The Slayer groaned. “That’s it, I’m dead.” Stepping back from the screen, she anxiously watched her partner’s progress. “Oh no, they’re gaining!” She gripped Spike’s free arm. “Look out!”
“I’m doin’ the best I can.” Spike couldn’t keep the amused exasperation out of his voice.
So far they’d lost two out of three and this one looked a goner, too. “After all, I’m not the soddin’ pinball wizard.”
“The who?”
“That’s right. Tommy of course.” Spike stared intently into the screen and twisted the joystick.
“Wait a minute, who’s Tommy?”
“Well, no, really Captain Fantastic.” Spike wrenched his arm to the left. “You know I met ‘em once.”
“Who? Tommy?”
“Captain Fantastic.”
Buffy had the feeling she’d totally missed something. But even though Spike thought that wizard person was so fantastic he was probably really as bad as they were. After all, people always tended to remember old historical things in a better light than how they actually were. These itchy fingerless gloves were a good example. Madonna must have used gallons of hand lotion. Buffy had more empathy for the material girl after standing in her shoes-well, in her scratchy gloves.
She focused her attention on the game again. “Spike, they’re still gaining on you.”
“It’s the way the soddin’ ghosts move. They corner faster than I can.” He jammed the joystick to the right and then quickly to the left. “Damn, they’re still on my arse, even after eatin’ all those power pellets along the bottom.”
“They’ve blocked your road again, too.” Frustrated, Buffy glanced up at the score. That annoying team seven was ahead again. She couldn’t figure out how out of ten teams, they kept winning. First Missile Command and now this. The teams had been told at the beginning of the tournament that the old arcade games had been magicked to level the playing field between demons of various attributes, but still…..
A buzzer sounded and the Ms. Pac Man tournament was officially over. Team seven, consisting of two older men and a small blue boy that Spike said looked a bit like a Rekko demon were giving each other high fives and grinning.
“At least Giles would be proud, we improved each time. We lasted fifteen minutes longer this round than the last.”
Spike smirked. “Because this is a skill we’ll put to use many times in the years to come.”
“Trying to get away from ghosts? Hey, you just never know.”
Rather than trying to follow that line of reasoning, Spike worked the cramp out of his left hand. “Part of the problem is these joysticks, they’re too damn small for adult hands.”
“Who said you’re an adult?” Buffy smirked. She watched the demons climb the podium and claim their prize. “I wonder if one of them is a mage. You don’t think they cheated, do you?”
Spike grinned at the grumbling Slayer. “No, I think we royally sucked. Would you cheat to win one of those dollar store ribbons?” He turned his back on the proceedings. “I’m done with the parlor games. We made a showin’ and preserved our precious anonymity. Now let’s go to the bar and drown our sorrows.”
“I don’t think that’s a good word choice for a cruise ship. I’ve tried drowning before and I didn’t like it, so now I’m landlubber girl all the way.” Buffy eyed the excited winners again and added sourly, “Besides I’m just annoyed, not sad.”
Spike coaxed the stubborn girl. “Come on pet, we could use a break. These games have made us both tense and a glass of wine will relax you.”
“I’m not tense, just really, really alert.” She snapped her fingers to demonstrate. “See? Contrary to what this dumb contest showed, I’ve got lightning reflexes.”
“Uh huh.” He grabbed her hand and urged, “Come on oh alert one with the lightning fast snap. Besides you never know-we might find what we’re supposed to be out lookin’ for in the bar. I promise, just the one nightcap.”
“Fine.” She gave in and allowed Spike to gently tug her toward the door. “But just the one night cap or day cap, because it’s getting really late, or early, depending on your point of view and I must be more tired than I thought, ‘cause that didn’t make any sense, even to me.” Buffy gave a mew of displeasure. “This stupid boat has turned me into the rain man.”
Spike chuckled and opened the door for her. Neither of them noticed Savana, standing behind the pillar. Once they’d crossed the threshold into the hall, she reached down for her employee radio.
****
Buffy had a conundrum. Spike had grabbed her hand to tug her away from the game. Still linked together he hadn’t let go, even though they’d walked several feet down the hall.
This was the first time since they’d become close friends that he’d held her hand for any reason. Well, except for a couple times when he’d helped her up after she’d gotten knocked down in a fight. She’d done the same for him. But neither of them had continued to hold on afterward. That would have been seriously odd.
But now they were supposed to be undercover as a couple and that’s what couples did, they held hands. So she hadn’t said anything, figuring Spike was just trying to stay in character, and now, ten minutes later? It felt…natural. And the real punch line to the cosmic joke? She wasn’t sure anymore that she really wanted him to let go. Buffy bit her lip. What the heck did that mean? She cut her eyes to the vamp, trying to read his thoughts, but the hall was too dark. Striding down the hall, his expressive face was hidden in shadow.
