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Chapter 17: Need

In the shadows across the street from the Summer’s home an aged and worn old man waits and watches. His vengeful eyes watch a pregnant blonde move up the walk of her home, a brunette with short hair follows and behind her is the demon, the vampire that this man seeks; the vampire that slaughtered his family so many years ago. Beside the shadowed man a demon steps to his side, his face looks like that of molded wax which has been scarred with a long slash across his face and symbols which seem to have been carved into his skin. His hair is long and dark and he wears a heavy robe.

“Where is this place?” The man asks with a formal tone to his voice. A breeze flows by lifting his featherlike brown hair away from his face.

“Oh this?” the demon responds in a tone far more casual. “This would be the house of one Buffy Summers, Vampire Slayer by trade.” The man turns to face the demon with an odd expression.

“He’s come here, to seek refuge in the home of a Vampire Slayer, why does she permit this?”

“Well, that’s a long story, but it seems like your boy Angel got groiny with the girl once upon a time, guess she doesn’t take her calling very seriously… or maybe just misinterprets what she’s supposed to be doing.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“That bun in her oven, its half vampire.”

The man again looks at the demon with wide eyes.

“Oh no, this one’s not Angel’s, still family though… just a thought, feel free to take both the kiddies out on your vengeance kick.”

“My qualms are with Angelus, I don’t even know this Slayer, as dimwitted as she seems to be.”

“Yeah, well the kiddies bring about the end of the world… well maybe, translation on that one is still a little fuzzy.”

“Hmm, interesting, thank you for showing me this Sahjihan.”

--

Spike stares into his drink biding his time before he stumbles back to his chard crypt. Sleeping on Buffy’s sofa had been a onetime deal and Spike wouldn’t even think to ask to do so again; after all it doesn’t come close to where he really wants to be sleeping. Then again it would be closer than the burned remains of his four poster bed or the hard cement of the sarcophagus.

It’s a busy night at the shady demon bar on fifth and Spike has gotten more than a few dirty stares; still his and Buffy’s warning to keep out of their way seems to have sunk in and after killing Blackart there’s no one around to organize them, least no one that has stepped up to do so since the dark haired vamp was dusted. Spike motions for the bartender to pour him another drink and the thin scaly bartender obliges immediately then returns to his other patrons attempting to pay Spike as little attention as possible. This doesn’t upset him; he’s been an outcast for some time, an outcast among the demons and also among the Scoobies. He doesn’t quite fit in anywhere, for a part of Spike that’s just how he likes it. He’s a rebel, doesn’t follow the rules, does what he wants; but another part of the blonde vamp knows how lonely it can be. A part of him that he keeps hidden deep down below craves to be accepted by them.

Behind him Spike hears the door swing open and slam loudly against the wall. Someone is trying to make an entrance, he doesn’t turn around.

“I’m looking for fighters,” a man’s voice calls in a deep aged tone.

Spike rolls his eyes. “’ere we go again,” he mumbles as he swivels around on his bar stool to face the newcomer.

The man has shaggy unkempt brown hair and a thin beard, deep set wrinkles around his eyes and forehead, wears a long brown jacket and has an overall rough appearance.

“I need warriors, there is a vampire in town and his child threatens our entire existence.”

“Yeah, right here mate,” Spike drawls and the man turns to him with an odd look.

“You? Ah, then you are the other, the one responsible for impregnating the Slayer? Interesting, however my concern does not lie with you… least not directly.”

Spike cocks his head to the side suddenly interested.

“I’m here for Angelus.” A murmur rumbles through the bar. “So you all recognize the name, well then you will understand when I say that my vengeance lies with him and his child.”

“And what of the Slayer?” a voice calls from the back of the bar; Spike grates his teeth and can feel the tension rising in the room.

“You want her dead?” The man asks, and again there is a rumbling of whispers.

“Stay away from her,” Spike says in a low drawl, his fist clenching at his side.

The man turns to him and locks his eyes on him, in them Spike sees nothing but an empty void, then pulls forth a crossbow from beneath his jacket and aims it directly at Spike’s heart. Spike doesn’t move.

“I want the child, but anyone who helps me take down Angelus gets a shot at the Slayer.”

