She was walking him out around eleven. After everything up in the attic, Buffy found herself beyond just exhaustion, and Spike insisted she get some rest.
As they stood at the open doorway now, not quite sure how to end the night, only one thing was certain in both of their minds: They were going to see each other again soon.
“I only wonder what mischief my grandmother has gotten herself into.”
Spike turned and looked at Buffy, there was a smudge of mascara along the corner of one of her eyes and she was tired and drained. All of her color was seemingly focused around her eyes instead of in her cheeks.
“M’sure she’s fine,” he replied. "I think the little boxer lady can take care of herself."
Buffy made a sound that was a bit like a laugh but not quite. A beat of silence passed, and Spike knew she was about to say something important.
He’d come to notice her habits and personal tells. Like the natural pattern of her breathing, the reasons why and when she bit her lip, the slight stiffening of her shoulders whenever something uncomfortable or painful arose, and the telltale sign of her hard swallows when she was about to say something she didn’t particularly want to.
“Thank you... for tonight,” she murmured, a gap in between the four words and her eyes downcast. Buffy’s arms were crossed over her chest and she was a veritable statue of control and self preservation.
He wanted to tell her she didn't need to thank him, but refrained. He knew that he'd always be near when she wanted him, and times when she wouldn't, but he didn't need to admit that to himself just yet. “You haven' told anyone... Have you," he stated rather emotionlessly. "Not even your Grams?” His tone was gentle and almost too quiet, but plain. Buffy didn't have to know he was still trying to keep himself from hauling her into his arms, the past couple of hours taking their toll on him as well. He found it unsettling how much it bothered him to watch her cry.
A part of Spike shriveled in self disgust. He knew she'd needed it, but he really didn't like the fact that he was the one who'd pushed her so far. And he hated knowing he'd most likely have to do it again in the future.
She shook her head at his question. “No. She… She’s always there for me but, I just-” Buffy broke off and looked down, then at him. Weary green eyes that were crystalline in the moonlight stared into his, and Spike swallowed. “It’s just easier to deal on my own. I don’t have to worry her then.”
He looked at her dubiously all of a sudden, standing less than a foot away he could reach out and touch her. He wanted to hug her, brush a hand down her hair in a show of comfort, but he couldn’t. Not just yet. He was afraid she would pull away.
So instead he said, “I think your grandmum can handle it, love. She cares 'bout you…” When she didn’t respond he started again. “Maybe you should give her a chance-”
“No.” Her voice was firm, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I don’t want to hurt her. She-… She went through the loss too. She doesn’t need me crying on her shoulder. I have to be strong.”
Spike did take a step closer then, something determined flashing in his eyes that Buffy missed. “Look at me,” he said, and her eyes met concerned blue as Spike visibly tried to keep himself in check. He was so tired of knowing that this girl couldn’t let herself grieve. “You don’t always have to be strong, Buffy.”
The words sounded foreign to her ears, like something uttered in a different language, but she listened intently anyway.
“Tonight, everything you-…" The man pursed his lips. "You know that you can talk to me. And actually talking to someone never means that you’re weak, Buffy. Maybe you don’ want ta discuss things with yer Grams, but I think you can. She'd handle it.” Spike broke eye contact and looked down. He grasped her hand in his, his next words laced with resolve and certainty. “But either way, m’here. I’ll never break under a little strain, you can lay it all on me.”
She swallowed, and just barely choked out, "It's hard."
Spike looked into her eyes and she had to focus on not crying again.
“I’ll be here.”
God, Buffy hoped so, because as much as it scared the crap out of her, she was starting to believe him.
Still she rushed to say, "I don't want you to think that-" stopping and taking a breath before gesturing with her hands. Buffy didn't know how to say it. She just didn't want him to think she was keeping him around as a personal shrink or something. "I'm not just using you. I-I'm not just- keeping you around because-!"
His grip on her hand tightened, "I know, Buffy."
Spike's lips came down to touch her forehead. “I know. But if you're hurtin, and ya find someone that’ll listen… it usually makes things a bit easier, s’what I’m figurin.”
Her skin tingled where he rested, and Buffy squeezed her eyes shut tight.
Her hands moved up his arms where she gripped leather, and her eyes remained closed even as Spike hugged her. She let him hold her, wondering why the only person in the world she would accept comfort from was Spike. Why was he the one person she felt it might just be okay to let in?
To be vulnerable with?
There was no answer, other than the soft pressure of his lips on hers. The calming taste of his mouth and the dangerously enticing flavor of the tip of his tongue.
She opened for him and he sampled the shallow depth, teasing and barely taking what she offered. It was soft and wet, tender. Kind and reassuring. His free hand came to rest at the nape of her neck where his thumb brushed warmly. He helped to ground her. They moved like that for a time, gently kissing with passion both urging them to do more and yet keeping them in check as what was experienced seemed to be just right.
Buffy delicately tasted Spike’s tongue and mouth, murmuring when he pulled her closer to him.
When they parted, Buffy was breathing heavily and too dazed to wonder why Spike wasn’t. He left a few last chaste kisses on her lips before reluctantly pulling away, her whole body was soft and welcoming while his was rigid and practically magnetized to the woman. He wanted to stay and do things with her that would send his pulse back to beating, but he couldn’t. Not yet.
