Chapter 8
 
He wasn’t sure what had happened, where he was or, even how he had got there. His world had narrowed infinitely in the last few moments. White hot pain blinded him, spiralling inwards to a sharp excruciating point, only to spread once more to encompass him. He couldn’t think, couldn’t focus on anything beyond the burning agony in the depths of his stomach and the siren call of oblivion that beckoned him enticingly.
 
“Spike, please.” Buffy’s voice quavered slightly as she pleaded with the furious master vampire before her. She placed one small hand gently on his arm to capture his attention, and when he finally turned his flashing golden eyes on her beseeching green ones she quietly asked again, “Please, baby, let him go.” Buffy swallowed hard, trying to remain calm in order to talk Spike into releasing her friend before any permanent—or possibly even fatal—damage could occur.
 
With a resounding growl, Spike released his grip on the boy’s crotch and stalked angrily to the far side of the kitchen. Xander dropped back to the ground, where his legs instantly gave way; he crumbled weakly to the floor, curling instinctively into a foetal position. His breathing came in shallow, pain-filled gasps and tears poured unheeded down his cheeks as the bitter taste of bile flooded his mouth making him gag, dry retching miserably where he lay helpless on Joyce’ kitchen floor. He fought to regain the use of his trembling limbs, eventually succeeding in bringing a shaking hand to his mouth to wipe disgustedly at the thin line of drool coating his chin.
 
“Buffy, what’s happening?” Her mother’s voice sounded anxiously from the hallway, her attention having been drawn by the sound of arguing, her curiosity further piqued by Spike’s rapid exit from the living room and the closely-following the loud thump as Xander had been hoisted none-too-gently up the wall.
 
Turning rapidly so that her body shielded the miserably whimpering boy on the floor from the sight of anyone outside the room Buffy glanced quickly at her still-furious mate before responding bitterly, “Nothing to worry about, mom. Spike was just reminding Xander why it really isn’t such a good idea to be calling a master vampire’s girlfriend a big ho.”
 
Joyce’s face darkened, and she made to step around her daughter, her eyes burning with fury. “Well, I never…”
 
Buffy sidestepped, effectively blocking her mom’s path and continuing to bar her entry into the kitchen. She drew a deep calming breath and softened her previous tone before continuing. “It’s ok, mom. Really. You go back into the living room and we’ll be right in,” she urged attempting to calm her irate mother before the situation could escalate any further.
 
Joyce hesitated for a moment, opening her mouth to argue, but the pleading look on Buffy’s face and the quick sideways dart of her daughter’s eyes towards the obviously angry vampire in the corner stilled her protest. “Alright, honey, I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” She turned to leave, and then hesitated. “Needless to say I am extremely disappointed in Xander. I had always thought he was a very nice young man. Obviously I was mistaken,” she added, her voice easily carrying past her daughter to the injured boy on the ground.
 
Buffy waited until her mother had returned to the living room before abandoning her position in the doorway. “Spike?” she asked tentatively, watching as he stiffened further.
 
Every muscle was held taut as he prepared himself to face her anger, her disappointment, or—worse still—her fear. Everything that he had come to cherish over the last couple of days was at risk because of the venomous mouth of some stupid teenaged git. He knew he should have left the boy be, let the Slayer deal with her friend herself, but the boy’s words had infuriated him, and to top it off, he had felt the crushing wave of hurt emanating from his girl at the useless prat’s words. It had been all he could do not to rip the bastard’s throat out for the way he had spoken to Buffy, and for adding to the already almost overwhelming guilt the girl felt for her part in Angelus’ re-emergence. He could only hope that his actions had not undermined the trust that had been building steadily between himself and the Slayer.
 
It astounded him that this tiny scrap of a girl had become so important to him in such an amazingly short period of time. It wasn’t, he mused, that he no longer had feelings for Dru; he did, and those feelings would always be there—of that he was certain. No, Buffy held a place in his heart that was hers alone, and he found himself bereft at the thought that he may lose her, and yet, he knew that if the circumstance were to arise, again he would act no differently.
 
With Spike’s back to her, she couldn’t see his face in order to gauge his mood; Buffy moved cautiously up behind him, lightly resting her hand on his back. “Are you ok?” she asked quietly.  The tightly clenched muscles relaxed beneath her gentle caress as he realised that he hadn’t lost her, and he sighed deeply in relief before turning to face her. His arms snaked slowly around her waist; gathering her close, he nuzzled into her hair, breathing in the warm ‘Buffy’ scent before pressing a soft lingering kiss to the top of her head.
 
“Yeah, love. ‘m fine. I just…” His jaw set tightly as his anger flared once more, blue eyes flickering to amber for a moment before he forced himself to calm enough to continue. “If I hear that git say anything like that to, or about, you ever again...” His voice trailed off, leaving unspoken the promised violence that would reward such a foolhardy action.
 
Buffy snuggled close to Spike’s chest, one arm snaking beneath the duster and wrapping around his waist to run soothing caresses down his back, the other resting just in front of her face, palm down against his un-beating heart. “You do remember that I’m the Slayer, don’t you, Spike?” she teased lightly, pressing a soft kiss against his chest before continuing. “I mean, I can kick your ass; what chance do you think Xander’s got?” She leant back to look up at his face, smiling at the sardonically quirked eyebrow and slapping him gently on the chest as he opened his mouth to disagree. “Oh, you so know I can take you, Spike, so why argue about it?”
 
