The vampire made her way through the tunnel, rocks crunching beneath her feet as she walked. Purpose surrounded her, confidence seeped. She had a plan, one she needed to execute now, before her target brought in any more reinforcements to fuck with what she wanted.
Spike's head on a platter.
She'd finally gained all of her strength back, and some extra magick for the road. It was going to be a fun and successful night if everything went her way.
She entered a room with lit torches and a dirt floor, where the puppies were residing, each smelly hire-out vamp a lackey she planned on using tonight. "Boys," Flora called as she strode past, heading for the weapons hanging on one of the cavern's walls. "Follow me. You're gonna help with a kill tonight."
"Can we get something to eat on the way?" One vampire asked, already making his way over to an axe that he liked.
Flora turned a stake around in her hand and stuck it in her pocket, tossing another to the minion on her left as she replied, "After the job's done."
Four more henchmen moved without hesitation, the others looked uncertain; one asked a question. "Who're we going after?"
"Am I paying you to bother asking that?"
Several more vampires stood at her impatient tone, going to pick from the axes and daggers, ready to follow their boss out to do some dirty work. The last lackey sat still, frowning in a worried way at Flora as she tossed a pair of steel knuckles around. "We're going after that Spike guy you've got a grudge against, aren't we?"
A knife suddenly flew, and the room froze. Flora stood glaring. Her hand which had just held the dagger now residing in another vampire's chest, was outstretched.
"You don't. Say. His name," she ground out, and stalked up to the vamp hissing through his teeth in pain. He at least had enough sense to realize that it was no right of his to remove the weapon himself.
Flora did it, glaring coldly when he screamed. "We're killing the bastard tonight, and he's got some reinforcements so I need help, and that is what I'm paying you idiots for."
Teeth clenching and one hand pressed against his wound, he said, "The boss won't like it."
"I'M your boss, too. And she won't give a fuck." Flora spun around. "Now get your asses moving!"
They did. And stiffly, ballsy lackey number one still managed to mutter, "She doesn't want him killed-"
"The only reason she wants him ALIVE is because of that stupid prophecy," Flore interjected, "if it even comes true."
Shoving an axe into the minion's arms, her eyes like ice, she added, "But really, she doesn't care if he dies or not." Her voice changed, grew almost taunting in an instant, when she smiled evilly and said, "If she did, she wouldn't have juiced me up."
The vampire became wary, a hard swallow going down his throat as Flora wiggled suddenly zapping, sparking fingers in front of him. Then her wicked smile changed into a sneer, and she turned away once again.
She headed for the tunnel from which she came, and shouted for the group of fanged fiends to follow her.
They left the cavern in lead of their boss, ready for a kill.
><
It was going on eight PM.
Spike glanced at the clock on the wall, his patience nonexistent even as he told himself not to worry, that Buffy would return to him. That he wouldn't even have to bother chasing her down if she didn't, which he'd planned to do if necessary.
But she would come back.
He'd been telling himself so since she'd run out hours ago. His bullshit tolerance had lowered to a level that was causing the vampire to snap at his friends for no reason; though wisely, none of them dared mention Buffy or the recent visit. Instead, they researched.
Ace was on the phone calling witches and voodoo shops in New Orleans; an expletive was heard right after every hang up. Blake was web surfing in between arguing every ten minutes with Rex, even as Dylan read through ancient texts on his own computer. Theories were getting thrown about. Stevo was still searching through the gypsy journal, offering helpful tips here and there while scanning for info that might serve useful.
Spike was in a demon bar outside of town.
Actually, he was in a completely different town. The drive was forty-five minutes, and he'd just picked up some new bloodbags for himself at the main hospital. It was the one he always stole from, but truthfully, he wasn't all that low on his supply right now.
He had a sour feeling that Buffy would not be returning to him tonight, no matter what; and he'd also needed to get the hell out of the house lest he get into a fight with Rex or someone else.
So naturally, when Stevo had announced that it'd be a good idea to do some muscle work through the demon community and throw about some questioning, Spike had volunteered. It was logical, seeing as he was the one who best knew his way around the area, and out of it.
Of course, he was angry, too; and needed a drink.
This was the second place he'd entered tonight. The main goal was to try and find some info on Flora, or the Gem if that was possible; Spike wasn't necessarily enjoying himself asides from the alcohol.
The first place he'd gone was dead (no pun intended), and he knew it said more about the bar he'd arrived at rather than the time of night.
