Chapter 8
Spike had done the forgetting spell, feeling surprisingly uneasy about breaking his promise to allow her to remember him. Spells were volatile when in their original form; he didn’t want to risk tampering with the forces and accidentally wipe out the girl’s entire memory. Instead he had erased the traumatising part of the evening. Once she woke up, she’d be convinced she’d been asleep all night, tucked in her beddy bye.
After she’d nodded off, he and Rupert gathered their stuff and with one last glance over his shoulder, he was off.
They were about a mile away from LA when Rupert let slip that the bit’s mum was one of the wannabes. Good old Samaritan that Rupert was, he’d wanted to help her. But all she’d kept yammering about was how they had ruined her chances of eternal life.
Bloody hell, women like her should never have kids.
He wondered about the girl’s dad and why he hadn’t done anything. Did he even know what his wife was doing while he was off working? It left a bitter taste in William’s mouth.
“So what did you do about her? Please tell me you gave her a one way ticket to Bedlam.”
Giles shifted in his seat and fiddled with the seatbelt. “Ah, well… she somehow managed to evade me.”
William’s fingers gripped the steering wheel, an uneasy feeling swarming in his stomach. “Evade you? How exactly did she manage to evade you? Last time I checked, she was still human enough for you to deal with her without much trouble.”
“She ran,” he admitted, his cheeks tinted pink.
“Where?”
“How would I know?” Giles asked, his embarrassment quickly turning into barely repressed ire.
“You should have checked! Didn’t it happen to occur to you that this daft woman who offered her own bloody daughter as a midnight snack would… oh, I don’t know… feel a tad resentful?”
William gritted his teeth, not feeling very sympathetic when Giles turned pale.
“I-I… it did not occur to m—”
Tuning out Giles’ stuttered excuses, William stomped down on the brake and turned the car around 180 degrees with a screech of tires and billows of road dust.
He’d never be able to live with himself if he didn’t make sure the girl was all right.
He had to go back.
*******
Present Day
Great. This was just bloody great.
The most promising lead turned out to be an old lady who allegedly had about as much sense as a sack of hammers. He was starting to wonder whether the whole universe was conspiring against him.
Spike clicked off his phone and tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans. Apparently, one Mrs. Melinda Baum was in possession of Valley of the Sun. A book that should shine a light on getting the weapon he needed to level up the fighting field between him and Angelus. Not that the bastard knew he was being tailed. As Spike had learned, the vampire’s ego was so overblown he’d never consider anyone could pose a threat to him. Least of all a human.
He’d be in for a nasty surprise then.
But to do that, Spike needed the old witch to give him the book first. If she really had it, that was. His informant had told him she was somewhat of a joke, one too many spells having scrambled her brains and got her kicked out of the Coven.
Determined, Spike headed to the suburban area.
Crazy bint can’t even have decent digs.
There was something fundamentally wrong with living in these look-a-like houses with manicured lawns and shiny happy people. He glared at a little boy racing down the street on his bike.
He found the house of one Mrs. Baum about a minute later. It stuck out like a sore thumb with its peeling paint and porch that creaked dangerously beneath his boots. The grass on the front lawn was more than a little overgrown and Spike figured the neighbors had to be pretty pissed at the eye-sore of their perfect little community.
He was starting to like the old witch.
The door opened just as he raised his finger to ring the bell.
She certainly looked the part of being nutty. Her white frizzy hair probably hadn’t seen a comb for one year too many. And her clothes suggested Woodstock was the favourite phase of her life.
He let his hand drop. “Uh… hi. Name’s Spike. A friend told me that you might have something I’m looking for,” he said directly. He wasn’t one to beat around the bush, especially one with such creepy smile.
“Come on in then,” she replied and stepped aside to let him in. “I don’t get that many guests nowadays.”
Unsurprisingly, the house smelled like cats. And incense.
“So what can I do for you, young man?” She gestured for him to sit on a sofa in a cluttered living room.
The pink flower print kind of clashed with his black-on-black but he didn’t come here for home decorating.
“I’m looking for a book.”
She sat down next to him way too close, a glint in her eye that Spike didn’t much care for.
“And you think I can help you with that?” she croaked and inspected him from head to toe as though he was a piece of fine chocolate.
“Err… it’s called Valley of the Sun. Ever heard of it?”
Mrs. Baum inclined her head. “I might have.”
His patience was wearing thin and he didn’t fancy being ogled and objectified by this old hag. “Do you have it or not?”
“So impatient.” She inched closer, prompting him to inch away in response. “What would you give me in return if I said yes?”
Spike’s eyes met hers warily. “What do you want?”
She caressed the collar of her loose fitting blouse. “I’m a lonely woman. I’m sure you could… ease it for a little while.”
What was he? A bleeding gigolo? “I’m not shagging you.”
The old bird shrugged. “Can’t blame an old lady for trying.”
