This little revelation had Buffy momentarily silenced. He was still following the lunatic vampire around like a puppy? When was he going to learn?
“Okay, so she plans to—”
“She doesn’t know about it.”
“Really.”
“Really,” he echoed. “It’s supposed to be a surprise.”
“Why the Ring of Destiny and not some, I dunno, Dagger of Evil or something? Wouldn’t that impress her more?”
This made him laugh. “What does a vampire need a dagger for, Slayer?” He shifted into game face and bared his fangs, causing Willow to scuttle closer to Buffy with an ‘eep’. “We don’t need weapons.”
She’d reached for Mr. Pointy on pure instinct, even though he didn’t move at all from his spot. She lifted her hand anyway, threatening.
“Stop it.”
He shrugged again, and the ridges smoothed out, blue eyes returning. “Just proving my point. It’s none of your business anyway.”
She was about to press him further when something held her back. She remembered his desperate efforts to try and get Drusilla back the year before, and his ridiculous but somehow not at all surprising plan to win her over by way of torture. She understood suddenly that it most likely hadn’t worked, and that Spike was still trying to win her affections, only with yet another new tactic.
For a moment she felt bad for him, then it passed. In her opinion it was way past the point where he ought to have moved on, but a part of her couldn’t help but admire his tenacity and determination. If only Angel had thought their relationship was worth fighting for… no, let’s not go there.
“Fine,” she said sharply and nearly startled at her own voice. “But you’ll let us have a look at it before you leave, so we can make sure it does what it says on the tin and nothing more.”
“Deal,” he agreed. “Patrol the vicinity now?”
“Ugh,” she grunted, about to try and wheedle out of it, when a chilling howl sounded somewhere to their right. It was far away, but somehow not nearly far enough.
She turned to Willow. “I thought you said wolves were extinct!”
“Uh,” Willow began, but she was cut off by another mournful howl. It sounded almost surreal, and as the howling went on, she realized why. It had a haunting undertone to it, a wavering that shouldn’t be there.
“That doesn’t sound like a real wolf,” she said, without even fully knowing what she meant.
“It isn’t,” Spike replied. “That bastard has been keeping me company every night since I got here. Seen ‘im too. It’s one of the spirits.”
“A wolf Manitou?” Willow asked, and her face got a hopeful look to it.
“Nah, he’s not friendly. Took a chomp out of my arm on my first day.” When she raised a questioning eyebrow at him, he shook his head. “All healed now.”
Yet the wounds he’d sported were fresh. Clearly there were more of these spirits out there than just the wolf. The howling stopped abruptly. Somehow, the quiet that followed was worse. As long as they could hear it, they knew it was far from their camp. Silence could mean it was moving closer.
“Do you think it’ll attack?” Buffy asked, looking around again for the axe. Giles reached into his rucksack and hauled out a steel shortsword that he’d seen fit to bring for some reason and handed it to her. “Thanks.”
“It might.”
“Let’s go,” she said and stood, instantly regretting it. Fresh pain shot through her feet and she only barely managed not to wince. “We’ll do a half-circle around the camp, through the woods. You guys,” she said, and turned to Giles and Willow, “get out those hurricane lanterns you brought and see if you can light up the open area so nothing can sneak up on you. If you see anything, scream.”
They both nodded, solemn faced.
_______
After they’d left the small comfort afforded by the camp and the fire, Buffy realized how cold it had become and resisted an urge to shiver. She was thankful for her jacket but wished more than ever that she could just curl up in her sleeping bag and rest instead of parading around the forest with Spike as her companion.
She cast a sideways glance at him. He walked purposefully, a somewhat serious look on his face that she found strange. He was so weird to be going to all this trouble for a stupid piece of jewelery, especially one which, as far as he knew when he’d set out on this journey, was just a myth. Spike noticed her looking at him and tilted his head. She looked away quickly, and he huffed in irritation.
“What now?”
“Nothing.”