And not tonight, when grief was too present and might taint anything else they shared. When comfort and escape might be the major reasons behind a coupling Spike wanted- needed –to mean more. He would not allow pain to be between them when he had her.
And he would have her; he already cared too much to even consider leaving. A part of him knew it, and that part was still arguing with the other part of himself that was just begrudgingly starting to believe it.
Stepping onto the damp grass, Spike smiled warmly up at the flushed girl and bid her goodnight.
With a light breeze cooling the air, he disappeared into the shadows. If there had been a fog, Buffy probably wouldn’t have even seen which way he’d gone. The man practically vanished into the night.
With an affectionate feeling amidst the tiring emptiness this day had brought her, she thought absently on the conflicting sensations within. She was sated, and relieved and hurting and then just plain stripped; and affection still stood tall with all the other skyscrapers of emotion. She was a mess, but a controlled one at that.
With a sigh and one last look at the moonlit sky, Buffy went inside, preparing to get ready for bed and await Grams’ arrival back. She was sure someone from town would walk the older woman home, but still wanted to be awake when her grandmother got in.
><
As Spike walked home he internally battled over thoughts that he’d refused to think about while with Buffy. Thoughts even HE knew were too premature to dwell on. Oh, but he was dwelling. He was dwelling big time.
She was human. Spike had pretty much resigned himself to never getting close to anyone else in his unlife again, not after losing his family years before. He never found people worth the risk.
Except now.
The Brit shook his head, muttering some angry nonsense even he wasn’t sure of the meaning.
He’d shag a dame here or there over the years, being a physical being and needing sex like he needed violence. Spike had no problem with one night stands, and even shared a bed with a few regulars on occasion. It was hollow and simply gratification, nothing more.
He’d never been emotionally shut off, no matter how hard he tried, but nobody had charged him enough to get him to realize it.
Spike believed he was hardened enough to ignore the inner poet inside him that still lived in some way or another. The thing called out for love. Companionship. Another person to share things with.
His biting loneliness had become his friend over the years, a resented hateful presence used to remind Spike everyday not to get close to anyone. It was like being the subject of a knife thrower, and every blade hitting close to your skin was a warning not to move, or you’d bleed.
Buffy just came along, all fascinating brush-off turned to sweet smiles that were blinding. Her laughter was like music. Her pain like visual acid.
When the pain had become apparent to him, when he’d seen she was hiding something, Spike hadn’t been able to stop himself from getting closer. It bothered him that she hurt, and yet it still didn’t matter. He would’ve been enchanted by her just the same even if she was completely devoid of grief.
He’d never met anyone like her before.
He was buggered.
Spike ran a hand through his hair and lit up a cigarette.
It was too late to think of leaving, he couldn’t, and he didn’t want to.
That was the main point here, right? He didn’t even WANT to want to leave her now. He was in too deep. That part of himself that still rebelled at the idea of getting close to Buffy, let alone believing that he already was, had been squashed a few minutes ago. It didn't take too bloody long, really.
And Spike promised to be there for her. He meant it, too. No way was he going to abandon this girl.
Christ, he had no clue what was to happen if he continued down this road, all he knew was that she was under his skin, and it didn’t look like she was leaving anytime soon.
She was a bloody human. He shouldn’t have even started this, or CARED for that matter! Fucking hell, what was wrong with him? Getting too close, to someone who had a measured lifespan, who was susceptible to all the things that went bump in the night like him? She could go out for a walk and be pulled to the side and drained in a blink by any random vamp who walked along and got peckish.
Spike’s stomach lurched.
No. No bloody way was he was going to let anyone or thing lay a hand on her. She wouldn’t be hurt, he’d see to it. He’d fucking guard her and stalk her at night if that’s what it took.
Angrily throwing his cigarette to the ground, Spike stomped it out before fishing out another.
It didn’t matter that the area of MayBell was pretty lacking in the undead, thanks to Spike’s insistent nature that urged him to take part in some sort of violence, and his edginess that only worsened it. Fortunately for the town of MayBell, he was edgy quiet often lately.
The place was safer than most, and Spike usually staked a vamp any time he really felt like killing something. Not many demons even came to town anymore because they knew that if Spike wanted to, he would kill them just for the fun of it. However, some still did, either because they didn’t care about him or they wanted to take on the challenge.
He knew the gossip of his unorthodox hunting ways had spread through the demon world because he went to demon bars often enough to still get an earful of it. Of course, no one really bothered him because whenever someone did, they’d find themselves on the sharp end of a stake or an axe. The smart ones just avoided Spike’s territory. If you didn’t go within walking distance of his place at night, then he likely wasn’t going to kill you. It was well known. He was, after all, the infamous William the Bloody, and very few dared test him. No one even knew that he’d gone off the live stuff, they just thought he had a fondness for killing, whether it be humans or the undead.
Now he would just have to be sure to be extra merciless on his occasional… patrols.
God, he hated to call them that. They weren’t done for the good of mankind, he just wanted a little bloodshed. Of course, now though, he supposed they would be for a less selfish reason. He had something important to protect, and he would make sure no one touched Buffy. He’d stake himself before he let anyone hurt her.
