“So what daring escapade is the Slayer up to tonight then?”
Buffy’s heart sank into a dark abyss she’d never known existed in her stomach. She slammed the door of the hall behind her in annoyance, not caring whose face it flew back into. Jonathan protested, but the annoying vampire who’d decided to wait outside for her had caught all her attention and nothing else at that moment mattered.
She did the only thing she could in the circumstances and pretended she hadn’t heard Spike lurking.
Except her evasive action didn’t work. As she left the street and snuck into the alley beside the hall, he followed her like an unwelcome shadow tagging at her heels. Unfortunately, when Spike wanted to be noticed, he was hard to miss.
He fell into step with her despite the absence of any encouragement. “What’s going on?” he asked again.
Buffy kept walking, determined not to look at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Something’s up.”
“No. It isn’t.”
He laughed. “Yeah right, that’s why you’ve got that look.”
Buffy stopped, suddenly feeling a little vulnerable. She didn’t want Spike analysing every little expression she made. “What look?”
He gave her a sly smile and shoved his hands into the pockets of his duster. “Your cute little Nancy Drew face. C’mon you’re on to something.”
Buffy wrinkled her nose in irritation. “So what if it is?”
Oh no, he was doing the puppy dog eyes again. “I could help…”
“No! No, times infinity.” He was persistent; but she wasn’t giving in. “Plus one.”
His frown was puzzled. “What?”
Happy with his confusion, she strode away. “Go away, Spike.”
“That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it? ‘Go away, Spike’.” He shouted after her, “You can’t ignore me forever, you know! You need me.”
She stopped again, whirling around on the heel of her pretty new boots, all the more special as she’d got them on sale. “How could I possibly ignore you? You’re always here! Always in the way!”
“I’m not in the way, and you know it.”
Exasperated, she threw up her hands in an open shrug. “Spike. Today I had a deranged robot girl on the loose. I have a hell god that will stop at nothing to get what she wants. My mom goes out on more dates than me. I do not need some pathetically lovesick vampire following my every move!”
“Hey! I helped you protect your mum and sister. I…”
“Are you trying to score points?” she said, aghast.
Spike sighed with frustration. “I’m trying to get you to notice me!”
“It’s working. Not in a good way.” She started to walk away.
“You think Valkyrie lady is up to no good,” he called to her retreating back, his smirk firmly back in its customary place.
Buffy didn’t reply, but she paused mid-step.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” he said as he joined her again.
“Shut up. I just want to know what’s going on,” her tone was sharp, but it was starting to form a softer centre as she began to relent.
The alley behind the hall was dark, grubby and unlit, ideal for Buffy’s purpose – and probably for Spike’s as well, but she didn’t want to think too much about that. A short search along the wall of the building revealed the fire escape doors on the far side of a large rusting dumpster. Buffy tried them to see if they would open, but as she suspected, they could only be opened from the inside. Force didn’t work either, and all her Slayer muscle managed to do was bend the tough steel under her fingers.
Spike watched with admiration. “Breaking and Entering? You are my kind of girl.”
Buffy chose to ignore that comment and tried to find another way inside. The only other entrance appeared to be a small window on the second floor. It was missing a pane and had been boarded over with a piece of cheap board. It was too high for her to jump up to, but she might just reach it if she had help; she might be super strong, but she was still short.
“Oh crap,” she sighed, realising she would have to ask Spike for his assistance.
Spike was grinning when she turned to him. He raised an eyebrow in question. “Don’t need me, Slayer?”
“I never need you,” she snapped, but the protest in her voice was gone.
“Right. I’ll be going then…”
“Spike!” she warned. She positioned herself under the window, ready. “Don’t look up my skirt.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he breathed in her ear as he moved in behind her.
Any other situation, she told herself, that involved Spike holding her hips and moving in this close behind her would be downright icky, and she wondered if it was really necessary for him to get so close that her ass was brushing his zipper. That bulge she could feel had better be a packet of cigarettes or something else in his pocket, and not any parts of him she wished he would keep to himself; but as he lifted her so that she could just reach the window ledge, she really appreciated the solid strength of his arms and the firm grip of his large hands around her slim waist.