Demons went out early and stayed out late. They often had nothing better to do, or wanted to get their hands on the things Spike called delicacy drinks. Beverages and concoctions hard to get in this dimension unless special ordered, exotic bloods and such. There was also bagged O-neg and the rare blood types of the human variety for a vamp's lazy night.
And, of course, even demons needed to socialize.
Spike sat in a booth in the back corner of the bar. There were creatures aplenty, and he was nursing a glass of JD and scanning the crowd for someone who might look able to offer up some information. Of course, by offer, that most likely meant beat until they talked.
Spike had no problem asking nicely first. However, he really needed some violence right about now, and usually, it was necessary anyway.
Talking a swallow of his drink, his eyes lingered on a vampire couple that had just entered the bar. He was a masochist that way.
They looked touchy and in love, even if they most likely were just fuck buddies. The girl was happily placed under her boyfriend's arm as he shook hands with someone they both seemed to know. A few minutes went by of simple conversation, until Spike finally started to get irritated.
He was about to turn his gaze onto someone else when one of the drunks at the bar, a vampire Spike had deemed completely stoned from first glance, decided it'd be fun to cause some trouble.
He leaned sideways off of his stool, making cocky eye contact with a friend down the bar as he raised a hand and smacked the female beneath her boyfriend's arm on the ass. Predictably, she whirled around in shock, and so did her other half.
Before any words could be uttered, the drunk was lifted off of his seat, pausing in mid cackle as stupid shock immediately ran across his face. A scream was heard when he got thrown bodily across the room, to land sprawled and groaning on top of a pool table.
The enraged boyfriend went forward with purpose, and proceeded to pummel the idiot.
Spike scoffed, not the least bit surprised. He would've done the same thing. The girl vamp didn't seem to be surprised either; rather, she looked a little bored and very much NOT shocked.
That detail caused an internal frown. Even in the demon world, when a male got into a fight that had to do with a female, the woman either cheered on, left in a huff, or tried to get him to stop brawling. It was very similar to the human bouts of jealousy and shows of high male testosterone levels.
Never did Spike witness a dame seeming bored or unsurprised over her man's violent actions, however.
It was like she was used to it, or that the action was expected after the drunk had touched her. Which, it was, but a girl didn't usually see it that way. She seemed relaxed, arms crossed and rolling her eyes as her boyfriend delivered a last couple of punches before he picked up the pile of meat, and carried his moaning body to the door.
Spike raised a brow, studying the lady looking so calm and patient. When her boyfriend returned, he looked her over, and it was deemed from the private conversation the couple had in a narrow corner, that the chit was fine and so was her beau. The man lifted her hair away from her neck as their words seemed to become less stressed, as they both calmed, and he looked at a bite mark there on her throat. His hand caressed it with exquisite gentleness, as if to reassure himself of something... A near imperceptible shiver ran over the woman's skin.
It was something Spike had never seen before between vampires, a strange closeness. Like a deep... link.
A sudden memory flashed in his mind. Something he'd read... a very long time ago. He shook his head, blinking rapidly over the mental image. It was like a photo in his mind, the page he'd seen, the book and...
*Claiming.*
The memory disappeared. Spike closed and rubbed his eyes, the information still burned like a candle that didn't want to go out. It felt like he'd been tossed something he'd lost years before. Something which had faded or-... No, it had been taken. He'd been hurt, his mind had lost it that day... forgotten it.
Spike took a swig of his drink. The recollection felt like it had vanished, but left a strong intuition behind that-
Bloody hell.
He remembered.
><
Buffy sat in a pile of books, some open, some not; a lot were already read through, a few were barely touched. Her pink chaise worked well for a table, as well as the actual table to her left with the convenient little lamp.
Being on the third floor of the MayBell library should be messing with her emotions, but she was a little too focused on pictures and legends to be thinking about those circumstances.
It was ridiculous, she'd decided, the amount of varied opinions there were on the topic of vampires.
According to all of the different lore she was delving into, there might be several different species of them.
Sometimes sunlight burned the creatures, sometimes it did nothing; but even if it did it wouldn't matter because they were nocturnal. Stakes to the heart killed easily and thoroughly, or sometimes beheading was the only solution to ending their existence. Fire was no more or less fatal to one than it was to a human. Crosses, holy water, and garlic were often referred to as "the classic myths" (as if she wasn't reading up on freaking vampires).
Shapeshifting was either normal, rare, or impossible. They had reflections, or they didn't. Vampires could or could not fly, they were or weren't immortal, they did or didn't need an invitation to enter your home.
Buffy couldn't remember if she'd actually invited Spike inside her house or not now...
