Buffy left the Library accompanied by her best friend,
the morning had taken its tole on her energy reserves, she felt flat
and lifeless, how could so much have happened in so short a time. In
the last three days she had undergone an emotional rollercoaster, highs
and lows, joy, sadness and anger. All she could think of was how much
she would love to be curled up asleep next to a gently purring, stunningly
gorgeous vampire.
At the thought of his soft purrs she couldn’t help but smile, she loved that sound, such gentle contentment from one of the most formidable and dangerous beings on earth. She didn’t kid herself, she knew who and what Spike was, there was no doubting how dangerous he was, you only had to look at him to see that, it was written in every sleek line of his powerful body. The fact that he had been in the past and was still certainly very capable of being a killer did not however mean that he was one. He loved her and she had no doubts whatsoever that he was no danger to herself or anyone else for that matter. She longed to leave, to make her way to her lover’s bed and the comfort and peace his loving arms brought. She found herself however dutifully making her way along with Willow to their first class of the day. As the morning wore on Mrs Davis’ voice became nothing but a background drone of useless facts about ancient Roman society. A nagging uneasiness tugged at the corners of her mind, something was wrong, she just didn’t know what, it was nothing definite, just a constant niggle that caused her to shift in her seat and tap at her pencil, her body urging her to action when she had no idea what form that action should be taking. The day passed slowly and her sense of unease grew rapidly, she knew something was seriously wrong, her Mom maybe, or some major evil brewing? Whatever it was, was going to drive her crazy. By the time lunch came around she was just about jumping out of her skin, she made her way back to the library, something was up and she needed to see her watcher. This morning’s altercation was of little importance compared to the major danger signals her body was practically screaming at her to sit up and take notice of. Throwing open the doors to the library she called out to her watcher. “Giles, you here, I need to talk to you.” “Buffy, what is it, what is wrong?” He came hurrying out of his office where he had spent the morning trying to come to terms with the news his slayer had presented him with and the further input from the dark haired vampire. The stress and urgency in Buffy’s voice however had him quickly casting aside all previous concerns. “ I don’t know, but I have this uber-bad feeling, something is wrong Giles, I know it, I just wish I knew what it was. Can you ring my Mom and make sure she is ok, I’d feel heaps better knowing she was alright.” “Certainly Buffy, I’ll do that right away.” He made his way back to his office to phone Joyce’s gallery. He knew better than to discount Buffy’s premonition, a in built sense of impending danger was part and parcel of the slayer make up. On returning to the library main he assured his fretting charge that her mother was indeed fine and in no immediate danger. “The only avenue I can suggest is to consult the books for any prophesies in regard to today or the near future.” His eyes followed his slayer as she paced urgently around the room, a picture of agitation. “Buffy please, be seated, nothing will be achieved by wearing a hole in the floor.” “I’m sorry Giles, I just feel so useless, something is wrong, I know it, I just, I can’t DO anything about it until I know what it is!” “Yes of course Buffy, I sympathise however as I stated your incessant pacing is in no way assisting and is in fact quite distracting. So if you will please take a seat, you could start with the English translation of the Davlar Prophesies whilst I work through some of the older texts.” He passed Buffy a large leather bound book, when she opened it the musty scent of old paper and dust assaulted her nostrils causing her to sneeze. They worked in silence for a short time before Giles broached the subject he knew his slayer least wished to discuss. “Buffy about this morning.” “Giles, I don’t want to argue with you about that any more. I told you Spike and I are together, nothing you say is going to change that so you just need to learn to deal with it ok!” Her exasperation at the lack of progress and her continued sense of unease as well as her profound reluctance to continue the morning’s discussion sharpened her voice more than she would have liked. She knew Giles was concerned about her and as stuffy and annoying as her watcher could be at times she adored him and knew he viewed her almost as a daughter. It was difficult being at odds with him and she really didn’t want to make the situation worse. “I realise your private life is really none of my