It was a little surreal sometimes, being a vampire who after years of human destruction and mayhem across Europe, now only hunted other demons. He’d been this way for years, and for some of those years he’d kept his dirty “white-hat” ways concealed. It wasn’t long though until he’d stopped caring who might come after him because they viewed him as a traitor, therefore having an excuse to try and take on the Slayer of Slayers, and earning themselves a title.
Spike had taken on many enemies over the years, and slaughtered all of them.
Now no one fucked with him. He’d done his evil back in Europe when he had lived with his sire and their vampire "family" (more of a nest, really). After that, and killing two slayers only ten years apart from each other, Spike had earned many titles and nicknames. He was a veritable legend with facts of disturbing massacres and evil doings that were still remembered to this day, as fresh as a spring flower. Everyone who knew about him saw him as a killing machine, one who wasn’t prejudice against murdering those of his own making.
The only thing his fellow demons didn’t know about him (asides from the fact that he bagged it) was what had changed after he’d left that overpopulated vampire nest. One day he was Spike, William the Bloody, the Big Bad and Slayer of Slayers. Always up for a good brawl. The next? He was gone. Disappeared. Off the map. A few vamps that might still be around could probably attest to the rumors that half drained bodies of bastards and criminals had been found near Spike’s home for many years after his mysterious departure.
Little did they know that he’d also been knocking off demons and vampires that whole time, sparsely and only when he really needed to kill something. Otherwise he laid low, kept to himself and stayed pretty much invisible. He still basically did that.
Then he came around again, no longer just in the shadows, and everyone thought that he’d gone from human massacre machine, to just massacre machine. The fellow undead never spotted him snacking on people and then reluctantly letting them go. If one did, Spike offed them.
Sometimes, after turning partly tame, he had killed a human here or there by accident, and without remorse; but he only ever played catch and release with real pieces of shit that society would only lock up anyways. So the losses weren't exactly great.
And he wouldn’t talk about the people he had saved from the worthless ones. He was no better than the scoundrels, just lacking a soul.
Spike couldn’t kill anyone who was innocent, and asides from the occasional (and accidental) criminal-waste snack, he only murdered evil things that went bump in the night. Those had been his rules for many years now. It used to be annoying, now it was just everyday unlife.
There were a lot of things Spike had adjusted to over time, a lot of things that had happened, and a lot of things that had stopped happening. Being followed was something that had stopped.
“We’re a bit old to be playin hide n’ seek here,” he called out.
He wasn’t even a hundred feet away from the front door of his house, and he’d sensed the presence of a vampire minutes before. He'd wanted to see if the stranger would show themselves before he hunted him or her down with a stake, but then realized they weren’t just passing by, but following him.
He hadn’t been followed since he’d lived back in Europe, and though Spike was still well known here, not nearly as many American demons knew who he was or the fact that he was even living in MayBell. After leaving the continent his reputation had tagged along, but no one really knew he was in the area unless he showed his face, and then the news never seemed to travel farther than he did.
So being stalked? Yeah, it hadn’t happened in a long bloody time.
“Ya might wanna show your face 'fore I carve it off.” He pulled his Zippo up to light the cigarette dangling from his lips, his posture nonchalant and secure in the knowledge of over a century of experience.
“Whoever you are…” he called again, pulling the cig from his mouth as he put his lighter away. Spike looked to the bushes. “Step on up.”
The night, filled by quiet noises and the soft wind of an October breeze, suddenly echoed with the crunch of dry leaves as a woman stepped out into the clearing.
No, not woman. Vampire. Spike could clearly see her contorted fanged expression in the dark. Her short brown hair was wispy and matched the color of her worn jacket. Jeans with holes at the knees and a plain grey shirt covered a slim, tall frame. The female’s feminine build betrayed nothing of the power that Spike knew resided in her undead bones, and the grace with which she stepped was shaky with either nerves or anger or both as she approached him. There was clear hatred in her yellow eyes, something Spike was used to seeing, but there was more added to this one’s emotion. She didn’t just look at him like he was what stood in her way to earning a reputation, but rather like she truly wanted him to suffer. Like she really wanted to feel his blood drip through her fingers.
And there was something barely familiar about her scent… Had he met her before?
“What’s yer name, pet?” A mocking note was put on the last word, and Spike narrowed his eyes when she growled lowly. She was standing about twenty feet away from him, and the chit looked ready to pounce for his throat.
She acquired an abrupt confident air, and a long fingered hand dropped onto one bent hip. Her stance was almost cocky as she dropped the threatening mountain lion look. “The killer never bothers to learn about their victim’s family ahead of time…” She said the words in a considering yet lazy tone, like she was contemplating the subject with halfhearted interest. “I always found that rather sloppy, and I’d– personally, anyways -expect more from the Slayer of Slayers.”
Spike’s ears pricked but he remained calm, his hands were itching to just grab one of the sticks he saw near his feet and plunge it through her heart. Except he needed know that this broad actually meant to come after him. She sure as hell looked like she hated his guts, but he wanted to make sure her desire to see him dust was a solitary wish. He didn’t need to kill this vamp only to be ambushed by her lackeys (or boss, for that matter) later on. He might be able to get some information out of the bint.
“Yeah?” Spike drawled. “Killed many victims f’your own, have you?”
Her eyes blazed for half a second and Spike saw a weakness. This one didn’t have quite as good a control over herself as she thought she did.