Spike shook his head and they walked on, into the gloom and doom of the forest. Buffy found it hard to imagine she’d been in here collecting firewood only a short time ago. Everything seemed so different and sinister now. She shone her flashlight at the ground, careful to avoid fallen branches, roots or rocks that could cause her to stumble. The light from the moon wasn’t nearly as good inside the forest, hampered as it was by all the trees. She heard a low, crunching sound next to her and knew Spike would now be sporting the distinctive bumps and ridges of a vampire.
When they were a reasonable distance into the woods, Buffy turned to lead them in a half circle that would take them around the campsite and the cabin. The trails in the area were getting narrower, fewer and farther between from lack of use. A few animal tracks weaved in and out of the trees, but they saw no sign of life.
“How far do you usually go when you come out here?” Buffy asked.
“Depends.”
“On what?” she pressed, ducking to avoid a half broken branch of a tree hanging across her path.
“On how far those spirit buggers let me get.” Spike ducked under the branch after her and gave the woods further in a cautious glance.
“You’ve been attacked a lot then, I take it.”
“You have no idea,” he said, turning to glance behind him this time.
They continued on until an owl hooted again. The unexpected noise pulled Buffy up short and caused Spike to bump into her.
“Watch it, Slayer. Not jumping out of your skin over owls again, are you?”
“No.” She flipped her hair and walked on. A twig snapped somewhere to their right and they both spun towards the sound. Buffy held her flashlight up with her sword half-raised.
“What was that?” she asked, nervously.
“Dunno,” Spike said. His fingers twitched. “A rabbit maybe? Hedgehog?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be able to smell them?”
Spike frowned and looked down at her. “Do you have any idea how many scent trails from animals there are out here? Either way, it’s not one of the spirits.”
“How can you tell?”
Spike shrugged one shoulder and gave the trees around them another distrustful glance. “They’re usually bigger.” He brushed past Buffy, leading the way forward. “C’mon, Princess, let’s not dawdle. We have a lot of ground to cover with those sore feet of yours.”
Buffy frowned in puzzlement at Spike’s retreating back. He was acting strangely twitchy, almost as if he was nervous. It was understandable, she supposed, since Spike had clearly had a rough time out here fighting these things, but she’d never known him to be scared of anything. He always barreled straight into danger as though it was a challenge or a game.
“Hey wait!” she yelled, realizing he wasn’t slowing down and she’d soon lose sight of him out here. “Spike!”
She stumbled forward awkwardly, her feet aching, and tried hard to catch up across the uneven ground. She was so focused on where she was stepping she almost walked right into Spike’s chest and jumped when his black clad form materialized in front of her.
“Afraid you’re gonna get lost, pet?” he said with a fanged smirk that Buffy wanted desperately to wipe off his face with her fist. She would have, too, if both her hands weren’t full.
“Shut up. We shouldn’t split up. Splitting up in the woods always ends badly. Haven’t you ever watched a horror movie? I just got here, I don’t know the place like you do yet.”
“Relax, Slayer, we’re not that far in. You just have to turn towards camp and walk in a straight line. Shouldn’t be too hard to manage, even for you.”
Buffy raised the sword threateningly. “Just keep moving before I end up using this on you.”
Spike rolled his eyes and turned again. This time Buffy followed close behind, glaring at the leather coat in front of her. Stupid vampire.
_______
Ten minutes later, Buffy’d had enough.
“Okay, there’s clearly nothing out here so why don’t we just head back to camp?”
“Giving up already, Slayer?”
“My feet are about to fall off. If I’m going to be of any use to anyone later I need to go lie down and rest for a while so my Slayer healing kicks in. Plus I’m getting hungry.”
“You and your bloody feet,” Spike muttered, but he did stop. Unfortunately he went on to stare at her feet with his unsettling, yellow, predator eyes. “Be easier for you to just lop ‘em off with that sword. Maybe a tasty Slayer would appease the spirits?” He perked and reached out for her sword. “Give it here, I’ll help.”
“Back off,” she warned, and took a step back.
“Relax, I was kidding. Not like you’re of any use to me dead, Summers.” Upon seeing that she was less than amused, he heaved a put-upon sigh. “All right, fine. We may as well go back. This way,” he said, changing course.
