Slaying Dragons
Author: Pattyanne
snapkik@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: None of the BtVS
characters belong to me.
Rating NC-17
Part One...
The night air was sharp and clear. The mild
autumn weather that Sunnydale had been
enjoying had finally begun to surrender to
winter's chillier bite.
Unbothered by the cold, Spike strode through
the park at a fast pace.
He was late. He'd promised Buffy that he'd
come and walk her home when she got off
work, but he'd gotten sidelined helping
Dawn study for an exam, and had lost track
of the time.
Knowing that the slayer wouldn't have the
patience to sit and wait, he'd sent Dawn
to bed and headed for the park she usually
cut through on her way home, hoping to at
least meet her halfway.
Picturing that knock out smile she always
gave him, he began to walk a little faster,
inwardly laughing at his eagerness to see
her.
How the hell had this happened? Why was
William the Bloody, one of the most feared
vampires to ever crawl from a grave, behaving
like a lovesick teenager?
He'd been asking himself this question for more
than two years, and the answer was always
the same...because of her.
A five foot nothing, ninety pound bundle of
trouble had completely stolen his heart, and
had done it so effortlessly that he hadn't realized
it until it was gone.
No...stolen was the wrong word for it. He
had pretty much given it to her on a gold
plate, all tied up with a nice red ribbon.
Not that she'd wanted it..not at first, any-
way. It was almost funny how much she
HADN'T wanted it, how hard she'd thrown
it back in his face.
On the rare occasions when he felt contem-
plative, he would think back over their tur-
bulent past, embarrassed at how idiotically
he had behaved after he'd fallen in love with
the slayer.
Like a lost puppy, he'd been, following her
around and begging her to keep him. Watching
her everywhere she went, searching through
her things for something with her scent on it,
forcing his company on her when she clearly
didn't want it.
Christ, he'd been pathetic.
But all those things put together didn't
even begin to compare with the stupidest
mistake he'd ever made...having a walking,
talking copy of her built out of plastic and
wire and computer bits.
That little stunt had been so spectacularly
ill conceived that, even now, he tried to make
excuses for it.
He'd been desperate, driven close to the
extreme of running out into the noonday
sun, ready to do anything to stop the con-
stant, relentless ache in his heart that
wouldn't let him sleep.
The robot hadn't been perfect. Visually,
she was a mirror image of Buffy. Same
face, same hair, same voice.
Same luscious body...
Sweet natured and eager to please, she
had satisfied every request...which, of
course, she'd been programmed to do.
He knew now that, sooner or later, the
constant worship the robot had ladled on
with a spoon would have gotten on his
nerves.
A good portion of his attraction to Buffy
had been the "forbidden fruit" factor, the
challenge she'd represented.
The faster she'd run...the more he'd enjoyed
the chase.
Pursuing an unwilling woman was new
for him. Drusilla had been a lot of things,
but unwilling wasn't one of them.
Dru had always been willing and ready. He
had lost his innocence to her in more
ways than one, and she had taught him
things that his repressed, virginal self could
never have dreamed of.
Over the past hundred and change years, he
had used that knowledge to seduce women,
and they'd always come willingly to his bed.
It was a source of pride for him that he'd
never had to resort to raping a woman when
he'd wanted her.
KILLING them, yes. RAPING them, no.
The slayer had been the first woman since
he'd been turned to reject him so completely,
and that rejection had whetted his appetite
for her and aroused his lust for the pursuit.
As always, for him, the thing he could not
have became the ONLY thing he wanted.
Physically, he'd wanted her from the moment
he'd laid eyes on her. Watching her dance
and fight had excited him nearly to the point
of just picking her up and carrying her off to
his bed.
But, after he'd fallen in love with her, that wanting
had taken on a life of it's own, sinking it's
roots so deeply into his heart that he'd never
be free of it.
By the time he'd acquired the robot, his need
for an intimate union with Buffy had become
almost physically painful.
The slayer, however, had made it agonizingly
clear that she would NEVER allow him to
touch her in any way.
She had, in fact, come right out and said
so...."The only chance you had with me was
when I was unconscious..."
But, while the robot had satisfied his physical
needs, she just hadn't been Buffy. Not the Buffy
he really wanted.
