triumph and satisfaction about him now. It set Spike on edge, letting him know that there was likely more to this simple pick up mission than Giles, despite his warnings, had let on. He pushed the thought aside though, knowing that for Buffy he'd endure anything. He couldn't imagine the world without her, not when there was still a sliver of promise between them, a vista of pleasure and passion just waiting to be explored. So there was nothing else to do but for him to stand unhesitatingly, turn off the telly and get down to business, "This weapon you need have a name?"



"Tell me Spike, have you ever heard of Eowyn's Construct?"



"Rumors, mutterings really, nothing to suggest it was much more than a myth."



"Oh, I assure you it is very real. It first appeared in Roman Britain back before the native people had been entirely civilized. Rumored to be the creation of an adept of Avalon it was said to possess pure divine power. It could only be wielded by a true champion of the people however and though many have sought to pervert its uses they all failed. It is not invulnerable though, there is a flaw in it that if ever manipulated could very well allow the weapon to be tuned to the will of its master, regardless of intent. So, when the Council happened upon it, we took and hid it in one of the few magically secure places left in the world: the Anatolian Well."



"Bloody hell."



"Exactly," Giles removed his glasses, carefully wiping his lenses as he avoided looking at the vampire, "You can see my predicament now, the reason I can't just send any one to retrieve it. There would be no chance for their survival. You, Spike, are a different matter though and I have very little doubt that you will reach the object successfully. In fact, it may even serve as a means for setting you on the path to redemption and of someday being worthy of a woman like Buffy's regard."



"No need to lay it on so thick, Rupes. I'll do it without the fairy tale promises." Fool that he was though he fell for them hook, line and sinker anyway. The artifact, despite his bravado, became more than just the means of Buffy's salvation but also the key to her heart. There was no more need for thought, only time for action. Consequences to his self be damned. Later, he would curse himself for his impetuousness and wonder at his stupidity for not noticing the carefully neutral expression on the Watcher's face.






You must login (register) to review.