However, she did seem to want to tear into his chest and rip his unbeating heart out with only her fingers as the surgical instruments, and she was doing a good job at keeping a safe distance away from him. That was smart of her.
“I only kill humans,” she said, her tone deceivingly quiet when he could tell all she wanted to do was roar. “I don’t love destruction so much that I dare STAKE a fellow demon, just to watch his dust glitter in the air.”
Spike snorted and took a puff of his cigarette. “Real noble, that is.”
She snarled, her teeth showing. “I have self control, something you obviously haven’t learned.” The bright flash in her demon eyes had Spike tilting his head in consideration.
Right. He was the bloody king of self control when it came to maiming and brutality. Patience? Now that was another thing.
“Yeah well, soulless demon an all here, love,” he said, allowing her to believe what she wanted. He dropped his half finished fag and crushed it beneath his boot. “Don’t really give a damn 'bout self control.”
He noticed her get a hasty hold on her temper, and in less than two seconds she was holding up that self assured mask again.
“So, William,” the female drawled his name on a sarcastic note, and against his will, Spike’s fist clenched at his side. He wasn’t really angered but it always was irritating when someone said his given name like that. He didn’t understand why, but it had always seemed to be immediately known to anyone around that he had once been ‘William’, a gentlemanly poncy poet. Spike’s enemies loved to remind him of that.
“How long has it been since you went hunting, to quench your animalistic bloodlust?”
She was so damn condescending when she said it that Spike’s irritation flared again. Annoying bint.
He answered her anyway. “Last night.”
“Planning on going out again?”
He puffed out a silent laugh and eyed her from head to toe. Spike made his stare lustful, though he really didn’t see all that much admirable about the woman, he simply wanted to piss her off.
Her eyes blazed again and Spike had to bite the insides of his cheeks to keep from smiling. “Yeah. Though... I think I might just sate my ‘animalistic bloodlust’ by killing you first.”
He made his move, but as he blurred forth to charge her and his face changed, Spike suddenly found himself pinned beneath a net.
Yes, an actual net. Like one of those heavy, thick roped bloody things used for hunting or holding enormous amounts of flopping fish.
He would have barely been slowed down by it, but a thick layer of dark magick rested within the fibers, and prohibited any movement beneath. All of his limbs were frozen. He fell onto his stiff back as the weighty, choking power in the ropes propelled him down, and Spike looked up at a smirking cunning bitch.
“Bloody hell,” he exclaimed in a mutter. His lips still worked, thank the Powers for that; though he really didn’t know how much it might help him.
“Little thing I picked up from a voodoo shop in New Orleans.” She stepped over him with cruelty dancing in her eyes. Spike wasn’t sure she wouldn’t torture him if she had the time.
“You see…” she said sweetly, the syllable of each word ringing with malevolent promise. “I was making my way from Arizona to meet up with my brother. Imagine my shock,” she stopped to press a foot down onto Spike’s stomach, and she pressed.
His lips pursed to keep his groan lodged in his throat, where it belonged.
“when I felt him DIE on me.” Her eyes blazed again, but this time the anger and hatred remained. She did not stop her rage from showing, but moved her shoe up to Spike’s ribs and pushed until she heard a crack.
“Fuck!” He couldn’t help that one.
She smiled, nothing but pure malice on her face as her voice dropped to a growling whisper. “Do you know how it feels when the only family you have left gets taken away from you?"
He did know, but saying so was out of the question. Her voice rose. "To FEEL them disappear, and you wake up with their screamed lodged in your throat?!”
Spike glared at her, and yet he almost felt a pang of pity.
Wait. No he didn’t.
“Listen you spineless little cunt,” he growled, his voice soft but murderous. She broke another rib and Spike cursed roughly before continuing. “I don’t know who the hell your brother was, so how do you-”
Another rib.
He let out a short shout, gasping for unneeded air.
“No I bet you didn’t, did you?” She snarled at him, and then threw a punch into his stomach muscles. He groaned, and bit out another insult beneath his breath.
“You didn’t even care who he was, you just wanted to kill something!”
“It’s what I do,” he growled without remorse. She was right, he didn’t give a fuck about who the vamp had been or what his name might be, or what his history was. All he’d cared about was letting off a little steam, and the idiot had probably been right down an alley in town square, waiting for an evening meal to leave one of the shops.
She punched him in a broken rib and Spike flinched but refused to make a sound. She glared down into his eyes, amber meeting amber as her story started to spill. She was getting ready to kill him, and before she did she wanted to explain exactly how she’d found out everything she needed to hunt down her brother’s killer. Spike’s mind was racing to think of a way out of this fucking ridiculous situation.
“The second I knew my brother was dead, I’d immediately assumed the slayer had done it. He was too good of a fighter for it to have been anyone average, and too smart to get himself caught on fire. But then I talked to some people and realized that the bitch was in Ohio, guarding a hellmouth. Ironic,” she tilted her head and continued, her voice conversational and her heel scraping cracked bone together as Spike gritted his teeth. “ ‘cause after I met up with my brother and a friend a his in this shithole town, we were headed there.”
Suddenly she lifted her foot, relieving the pressure on his broken bones to take a switchblade out of her back pocket. She dangled it above Spike’s face and he tried to gather the concentration to thrall her. Not many vampires could be beguiled by another, but if one was good enough at it, then it had a possibility of working.