The 'bot had Buffy's lovely eyes, but not the
fire and spirit that made them sparkle. Her
skin, although undeniably soft and tinted the
right shade of peachy pink, lacked the warmth
of Buffy's living flesh.
Her silky hair was the right shade of honey and
golden brown, but it hadn't carried the in-
toxicating smell that made him dizzy whenever
he was close to the slayer.
The biggest, most obvious, difference was
that the robot's body...being artificial...held
none of the purely female scent that Buffy's
gave off.
Some things just couldn't be faked.
Still, even though the 'bot hadn't been a per-
fect Buffy, she'd come damn close to it, and
he'd been willing to settle.
He'd had no choice after he began having
trouble performing in bed with a woman unless
he closed his eyes and pretended the body
beneath him was hers.
When his imagination was no longer enough,
he knew that unless he wanted to spend whatever
span of time he had left in a state of constant
sexual frustration, something drastic had to be
done.
And, as it usually did, his 'something drastic'
plan had blown up in his face.
But, those days were over now. Sexual non-
fulfillment was a thing of the past, easily forgotten.
There was no more having to seek solace in
artificial arms, or using his own hand for whatever
meager satisfaction masturbation could provide.
That constant, driving need...a need so strong
and ultimately hopeless that it made him want to
die permanently...was gone, leaving nothing behind
but the normal and healthy desire he felt for the
girl he was in love with.
Buffy was HIS girl now. She belonged to him, as
he belonged to her, and he could have her when-
ever he wanted.
She never denied him. Spike knew that he could
come to her at any time of the day or night,
and she would welcome him into her arms.
He'd tested that theory once by waking her
from a sound sleep in the middle of the night,
explaining to her that an erotic dream he'd been
having had produced a condition that he needed
her help with if he was ever going to be able to
go back to sleep.
She'd made love to him for over an hour.
Just the memory of it now was bringing
on that same condition, and he smiled like
a horny teenage boy sneaking into his first
X-rated movie.
More eager than ever to get his hands on her,
he began walking faster.
He was a little more than halfway through the
park when he spotted her sitting on a bench,
staring intently at something in her lap.
"Hey, there's my girl," he called out to
her. "Couldn't wait for me to...."
His words trailed off as he got closer, wondering
why she hadn't looked up and smiled when she
heard him.
It wasn't until he was standing directly in front
of her that he knew exactly why she hadn't
responded to him. He stared down at her,
horrified by what he saw.
She was asleep!
So completely asleep that she hadn't so much
as twitched when he approached her.
"Damn it," he swore softly, kneeling in front
of her. "Buffy? Baby?" He shook her gently.
"Come on, baby...wake up."
"Hmm?" Confused green eyes opened briefly,
then drifted shut again.
This was his worst nightmare come horribly
true. Buffy, alone and vulnerable to all sorts of
frightening possibilities.
Asleep like this, she'd be an easy target for
whoever...or whatever...came along.
Such a juicy opportunity to kill the slayer didn't
offer itself up everyday. The greenest, most
inept fledgling could snap her neck before she
could open her eyes, then spend the rest of his
existence bragging about killing the best slayer
there ever was.
Thankful that he had been the vampire to
stumble across her first, he gathered her up
into his arms and carried her home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Giles rubbed the sleep from his eyes, then
fumbled his glasses on and tried to focus on
the front door of his townhouse, while someone
on the other side tried to batter it down.
"All right...coming," he muttered under his
breath, working the locks as quickly as his
sleep fogged brain allowed. "Now, for the love of
God, stop that racket before you wake
the..." The door swung open.
"Dead?" Spike finished. "Too late."
"What on...why are you...," the watcher
stammered, still not fully awake as Spike nudged
him to one side and walked into the living room.
"What time is it?"
"It's time to talk, Rupert," Spike replied. "Past
time, actually.
"What, are you SERIOUS?" Giles asked irri-
tably. "Time to talk at..." He squinted at the clock
over the fireplace. "Four o'clock in the blessed
A.M.?"
"That's what I said, isn't it?" Spike's tone was
quiet and serious, with none of the smart ass
quality he excelled at. "This can't wait. Not one
more bloody night."
