”Have you completely lost your mind?”
Buffy cringed and gripped the armrests of her chair tightly.
“Even though you’ve been the Slayer less than six months,” Giles continued, “I would expect you to have better judgement than this. Demons are not trustworthy…”
She didn’t listen as he continued to preach. Memories of other conversations they'd had over the last weeks played up in her head and she could easily foresee the outcome of this one. She saw herself nodding, shying away, only from the sound of Giles’ voice. I am supposed to be the Slayer.
Very slowly she rose from her seat. Giles frowned and halted in what seemed to be the middle of his speech.
“… Buffy?”
Abruptly she spun around to face him fully.
“Don’t you get it?!” she asked, “I need Spike to kill Angelus and Drusilla! Do you really think I can take them by myself? I can’t do it, Giles! Don’t you understand?! I can’t!”
They stared at each other; she panting briskly, he looking almost shocked. She drew in a deep breath.
“I’m not strong enough, Giles,” she said, “I can’t handle them on my own. Spike and I’ve made a deal; he… he won’t kill anyone while he’s in town.”
For another moment Giles was completely still, then, face showing nothing of how he felt, he said; “And how are we supposed to cut off the bond you have to this evil, blood drinking demon if not by killing him?”
“You’re the Watcher here! You’re supposed to have all the answers!!”
“Well, I bloody don’t!” Giles took a step forward, gesturing to the books on the table. “You don’t think I’ve tried to find another way? I know how dangerous Spike is, Buffy, and I also know you’re not ready to face him in a fight. But that doesn’t take away the fact that he is an evil vampire and you the Chosen One.”
A short, completely humourless laugh spilled over her lips.
“So… what?” she said, “If I take Spike out, then I’ll be ready for Angelus? You’re gonna send me out to get killed?!”
He flinched.
“You were, weren’t you?” she said, her throat closing. “You know I’m not what I was and still you were gonna…”
“Of course not,” he said, “I don’t mean to send you out right this second! We’re supposed to train and…” He broke off.
Slowly she took a step backwards. “I-I can’t take this right now,” she said, blinking to keep the tears from falling as she began to turn away. Giles quickly put a hand on her shoulder.
“We must talk this through, Buffy,” he said, “While you run off William the Bloody is out there killing innocent humans.”
She wrenched herself free.
“I told you, he promised me not to kill anyone!”
“And you believe him?” Giles asked. “You think you can trust an evil –“
“– soulless creature,” she finished, cutting him off. “At least he doesn’t expect me to be the me I was before Angelus. Maybe you wish Spike hadn’t got ten me out of there and you’d have a nice new trauma-free Slayer by now!”
Something she wasn’t able to identify flashed in Giles’ eyes – hurt perhaps, or anger. She couldn’t bring herself to care. She saw he was on his way to say something more and raised a hand.
“Don’t you think I know he can turn on me any minute?” she said, continuing before he had time to answer. “However, I do believe he’ll keep his word as long as we work together.” She spat the last word out before turning on her heel and rushing out of the library.
Spike wasn’t particularly fond of using the sewers. The strongest reason was the stench; no matter if he told himself not to breath, he would still find himself inhaling from time to time. It was a reflex; scenting the air. The other reason was the sunlight, which was why he used the sewers in the first place. Sunlight-hours were sleep-hours, not ‘walking about’-hours.
Today, when he’d woken up in the early afternoon, he’d had too much on his mind to go back to sleep, hence this little stroll. Of course, it had taken an hour of pacing and pondering before he got this idea and another thirty-seven minutes for him to take the decision that the stench was worth it.
Slowing down a little, as he got closer to the sewer entrance to Willy’s, he listened carefully. Lately there had been more and more demons that weren’t too friendly towards him. They saw him as a betrayer; hanging around the Slayer was always wrong no matter your intentions, even if he could’ve said what they were. If word came out he was planning on killing Angelus no one knew what other demons’ reaction would be. Spike might be supported just as easily as beaten to a pulp and he didn’t fancy having to look over his shoulder anymore than he already did.
The risk of being beaten up was also the reason he was being extra cautious now; lately there were more and more demons who didn’t think anything deeper than ‘The traitor vamp! Kill him!’ when they saw him. And some afternoons at Willy’s there were already demons showing up, or some who’d never left.
It didn’t sound like there were especially many inside the bar though. He took the last step to the worn door and warily pushed it open. Still he only heard Willy’s quick heartbeat and another, much slower. No screaming, snoring or crashing. Spike sauntered inside.