It seemed to be Spike’s only hope if he wanted to get out of this, that or try and make a deal with the bint. Except he didn’t think she would go for anything he offered.
Sending a praise of thanks to Drusilla for even showing him the ABILITY of thrall, Spike tried to force his mind to overpower the bitch who stood above him like a malicious child. The knife gleamed in the moonlight.
Then it was coated in red, slashing through the black material of his shirt and into his chest.
“Son of a-!” Spike yelled, his shout rising into a growl. “I’m gonna tear you apart-”
She cut him off. “I made my way to Alabama and I planned to avenge my brother’s death.” Spike rolled his eyes, she didn’t notice, but twisted the knife anyways just to watch him try not to scream.
“After I picked up a couple of things from a witch in New Orleans,” she continued, before pulling the blade out and then kicking him hard in the side. “I came to this fucking place and tracked down the guy my brother had been staying with. I questioned him until his ears bled, and then dusted his ass when I found out he’d run away when my brother was attacked instead of helping him fight.”
A memory flashed in Spike’s mind and he asked gutturally, “What was the moron’s name?”
Her lips curled into a sneer, and she walked away from him to pick up a random fallen tree branch. It was short but thick, and would do nicely as a stake.
Spike clenched his jaw and tried to think of a way out of this. He was the fucking Slayer of Slayers, he couldn’t be put down by a twat who probably wasn’t even a hundred years. The magick on the net was strong, though; he couldn’t move a thing. Closing his eyes- against his better judgment -Spike willed his mind to calm, trying to block out the pain. The ONLY shot he had right now was to thrall her.
He heard her voice in the back of his mind as he tried to concentrate his will. “The asshole my brother was staying with? Jared. Idiot surfer dude who shoulda never been turned. He was better left as meat.”
He heard her footsteps and Spike opened his eyes, now blue with the pupils dilated. He concentrated, could feel the power slowly coming to him. Fortunately, she didn’t seem quite ready to stop talking.
“Once I knew who you were, apparently always killing anything just because you could and if it was in your precious little fucking Mayberry of a town, I decided to catch you. Torture you a little. Then stake you.”
*You've got a lot to learn about torture if this is all you've got,* Spike thought.
Her chatter paused, and she glided closer. He opened his eyes and focused on the back of her head. She wasn’t looking at him anymore, but off into the distance. If she heard something then he could’ve missed it, he was too centered on the thrall. It took much more work to conjure the control for it when you hadn’t used it in a while, and your target was another vampire… and you were currently bleeding on the ground with broken bones that ground together each time you futilely tried to move.
She whirled around and kneeled by his shoulder. Her smile was evil.
Spike tried to catch her eyes, but she wasn’t looking at him. If he knew hatred (and he did), then she would look at him just as she plunged the wood into his heart, or right before. He hoped she’d do it just before.
The bitch’s eyes practically twinkled as she ran the edge of her improvised stake against his still chest. “My name is Flora, by the way. Just thought you might wanna know who it was that killed you before I, well,” she giggled maniacally. “kill you.”
Then, her gaze met his, and just before he could snare her the woman’s body was flung backwards.
The stake flew into the air and landed with a dull thud that nobody heard. Spike’s eyes grew the size of saucers and when he saw the vindictive bitch propelled into a tree trunk, he felt giddy for a sheer perfect moment.
Then he frowned and looked around. No one was in-
Wait.
He sniffed the air, blocking out the scents of his vengeful torturer, his own blood, and the surrounding Alabama night.
His nostrils twitched and he smiled. Spike knew that scent.
Flora screamed and her chest began to glow. She looked at her assailant who was calmly emerging from the surrounding trees. “A GYPSY?! You are shitting me- Fuck!” She shouted when the burning glow around her dead heart flared brighter, she pressed a hand to her chest and was quickly singed.
Oh, Spike had seen that trick before, and Christ he missed the sight of it.
A tall, broad shouldered man walked slowly towards the vampire against the tree. Her chest shone as he held his hand up, palm open to her.
A deep, mixed accented voice entered the air. “You’ll die soon, don’t worry.”
Spike smirked, all of the pain in his body dimming in the light of this new turn of events. Leave it to Stevo Martinov to announce someone’s death to them in calm, even tones even as he's the one doing the killing.
Bloody hell but this was a beautiful sight. The vengeful bitch was going to die, in a moment she would burst into flames.
But something switched. Something that made Spike try and jump up to defend his friend despite the net. Flora growled as she pulled the burning ember ball from her chest, an agonized scream tearing from her throat. The vampire screeched and whipped it towards her towering opponent, and Spike watched from the ground as Stevo jumped out of the way to avoid the flame.
The man tracked the spinning and swirling ball of heat. Surprised, zoned in eyes, concentration, and a will of power. He said a few words under his breath and the flames extinguished.
The air crackled with magicks, the night seemed violated somehow. The blood from Spike’s wound continued to seep into his shirt and the ground, a wind played with dried leaves in the dirt, and the surrounding silence was unnatural.
Both males turned back to the place where Flora had stood. She was gone.
Stevo breathed in deeply as he supported himself on his hands and knees. He moved back to sit on his haunches. The man squinted his eyes, examining the incapacitated vampire and looking anything but impressed.