She reached out and caught the ledge with her fingertips. It was filthy, with a layer of grimy grit from years of neglect and she regretted the sacrifice her pretty pink nail polish. Spike steadied her and she was able to haul herself up enough to push the board out from the window frame. As she did so, she felt a large cool hand stroke the curve of her bottom. It might have been her imagination, but the squeeze that followed it sure as hell wasn’t. She gripped the ledge and pulled herself through the window in an undignified slither, content that her cute kicky heel had managed to firmly wallop his smug jaw on its journey upwards.
The room she fell into looked like a storeroom for the various events held at the hall. Tables were pushed against the far wall, one on top of another, next to an ambitiously stacked rack of chairs. They were listing ominously to one side, like the Lusitania in its final moments after the torpedo, and looked about to topple any minute. The rest of the room was filled with boxes, sports gear and other junk, she had to clamber over them to the door. Fortunately, it had been left ajar and she slipped out just in time to duck into hiding as a group of volunteers arrived to pack away the equipment from the dating evening. After they’d passed, too busy struggling with the bulky furniture to notice Buffy tucked into a dark alcove, she nipped, unobserved, down the stairs to the fire escape.
Spike was leaning against the alley wall, smoking thoughtfully. The smoke billowed round him, diffusing the light from the streetlamps and creating a hazy sense of noirish mystery, or was it just a stink? He seemed to be resigned to abandonment anyway, and looked surprised to see Buffy open the back door to let him in.
“Change your mind?” he asked.
“Don’t. Just get in here,” she reached out and yanked him inside. “You’ve been here before. Where’s trouble likely to be?”
“Easy, Slayer,” he said, keeping his balance and his dignity but only just. He pitched the butt of his cigarette out into the alley. The embers skittered across the asphalt; short-lived mayfly sparks in the dark. “Trouble’s always in the basement, I reckon.”
“Show me.”
Spike skipped the stairs and led her all the way to the kitchens instead. They weren’t empty though, a couple of volunteers were chatting about shoes as they washed up plates from the buffet, but their distraction meant they were easily avoided. Stealthily creeping past using cupboards as cover, Buffy and Spike reached the back of the food preparation area and he gestured to a small door that apparently led down to the depths of the building.
Wondering just what had he been doing here to know the place so well, Buffy had to pressed her ear to the door and tried to listen. “Nothing. Guess you’re wrong.”
He leaned over and tried listening himself. Buffy found her face too close to a rather tight black T-Shirt. She was just appreciating the really nice musky cologne he was wearing when he spoke again. “There’s voices.”
She jumped back, mildly embarrassed for letting herself appreciate any part of him. “I… I can’t hear anything.”
He tapped a finger against his ear. “Enhanced hearing, pet. All the better to hear you with.”
She flashed him annoyed pout and pulled the door open to reveal a set of short wooden steps, which wound down a couple of flights to the basement floor. It wasn’t a large basement, but big enough to accommodate the eight women that dominated it.
“Ahem,” said Miss Morris.
Caught.
Miss Morris stood there, massively impressive in her Viking armour and scarlet coverlet. The burnished gold of the metal shone brightly in the light from the hundreds of candles, jagged shadows cutting across it through the glow. Behind her, stood seven other women, all as statuesque as Miss Morris and bristling with spears and shields, ready for war. They watched patiently as they waited for Buffy to reply.
“Valkyries, I told you so,” Spike whispered aside to Buffy.
Buffy’s attention was on the fearsome looking women though. She tried to look small and harmless. “Oops.”
“Can we help you?” Miss Morris asked.
“No… It’s okay,” Buffy spluttered, nervously wringing her hands. “I… We were just looking for the exit. You know how it is, we took a wrong turn and here we are!”
Miss Morris frowned. Obviously, she wasn’t going to buy that lame excuse. “I think we need to talk, Slayer.”