Buffy smiled happily behind his back at getting her way but it was quickly replaced with a grimace when she started walking again. Her feet were throbbing, and she realized Spike’s ‘bloody feet’ comment was actually more accurate than he’d meant it to be.
“Ugh, I hate nature,” she said. “Ow! This is torture.”
Ahead of her, Spike snickered.
“Hey! It’s so not funny. How would you like it if someone forced you to be a pack mule, hiking uphill with all the heavy crap they brought along, sent you off to collect firewood and then had you patrol the strange, pitch black, unnaturally creepy woods that people have died and gone missing in?”
“I’m already doing that last part, luv, and as for the pack mule bit, I’d bite ‘em first. That’s what minions are for. The firewood part, I seem to recall, was something you offered to do to get out of pitching a tent.”
“You and your logic,” she grumbled, balancing against a tree trunk as they headed down a small slope. “Stupid vampire thinks he’s so smart—” Her foot slipped, and she fell awkwardly with a little yelp, landing on the cold hard ground on her butt, one leg bent and the other stretched out in front of her. “Damn it!” she exclaimed. “I hate nature!”
Spike had turned when he heard her stumble and stood in front of her laughing his ass off.
“Oh, that was priceless,” he said, stifling another loud chuckle. “Beauty and grace, Slayer.”
Buffy threw a rock at him that he narrowly avoided by ducking.
“Oi!”
“I hate the woods, I hate hiking, and I hate you,” she said, glaring at Spike. She picked her flashlight back up again and checked to make sure it hadn’t broken, relieved to see it was fine. She gripped the sword in her other hand and swung it at the tree she’d been using for balance, feeling frustrated, tired, sore, and hungry. The sword chipped off some of the bark, leaving a pale gash in the wood.
Buffy let out a sound resembling a growl, knowing she had to get up and keep walking back to camp. She pulled her knees up to her chest, let her head fall against them and groaned. Above her there was a loud sigh, a shuffle, then an arm wrapped around her waist, another under her knees and she found herself being lifted up into the air.
She blinked in surprise and swung her arms in an attempt to regain balance at the sudden movement until Spike’s annoyed voice drew her attention.
“Stop swinging that sword around before you decapitate me, you nit. Would you just stay still?”
Buffy complied, more out of shock than anything, one arm clinging to Spike’s coat for dear life, the flashlight now lying on her stomach up against his chest, and her sword arm around his shoulders, the blade pointed downwards.
“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded… or she meant to demand, but it came out sounding more surprised than anything else.
“Carrying you.”
“I got that. I was more wondering why?”
“Because it’s easier than listening to you bitch and whine the rest of the way. We’ll never make it back the way you’re carrying on. I’ll get us both there faster this way.”
“Put me down!”
Spike raised an eyebrow at her but kept right on walking. “You want to walk the rest of the way, fine. Be my guest, but I won’t be waiting around for you this time.”
Buffy hesitated. She knew from his tone that he meant it. He also made some very good points. She really didn’t want to walk back on her own, and although her feet still hurt even when she wasn’t putting any weight on them, it was much less agonizing than walking any further herself. Still, Spike was carrying her, like some romance novel hero sweeping his damsel in distress off her feet.
On second thought, let’s not go down that road. There was nothing romantic about this little excursion. This was hardly the right setting, and there was certainly nothing heroic about Spike. If anything, she would be lucky if he didn’t accidentally bang her head against a tree while carrying her. She shifted uncomfortably in his arms, not liking this scenario at all. He was way too close to her neck, too.
“Will you stop squirming before you make me drop you?”
“Sorry,” Buffy replied, and felt like biting her tongue off. She was apologizing to him now. This was too weird for her to deal with.
Spike gave her a funny look, probably as amazed as she was by the apology, but kept on walking.
“Um, can we compromise?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Can I ride piggyback instead?” When he hesitated, she went on in an attempt to convince him. “I’m really not comfortable like this.”
Tense seconds passed as he considered it, but finally he nodded. “All right.”