Spike was holding an internal debate. Should he let go of Buffy’s hand? Or continue to hold it? Enjoying the warmth provided, he glanced sideways at the oddly quiet woman, trying to read her expression, but her face was hidden by all that puffy hair. What did she want him to do? It was the damn bed issue all over again. In typical Buffy Summers fashion, she’d put off their discussion on how to deal with the couple thing, too. Walking down the hall, Spike finally admitted to himself that this wasn’t the real issue. He just didn’t want to let go. In fact, he was pretty sure he never wanted to let go again. Bloody hell, now what?
He pushed through the lounge door and gently steered Buffy toward the back of the noisy room, reluctantly letting go of her hand. Feeling oddly bereft, he tried gauging her expression, but she was too busy trying to push empty chairs out of her path. Giving up, he asked, “Wine? Or something else?”
“A glass of white wine would be good. I’ll find a table.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Glad she had a moment alone to get her act back together, Buffy stood at the edge of the tables and allowed her eyes to adjust completely. Are all ships this dark at night, or just the ones run by demons? Maybe it keeps the inmates, I mean guests, from fighting. If you can’t see the guy that insulted you, it’s hard to throw a punch.
“Well, what do we have here?” The man suddenly appeared in front of her. “Very nice legs.” His eyes slowly walked her body as he continued to leer. “Hmm, I wonder, do they ever open?”
Buffy’s mouth dropped at the unbelievably rude drunk. But really, what do I expect? After all, drunk demon.
“Nice mouth, does it ever shut?” She shot back.
Completely ignoring her heated response, he shifted closer and put his hand on her bare shoulder. “Let me buy you a drink.”
“No.” This guy is such an incredible jerk.
“Do you know who I am, pretty?”
“First of all, I’m so not your ‘pretty’. Second, I’m thinking you’re someone who’s waiting for a job in the exciting world of fast food to open up, which would probably be a step up for you.”
He laughed as though she’d made a joke. “I’m second in command of this ship. Name’s Zahn.” Swaying slightly, his eyes lingered on her breasts. “How about a private tour of the bridge?” He licked his lips. “I’ll make it fun, I promise.”
“Well, let me tell you something, second-in-command-Zahn. If boredom were fatal, you’d be a serial killer and I’d have become your next victim.” Firmly removing his hand from her shoulder, Buffy gritted her teeth. “Now, why don’t you go away. In fact, that uniform looks itchy, so why don’t you go and slip into something more comfortable, like a really deep coma.”
Completely ignoring the insult, he raised a hand and ran it lightly down her arm. Playing with the bangle bracelets for a moment, he reached down and clasped her hand in a slimy parody of the way Spike had held it earlier. “You know blondie, I can’t remember the last time a woman said no to me, but I love a challenge. You make me want to try that much harder.”
“I’ll show you harder.” Buffy jerked her hand away, balling it in a fist.
****
“Harris, what are you doin’ workin’ again?” Spike leaned against the bar.
“Volunteered. It’s another chance to spot our quarry.”
Quarry is it? He really thinks he’s in a bloody spy movie or on a safari. A vision rose of the Whelp, wearing a pith helmet, binoculars glued to his eyes, peering through tall rushes. Spike had just added something large and nasty jumping down from a tree when loud laughter erupted at a corner table. He glanced in their direction.
“What are you servin’? They’re havin’ too much fun to be aboard this bloody tub.”
“It’s the free booze. Private party, they’re all being comped. Both tables are employees of the company that owns the Malajusted.”
Spike barked a laugh. “Bloody perfect misnomer. So, what wankers would that be?”
“Some big L.A. law firm, name of Wolfram and Hart. The group sitting at those tables comprise the entire ritual sacrifice department. They’re on a company retreat.”
“I guessed it was lawyers from the name.”
He and Xander watched while one of the men in the group plucked an olive from his martini glass. Flourishing it in the air briefly, he placed it gently on the table in front of him. Muttering something, he plunged a shrimp fork straight through the pimento. The table erupted in drunken laughter as someone handed him another olive.
“I told them they couldn’t do anything in here I’d have to clean up. That’s when they said they were on vacation.”
Spike smirked at the thought of Xander cleaning up an actual sacrifice with his bar rag. Adjusting the daydream, he inserted an extremely messy sacrifice in lieu of the hunt.
Harris continued to natter on, and reluctantly pulled Spike back to reality. Sure that he hadn’t missed a thing, he focused in on Xander again.