He was barely managing to hold the leash on his
temper. Only an effort of sheer will power that he'd
spent decades instilling in himself kept him from
resorting to profanity and violence.
After carrying Buffy home without penetrating the
coma like sleep she'd fallen into, he'd taken her
upstairs and put her to bed.
He'd undressed her down to her bra and panties,
scooted her beneath the blankets and kissed her
goodnight...all this without so much as a squeak
out of her...then sat on the bed beside her, watch-
her sleep.
///// ///// ///// ///// ///// ///// ///// ///// ///// /////
He watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest
as she breathed slowly in and out. His eyes
moved over her, tracing every delicate feature,
engraving it into his memory.
Although she was as beautiful as ever in his
eyes, he could see the changes in her.
Her face was a little too thin, her skin a shade
too pale, and there were dark smudges beneath
her eyes. She'd lost weight that her small frame
couldn't spare. All in all, she looked older and
more careworn than a twenty year old girl should.
Spike knew, without being told, exactly what
was wrong, why she looked and acted so tired.
Working long hours at a minimum wage job,
broken nights spent prowling around graveyards
instead of sleeping, not to mention the added
burden of being a surrogate mother to a fifteen
year old girl and trying to provide some semblance
of a normal home life for her, was taking a harsh
physical toll.
He did as much as he could to help, even though
housekeeping skills were not his best event.
But keeping the house clean and the laundry
done wasn't the most serious problem.
Money, or rather the lack of it, was becoming
an issue and Buffy was fretting herself half to
death over it.
He had already sold his car months ago. It was
a classic, and once it was cleaned up and re-
painted, he'd gotten a fairly good price for it.
He could have gotten more, but being unable
to produce a title and registration had limited
his choice of offers.
Buffy hadn't wanted him to sell it. In fact, she'd
asked him not to. It wasn't until the prospect of
expensive plumbing repairs were staring her
in the face that she'd accepted the money.
She had felt guilty about doing it, and it had
taken no small effort on his part to to make her
understand that he didn't care about the stupid
car.
Sure, he'd liked it well enough. But when you
boiled things down to the bare facts, it WAS just
a car. A hunk of steel and glass and motor parts,
designed to take one from Point 'A' to Point 'B'.
In the long run, the car was nothing to him. But
Buffy? Buffy was his life.
His luck at cards had brought in some additional
money, but it couldn't be counted on as a steady
source of income.
Practiced thief though he may once have been,
he knew Buffy wouldn't tolerate him resorting to
illegal methods of obtaining money or merchan-
dise.
There wasn't much else he could do for her, so
she worked double shifts, living mostly on the
greasy food she served up.
Long hours on her feet, lack of proper sleep,
nutrition that was dubious at best, constant
anxiety over money and household repairs,
and Dawn's future. These thing were slowly
eating away at her, killing her wonderful spirit.
It was already affecting her slaying. Tonight's
incident was proof of that.
She had made a bad mistake by falling asleep
in the park, leaving herself wide open and
helpless.
Though nothing had come of it, how long
would it be before she made an even bigger
mistake...a fatal one?
Spike was terribly afraid that it wouldn't be
very long at all.
He knew that if something wasn't done to fix
this mess, he was going to lose her.
Either some creature was going to get hold
of her and kill her when she was too beaten
down to defend herself, or she would simply
drop dead of exhaustion.
Slayer strength or no slayer strength, Buffy
was still human. Her body could only take so
much of the abuse being heaped on it before
it just quit on her.
And there was no way he was going to allow
that to happen. If he had to throw her over
his shoulder and carry her out of this town
kicking and screaming, he would do it without
thinking twice.
He was going to take care of this, one way or
another, and he didn't much care whose neck
he had to step on...or break...to do it.
Turning her small hand over in his, he pressed
a kiss into it's soft palm, smiling when he saw
her automatically close her fingers to hold on
to the kiss.
"Even in your sleep," he said, smoothing back
her hair, "You know I love you."
///// ///// ///// ///// ///// ///// ///// ///// ///// /////
Spike stood in the living room, waiting as Giles
closed his front door.