She blinked hard and shook her head, quickly refocusing her thoughts.
The only two things ALL of the books seemed to unanimously agree on were: 1) Vampires drank blood. 2) They should be killed.
She flipped another page as she finished reading something about turning to ash when they died. That was another thing that varied, their death. Sometimes they turned to stone, others to dust, sometimes they just became a normal corpse, or burst into flames.
Well, Buffy supposed that last qualified as turning to ash, too.
She was beginning to think she was crazy with this, for considering any of it; but then Spike's face would flash behind her eyes and she'd be determined to learn more all over again.
She couldn't believe the day she'd been having. Magick bracelet, vamp-faced boyfrie- err, boy.
Buffy sighed, scanning another page.
Her head ached. And she was pretty sure gossip would get around town now about her being a vampire nerd or something because she'd gotten literally every book in the library on the subject, and opened them, and begun researching. She could take a quiz on this stuff and ace it, and she sucked at quizzes.
And according to her studies, there was nothing good about the demon a vampire was. All she saw were "Vampires are pure evil" and "Should you ever meet one, pray God will forgive you for all your past sins because you're about to die."
It sure wasn't shining a positive light on Spike. And all that did was manage to make Buffy angry.
She didn't know how long he'd been alive, she didn't know a lot about his past. Hell, if he was immortal or something, he could have been around for centuries. She just didn't know.
But she wanted to. She also wanted to know if he was as bloodthirsty as these books claimed he was. Some of them mentioned vampires having no souls or emotions, but that couldn't be, because she'd seen him feel. She'd seen him take in a little stray kitten, too, so the likelihood of him being a murderous prick with a penchant for torture and blood was pretty slim in Buffy's head.
Spike was close to her, she close to him. Now that a lot of her fear had drained out (although she sure wasn't out of that emotion yet), Buffy was edging closer and closer to wanting to see him again and execute an interrogation.
She wanted answers and details, she wanted to trust him again and know him better. She wanted-
Buffy paused, her breath hitching as she stared at the new page in between her fingers. Her gaze grew huge as she had a staring contest with a pair of piercing, drawn demon eyes. It was black and white, but she knew those eyes were supposed to be amber yellow. The man's brow was crinkled, protruding. Fangs, jagged teeth... Vampire.
She exhaled, looking at the matching picture of a female vamp on the left page. Two thoroughly authentic visages... if Spike truly was what she believed, then this book's author could be proud to pieces of their work.
Buffy speedily flipped more pages, and more. She read and devoured everything she saw. Every line, every word.
><
It had been years before. Before he was turned; hell, before he'd hit puberty.
Spike lit the cigarette dangling from his lips, slipping his Zippo back into his pocket when the smoke wafted up. He inhaled gratefully, memories gliding through his mind so easily now, after they'd been missing forever.
It felt like a dream. He hadn't received the information after it had happened. He'd lost it, and now, almost two centuries later it finally popped back into his head. He didn't know whether he was relieved or bothered by the recollection.
When he was still alive, around age ten, reading in his father's study like he sometimes did, Spike had stumbled upon a book. A supernatural one, about vampires and their bloodlust, their tricks and desires, even perceived personal habits.
He'd been fascinated at the time by what he'd believed to be legends. Spike knew now though that most of the stuff he'd read that day, what the random book in his house had contained, was actually very true. A lot of it factual things, and talk that sounded funny if you didn't know the reality of it.
There had been one specific chapter...
About mating. It was such a short few pages, but it had included details and information he'd not, at the time, focused too much on; now he recalled it all too vividly.
It was such a strange thing for his father to own, because most of the books in Spike's home had been tales for him and his sister, or things on either plants or law. His mum had loved gardening, his father had been a lawyer, and unlike his sis, William had been an avid reader. He read everything he could get his hands on, and usually remembered the information well.
But that day he'd found the vampire book, directly after reading it through, his uncle had come home from a night of drinking.
It was only a couple of months after Spike's dad had died of heart problems, and the family had been in mourning when his brother, Uncle Phillip, had arrived on their doorstep. They'd been forced by propriety to take him in.
The man was heartbroken over his brother's death, which made him drink more than usual (which was already too much), and he was a mean drunk. He'd already hit his nephew a couple of times while sloshed, but it wasn't on the face, so the bruises were easy to cover.
William hadn't told on his uncle, both too scared and not believing he had a right, as Phillip was an adult as well as his dad's grieving brother.
It turned out that he didn't need to mention anything, though maybe he should've.