Spike felt his pride take a hit, and pursed his lips when the gypsy raised one dark eyebrow at him.
Quiet deafened, and with a ‘fuck you, just get me outta this’ look on his face as he was judged by his friend, Spike almost wished he'd gotten to take his chances with possibly failing to thrall his attacker.
With a sigh, Stevo stood up and raised a hand above the net still holding him immobile. He frowned, Spike guessing he was impressed by the magick he felt bound to the trapping net, and then the gypsy bent his fingers into a fist. With matching movements of his arm, the net levitated up and away; Stevo tossed it onto the dirt and murmured some foreign language under his breath as Spike groaned and got to his feet.
The thickly roped net glowed brightly for a moment, and then turned black.
Stevo twisted around, looking at Spike's injuries with disapproval. A little concern touched the edges of his honey-bronzed eyes. “Want to tell me how the hell a vampire of only about eighty managed to catch you in such a ridiculous trap?”
Spike pushed a hand against his bleeding chest, silently wishing he had enough aggravation towards his friend to endure the pain of lifting an arm and slapping the helpful oaf upside the head. “ ’Ello to you too, mate.”
Stevo followed as he started walking away. “I don’t know who you managed to piss off, but whoever she is she's powerful. That spell most likely wounded her but I don't think it will keep her down for very long. She's not a witch, but I’ve never seen a vampire take hold of that spell and throw it back before.”
Spike let out a couple of painful coughs which went ignored as Stevo continued, unbothered, “She knew I was Romani, too. Right off the bat.”
Spike put a hand to his broken ribcage and cast a glance at the taller human behind him. “Anyone who gets one look at you can tell you’re a bleeding gypsy, Stev.”
The man grinned, an almost proud and very unrepentant look coming over his features. “Either way, she was powerful. That net that you were sprawled under like a shot tiger practically hummed there was so much magick covering it.”
Spike groaned as he approached his front door as quickly as he could. “ She said she got it from a witch in New Orleans, the bloody thing felt like lead. Couldn’t even flip the bitch off.”
Stevo nodded and walked a little bit ahead when they were fifteen feet from Spike's front door. He unlocked it and opened it wide for the vampire to step through.
Spike raised an eyebrow. “How’d you get my keys?” He stopped to pat his empty duster pockets and then rolled his eyes heavenward.
Stevo just smirked. “I taught you how to pickpocket, remember.”
“Yeh," Spike nodded. "I remember.”
The two men slowly entered the warmth of the house, and Stevo closed the front door behind him before glancing around. “I forgot what this place looked like.” He set the keys on a nearby table.
Spike headed for the kitchen. “S’what happens when you only see a place once an then don’ come back for five years.”
He shrugged. “Hey, that’s much less than any of the other times we’ve been apart.”
Spike made a noncommittal sound and pulled off his duster and bloody T-shirt, opening the refrigerator as Stevo leaned up against the doorframe.
The gypsy placed a hand over his heart and spoke in a flattered tone of voice. “Why now friend, did you miss me?”
Spike sent him a scathing look before vamping out and ripping into a blood bag, thankful for the liquid red running down his throat. His wounds burned and ached, the bruising on his side was darkening and the gouge in his chest was still bleeding. Christ he was hungry.
Crossing his arms, the human standing in the doorway looked over the injuries from a distance. He shrugged again. “Think you’ll want some bandages wrapped around those ribs?”
Spike dropped the empty blood bag on the counter and opened an overhead cabinet to pull out a bottle of Jack Daniels. He waved it at his friend in response, who smiled and nodded.
Spike opened the liquor bottle and took a swig before wading some paper towels around his hand and wetting them in the sink.
“So,” the gypsy started, wanting to know why his friend of over a century had gotten himself into yet another absurd and dangerous situation. He’d honestly thought Spike had learned by now how to smell a trap. “I’d love to know how you managed to get yourself caught under a NET. Did Ms. Flora lure you with bagged virgin’s blood or…?”
“Sod off.” Spike growled, pressing wet toweling to his bleeding chest. He'd been an idiot, and didn't really feel like talking about it.
He took another swig of whiskey.
"Ooh." Stevo hissed, and put a hand back over his heart, his words drenched in mock-hurt as a smile appeared on his lips. “And not even a thank you."
Spike threw his bloody paper towels into the garbage and then turned back around, aggravation in his voice and apparent on his face. He’d underestimated her, the Flora bint. That had been his problem, and her opening. “I fucked up. Thought she was gonna be an easy kill, an I didn’t bother to look up when I went for her.”
Stevo shook his head and tsked. “Thought you were smarter than that, William. It’s been a while since I’ve had to bail you out of a crappy situation.”
Spike growled and glared at the same time. “Call me that again an I’ll rip your lungs out.” He strode away, leaving the JD on the counter.
“Ooh, touchy, touchy,” his friend said.
Stevo followed, clasping the neck of the abandoned whiskey bottle in his hand as he continued to talk. “Alright, so you’ve managed to make another enemy. I’ll ask you how in a minute. First,” he took a swig of the alcohol, sighing in approval as he climbed the staircase behind a wincing Spike. “you need to know that this isn’t just a social call, friend. Dru had a vision, and well, it wasn’t good. The rest of the blokes are on their way here.”
