Spike was on his way from the Summers’ house back to his crypt when a loud, slurping sound had him glancing to his left. A pair of amber eyes met his just as the other vampire let the body in his arms slump to the ground. Disregarding the other vamp, Spike was about to continue on his way.
“Um… hi.”
Halting for a brief moment Spike threw another look over his shoulder, but could still only see two glowing eyes. He had just decided to stand by his decision to ignore the other, when the fledgling – he would’ve felt it if the demon was a strong one – stepped out into the streetlight.
“How’ve you been?” the vamp asked, scuffing his foot against the asphalt, gaze darting from Spike to somewhere beside him and back again.
Spike took a step forward, trying to get a clearer picture of the other vampire. Something was vaguely familiar about those nervous movements.
“Guess you’ve been just fine, huh? I’ll just be on my way to…” the fledgling said, starting to back down the street.
“Hang on a second there, mate. Do I know you?”
Confusion fell over the younger one’s face before it suddenly lit up and his features melted into human. “Silly me. Last time we met I wasn’t wearing my fangs,” he said.
Spike studied the vampire in front of him, tilting his head to the side. Something was achingly familiar about him but he couldn’t quite put his finger on…
“We met at Willy’s? Talking about the Slayer?” The fledgling’s last word was but a whisper.
“Right.” Spike tapped his fingers against his thigh. “Sorry, mate, but I can’t recall your…”
“Randall.”
The young vampire fidgeted uneasily and Spike was reminded of the night when he’d last been to Willy’s; the fledgling who had been seated next to him and flinched at his every word.
“Oh, I remember you now,” Spike said, patting his pockets in search for his pack of smokes.
“That’s…” Randall swallowed audibly, “good.”
Silence fell as Spike stuck a cigarette between his lips and watched amused as the younger vamp shuffled his feet.
“So…” the fledgling said, “Did you and the Slayer make up?”
Spike’s nostrils flared and Randall continued hastily, “Not that you’re together or anything! I mean it’d only be for some purely evil purpose you must’ve planned to even think of being with the Slayer, which you must’ve planned since you’re spending time with her.” Though it was hard to mistake the nervous trembling in his voice, Randall went through his whole little speech without rushing at all. It was fortunate he didn’t need to breathe, Spike mused.
Spike took a deep drag of his cigarette, rolling it between his fingers as he blew out the smoke. “Not sure I’m following you… Randy,” he said coldly.
“Well, I just figured you must’ve joined forces with her for some evil p-purpose.” He smiled nervously.
Angelus’ dust spreading on the wind. Spike’s smile turned into a smirk. Although he was not sure if that was what you’d call an ‘evil purpose’. He frowned a little. Most would probably say it was a good purpose. Actually, one could almost see it as if he was helping the Slayer out.
“Yeah. Whatever.” Spike said absently.
Silence followed, a silence in which the fledgling squirmed uncomfortably as Spike carried on smoking. He shook his head, chasing the thoughts of the Slayer away and focused on the vampire across from him. He found it honestly surprising that Randall had managed to survive as long as he had. Minions were in general pretty stupid; unlike Childes they like lost a more vital part of their personality. There must be something that had stopped this one from falling onto a stake already; perhaps there was more to him than could be seen – or heard. Spike’s eyes were drawn to what could be a spot of blood on the other vamp’s lime green striped shirt. Or perhaps not. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be of use.
“So,” Spike said conversationally, “you hang out at Willy’s a lot?”
“Couple of nights a week.” A small shrug.
“I see…” He dropped the cigarette to the ground, watching it rush through the air and land on the ground, before he met Randall’s twitchy gaze. “You haven’t heard anything of what Angelus is up to, have you?”
“A little.” The fledgling buried as much of his hands as he could in his jeans’ pockets. “For a while there was this rumour that he was planning to destroy the world… I heard something about a guy, ‘Acathla’ or something, who was supposed to help.”
“Acathla? Are you sure?” Uh-uh. If Angelus had decided to raise Acathla they would have much less time than Spike had originally thought.
“Yeah, but that was just a rumour though, and I just heard it once. From a Lognare.”
They grinned at each other, Spike in relief; never believe what a Lognare demon tells you, their mouths are the largest part of their body, almost literally speaking.
“There was this other thing I heard Drusilla saying myself, not that I get much of what she says.” He giggled. “Something about her not allowing the end to close in so soon, but that was a while ago. Just after I’d been turned.”
“The end to close in?”
“Yeah, I remember it because a vamp told me this demon had arrived to Sunnydale who could do great mind-control and I’m not speaking of a thrall! Can you imagine…”
But Spike wasn’t listening anymore. The end closing in. He’d learned early not to dismiss Dru’s ramblings, however little sense they made. Something else poked at his mind and he turned to the younger vampire again, who was still speaking.
“…happened to me but I –“
“How did you hear Dru saying that?” He broke the younger one off. “I can’t really imagine her stopping to chat to you, did you overhear it?”