He had been almost right in his guessing. Willy was there, turning fallen chairs and a table upright. An almost human looking demon, except for the blue skin, was sitting by the bar and a vampire was lounging in a corner were the only customers. It looked like there had been some kind of fight here last night. There were a couple of broken chairs and spatters of blood on the floor. The sound of a crunch under his foot alerted Willy.
“Oh, hey, Spike,” he said, standing and drying his hands on a dirty cloth. He had dark circles under his eyes. “What can I do for you?”
Spike sauntered across the room and took a stool by the bar. The blue demon looked up for a moment then returned to its drink. Willy slung the cloth over his shoulder and walked behind the bar.
“JD?” he asked, already setting a glass in front of Spike.
He must be really worn out, Spike mused, watching the man move over to get the bottle and returning. No stammering and he barely flinched when Spike leaned closer to him as he poured the whisky.
“Long night?” Spike asked.
“Yeah,” Willy said. “Three Polgaras came in here last night, looking for a fight.”
“Violent bastards, Polgaras.”
Spike took a sip from the glass and put it down again, fingers drumming against the bar. Slowly he leaned back in his stool.
“I’m looking for this demon,” he said. “Or any demon of this species, actually.”
“What species?” Willy asked, starting to dry the counter with his cloth.
“Don’t know the name of it. Big, green skin, feels like it’s covered in crusted lumps, long arms. The one I met was limping, dunno if that goes for the whole kind though.”
“That sounds like a Mrox.” Willy threw a curious look at Spike. “They’ve some dangerous powers, why’d you want to get in touch with them?”
A flash of fangs and the man hastily shrank back.
“R-right! N-none of my business.” he said.
“Damn right,” Spike said. “So, are there any in town?”
“Actually, there is a pack living around here. I remember them being upset when one of them was killed…” He threw a glance at Spike who looked back while his fingers took up the tapping again. “C-close to the school, underground. I don’t know exactly where.”
Spike studied the man’s expression and decided he was telling the truth. Quickly he emptied his glass and stood. As he walked back to the sewer entrance he heard Willy say “Could you move over a little, m-miss? I-I need to swab of the blood here.” and was answered with a growl. It was a miracle the man had survived for so long.
Don’t you understand?!
You were gonna send me out there to get killed?!
He doesn’t expect me to be the me I was before Angelus.
Have you completely lost your mind?
Maybe she had.
In any case she’d behaved far from grown-up, but on the other hand Giles hadn’t been on his best either. She may have acted like a spoiled… Slayer, but at least she had stood up for herself. An hour of pondering, while trying to look like she was interested of whatever Mrs Jones was talking about, had convinced her of that much.
Slowly she pushed the library doors open. Next second Giles poked his head out from his office.
“Hey, Giles,” she said, managing a half smile.
“Buffy.”
He stepped out and went over to sit by the table and she joined him. They eyed each other for a moment before Giles cracked a real, almost pleased, smile.
“You’re not too angry with me then?” Buffy said.
“We had an argument, Buffy,” Giles said. “I was angry at the moment and still don’t agree with you, but I definitely could’ve handled the situation better. Honestly, I didn’t expect you to put up such a fight.”
She couldn’t keep herself from grinning at him.
“Better than sitting back and just taking it, right?” she said, then sobered. “I’m sorry too, Giles, I shouldn’t have said some of those… things. I didn’t mean… some of it.”
He met her gaze.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have. It was probably good it came out in the open though. I am proud that you didn’t back down. And Buffy...” He leaned forward to place a hand over hers. "I've never wished for another Slayer."
It wasn’t too hard to find the Mroxes’ lair. There were sewers directly underneath the school, what with the hellmouth being there and all. When Spike got so far, all he had to do was follow the smell of rotten meat.
As he got closer he started to hear what sounded like growling to his ears, but most certainly was the demons speaking to each other. He slowed down, trying to count them. It was difficult; they all sounded the same and either did they not have hearts, or were they so quiet that he couldn’t pick up their beats at this distance. He’d have to try and get a look before deciding how to handle this.
Only ten feet ahead there was a sharp turn to the right. On soundless feet, Spike inched closer and cautiously looked around it. A large room with stonewalls, there was no furniture in it except for a table in one corner with a pair of sturdy chairs. A carcass of some sort lay in a corner, human or animal, impossible to tell. On the walls were torches, a couple of them lit and they cast enough light for Spike to see the creatures. He counted to six of them, lying on the floor or ‘talking’ to each other. There could be more demons though; there was another tunnel across from him.