Spike came to an immediate halt on the landing, turning to face the man behind him. Obvious worry covered his face. “What the hell was the vision about?”
“You.”
Spike snarled, his vamp face gone but not the demon inside. He was not only injured and irritated, but now concerned and bordering on pissed. “That’s not a surprise considering you just showed up an saved my arse from a sadistic pipsqueak! What m'wonderin is WHY the hell Dru's havin visions ‘bout me?”
Stevo took another drink of the whiskey. “I wish I knew,” he said, raising his eyebrows and tilting the bottle at him.
Spike clenched his jaw and muttered a curse under his breath. “What did the vision show,” he asked irritably. “Was it at least clear?”
The taller man shook his head apologetically. “She said it was muddled. But it involves you," he nodded at Spike. "and something bad.”
The vampire scoffed. "Well that's real bloody detailed."
His friend frowned, shaking a head of brunette hair. "Spike, you know Dru's visions are seldom, but no matter how garbled or clear they are, they always involve protecting something. Hell, the last time she had a vision about one of the guys Ace's father almost clawed his way out of that hell dimension."
Spike puffed out a laugh. God that had been a bugger of a fight, he remembered it well. Just what exactly was going on NOW? Running a hand through his hair, he sighed, “Christ. They're on their way here, then; s'Dru comin?”
“No. She hasn’t left Europe since 1880, and I don’t think she’s planning on it anytime soon unless there's an emergency or the mobs start again.”
Spike scoffed amusedly. Then he shook his head, suddenly hating his life and wanting to get blackout drunk. He understood why Dru wasn't coming, that was fine, it was everything else that was threatening to drive him batty. Not only did he have a vengeful little fuck of an enemy out for him- a powerful one at that –but this vision most likely meant there was more shit to the story. It wasn't good news. And Buffy was in even more danger now with this Flora bint out and looking for a way to enact revenge.
Spike clenched his fists at his sides. “Shhhhit,” he hissed.
“What is it?”
He shook his head in reply and just asked, “When are the other bloody five supposed to arrive?”
Stevo blew out a breath. “Well, Rex will probably be here first, Thunderbird and all; possibly by tomorrow night. He was in Asia doing some damn exploring or something.”
A smile actually almost came to Spike's lips. Stevo, even the gypsy that he was, didn’t do much travelling, and he didn’t understand the people that did. He’d been all over Europe and now resided mainly in England; he said his past travels weren't all that great.
His large clan, including Drusilla, knew of his powers and had ones of their own. Gypsy healers and witches and fortune tellers alike lived together on a small strip of land, and the tradition of moving from place to place had ceased years ago for them. The entire clan kept their lives quiet and simple, their powers and supernatural lifespans a secret to outsiders.
And Mr. Martinov had just said that Rex would most likely be the first one of the group to get here. Lovely. The guy was a fucking Thunderbird, and they had awful goddamn tempers. He was a very real "mythological creature", one of the beings from those Native American legends. Though Rex was walking proof that those legends were a bit off, and he’d be the first to set you straight on the matter. The bloke was part America Indian, and he could shape-shift into a human form. Though when he was winged, he could fly faster than a jet. He'd be here soon, alright.
“Can’t wait to see him,” Spike shook his head. “S’been a while since I’ve gotten into a good screamin match with the pigeon.”
Stevo’s lips quirked. “Call him that and the screaming will start real early.”
Spike nodded, and said in a tolerant tone, “And the others are on their way, too?”
He nodded. “Yes. Ace and Dylan were in Africa, they should be boarding a plane right now. And Blake’s been spending the last month at some brothel in Switzerland.”
Spike couldn’t help the snicker he let out.
Stevo just rolled his eyes. “I know, friend, I know. What do you want, the guy says he needs human sexual appetite as well as sex. It took me three days to find out where he was, I finally had to do a tracking spell on him.”
Spike laughed softly. Then, tilting his head in thought he studied his friend for a moment, blue eyes wondering. He poked his tongue against the inside of his cheek, then asked, “You know I don’t need a babysitter, Stev. An I can see why after Dru’s vision you might wanna come out here ta check up on me, but I don’ see why the rest of the bloody pack's comin in." He gestured impatiently with an open hand. "This warnin could just be about that bint I met t'night."
Stevo raised an eyebrow and looked Spike up and down pointedly, his expression said he was not all that impressed with the vampire’s ability to watch his own back.
Spike glared. “Now that I know the bird is-”
“It’s not quite so simple, my friend.”
He sighed, losing his patience once again. “It never is.”
“The Gem of Amara might be involved.”
The air froze, and Spike frowned. Hard. “The Gem of Amara,” he repeated. “How the hell did that buggerin thing come into play here?”
“Dru says that… she can’t explain it." Stevo shrugged. "She just says that the vision gave her some sort of knowledge that the Gem was involved. She didn’t see it but she… I’m not sure, felt it.”
Spike nodded, having enough understanding of Drusilla’s visions to know what Stevo meant. He just wasn’t sure if he believed it. “The Gem is s'posed to be a bloody story, how can we even be sure it exists?”
“We can’t, but with Dru’s vision, and what I just witnessed outside I’m going to say that we need the others here to help with whatever the hell it is we might be dealing with.”