"All right," the watcher said, folding his arms
across his chest. "Why do we need to talk at
this...inconvenient hour of the morning.?"
"Sorry about that," Spike said sarcastically."I'd
have dropped by in the afternoon, but I'm really
more of a night person."
"Very amusing," Giles replied, sounding any-
thing but amused. "Now will you just get on
with it?"
Lowering himself into a chair, Spike propped
his feet up on the coffee table, ignoring the
watchers scowl.
"How long have you been at the Watcher
game?"
Giles stared at him in disbelief. "You're here at
four in the morning...to ask me THAT?! You
couldn't have waited for a time when civilized
people are up and about?"
Spike shrugged. "I never claimed to be civil-
ized," he said. "Just answer the question."
There was a long pause as Giles decided to
humor the insane vampire and hurry him on
his way. He removed his glasses and rubbed
his eyes. "I began to be trained as a watcher
in my childhood. As was my father, and my
grandmother before him. Now...if that's all
you wanted to know, the..."
"Right," Spike cut him off. "So, it's what...sort
of a family business, is it?"
"I'd hardly refer to it as a business," Giles bristled.
"Then it's just a job?"
"No. No, of course it's not just a job. It's..it's
a calling, not unlike a desire to join the clergy
or..."
"But you get paid for it, don't you?" Spike narrowed
his eyes slightly. "Watcher's council pays you a
salary...right?"
Giles sighed. "Are you anywhere in the neighbor-
hood of a point?"
"Oh, I'm getting there," Spike assured him. "I
just want to be clear on this. You...a watcher...get
paid a salary, right?"
Still hoping that cooperation would rid him of
his uninvited guest, Giles nodded. "Yes, I get
paid a salary. Why do you..."
"Must be a pretty good one, too," Spike interrupted
again. "Places like this," he gestured around the
room, "don't come cheap. And your little magic
shop isn't exactly printing money, is it?"
Giles was silent.
"And, correct me if I'm wrong," Spike continued,
"but didn't you just buy a very expensive new
car?"
"Leased," Giles said shortly.
Spike shrugged. "Even so." He swung his feet
back down to the floor. "Now, here's my point, so
listen up...it doesn't seem quite right that you
watchers get paid a big salary, while the girls
who do the actual slaying...don't."
Giles looked truly surprised, eyebrows raised
and mouth slightly agape.
Spike pressed on. "Maybe, it's time to rethink
this whole Watcher/Slayer dynamic, huh?"
"In...in all my years as a watcher...in all the
journals I've studied...this has never come up,"
Giles stammered, shaking his head. "Why do
you...why are you asking this?"
"Because things change, Watcher," Spike an-
swered curtly. "Circumstances change."
Giles shook his head. "That may be true for you,
but tradition..."
"SCREW TRADITION" Spike shouted. Giles
flinched, and the vampire forced himself to
modify his tone. "Circumstances change," he
said again, "and the rules should change with them."
"What on earth do you mean?"
Spike sighed. "I mean," he said softly, "Buffy
isn't a teenager anymore, with a mother providing
all the basic necessities of life for her."
"I realize that," Giles said. "But I don't understand.."
"Well, if you'd shut up and let me finish," Spike bit
out impatiently, "then maybe you WILL under-
stand."
He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts
and calming his temper.
"Buffy is older now than all the slayers before her,
and the reason she's older is because she's so
damn good at what she does. So good that she
might continue doing it for a long time, right?"
Giles nodded. "I pray that she does, of course.
And the council as well."
Settling back into the cushions, Spike laced
his fingers together and turned his hands out-
wards, making the knuckles crack unpleasantly.
"Well, don't bet the farm on it, Rupert. Because
she doesn't have much time left."
The watcher tensed, replacing his glasses and
meeting Spike's intent gaze with his own. "What
are you saying?" he asked. "Have you heard about
something being planned for her? Has...has there
been a direct threat?"
Spike shook his head. "No."
"Well, then tell me what you mean by that com-
ment!" Giles demanded.
"I mean...that she's coming slowly unglued right
before your stupid eyes." Spike felt the anger
beginning to simmer and his demon struggling to
emerge, and he concentrated on beating it into
submission.