Spike leaned back so he couldn’t be spotted if a demon decided to look his way. This would’ve been so much simpler if there hadn’t been so many of them. Perhaps he should come back tonight and hope that most had gone out hunting. If he waltzed in there now and they were of the sort that killed first and asked later...
Just as he’d come to the conclusion that it’d be wiser to return later, a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. A hand with pointed fingers which looked very sharp. A growl from behind him and he swung around.
“Easy there, mate,” he said.
Another growl but this time he thought he could hear some variation in it, though it wasn’t close to any of the languages he could speak, not even to Fyral. The demon poked him in the chest and growled again.
“I don’t speak ‘Mroxish’ or whatever the hell you call it,” Spike said, taking a step to the right in an attempt to get around it. The demon very pointedly stepped in his way.
“Angelus?” the demon said with a strong accent. It poked him again. “You… Angelus?”
“No, no.” Spike shook his head. “I’m no friend of Angelus.”
“No?”
“No.”
The demon still looked suspicious and then, before Spike could react, it grabbed his arm and pushed into the lair. Every head in there turned towards him. The Mrox behind him took hold of both his wrists and Spike’s fear of having these needle fingers slicing through his back held him motionless – for the moment at least. It growled, said, something and another demon came over to them. The new one stepped into Spike’s personal space and stared down at him. Spike stared back. A series of growls rumbled from behind him.
“Why are you here?” This one had a heavy accent as well, but its vocabulary in English was hopefully greater.
“Want answers to some questions,” Spike said.
All demons turned towards a third demon, who was sitting leant against a wall, and an absolute silence followed. Must be talking telepathically, Spike thought. Finally the grip around his wrists eased and he was shoved up against a wall.
“Stay,” said the one who’d held him.
The demon by the wall, the pack leader probably, had risen and was walking over to them while English was hovering over Spike. The other demons were settling again, lying down or sitting, most of them seemingly ignoring them. Most likely they were listening with their minds instead of their ears.
“What kind of questions?” English asked as the pack leader reached them.
Spike studied the two of them for a second before answering. “I and a friend of mine ran into one of you lot some weeks ago,” he said slowly, “Got into a fight.”
“You! You killed –” A high pitched growl followed, which presumably was a name.
All the demons turned towards Spike again, a couple of them snarling angrily.
“No!” Spike said quickly, “I didn’t kill him, we got into a fight but no one was killed. Did find him dead some days later though.”
His words didn’t put an end to the snarls or the glares but then the pack leader inclined his head and everyone quieted abruptly.
“You know who did it?” English asked.
“No idea.”
Someone in the group muttered ‘Angelus’.
The Mrox who’d caught him stepped closer.
“You not… kill?” it asked. “William Bloody… friend of… Slayer.”
More snarls echoed in the lair and a couple of the demons stood anew. The pack leader’s yellow eyes fixed upon him.
“I didn’t kill him!” Spike said, raising both hands into the air, “And I’m no friend of the Slayer.”
“But you’ve been seen with her,” English insisted and the other demons had yet to quiet.
“I need her to take revenge on my Sire!”
The pack leader tilted his head anew and the snarls died out, though the demons who had risen didn’t sit down again. Spike sincerely hoped he wasn’t shaping up for a fight.
“What questions do you want answered?” English asked.
“When me and my friend got into a fight with your pack member we got some of his blood on us… or erm… I got blood on me and then I touched her. Anyhow, couple of days later we could speak to each other with our minds.”
English and the one who’d caught Spike glanced at each other. The pack leader’s eyes glowered and then narrowed.
“And you aren’t dead?” English asked.
Spike snorted and leant back against the wall. “Obviously not.”
“The memory sharing should’ve killed you… It must be the vampire construction that kept you alive. Tell us, this friend of yours isn’t by any chance the Slayer, is it?”
Spike looked away and then met the leader’s eyes. “I mean no harm to you. All I want to know is how I take this mind-sharing away.”
“Away?” English made a sound resembling a laugh and a couple of the other demons joined in.
Spike tensed up. He’d been sure that if someone had the answer it would be the demons that’d done it.
Suddenly the pack leader took a step forward, so close its eyes were less than an inch from Spike’s. It drew in a sharp breath, scenting him, before abruptly turning around and starting for the entrance across from the one Spike had been pulled through.
“Come, vampire,” it said, voice hoarse as if it hadn’t spoken in a long while, never stopping to check if Spike actually was coming with.
Spike glanced around, asking himself if he should follow or grab what may be his best chance to flee. A hard push in the small of his back made the decision for him. English glared at him.
“Disrespectful!” the demon hissed. “Follow!”
Right.