“She was the one to turn me,” Randall said. “Angelus brought me to her and she took a liking to me… until I rose… then I think she forgot all about me. Didn’t even notice when I went out to hunt or when I came back.” The last sentence he mumbled. “Angelus would have staked me if he hadn’t been too busy laughing after I showed Drusilla my stamp collection…” His lower lip trembled for a second. “I would’ve given her a real nice one if she’d just…” He broke off with a small sniffle.
“Stamps?” He couldn’t help chuckle. The fledgling’s lips pressed tightly together and he glared at Spike.
“Sorry, mate,” he said, not overly sincerely, “Somehow I just can’t imagine Dru in awe of stamps. Doubt she’s even grasped the meaning of them.”
Now Randall actually scowled at him, swinging around to walk away. Spike grabbed his shoulder before he could take a step though and the fledgling froze under his hand.
“Come on, Randy,” he said, laughing between the words, “she can be a little hard to impress, Dru, your safest card is to go for something sparkling. Or with a heartbeat.”
“Fuck off,” Randall said, sulking.
“Sorry,” he said at last, without a hint of apology, giving a last chuckle. “Let’s go back to those rumours, shall we?”
“I don’t know anything else,” the fledgling muttered, trying to pull away.
Spike’s grip tightened a little. “You sure about that?” he asked, then lowering his voice; “‘Cause I’d hate to have to hurt you.”
“I promise!”
Turning the younger one around, Spike looked him straight in the eye for a moment. Then, with a pat on the cheek and another small chuckle, he let him go.
“Right then. See you around, Randy.”
And lit another cig as he walked away.
She really, really had to study. She had a math test tomorrow, which she’d never pass if she didn’t get going. Though she doubted she’d pass it anyhow. Absently, Buffy drew a small heart in the margin beside the ugly rose she’d finished seconds ago. Then she sighed; waiting sucked big time.
Checking the clock yet again she saw that the minute hand hadn’t moved at all. Alex had promised to help her out when they’d met this morning, but there were still three minutes left until she was due to show up. The other girl had already passed the test, and even though she was far from Willow-level, she was still smarter than Buffy. Probably because she studied way more. Despite that most teachers had gone easy on her since she came back to school Buffy was still behind in many subjects.
Right. No worrying. She didn’t really have time for it anyway. With another sigh she finished her fourth flower doodle and attempted to concentrate on the equations.
“Hi Buffy. How’s it going?”
Buffy looked up just as a grinning Alex sat down across from her, dropping a bunch of books onto the table.
“Not so great,” she said with a grimace.
The brunette reached over the table and flipped Buffy’s math book shut. Glancing down at it, Buffy furrowed her brows.
“And now, strangely, it’s even worse,” she said.
“Tell me how it’s going with that friend of yours,” Alex said. “Did you speak to him?”
Buffy blinked before dropping her gaze to the worn cover of her math book.
“Um… yeah, I did actually,” she said. “We talked and he promised not to… I think we’re gonna be okay.”
Alex watched her for a moment, her expression unreadable, before a slow smile blossomed over her face. Blossom was the perfect word for it; the expression seemed so completely genuine and happy. Buffy felt an answering smile tug at her own lips.
“That’s great,” the other girl said.
“Yeah.” Buffy glanced down anew, she didn’t really want to discuss what had happened last night and hoped Alex wouldn’t ask any questions. Her gaze slid to the pile of books on the other side of the table. “Are you actually planning to read all those?”
“You mean, all three?” The smile turned into a teasing grin.
Buffy ignored it and reached for the book on the top. The title, Playing For the Ashes, was written in big purple letters along the bottom of the cover.
“My sister gave it to me last year,” Alex said with a small shrug. “I don’t really like detective stories so I haven’t read it, figured I would now.”
“Let’s hope it’s good then,” Buffy said, reaching for the next book in the pile. This one was much worn, as if it had been read thousand times. Gently, she ran a hand along its spine.
“Have you read Blake?”
“A little, in class. I don’t really do poetry.”
Buffy received a pitying look that clearly said she didn’t know what she was missing. Then something sparkled in her eyes, something Buffy wasn’t sure she liked.
“I bet I could change your mind,” Alex said, holding her hand out for the book and Buffy handed it to her. “How about I read you something? Then you can tell me you don’t like it.” She started leafing through the pages. “I suppose you’ve read The Tyger and A Poison Tree…”
She stopped abruptly, staring at the open book. Slowly, she lifted a hand to gently caress the page. Buffy couldn’t help but lean forward a little, watching the girl across from her.
“Maybe I should read The Tyger for you…” Alex said, though it sounded as if she was speaking mostly to herself, especially as she gave a small, bitter laugh. “’Did He who made the lamb make thee?’” She paused, deep in thought, the silence lengthening until she shook her head and looked at Buffy with a small smile. “Sorry, minor zone out.”