"She's doing too bloody much," he continued
deliberately, as though he were explaining some-
thing to a dull witted child. "She's on her feet for
hours every day at a dead end job, living on fast
food and coffee. And between her slaying and
worrying about earning a living...she's not sleep-
ing properly. She's exhausted."
Giles looked stricken at this revelation. "I didn't
realize that things were so...I mean, she's never
said..."
Spike had no sympathy. "She shouldn't have to
say it. YOU should have seen it, Watcher. Isn't
that part of your job description?" He released a
harsh, unamused laugh. "Watcher? That's
bloody funny, isn't it?" he asked bitterly.
Giles opened his mouth to speak, but Spike
didn't give him a chance. "Oh, you WATCH her
all right...but you don't SEE."
Unable to sit still, he jumped to his feet and
paced restlessly around the room. Stopping
suddenly, he turned on one heel and fixed
his eyes squarely on Giles.
"I have a story to tell you," he said quietly. "And
I want you to play close attention to it."
He approached the sofa where Giles was
sitting, with slow, measured steps. "Once
upon a time..."
"Oh, good God," Giles muttered.
"ONCE UPON A TIME," Spike repeated,
raising his voice. "There was a princess. She
was very beautiful and very brave, and all her
subjects loved her. One day the 'Royal Council',
comprised equally of jackasses and idiots,
came to the castle where the princess lived.
They told her that, out of all the princesses
in the world, she had been chosen to slay
the dragons that preyed on humanity."
"The princess was frightened...uncertain. She
was only one girl, and there were too many
dragons to even begin to count."
"These dragons were bloodthirsty creatures,
that breathed fire, and they absolutely loved to
kill people and eat them all up."
"The princess asked the council what in the
world she could possibly do to stop them.
The council told her not to worry, because they
were going to teach her to everything she needed
to know about dragons and how to kill them."
"So, they trained her to fight, and the princess
discovered that she was very strong and very
fast, maybe more than anyone else in the world."
"Finally, there came a day when the council placed
a sword in her hand, and kicked the princess out
the front door of her castle."
Giles looked as though he was going to speak,
but Spike silenced him with a glare.
"Now, don't worry," the council assured the
princess. "We'll be watching you. We'll watch
every move you make, every battle you fight.
But...before you go, remember this...the fate of
the world depends upon you, and you alone."
"So, the princess set out alone into a dark and
dangerous world. She made some friends along
the way, and they tried to help her but they
could only do so much."
Giles stood up and went into the kitchen. He took
a bottle of aspirin out of the cupboard, then
ran himself a glass of water and swallowed three
of them.
Spike waited until he returned to the sofa and
sat down.
"Over the next few years," he went on, "the princess
killed an army of dragons, some of which nearly
killed HER instead. At one point, she met up with
a dragon that she couldn't manage to kill, no matter
how hard she tried. This dragon was drawn to the
princess, although he didn't understand why."
"Turns out, this particular dragon wasn't really a
dragon at all. He told the princess that a black
haired witch had cast a spell that turned him into
one, and that actually, he was a knight in...well,
not exactly shining armor...and that he was quite
handsome as well."
Giles rolled his eyes. "This is supposed to be you,
I presume."
Spike shrugged his shoulders and smirked. "Now
that you mention it..."
"I wish I hadn't."
"Anyway," Spike went on. "The dragon required a
princess to break the spell he'd been cursed with.
All he needed, you see, was..."
"If you say 'love's first kiss' I shall strike you." Giles
warned.
"Oh, all right," Spike said agreeably."Long story
short...
"Short?!"
...the spell was broken. After that happened, the
princess and the knight..."
"Oh, DO let me guess," Giles cut in sarcastic-
ally. "They go on their way, merrily slaying dra-
gons together, and live happily ever after. Who
would have guessed?" He ignored Spike's thun-
derous frown. "I'm quite sincere, you know. Never
saw it coming."
Spike stared at the watcher in silence for
a few moments, slowly shaking his head. "No,
that's not right."
"Really?" Giles asked. "Fancy that! I thought
all fairy tales ended that way."