This sewer had earth walls as well but it was wider and seemed to have seen more traffic than the one Spike had come through. The Mrox lead the way with confident strides, not acknowledging Spike at all for a good ten minutes as they steadily made their way through the maze of tunnels.
“So, mate, where’re we heading?” he asked, trying for casual.
“Nowhere,” the demon answered and Spike bet he could hear amusement in that voice.
“I make no covenant without my clan’s assent, vampire,” it continued, “However, that doesn’t mean they’re allowed to listen to all… conversations.”
He couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that.
“As leader I have certain… advantages, you could say.” The demon slowed down a bit and let Spike fall in beside it. “You are favoured Childe of Angelus, yes?”
He snorted before he could help himself. “Angelus has no favoured Childes, mate. Only one he favours is himself.”
The demon threw him a curious glance. “I see,” it said. “So is that the reason you want to kill your Sire? Because you were not favoured?”
“What’s it to you?” Spike asked sharply.
The demon halted, golden eyes sparkling of amusement in the half dark as it tilted its head to the side. “One exchange of information for another, vampire,” it said with a small laugh. “After all, you do want to know how to stop your sharing of thoughts with the Slayer, don’t you?”
“So there is a way?”
The demon merely turned and started walking again. Of course, Spike thought, and after a deep sigh took a couple of long steps to catch up. He pressed his lips tightly together for a moment.
“Angelus has another Childe, Drusilla. You heard of her?” he asked.
“I have,” the demon said. “Insane, isn’t she?”
“More or less. Anyhow, spent most of my first century with the two of them, and Darla, of course, but she was dusted sometime in the fifties by the then Slayer.” He straightened his shoulders. “To cut a long story short; after I’d spent almost a hundred years with them Angelus left me to die.”
Spike really didn’t like the way the demon’s eyes sparkled as they were fixed on him.
“That was… a very short story, indeed,” it said, “Tell me about the time before that.”
Spike stopped, swinging around to stare the demon down. “I don’t get why you’re so damn nosy, mate!” he growled, “Why do you want to know any of this?”
And that sodding amusement was back in its eyes.
“Maybe I simply want to know if we can trust you,” it said, “how strong your intention to kill Angelus really is.”
“Why would you need to trust me?” Spike asked, taking a step forward so he was in the demon’s face. It simply leant closer.
“I have heard things, William,” it whispered, “There are a few rumours passing from demon to demon, or speculations you could say, about why William the Bloody is suddenly back at the hellmouth.”
“Now I need a reason? Lots of demons are drawn to this place.”
“Yes, but few have seen you and your Sire in the same city the last decade, therefore one can’t help but wonder.” Spike was about to remark on the demon’s prying again but it continued on before he could open his mouth. “You want to hear my speculations on why you want to take revenge on Angelus?”
“Not particularly, no,” Spike muttered.
It ignored his words. “I can smell the humanity on you, the purity mixed with the evil.” It gave a hiss before sighing. “But so I can on one of my own. Too much of that makes you vulnerable, vampire. I believe you wanted to belong to Angelus’ clan but he didn’t welcome you.”
Spike refused to look away as the demon continued.
“You wanted Angelus’ other Childe, this Drusilla, to be your mate, right? She refused you because of her Sire. You wanted Angelus’ respect, presumably even his love” it spat the word out, “and he kept laughing in your face. A poor leader, he is, you should deem your members first by their strengths, then their weaknesses.”
Reminding himself that he needed the demon’s help kept Spike from snarling at it. “Right,” he said in a low, tight, voice, “Now I have heard your bloody speculations, can we talk about how to fix this mind-rubbish now?”
“Soon enough,” it said.
Spike growled again but the demon ignored him.
“I respect you for what you’ve accomplished, killing those Slayers, and you wanting to kill your Sire is certainly… intriguing. I may have an agreement to offer you,” it said. “First though… tell me more about your Sire.”
His thoughts were spinning by the time he arrived at the Summers’ and he found himself pacing in the backyard when he sensed Buffy wasn’t home. Not his brightest move as he could, apparently, be seen through the window. After less than five minutes he heard a door open.
“Spike?”
Joyce. Hell.
“If you’re waiting for Buffy I’m afraid she won’t be home for another half an hour,” the woman said, stepping out on the back porch, “She called me to say she’d be training with Mr Giles this afternoon.”
Spike cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to another. “Would you mind much if I… waited for her? I really need to speak with your daughter. There’s no need for me to come inside, of course, I’ll just –“
“Don’t be silly, Spike,” she said, waving him inside, “I’d like to have a word with you, anyway.”