“Yeah, not my kind of kink, pet. Sorry,” he said in a way that would let her know he wasn’t sorry at all.
“Pity. I heard the book contained all kind of helpful information.”
She heaved a sigh and her wrinkled hand covered in liver spots landed on his thigh way too close to his dangly bits for comfort. Spike leapt to his feet and away from the unwanted advances.
“Hey now. That’s quite enough.” Disturbed or not, he was getting impatient. “If you have it, I’m going to get it. One way or another. And it’s not going to be pleasant. So stop feeling me up and tell me where it is before this turns really ugly.”
He let the darkness hidden within seep into his gaze as he stared down at her withered face. He’d be damned if the games of a bored, retired ex-witch would interfere with something he needed. Either she’d give it to him willingly, or he’d take it by force. Oh, he’d feel guilt. He just wouldn’t give a damn about it.
“I do have it,” Witch confirmed with a nod of her head. “But I’m not giving it to you. Not until you deserve it.”
Spike scoffed.
“Not that kind of deserving, though that would be nice. Very nice,” she said with a rotten grin, making Spike’s stomach lurch. “You’re not ready to face Angelus yet. Not even with the answer you’re looking for. Fate must play out the way it’s intended to. Everything’s got to follow its path and you’ve still got to grow into your role to fully appreciate its conclusion.”
How did she know what he wanted the book for? How did she know about Angelus? Spike took a step forward, ready to strangle the truth out of her only to be halted by an invisible force. A barrier.
Fucking witches.
“You’re no match for me, boy,” she said with a dismissal wave of her bony hand. “I’ll give you the book myself once the time is right. Don’t come back here… unless you change your mind about the other thing.” She leered.
Spike blinked and… found himself standing in the middle of a street?
Dizzy and feeling as if someone scrambled his intestines with a dull knife, Spike fell to his knees, clutching at his unsettled stomach. The last thing he needed was to throw up the food he’d so painstakingly acquired the money to buy.
And would the bloody ground stop rumbling beneath him already?
“Are you okay?” sounded a girly voice.
What a stupid fucking question. “Do I look okay to you?” he rasped without looking up at the newcomer.
There was a moment of tense silence as the girl obviously noted the malice in his voice. “Are you always this mean?”
He finally glanced up and fought to focus. It took a moment for him to stop seeing as though he was standing behind a window smeared with dirt. “Oh, it’s you.”
“Small town,” she said curtly, eyes liquid with hurt. God, she wasn’t supposed to care if someone like him was being nasty to her. She shouldn’t care. Just like he shouldn’t regret being that way when it came to her.
“Where am I?”
“Besides sitting on the sidewalk, you mean?” There was an edge of mocking to her voice, the cheeky little bint. “About a block away from my dad’s store.”
A wave of black nausea wrapped around his brain when he tried to stand up. Needless to say, he didn’t make it very far.
“Here,” she said and offered her hand.
After a few beats of hesitation, he slid his hand into hers and let her pull him up. Their fingers lingered, wrapped together. So warm. God, the heat of her spilled on his skin and melted into his flesh with a force of a tidal wave. Their eyes met, confused and aching for something…
It was wrong. The way he had to physically force himself to let go, teeth gritted, palm tingling with the memory of her touch.
He wanted that warmth back.
He wanted to say he was sorry for being a right bugger to her before, for not coming back sooner to save her from the scars all those years ago. Most of all, he was sorry for wanting to grasp her hand again. She didn’t need to sully herself with the likes of him.
“Thanks,” he mumbled instead, rubbing the back of his head just so he’d have something to do with the hand that still burned.
“Umm… welcome,” she said equally awkwardly. They glanced up at each other at the same time, their eyes immediately flickering away like startled rabbits hounded by a fox.
This was bloody ridiculous. He was twenty-five for hell’s sake. And here he was acting like a school boy on a first date.
“Well, I’ve got better things to do than stand here all day chatting, so I’m off,” slipped from his lips with a practiced ease of someone used to putting up fronts.
Only the words made her look like someone had slapped her, making him irrationally wish he hadn’t said anything at all. Oh, she was good at masking it, but he was nothing if not observant. Not many people could hide their reactions from him.
“Of course. I sure wouldn’t want to intrude on your being nearly unconscious time. Sorry,” she said with a healthy dose of sarcasm and pushed past him.
The scent of wild flowers invaded his nose, stirring a reaction in him that he shouldn’t have towards someone that was probably still in high school.
This girl would be the death of him.
Or worse, he would be hers.
TBC
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I apologise if there was any confusion regarding the flashback from Spike's POV in the last chapter. It happened before Buffy's (chapter 4). This chapter will tell you what happened after Spike used the spell on her and left the house and why he came back only to find her mother had slashed her face. Whew! Hope I cleared it up. ;)
Beta'd by All4Spike (she's awesome).
Beta'd by All4Spike (she's awesome).
Chapter End Notes:
Would YOU try to grope Spike? I think you would. ;)