Spike's voice dropped into a lower, more threat-
ening tone. "That's the way the story SHOULD
have ended, Rupert. Shall I tell you what really
happened?"
Giles leaned back against the sofa. "I suppose you
will whether I want you to or not."
Resisting the urge to punch the man in the face,
Spike went to the window and pulled back the
curtains. Sunrise wasn't far away.
Without turning around, he said, "The knight loved
the princess more than he'd ever loved anyone
before. He protected her as well as he could,
but he was unable to protect her from...herself."
"The princess, because it was her 'Sacred Duty'
continued to hunt and slay dragons. Night after
night, month after month, year after year. She
fought them and she always won...always."
"Until the night came, when she was so tired...so
worn out from slaying dragons and trying to
provide for her subjects...that she fell into an ex-
hausted sleep near a dragons's lair."
"And while she slept on the forest floor...a dragon
happened upon her without warning...and killed her."
Spike turned from the window and looked at
Giles. "Now...do you see?"
The reality of what Spike was telling him, the
truth behind the story, hit the watcher right
between the eyes.
"When..." He cleared his throat. "When did...did
this happen?"
"Few hours ago," Spike said. "I found her sitting on
a bench in a park that is sometimes crawling
with vampires...asleep. So deeply asleep that a
nuclear bomb could have exploded in front of her
without waking her up."
"Dear, God..."
"Don't you mean THANK God?" Spike asked
harshly. "As in 'thank God Spike found her
before some other vampire sank its fangs into
her?"
Giles' hands were shaking as he clasped them
together. "Yes. Yes, of course. Thank God in-
deed...and thank you as well."
"I don't want you to thank me," Spike snapped,
opening the front door. "I want you to do some-
thing about this, and I want it done soon...before
it's too late."
He was out the door when the watcher's voice
called him back.
"Until this is settled...you'll take care of her?"
Spike scowled, angry that he'd even asked such
a foolish question. As if he'd trust anyone else to
take care of her. "Don't you worry about that," he
said. "Until this is settled, I'm not letting her out
of my sight."
Giles stood up, a little more composed. "I just
need to be sure that she's...."
Spike held up one hand. "I'll take care of Buffy.
That's MY job, now...not yours. You just
concentrate your energy on the idiot brigade and
leave the slayer to me."
He turned to leave, pausing in the doorway.
"You make them do right by her, Watcher," he
said softly. "Because if you don't," he added
through clenched teeth, "I swear to GOD that
I'll take her so far away from this place that
you'll NEVER find her."
Giles stared at the floor. "Threats won't help matters,
Spike."
Highly amused, Spike shook his head. "Oh,
Rupert," he said, "You really don't know me
at all, do you?" Stepping out into the cold, pre-
dawn air, he actually smiled a little. "That wasn't
a threat. THAT...was a promise."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Literally moments ahead of the sunrise, Spike
climbed the stairs to Buffy's room. He closed
the door quietly, happy to see that she was
still deeply asleep.
After making sure the heavy curtains on the
window were drawn tight, he undressed and
climbed into bed next to her.
Even though he was certain that Hannibal and
his elephants could march through the room
without disturbing her, he moved carefully,
not wanting to jostle her awake.
Laying beside her, propped on one arm, he
studied her sleeping countenance, content
just to look at her.
Her slumber seemed peaceful, her features
relaxed and wiped clean of the worry that was
so much a part of her appearance lately.
Gone was the tension, the grinding anxiety
that plagued her waking hours, leaving behind
the visage of a pretty child who led a carefree
life, and had nothing but whimsical dreams.
He made a silent promise to keep her that way.
Lowering himself to the mattress, he placed
one arm around her protectively, guarding the
precious sleep that allowed her to escape..even
if only temporarily..from a world that had already
hounded her into her grave once.
"You sleep sweet, baby," he whispered. "Sleep
as long as you want to. I'm here now, and I
won't let anything bad happen to you. Nothing
is ever gonna hurt my baby again."
Sensing him there, Buffy turned towards him and
snuggled closer.
"That's right," He tightened his embrace. "Just
rest and get better. I'll slay those dragons for
you...even the human ones."
He closed his eyes and joined her in healing
sleep.
TBC...
Feedback? Do it, baby!
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