She was set down - gently, she noted - and he turned around and even hunkered down a little for her so she could jump up on his back. It felt strange to hold on to him, one arm around his neck, her thighs wrapping around his waist and his arms curled under her knees, but it was better than being carried. His surprisingly slim frame made it pretty agreeable, too, but she’d never admit that.
The new position allowed her to shine the flashlight for him, though he didn’t really need it.
“You settled?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she replied, and he started walking again.
He smelled of leather and cigarettes. Half-hidden by the collar of his duster (and right in front of her face) were the faint scars of a bite mark on his neck. She figured it must have been where Drusilla bit him back when he was first turned. There’s a disturbing mental image: Spike as a human. She couldn’t picture it. Somehow a Spike without fangs just wasn’t... well, Spike. Of course he’d been William then.
“Should have figured you for a woman that likes to be on top,” he said then, breaking the silence. Buffy stiffened. “Is ‘the piggyback boink’ your favorite or do you have a whole dominatrix thing going as well? Wouldn’t surprise me if you were into the chains and whips thing, too.”
“The piggyback what?” Buffy asked hoarsely, her mind stuck on the phrase with utter horror.
Spike carried on, unfazed. “Bet you love ‘ride ‘em cowgirl’ too. Didn’t think you had much opportunity to try them out seein’ as you and the Poof only had the one go, or did you figure out a way around that little problem? Oh wait, I forgot, you had the whole ‘just friends’ thing happening last time I saw you. That mean you found yourself a new playmate?”
Buffy made several choked squeaking noises as she tried to settle on any of the rapid fire disgusted, outraged, and mortified responses running through her head.
“Refreshing to think you can be just as depraved as the rest of us when it comes to pleasure, what with that high and mighty act you have going. I have to admit, Slayer, I’m impressed.” He turned his head to give her a leer, his tongue poking out between his teeth before he faced forward again. “I do love a woman who takes what she wants.”
“Oh my God, stop talking!” Buffy yelled, one hand gripping his duster as though she were trying to squeeze the life out of it and the other grasping the sword, her knuckles pressing against his chest. “Just stop! Do you want me to murder you? I can’t believe you’d—the way your mind—how can—Ugh! God!”
His chest vibrated a little under her hands and his shoulders were shaking ever so slightly. Buffy swallowed thickly, feeling her face flush even in the cold night air. She was suddenly all too aware of his hands hooked under her knees and the intimate way she was pressed against his back. She didn’t know where to look, now fully aware of where his mind had been at her entirely innocent request. No wonder he’d agreed so calmly. When the slight vibrations and shaking didn’t let up, the penny finally dropped. He was laughing at her!
“You are such an asshole!” she blurted. That did it. Spike stopped trying to hide his laughter and his gleeful chuckles cut through the silence of the woods.
“You are far too easy, Slayer,” he said between delighted giggles. “I only wish I could have had a better look at your face.
“I’m suddenly feeling less tired,” Buffy said, turning her head to hide her embarrassment, though anger was quickly taking its place.
“Oh, come on, Slayer, I was just poking fun. Not like you don’t do the same at every opportunity,” he retorted, his laughter finally fading.
“Ha ha.” She gave him a sour look, not that he could see it.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? Just trying to change the mood. It’s gloomy as your ex’s face out here.”
“You’re sorry?” she asked, stunned. Under her, Spike tensed.
“No.” A pause, followed by a sigh. “Not... really... look can we move on? You were sorry, I was sorry... it was a blip in our usual conversation. Let’s just move on and forget either of us ever said it, all right?”
“Fine by me,” Buffy said, relieved he was as willing as she to forget about that so called ‘blip’. “Poke more fun of me and I’ll stake you, though.”
“Duly noted.”
Silence claimed them again as he continued to walk forward, Buffy staring at the back of Spike’s bleached head, confused and wary. She was also trying not to squirm against him uncomfortably, and boy was she uncomfortable, still mortified from his ‘joking’ earlier.
“Isn’t there usually another string to your violin?” he asked after a few drawn out, awkward minutes.
Buffy looked at him like he was speaking another language. “Huh?”