The game was up and Buffy led Spike down the steps. “Who are you? I take it this isn’t Weight Watchers? ”
“No. Let me introduce us. These are my sisters,” Miss Morris stepped forward. She gestured to each of the women in turn. “Hlökk, Göll, Skuld, Skogul, Sigrun, Gunnr and Randgrior. I am Rota. We are the Valkyrja, Choosers of the Slain.”
“Catchy,” Buffy quipped. “But I’m bad with names.”
“You may call me Rita if you wish,” said Miss Morris.
“I think I can handle that,” Buffy replied.
“Dunno if I want to be chosen,” Spike mumbled.
“We select the only the bravest warriors for the hall of Valhalla,” said Hlökk.
He looked suitably chastened and vaguely insulted. “Right.”
Randgrior stared at him. “You are already dead. The choice has been made.”
Buffy noted Spike’s growing irritation and decided to step in. “Okaaay… What do you want here?”
“We have other business,” said Rita.
“One of our number has gone missing. She has taken the Raven Banner with her,” Skogul snapped bitterly.
“The Raven what?” Spike asked, still miffed.
Buffy jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. “Shush.”
“The Raven Banner is our battle standard,” Sigrun said in a tone that implied that they should already know. “In times of war, the raven emblem will appear upon it to warn of the conflict to come.”
“What does this banner look like?” Buffy asked.
“It is a long trail of the finest silk,” said Skuld. “It was woven by Freya herself.”
“Can’t say that I’ve seen it,” Buffy turned to Spike. “You?”
“Nah. Any demon nicked it, I’d know.”
“As a love token,” Hlökk told her. “She seeks a man to marry and will offer it as a gift.”
Buffy nodded. “Uh huh. So why the Dating Night?”
“As Brunhilde is looking for a husband, we need to look in places such a man could be found. Hlökk and Gunnr are checking the Personal Advertisements,” Rita told them. “Randgrior, Skuld and Skogul are checking the singles bars. Göll and Sigrun are trying video dating. We hoped to find our sister through these ways, but we are far from Asgard and we seek assistance.”
“I get the hint,” Buffy said. She might have known this would end up as her job. “What happens if we don’t help?”
“The wrath of Odin will be absolute,” Skogul pronounced. “Ragnanok will come upon us.”
“Ragnarok?” Buffy thought for the moment. “Isn’t that something with muppets?”
Spike chuckled. “That’s Fraggle Rock, pet. I think these ladies mean something more serious than angry Doozers. Am I right?”
The candles flickered and went out. The Valkyries, seemingly lit with their own powerful illumination, grew taller and even more imposing. Each one spoke in turn:
“Without the banner, the battle to end all battles will not be foreseen.”
“The world will come to it’s ending. The leaves of Yggdrasil will wither and die.”
“The fell wolf Skoll will swallow the sun whole and there will be darkness for all time.”
“The cock Fjalar will crow and awaken the dead from their slumber.”
“Winter will follow winter and the earth will freeze.””
“Fenrir, the great wolf, will break the bonds that bind him to the shaking earth.”
“The great serpent of the sea will spit its poison forth over the land and there shall be ruin.”
“Each world shall burn and sink to the bottom of the sea.”
Spike blinked. “So not much, then?”
Buffy rolled her eyes as the candles re-ignited and the Valkyries returned to their own personal normal. “Another apocalypse? Hey, I thought we were all already having one?”
“Great. Apocalypses like buses” Spike snorted. “Someone really does want the world to end. To think I thought it wasn’t worth all the bother.”
“If we help…” Buffy started.
“Speak for yourself,” Spike muttered but the murderous look Buffy gave him stopped his mutiny almost before it began. “Right. Ragnarok: not good. No reason to be freezing my danglies off.”
“I so don’t want that image in my head,” Buffy looked suitably disgusted. She looked at Rita again; she at least, appeared to be safe ground. “If we help, we could try a location spell. My friend Willow is wicked with the old mojo.”
“She has shielded herself and the banner from our view,” said Goll. “Magic will not aid us.”
“Then it will have to be the good, old fashioned detective work,” Buffy sighed.
“You will help?” Rita seemed pleased at least.
Buffy shrugged. “Okay. It’s not like it hasn’t been a slow week...”
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