“….Bartenders get a bonus if we sell enough. Since I’m actually working on this trip, unlike some I could mention, I might as well try for it. I agreed to work double shifts and fill in for anyone out sick. Besides, like I said, more possibilities.”
“Well, in the spirit of staying undercover and helping with your bonus, give me a double of your best scotch.” Spike smirked. “After all, either the Council or that rich demon will be payin’ for it.”
Xander grinned. As much as Bleach Boy drove him completely around the bend, they were kindred spirits when it came to the Council. “True enough.” He reached under the bar, pulled out the good stuff and poured a generous serving. “Anything else?”
“Buffy wants a glass of white wine.”
“Where is the Buffster?”
“She’s right over there.” Spike turned to point. “Bloody hell.”
Xander set the wine glass down on the bar. “Uh, you might want to get over there before there’s bloodshed and your cover is completely blown.” Squinting through the darkened room, he hissed. “Spike, don’t let her deck him. It’ll draw a whole lot of unwanted attention. That’s Zahn, the Captain’s right hand man.”
“If I don’t stop her fast enough, the wanker might not have any hands, left or right.” Grabbing the drinks, he hurried back to the Slayer.
Absolutely fed up with the drunken officer, Buffy took aim and pulled her fist back.
A pale hand covered her fist and squeezed briefly. “Is there a problem here luv?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.” She glanced at the vampire that had materialized beside her. “This is Zahn. He’s about to learn the actual meaning of ‘no thanks’ the Buffy way.”
“He’ll be learnin’ much more than that if he doesn’t sod off.” Catching the man’s eyes, Spike stared into them. “You need to step away from my girl.”
Buffy felt a little shiver. His girl. She knew Spike was only playing his part, but still…. Spike’s girl.
She watched Zahn lurch away from her, holding both hands up in the universal sign for surrender. “Oh, are you two together? I saw blondie here all alone and thought she needed company.”
Gritting his teeth, Spike repressed the instinct to smash the drunk into very small pieces. He placed his arm around Buffy’s waist, tugging her close. “Listen mate, I’ve been as pissed as you before, so I’m willin’ to cut you some slack, provided you leave right now.”
“No problem.” Zahn dropped his hands. “Sorry for the misunderstanding.” He smiled blearily at the couple, turned and walked slowly toward the door, bouncing into an empty table on the way out.
In the hall Zahn stood up straighter and slipped through an adjacent door marked ‘employees only’.
Roc stood up when the door opened. “What did you find out?”
“You and Savana were right. There’s something off about those two alright.”
“Any idea what?”
“For one thing, the blonde woman is the contact. The bracelet is on her arm right now.”
“Are you sure that’s the right one?”
“I touched it.”
“Let’s go back and get it now.”
“No, it’s too public and her boyfriend is with her. We don’t want an alarm raised. This doesn’t change a thing, we’ll continue as planned. In fact, it just made everything much easier. After all, we now know for certain our informant was correct, the exchange will occur on the ship. Go find Savana and fill her in. She can tell the others.”
****
Buffy waited until the officer left the bar before exploding. “If that guy’s one of the people in charge of running this ship, I fear for our lives. I don’t think he could drive his way out of a paper bag, and even if he could, his bag would be too full, what with the large economy size bottle of Bacardi in it.”
“I think the term is steer his way out.” Spike replied absentmindedly. He dropped his arm and stepped away, leaning over to pick up his drink and the wine glass. Taking a deep drink of his scotch, he handed Buffy the glass of wine. “There’s somethin’ wrong. How long was he over here?”
Oddly disappointed that Spike had placed distance between them so quickly, Buffy took the offered wine glass. “Too long.”
He shot her a look.
“Maybe ten minutes? He showed up right after you went to the bar. Why?”
“Because if that bloke was drunk, I’m goin’ swimmin’ tomorrow at high noon with you in the outside pool.”
“What are you talking about? He could hardly stand up, which I might add, was the only reason I hadn’t decked him, yet.”
Spike drained his glass. Setting it down on the table his eyes narrowed. “There was no scent of liquor on his breath or his clothes and his eyes were crystal clear. His pulse was normal and he wasn’t slurrin’ his words. I just now drank more than he’s had all night.”
Buffy looked startled. “If he wasn’t drunk, what was that little scene about?”
“I have no bloody idea, but I don’t like the possibilities.”
“I don’t either. Come on Spike, we’ve got a lot to think about and it’s nearly dawn. I say we get a good night’s- well, day’s- sleep and hash this over with everyone tomorrow.”
“Sounds good to me. I’m a bit knackered myself.”
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