When Phillip had found him in the study that night, awake past his bedtime as well as daring to enter his dead father's favorite room and go through his things, Phillip had beat him unconscious and nearly half to death.
Spike restrained a shiver, the wind whipping some dried leaves around his ankles as he strode back to his car. The memories were now fresh again after all these years. He'd woken up a day or so later, swollen and hurting, being nursed with a cool towel to his wounds by his mum.
Uncle Phillip had been caught by a servant during the beating, and then promptly kicked out of the house. Spike remembered now how his mum had apologized for ever letting the man come near him.
He also remembered how he hadn't recalled anything after the attack. Spike hadn't known the half of that day until now, including the vampire book, but he'd known what he'd suffered. Hell, the swelling and bruises proved it. He'd finally had his first black eye to sport.
The man sighed, starting up his car as he pulled out of a gas station. He was on the way home, and even though the memories of that day kept running through his head like they were on a treadmill, he didn't understand why they'd come back to him after so long gone.
Something about Buffy, he was sure. Because after that dream a couple nights back, and then seeing the vampire couple at the bar, and telling his darling girl about what he was... Spike wanted it. He wanted her as his mate, so badly he could taste it.
And now, he had the information back. Now, he remembered those few pages of that bloody chapter better than he could remember his own name. Now, he craved it.
Now, when Buffy had run from him.
He clenched his jaw, swerving violently onto the highway that would take him back to MayBell.
He didn't want to think of her leaving, or of the desire he had burned on his mind, the impulse.
It was like raw sandpaper filing down his nerves to nothing. A gnawing hunger. He hadn't even tried to get information on Flora out of anybody after his little epiphany. He'd gone straight to his car, and headed home. He was only five minutes away at present.
The guys would be fighting, he was sure.
He wondered if Buffy had stopped by.
The vamp shook his head, muttering what a moron he was to himself as he turned on the radio. Of course she hadn't, it was too soon. She was too freaked out to come by yet, and after everything, there was still a selfishly frightened doubt that she wouldn't. Spike was ready to go out and hunt her down if he had to, argue with her until they were both screaming and he had her back.
But he still knew... with Buffy, he knew and he believed she would return. He just wasn't sure when, and believing didn't guarantee anything.
He needed to seriously take his mind off of her before he went and drained somebody just to relieve tension.
Spike turned the radio up louder.
It wasn't until a few minutes had passed, and he was pulling up to his house, parking in a small garage a couple of yards away, he felt like something was wrong. Leaving the cooler of blood in the trunk, Spike casually but quietly got out of his Desoto... His senses alert and his mind focused, he quickly locked the car, acting relaxed while feeling the opposite.
He looked around, including up, before heading to his back door. The tension in his stomach and spine grew with each step.
Until finally, they made their move.
Within moments, seven attacked. He spun into a defense position, and swung, shouting for his mates to get their asses the hell out of the house and help. The seconds passed in blurs as Spike narrowly dived stakes and axes. He gladly threw himself into it, and even as he saw the Flora bint pacing in the distance as her minions went at him, he grinned evilly around his fangs. Each hit felt good, each bit of violence a distraction from precious unlife.
He couldn't decide if this brawl was the highpoint of his day or one more notch on the shitty-luck bedpost.
Just when he received a few hard blows and dodged a blade which got a little too close for comfort, his friends arrived like a brigade of warriors. Flora then flew into the fray as well, and it was a full out battle.
Spike realized idly, as Blake tossed him an axe he used to clash with another, that it was probably a good thing he had a fondness for weapons.
><
Buffy slammed the book closed, quickly stacking the others she had strewn about into a neat pile, and leaving them on the chaise. Usually she put things back where they belonged, but tonight one of the employees could do it. She had to get to Spike's.
She'd read that entire three hundred paged book from cover to cover, and it was time to run her interrogation; if she had to break down Spike's front door to do it.
Buffy ran down the library's steps to the first floor, almost plowing into a guy as she rushed outside and strode across the street.
She had one place in mind, but a thousand questions.
*Spike, I'm gonna make your ears bleed.*
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Author's Chapter Notes:
NOTICE: Child abuse warning for this chapter. I have a whole explanation in the last chapter's end notes in case anyone didn't read those, so you can go back and look before you start this chapter. Don't worry, it's not graphic, it's a memory, and very short.
Okay, I hope you all enjoy!
Okay, I hope you all enjoy!
Chapter End Notes:
Thanks everyone for continuing reading this, and for the reviews you've sent! Please leave more, they help my muse. :)