Buffy smiled a little; after all, she herself was the queen of zoning, or at least she had been until just lately. “Will you read me something?” she asked, finding herself actually wanting it.
There was a brief silence. Slowly Alex’s gaze slid from the open book to Buffy before she shut it and passed it over.
“Borrow it. You can read all of it on your own.”
“Alex, I’m not sure…” She really didn’t like poetry, or reading at all actually, but she didn’t want to hurt the girl’s feelings.
“Just give it a chance and if you don’t like it…” Alex shrugged. “No hard feelings if you try it and then give it back.”
“Right. I’ll give it a try” One page max. Buffy patted the book. “I shall treat it with the greatest care.”
“I damn well hope so,“ Alex said. “Now, lets kick some math.”
“When do you think you’ll be home tonight?”
Joyce’s tone was light, although it couldn’t completely conceal her worry. Buffy pressed a quick kiss to her mother’s cheek as she tucked a stake into the waistband of her jeans.
“Sometime after midnight,” she said. “I’ll try to cut it short tonight, I have a test tomorrow.”
“Have you studied?”
“It’s in math, Mom.” Buffy grimaced. “I had some help from a friend today but I’ll probably still flunk.”
“I’m sure you’ll do just fine,” Mom said reassuringly.
“And maybe pigs will start to fly.” Glancing out through the window she saw Spike standing by the mailbox. “I gotta go. Don’t wait up.”
“Bye, honey.” A moment of hesitation. “Have fun!”
Buffy stifled a giggle. “Thanks, Mom.”
Spike’s eyes were on her the second she slipped through the door; must be those pesky super-senses of his.
“Hello, love,” he said as she reached him.
Yesterday he hadn’t looked that good; somewhat gaunt in his black attire and with worry lines around his eyes. That gaunt look hadn’t disappeared but there was a new-found sparkle in his eyes.
“Hi.”
They watched each other for a moment. Should she just pretend that nothing had happened? Should they discuss the actual happenings some more?
“So, you and your mum have worked things out?” Spike asked, glancing at the back door. “I heard you two talking.”
Her eyes flew to his. “You were eavesdropping?”
“I can’t just stop hearing, you know,” he said, and she was reminded of how she only a minute ago had thought of his grand senses. “Anyway, that wasn’t a conversation full of secrets now, was it?”
“Guess not.”
He started walking and she fell in step beside him.
“So, how are you and your mum doing?” he asked and she actually thought he was sincere in his question.
“Really good. Great even,” she said. “She’s still acting… Mom-like, worrying and such, but she really tries to be understanding.”
He smiled. “Happy to hear that.”
“Thanks.”
It took them about two hours to sweep the cemeteries. Spike let her do most of the fighting, only joining in when they met a group of three vampires and to break the neck of a bulky, blue demon that spat poison toxic to humans but not to vampires. “Seen it happening, I have. Parts of the man’s skin just melted,” was Spike’s words after he’d finished it off. She found herself very happy that he’d jumped in.
When they were slowly walking back towards Revello Drive she knew she’d have to bring up yesterday’s discussion, if one could even call it that. They had been walking in silence for most of the patrol, only occasionally commenting on the demons they were fighting. She sneaked a glance at him out of the corner of one eye. He walked with his hands buried in his pockets, steps long and sure. A month ago she’d never have noticed the tension in his shoulders.
“Spike?”
The tension became even more visible.
“Yeah?”
Slowing down, her brow furrowed for a moment, before she let out a short laugh. “God, I don’t know where to start,” she said.
He gave a half smile to that. “Know what you mean.”
About ten more steps were taken in silence.
“So, what are we gonna do?” she asked. “With the ‘thought reading’-thing, I mean.”
“Have you spoken to the Watcher?”
“A little, he’s researching it. At least I think he is.”
They could see her house now, a lamp in Mom’s bedroom was lit. She was probably staying up reading one of those vampire books of hers.
“Perhaps you should ask him, pet,” Spike said. “Discuss the situation with him. He’s your Watcher, after all.”
“Probably,” she sighed. “But then I’d have to tell him that we… eh… ‘made up’ as well.”
“He’ll be going on about ‘evil vampires’ and the ‘duties of the Chosen One’.” Spike smirked evilly. “You’re in for one hell of a lecture, Slayer.”
She shuddered. “I don’t even want to think about what he’s gonna say.” Her voice became a whisper; “He’ll be real disappointed in me.”
The smirk melted away and a hesitant hand touched her shoulder just as they reached the house.
“Sooner or later he’ll get over it. No worries.”
“Hopefully,” she muttered. “But I’ll talk with him. It’s not like I have a choice, is it?”
“Suppose not,” he said and then continued thoughtfully. “Guess I could pull some strings, beat up a few demons. See if anyone knows anything… Toddle off inside now, Slayer.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Count on it.”
TBC