“Your band of merry sidekicks,” he explained. “There’s usually another one, isn’t there? The boy?”
She had to think for a moment before she realized he meant Xander. “Oh. Xander decided to go traveling. You know, do the whole find himself thing.”
Spike’s mouth twitched but he said nothing. Buffy glared at him, seeing the mirth in his eyes. He noticed her glaring and directed a full on smirk at her.
“Come on, Slayer. We both know that’s an easy way of saying he didn’t have the brains or the funds for college.”
Buffy pressed the blade of the sword against Spike’s neck threateningly. “Don’t insult my friends, Spike.”
Spike dropped the smirk to roll his eyes instead. When she didn’t ease up with the sword he paused and pretended to let go of her. Buffy yelped and grabbed the lapels of his coat tightly as she began to slide down his back until her descent abruptly stopped and she realized he still had a firm hold on her.
“No need to get nasty,” he said, ignoring her furious look. “Not like I think college is all that important anyway. Not like it’ll prevent anyone from becoming some beastie’s snack. Now am I dropping you off here or not?”
Buffy wanted so badly to hit him. Instead she eased the grip she had on his coat and looked away. He started walking again while she stared into the trees, fuming.
“Almost there,” he said a few minutes later.
Buffy surveyed their surroundings and squinted at the dark shape they were approaching. It looked like the cabin. She craned her head up to get a better view and finally located the campfire burning away merrily and the outline of the tent nearby. She was pleased to see they’d put out Giles’ hurricane lanterns like she’d asked.
“Finally,” she said. “Put me down.”
“Don’t want your chums to see you like this, eh?” Spike teased. “I dunno, maybe I should just walk right up with you on my back. Would be worth it for the looks on their faces.”
“Put. Me. Down.”
Spike rolled his eyes but did as she said. Buffy bit back a pained moan when her feet touched the ground again. She could see a figure pacing up and down inside the lit up area of their camp. It looked like Willow with some small weapon. She must be doing guard duty. Buffy smiled.
“What, no thank you?” Spike called after her, as she turned to head into camp.
Buffy paused and faced him slowly.
“I never asked for your help.”
“No, but you still got it, didn’t you. Could have left you there.”
“You need me,” she retorted, though she was less than sure about that. Spike wasn’t known for sticking to a plan for long.
“Could have knocked you out and dragged you back.”
They stood in silence, regarding each other for a moment. Eventually Buffy turned her back on him again and heard him scoff behind her.
“Thanks,” she said in a low voice, and hurried over to her friends as quickly as her injured feet would allow.
_________
He’d smelled the distinct and slightly chemical scent of tinned chicken soup before he’d seen the campsite. As they moved closer and finally into the light of the fire, he stopped breathing (which he’d purposely been doing for the entire walk because you never knew what might try to sneak up on you at night – he should know) altogether to avoid it. Despite knowing that the taste had nothing on proper, homemade soup with fresh ingredients, his stomach gave a twinge of hunger.
Watching Buffy hobble over to Willow and lean on the little witch’s shoulder, he patted down his pockets in search of his pack of smokes. He’d made sure to feed well on his way back up to the lake (a fat truck driver and the tired looking prostitute he’d just paid for), but that was two days ago now. All he’d had since then was a small deer he’d hunted the night before.
It seemed that the land-dwelling animals were a clever bunch. They’d gotten the hell out and stayed at a safe distance from what Spike had dubbed the Dead Circle. After his little chat with the Manitou, he’d trekked the entire circumference of it and estimated that it was roughly two miles in radius. The size impressed him.
He’d wondered briefly how come the humans didn’t seem to have noticed it from the air, figuring someone was bound to have flown over or near the area in a plane or hang glider, but shook it off. He’d stopped questioning human stupidity shortly after his turning, when he discovered how gullible and easily fooled they all were. If anyone had spotted it, they probably attributed it to pesticides or environmental issues or similar. Something that made it easy to sleep at night.
The downside was, of course, that there was rather a long hike before he could hunt. No doubt the Slayer and her minions would have issues with him killing Bambi, so he’d have to slip away unnoticed for a few hours somehow. He needed to catch more than just one deer, too, otherwise he’d only face the same problem the next day.
