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Part Three, Dancing with Demons



Buffy notices the light first and squints against its brilliance.



Fire fills metal barrels and garnishes torches in bright, yellow-orange, warm colors. Candles dot outdoor tables, dripping wax over wood.



Sound comes next. . . voices rising over the light to fill her ears with muffled chatter, occasionally increasing in volume with laughter or a roar. Bottle and glasses clatter against tables and against each other.



The whole block is dotted with cafes and bars and figures mingling with one another. The closest bar has a makeshift dance floor situated in the middle of the street, and dark bodies bob and flow in time with rhythmic Spanish guitars, being played by live musicians.



The only problem is that they aren’t humans drinking and dancing and carousing . . . they are demons. . . so many other types of demons that Buffy loses track of how many after a cursory scan of the crowd.



But most of them are vampires. . . dressed in sensual clothing painted deep scarlets, greens, purples, and black like scarves blowing in the wind.



A hand encircles her elbow, and she snaps out of her trance. Spike pulls her into the shadows and whispers in her ear. She listens intently, never removing her eyes from the jostling, loud throng of demons.



Before he can even finish explaining, she balks. “What? No way, Spike. I’m not doing that.”



He huffs in frustration, fingers digging into her upper arm. “Look, pet, do you want to die out here? Or do you want to complete this mission in one piece?”



“You’re not biting me,” she whispers. She shakes her arm, forcing him to loosen his grip. “We can get out of this without me pretending to be bound to you.”



“No, you can’t. There are too many of them, and I can’t hold them all off. Trust me. I know. It has to be this way.”



Buffy suddenly understands. “You planned coming here.”



“Buffy.” The use of her name captures her attention. “When I couldn’t find you. . . I was desperate. Got your scent and came across this place. I think that the person in charge here can help us. . . even if she isn’t aware of it. I need you to go along with this.” He caresses her shoulder and sweeps aside her blonde hair, uncovering the scar on her neck.



Her blood pounds in her throat at the thought of his teeth piercing her flesh. . . his lips on her neck. . . her blood streaming into his mouth with each heart beat. She shivers in desire and is surprised by the sadness that accompanies it. This isn’t how her countless daydreams of rekindling a relationship with Spike are supposed to play out.



“Do you trust me?” he asks, breathing cool air over her ear. . . echoing words from the distant past.



He is so genuine that tears fill her eyes. How many missions have they fought side by side? How many times has he proven that he is a good man? He sought and won a soul for her.



She can’t deny him now, and she doesn’t have time to dally. He’s giving her a chance to show how much different their relationship could be.



Impulsively, she nods her assent.



Her gesture is all the permission he needs.



She closes her eyes, listening to the familiar sound of the shift into his demon face. His hands move from her biceps along her arms. . . over the backs of her hands. His fingers slice hers apart, and his lips cover her scar in a gentle kiss. He grasps her hands as his teeth sink deep into her neck, and her knees almost collapse beneath her as he sucks, drawing forth her life force. She floats along in the heady rush of him drinking from her and unconsciously steps further into his embrace. . . her back fast against his abdomen and chest. . . her thighs against his thighs. His leather coat surrounds her, and she feels as if she might drown in his scent. The moment is over almost before it began, and she almost cries out at the loss of the connection. The unbidden tears slip onto her cheeks as his tongue runs over the tiny wounds in her neck, and his hands release hers.



She re-opens her eyes, vision blurry from tears and loss of blood.



The song shifts to a lively tune. The guitar-playing demons pluck out the delicate melody, and the crowd parts, voices eerily silenced. From within the pub, a dark figure slinks, hips and pale arms swaying seductively in tempo with the music. A male tries to lay a hand on her. . . to interrupt her dance, and she emits a tiny half-growl, half-bark and pushes him into the crowd. The sound of a vampire being dusted is barely audible beneath the soft staccato of the song. She never loses the beat and twirls in a hypnotic circle, pausing at the end.



A snow-white hand plucks a candle off the closest table and holds the flame up to illuminate a face.



Dark blue eyes glowing in the light of the flame, Drusilla smiles wickedly at Buffy.



“My little boy brings me a beautiful golden treat.”



Buffy’s mind reels at the sight of her old enemy. She can’t quite comprehend what is happening, and for several seconds, she wildly wonders if she’s dreaming and half-expects to wake up in her cold bed underground.



“I have, love,” Spike’s voice rumbles quietly. His hand goes to her belt and removes her slay gun and unsheathes her knife, tossing them out of her reach.



“The moon whispered that you would come and go and return again. You tasted her. Was she what you expected? Did she taste like sunlight?”



Dizzy at Dru’s words and Spike’s actions, Buffy turns her head to confirm what she’s just heard. Spike’s jaw is twitching, but his eyes are soft, his gaze directed at Dru as if she is the only female in the world.



In that instant, Buffy’s heart goes numb, and her mouth goes dry. All the months she spent working with Spike, she had been thinking that he was distant because of her. . . something she had done. Now she knows. . . he’d only been working with her as a way to get back to his beloved black beauty. . . his Drusilla.



The vampiress sidles up to him and proceeds to stalk around him, undressing his body with her eyes. “My Spike has been a very bad boy. . . like Daddy. He will have to prove himself further to remain in my presence.” She stops in front of him and holds the candle against his cheek to prove that he is solid. “At least, he isn’t ashes yet. It will give Mummy a chance to play.” She juts her chin up and regards him with wide-open eyes. “Do you remember how I like to play, my Spike? Or do you need reminding?”



He caresses her hand over the candle. “I remember quite well, my pet. You and I always did have fun.”



She’s almost petulant at his almost disinterested tone. “And we will have fun again, won’t we? Will you take me underground for feasting?” Her free hand goes to her stomach, and she sways back and forth to a beat only she can hear. “My tummy is all rumbly.”



Hooking a finger in his pants, Spike cocks an eyebrow at her and purses his lips. “You will be fed.”



Drusilla is delighted by the change and pats him on the forehead as if he is one of her dolls.



She turns once again to Buffy, taking a step toward her. “May I have a taste?”



Weak from loss of blood and still trying to make sense of the scene playing out before her, Buffy draws on her inner Slayer and manages a glare. “Lay a hand on me, and you’ll be dust before you can say, ‘I dropped my dolly in the dirt.’”



Drusilla lashes out with clawed fingernails, knocking Buffy to the ground.



“Dru!” Spike objects lunging forward to stand in front of Buffy.



“I just wanted to play,” the vampiress whines. She licks her fingers and swoons. “Ooooohh. I was right. She does taste like sunshine.”



Buffy brings her hand to her face and discovers that she has a blood-soaked hand. More blood loss. She knows she should stay awake. . .



“Not now, love.” Spike slips an arm around her waist, drawing her away from the fallen Slayer.



Dru’s arms find a home on his shoulders. “Even now, you won’t let me touch her.”



“You have to deal with me first. The Slayer is less important.”



Spike’s words are the last ones that Buffy hears. She doesn’t really know what just happened. She’s just cognizant of the hurting in her heart and isn’t sure she cares if she ever wakes up.





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