Spike ran a hand through his hair again and over his face. Stevo, and the other five blokes coming in, were the few people Spike allowed himself to trust. He’d known them all for years, and while the majority of his existence had been spent alone, these men were Spike’s friends. They were strong supernatural beings with good senses of humor, sturdy tolerances for alcohol, and they’d helped him through hundreds of bad fixes in the past, just as he had with them.
They were a few people in this world that Spike actually cared about, though he never admitted it, not even to himself.
“Veritable superhero brigade.” He muttered.
Stevo spoke up. “So, are you going to tell me why exactly that lean little female was torturing you underneath a voodoo net?”
Spike rolled his eyes and planted his forehead against the wall. “You did kill that thing’s power, right?”
Stevo nodded.
Spike pulled away from the wall to pinch the bridge of his nose. Vampires weren't prone to headaches unless they were nursing a hell of a hangover, yet he could feel one knocking at the back of his skull. “I killed the bint’s brother, she was lookin for revenge”
Stevo's eyebrows rose. “She had a stake ready and raised above your heart. Someone like that usually isn’t the type to simply give up. I think she’s still going to be looking for vengeance, and you’re going to have to end her before she ends you.”
“Yeah,” Spike announced as he strode away, “I plan to.”
The two approached a door, which Spike opened up to reveal his bedroom. There was a large king size in the middle covered with soft linens and an elegant comforter. The wood flooring was dark brown with a rich area rug of reds and yellows, burgundy and gold covering much of the cool surface. The painted walls were a deep purple maroon, a large soft leather chair sat in a corner, and there was a doorway leading to a private bathroom on the left. One massive chest of drawers resided next to that.
When Stevo entered, he froze.
Spike headed to the chest when suddenly, a little sound drew his attention.
His eyes doubled in size, and the next second he noticed that the silence in the room was too immediate, too heavy. He pursed his lips and turned around. *This is just all I bloody need.*
Stevo's face as he stared at the kitten was one of both shock, and unsure excitement. The little feline peered up at the stranger in curiosity from the floor. Then she decided she wasn't as interested anymore and hopped up onto the bed, walking to the middle where she sat and wrapped her tiny tail around herself. She looked at Spike and meowed.
Quiet positively drowned the room, and Spike cast a guarded glance in Stevo's direction. The look on the gypsy's face could make anybody feel like a helpless child about to be bullied on the schoolyard.
Grinning from ear to ear, with way too much laughter bubbling up beneath the surface, he started to ask, "Is that-"
"Stevo," Spike growled. "I am not in the bloody mood."
"That's a kitten."
"No shit, moron."
Said kitten meowed again, and it was all Stevo could take. He started cackling, a rich and deep sound that made the feline's ears twitch around on her tiny little head.
Spike shook his head as the man's obvious delight grew louder, and then sighed for what felt like the thousandth time that night as he went to get a clean shirt. When Stevo spoke again it was in between raucous laughter.
"God please tell me you named her."
Spike didn't answer.
Stevo put a hand to his stomach as he tried to control himself. "I bet it's something pretty isn't it? Fitting for a furry little lady," he laughed.
"Will you shot your gob?!" Spike said abrasively.
"When did you get her? Was she just begging for you to take her home with those big eyes and you couldn't say no?"
Spike hated the tone in his friend's voice, hated that Stevo's guessing was right. It was mocking and merry and bloody hell but he was never going to hear the end of this. "I found her."
"And you just couldn't say no to that face, could you?" Stevo mock-pouted, and if he hadn't been busy making fun of Spike at the moment, the vampire might have actually laughed at the sight.
Instead irritation just set in further.
The gypsy approached the bed and gently scooped the kitten into one large hand.
Spike took a step forward. "What are you do-"
Stevo brought the mewing animal up to eye level and smiled. "Did your 'Big Bad' master leave you home without any company?" His voice was sympathetically sweet, with enough tease directed towards Spike to almost make the vampire blush.
The muscle by his jaw jumped. "Drop her, Stev."
"Ooh, someone's getting protective," the man said to the kitten. "You know little one, you have one of the fiercest owners in the world. Why, he was a major evil back in my day, and known for his torture techniques." He snapped his fingers with a jolly flick of one tanned wrist. "No one will dare try and hurt you as long as you're living under William the Bloody's roof!"
Spike's nostrils flared and he groaned. "Oh, piss off!" He went to the bathroom, and just before slamming the door barked out, "As long as you're holdin her ya can 'least give her some food while I take a shower!"
Stevo laughed again, shaking his head as he looked into the green eyes of the little animal. "Oh the guys are just going to love you."
[Reviews - 199]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | 
Chapter or Story
Has been viewed 2205 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story - Text Size +
Author's Chapter Notes:
Hey everyone, here's number 12! It's a little long, I hope you like it!
Chapter End Notes:
I don't think vampires are supposed to be able to thrall one another in the Buffy-verse, but since this is AU im going to be changing stuff around once in a while.
-and please know that for future characters and things, i have both 1) used what I've read about certain creatures and myths in the story and 2) added my own tweaks to such myths and legends to suit my liking-
Please review! *hugs*
-and please know that for future characters and things, i have both 1) used what I've read about certain creatures and myths in the story and 2) added my own tweaks to such myths and legends to suit my liking-
Please review! *hugs*