Of course he wouldn’t fall over from starvation anytime soon. When you were hanging out with the Slayer, however, it was rather important to your continued existence that you were at the top of your game, lest she get it in her head to try and off you while you were weakened.
Lighting up a cigarette, he mentally patted himself on the back for at least having thought ahead enough to stock up on smokes before he came back up here.
The witch had administered first aid on the Slayer’s feet, the end result being that she looked rather like a mummy from the ankles down. He’d had to endure the enticing smell of her blood through half the patrol so his sympathy didn’t stretch very far, not to mention that she really should have brought some proper clothes with her. Had the bint never been outside a city before? She was wearing too-tight jeans as well, tighter even than his. It was a miracle she hadn’t given herself blisters in other places, as well.
The thought put a saucy smile on his face until he caught himself and grimaced. Best not to go there. He didn’t have a problem admitting to himself that the Slayer’s body was a rather fine specimen and he’d thought about exploring her soft curves on more than one occasion, but now was neither the time nor the place.
The Watcher was passing around bowls full of hot soup and brought out bread to dip in it. He watched as they ate, listened as they chatted about everything and nothing. It wasn’t until they began yawning and murmuring about bed that he went over and hunkered down beside them.
“I’ll keep guard. You have any plans for tomorrow?”
After exchanging quick glances, all three of them turned to look at him.
“Uh, actually,” Willow said, sitting up straighter and reaching beside her to grab the book she’d been toying with ever since he and Buffy returned. “I was thinking we could maybe try this spell?”
She held the book out for Giles, and he adjusted his glasses as he skimmed the page she indicated in the combined light of the campfire and the full moon above them.
“A Satsang spell? Yes, I suppose that could work.”
“A what now?” Buffy asked.
“Satsang,” Giles repeated. “It’s a type of spell meant to commune with the divine and learn or uncover the truth.”
“Hang on, when did the Lake Spirit become a God?”
“It isn’t, but I doubt we’d offend it by insinuating it is,” Willow offered.
“She,” Spike supplied without thinking.
“Huh?”
“The spirit is a she,” he clarified. “Scant clothing, really nice tits. I like her. She wasn’t so keen on me, though.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Buffy deadpanned.
“I assume you were able to communicate with her without the aid of a spell?” Giles inquired.
“I’m not big on the magic, no. I was in the lake, and she just sort of appeared. Wasn’t very happy about me being inside her.”
Buffy sputtered. “What?”
“In the lake,” he said slowly, knowing exactly what she was thinking and relishing in it. “At the bottom of it, in fact. She is the embodiment of the lake itself, so I was inside her, and she showed herself to me there.”
“Uh,” Willow said, oblivious of the innuendo. “I don’t think that’s an option for those of us that need to breathe.”
“Quite so.”
“So we’ll do this singsong spell, then? Is it complicated?”
“Not at all,” Giles explained. “It is a fairly straight forward spell that only sends out a request for the divine to answer, it does not cause anything to happen.”
“She could say no?”
“Well, yes. One does not demand anything of the Gods. One asks politely.”
“And you sacrifice something in their honor,” Willow supplied. “To make them more likely to answer.”
“There’s sacrifices involved now?” Buffy raised an eyebrow and Spike had to smile at her lack of knowledge.
“Burning of herbs, offerings of salt, corn and nuts, and usually some type of drink.”
“We’re asking the Spirit to come for a meal? Are we having a date with it?”
Spike couldn’t help but chuckle and was rewarded with the patented Slayer Stink-Eye.
“Sort of,” Willow said and he could tell she was trying not to laugh herself. “I’m sure she’ll talk to us. She wanted help, right?”
“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Was right concerned with the Dead Circle and talking about how it was getting closer.”
“Dead Circle?” Buffy asked, eyebrow raised.
“I’ll show you tomorrow if your delicate little feet are up for it.”
She nearly growled as she assured him they would be. It was kind of sexy.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Next update: Thursday December 6th