concern and I have attempted as much as possible to allow you freedom in such matters, more freedom I might add than any slayer has ever been allowed before, however I feel the need to express again my concerns in this matter. Also it has been brought to my attention that the sword you say Spike gave you for your birthday has certain symbols, runes of some sort engraved in it, Angel is concerned that these runes are a spell of some sort which may be exerting an influence over your decisions. Causing you to act in a manner you would normally not consider.” “What you are saying Spike has put a spell on me, of all the ridiculous……hang on, what do you mean Angel, how would Angel know anything about Spike and I?” “Yes well it appears he was in the stacks this morning whilst we were having our discussion. He….” “Spike” Buffy’s cry of dismay cut him off. He watched in stunned disbelief as his slayer flew out of the library, taking a moment to gather some basic necessities he followed quickly behind. ***** Angel had left the library furious at the watcher’s apparent lack of concern. How could he be so blind, surely he could see the danger Buffy was in! As he entered the tunnels to make his way back towards his apartment he remembered the night he had watched Buffy kiss the blonde vampire goodnight. He recalled the direction his grandchilde had set off in, he contemplated the possible choice of hideouts the vampire could have chosen as his lair. Not much lay that way that would make suitable accommodation for a vampire other than the cemetery four blocks over from Buffy’s street. Spike always was one for dramatics and theatre, a graveyard was an obvious choice. After returning to his apartment for supplies he set out on his search. Taking a cross tunnel he knew lead in that direction he stretched out his senses searching for any trace of his grandchilde’s presence lingering in the stale air of Sunnydale’s underground arteries. It had not taken long to pick up Spike’s unique signature. By mid morning he had traced the scent to an underground cavern of a large crypt. Spike’s scent was strong here and reaching out with all his preternatural senses Angel detected the blonde asleep in a bed only a short distance inside the chamber. As silently as only a master vampire could be he made his way carefully to his grandchilde’s side raising his fist he delivered a crushing blow to the sleeping vampire’s temple knocking him out. He made quick work of chaining his adversary up, knowing Spike would not be unconscious for long. Once he was satisfied that the younger vampire was effectively restrained he made a thorough search of the crypt, Buffy’s scent was all through the place, she had obviously been here as recently as last night. Growling furiously to himself, he continued his explorations, climbing the ladder to the upper level he found two large sarcophagus, a couple of leather chairs a refrigerator an old television and a few rugs spread around the floor. Looking up he found the ceiling to be high vaulted with large strong beams spaced evenly across the expanse of roof. Perfect for his intentions. Going back to the lower level he collected the still unconscious vampire and dragged him to the upper level, securing him with the heavy chains to a beam so that his feet were barely touching the floor at full stretch, his arms extended above his head. Just as he finished fastening off the chain Spike began to groan as he made his way towards consciousness. He opened his eyes to the malevolent sneer and fuming hatred plastered across his Grandsire’s face. “Angel? What?” Spike’s mind struggled to focus, trying to make sense of his current situation. He had been sleeping, dreaming of Buffy’s warmth in his arms, her intoxicating scent in his nostrils. “You’ve been touching things that aren’t yours boy.” Angel’s voice oozed menace. “You know I get angry when you touch my things, time to teach you a little lesson in manners!” “Buffy, you’re talking about Buffy”, Spike looked incredulously at his Grandsire. “She’s not yours mate. She loves me you stupid Irish git. 's not your choice, not mine either for that matter; Slayer’ll make up her own mind ‘bout who she wants. So why don’t you get down off your fuckin’ high horse, piss off outta my crypt and let a fella get some sleep.” Spike didn’t know why he felt the need to antagonise Angel when he was so clearly at the disadvantage, but he hated the son of a bitch and he was so brassed off right now he didn’t really care about the consequences. As the first blow of the tyre iron connected with his left knee it occurred to him through the swimming haze of agony that keeping his mouth shut for once might have been a good idea. After the first few blows had brought wave after wave of ever increasing
pain as legs shattered and ribs smashed, Spike’s mind sought
refuge in the solace of unconsciousness. |