Spike jumps forward pushing the crossbow away sending a wayward arrow into the shoulder of a demon to his left. He lands one hard and solid punch against the man’s face before his chip fires. As the electric impulses of pain flood Spike’s brain he realizes that he needs to run, and he does. The man hits the floor with a thud as Spike darts for the exit pushing past various demons and vampires and with his head throbbing escapes into the night.

A demon with a heavy build, black eyes and tentacle like appendages coming out of the top of his head like thick dread locks steps up to the mystery man who lies on the floor. He reaches out a clawed and scaly hand but the man ignores it as he hefts himself to his feet. Once standing he wipes away the blood that trickles down from his broken nose.

“We all want the Slayer dead, Spike too…” the demon says in a low gurgly voice, “and Angelus brings chaos to this town whenever he arrives. We will help you.” The man nods. “What should we call you?”

“You can call me Holtz.”

After exiting the bar and stumbling out the front step Spike stays tuned in to the conversations of the bar patrons. The last thing he hears before getting out of earshot is the word Holtz.

--

He had to be human, Spike thinks as he makes his way through town. In all honesty he isn’t surprised that there’s another wanker gathering blokes to take them all out, he just didn’t expect it to be a human especially not one after Angelus. The big lug just had to come down here and drag his problems along with him. Just bloody great.

Buffy’s house is nearing and so is the impending dawn. As the Summer’s residence comes into view Spike notices that all the lights are out and those within would surely be sleeping, except for maybe Angel. As he comes up to the front walk he suddenly doesn’t feel like going through the front door. Deciding that his information is best if delivered to the Slayer alone Spike scales the tree beside the house with ease and gracefully lands atop the roof.

Buffy twists and turns in bed. Being the Slayer may make her a night owl, but even she needs her rest at some point during the night. The child within her however seems to fancy her father’s sleep schedule better. Her sheet twists around her legs as she tosses in bed praying that her baby decides to rest soon. Then the creaking of her window is heard and Buffy sits up to see Spike slowly stepping into her room. He slides in past the sill like a sleek cat moving through the jungle, every move made to be as soundless as possible. Then his eyes fall upon her and she can see the surprise in them as he realizes that she’s awake.

“Still up?” He asks with a crease in his brow. Buffy pulls her sheets higher up feeling self-conscious.

“Baby’s keeping me up again.” Spike nods and for a moment forgets why he’s come to her room. After a moment he steps toward her and reaches a hand out then pauses and drops it back to his side.

“It’s okay… you can…” Buffy gestures to her stomach and Spike rests his hand atop it. Instantly her baby, their baby calms and Buffy sighs in relief. “I think she likes it when you’re around.”

“That so?” Spike asks with awe in his voice and he finds himself unable to take his gaze away from his hand stroking her round belly.

“She’s been doing acrobats for hours now, but you show up and I actually feel like I could get some sleep.”

Spike’s eye dart up to meet hers in that moment, then his hand falls back to his side and decides it’s time to get back to the matter at hand. Kick.

“Slayer…”

“Ugh… there she goes again.”

Kick. Spike’s attention is diverted back to her belly. Kick. The Slayer groans and closes her eyes for a moment.

“I’m never going to get any sleep like this.” A cool chill crosses her belly once again and Buffy opens her eyes to see Spike once again palming her stomach. Again the baby has stopped kicking and she sighs in relief. “Spike… would you… it’s just, I’ve barely gotten any sleep lately and I haven’t gotten a wink tonight… just complete winkless-ness and… would you just stay, until I fall asleep?” Her words are soft, in that moment she seems so innocent, like a child asking to sleep in their parent’s bed because of a bad dream.

Spike’s eyes meet hers and he finds himself completely speechless, but her eyes look so honest and he knows she’s being sincere. He blinks as if to assure himself that he’s not dreaming then he shrugs out of his duster. He lays it across the chair in the corner of the room and Buffy scoots over in bed. Wordlessly he moves the covers aside and lies down beside her. She hesitates for a moment then curls up into his form, and once she does she finds it to be the most comfortable place she could ever be. In that moment Buffy feels like she’s exactly where she’s supposed to be and let’s herself drift off to sleep as his arm wraps around her.





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