Closing his eyes for a second Spike forced a smile and went through the open door. He excepted a barrier and when there was none he found a real grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. The Slayer hadn’t uninvited him.
“So, you’re meeting up with Buffy tonight?” Joyce asked as he sat on a stool and she was rummaging through her cupboards, her back to him.
“Er… yeah, we’re supposed to patrol,” he answered.
“I see.” She threw a glance at him over her shoulder as she placed something on the counter. “Would you like some hot chocolate? I remember how much you enjoyed it last time. I’m not sure what vampires want… blood, I suppose, but –“
The low chuckle that escaped him broke her off. “Chocolate is fine, Joyce,” he said.
She smiled at him. “Good,” she said, walking over to the refrigerator to get some milk. “I can’t say I’m very happy about you pacing in our backyard though.”
If he could blush he would have.
“Next time I think you should come in,” she continued. “It’s really not polite of Buffy to expect you to wait outside.
Spike stared at Joyce’s back. This lady was really one of a kind.
“You did well today, Buffy,” Giles said, then cleared his throat, “I suppose you will be patrolling tonight?”
“With Spike,” she said, unbuckling her belt. “I’ll be patrolling with Spike.”
“Right.” Giles pursed his lips. “I don’t believe that discussion is completely over.”
She couldn’t help but giggle a little at that. “Didn’t think it would be,” she said, opening the door.
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, I suppose,” he said.
“Yeah. Bye, Giles.”
Buffy got out of the car and watched him drive off before walking to the front door. She and Giles had spent the afternoon training with crossbows. He hadn’t really been able to refine her technique much; handling all sorts of weapons came with the Slayer-package, as far as she’d noticed. Still, it had been fun having some ‘Slayer Watcher’-time that didn’t consist of lectures about Spike or him for once.
Smiling to herself Buffy opened the door and slipped inside.
“I’m home!” she called, just as she started to feel that familiar tingle at the back of her neck. She almost froze, but then she recognized the signature of the vampire. Slowly she made her way to the kitchen, only to halt in the doorway. She blinked, looked, and blinked anew. Spike and Mom were sitting by the counter… talking?
“Hello, Buffy,” Mom said, smiling.
Spike smirked at her and took a sip from his mug.
“Um… hi,” she said, glancing from her mom to Spike and back again.
“Oh, Spike came to meet you and I invited him in,” Mom said, “I figured there’s no need for him to wait outside in the cold.”
“Right.” Buffy felt no need to point out that since Spike wasn’t alive, the cold didn’t bother him. At least she didn’t think it did.
Spike stood. “Now I think it’s time for me to leave though,” he said, “You up for patrol, Slayer?”
“Yeah, definitely.”
She must be imagining the slight disappointment on her mother’s face, right? She sure couldn’t be disappointed that Spike was leaving? Joyce’s gaze travelled over Buffy’s form thoughtfully. “Don’t you want something before you leave, honey?” she asked, “I don’t think you’re eating enough.”
Now Mom wanted to find a way to make Spike stay longer in the house. Buffy shook her head violently as she walked over to the vampire.
“I had something earlier,” she said.
Grabbing Spike’s wrist she pulled him over to the door and Joyce’s gaze immediately went to the grip. Mom’s eyebrows rose and Buffy felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. Hastily she let go and noticed that Spike was shaking with repressed laughter. As discreetly as possible, which wasn’t very discreetly at all, she stepped on his foot. Hard. His shaking became a sharp intake of breath.
“All right, Buffy,” Joyce said, watching the two of them, “I’ll see you in a couple of hours then.”
“Yes. Bye.” She hurried out of the door, pulling Spike along with her.
“Bye, Joyce, and thanks for the chocolate,” Spike said.
“Bye, Spike, it was nice meeting you again.”
As soon as the door closed Spike burst out laughing. Buffy scowled, not letting go of his wrist until she’d dragged him out with her to the street.
“What’s so damn funny?” she asked, glowering at him.
“The look on your face…” Spike shook his head, another chuckle slipping past his lips. “You do realize that your mum isn’t interested in me one bit, right?”
Logic told her so but… “She looked at you funnily,” Buffy muttered, “I didn’t like it.”
“Looked at me oddly how?” Spike said, amused, “She was worried about you not eating, probably didn’t like you heading straight out the minute you came home, either.”
Her shoulders slumped as realized the sense in his words and she sighed. “I acted like an idiot, didn’t I? Mom will think I’m about to have a breakdown again.”
“Or she’ll be miffed because you get to patrol with the sexy vampire and not her.”
She smacked him over the head.
TBC