Spike couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, and at her bright, happy smile, he couldn’t bring himself to care that he had just been played. “We’ll see, kitten,” he teased back, planting a quick kiss to her forehead and a sharp smack to that lovely, round little bum before releasing her and stepping back.
 
“Ow,” she complained, frowning at her grinning mate.
 
“Right, an’ I’m seeing just how tough you are, too, Slayer.”
 
“Ha ha,” Buffy murmured, pouting up at him. When he remained unrepentant she gave up on the pout and smiled gently before asking, “Ok now?”
 
“Yeah, love. I am,” Spike answered, and this time he meant it.
 
“That’s good. Why don’t you go back in? I’ll just be a minute.” After searching her face for a moment Spike nodded, and with a parting kiss, he left the kitchen, heading back into the living room to wait for his Slayer.
 
Buffy walked slowly across the room to where Xander lay, still curled into a protective ball; the soft whimpers and moans he had been making earlier, however, seemed to have ceased.
 
“Are you ok?” Buffy asked brusquely.
 
His slow nod was the only answer she required. “Good,” she stated flatly. “Now listen carefully.”
 
“I love you, Xander. You know that. But if you ever speak to me, or about Spike, like that again, you won’t need to be worrying about what Spike will do to you, because he won’t get the chance. I will make you wish you had never been born. Now there’s the door.  Make sure you close it on your way out... and don’t bother coming back until you’re ready to stop being such an ass.” Buffy once more turned her back on her friend and headed back into the living room.
 
*****
 
“We need to talk, Ripper.”  Ethan’s words hung ominously in the air between them.
 
“And what, precisely do we need to talk about?” Giles asked, his eyes fixed intently on the other man.
 
“Something’s coming,” Ethan replied. “Something big. And you’re going to need help.”
 
“Something big?” Giles repeated, releasing an exasperated sigh as he struggled to sit up straighter. “Ethan, is there any chance you are going to tell me what you know without the over-dramatisation and the dire cryptic clues?”
 
A wicked smile played across Ethan’s face.  He couldn’t help himself; Rupert was just so much fun to wind up, unfortunately though, they really didn’t have the time.  His eyes narrowed slightly, and his smile faded. “Let me see, some powerful and as yet unknown force is going to rise in the general vicinity of the Hellmouth, and it will set in motion events which will ultimately destroy the world as we know it. Is that straightforward enough for you?”
 
“Acathla,” Giles murmured.
 
“What was that?”
 
“Hmm?” Giles pulled himself from his musing and focused once more on the other man’s face. “Oh, yes. Acathla—demon. Long story short; the last time the demon tried to destroy the world it was turned to stone.  It was recently unearthed on a construction site and unfortunately is currently in the possession of Angelus and Drusilla, who mean to wake it and use it to destroy the world. There are prophecies, of course… there are always prophecies.” Giles mumbled the latter wearily. At Ethan’s enquiring glance he continued, speaking the words by rote, “With one breath, Acathla will create a vortex that will pull everything on Earth into that dimension, where any non-demon life will suffer horrible and eternal torment.”
 
“There is, of course, another prophecy pertaining to the stopping of the demon.” Giles sighed, running a hand despondently across his face, hiding the misery in his eyes from the merciless gaze of the one person who had always been able to see into his heart, to easily discern the things that he managed with little difficulty to hide from the rest of the world.
 
“Your Slayer?” Ethan asked gently.
 
A self-deprecating snort shook the watcher’s shoulders. “How do you do that?” he asked rhetorically. “Yes. My Slayer. It is, of course, a very long-winded and convoluted prophesy, requiring translations from three different and all-but-extinct demon languages; it pretty much boils down to this.  In order to prevent the rise of Acathla and destroy the demon completely, a slayer, carrying within her the seed of evil, is required. Evil which, in this particular case, comes in the form of a very dangerous and, rather fortunately for us, crippled Master vampire by the name of Spike—or William the Bloody, as he’s otherwise known.”
 
“Rupert, I hate to point out the obvious, but you are aware that vampires are infertile, aren’t you?”
 
“Yes, I am aware of that fact, thank you,” Giles replied. “However, according to this prophesy, a Master vampire is able to impregnate a claimed Slayer.”
 
Giles pushed the covers away weakly, attempting to climb out of bed only to be easily held in place by a strong, wiry arm when Ethan’s hand came to rest squarely on his chest, pushing him back. “And just where do you think you’re going?” the warlock asked.
 
“I was under the impression that I am no longer your prisoner,” Giles retorted.
 
“You’re not. You’re also not ready to be out of bed, and so I repeat: where do you think you’re going?”
 
“My Slayer… Buffy.  I need to… She’s alone with a vicious killer, one who specialises in the murder of Slayers.” Giles struggled against Ethan’s restraint once more before surrendering and collapsing back against the pillows. “I was on my way home to rescue her from this abomination when you… delayed me,” he snapped.
 
“I see. So, in other words, I prevented you from condemning the world to hell. I must say, I’m awfully sorry about that, old chap,” Ethan replied derisively.
 
“She’s a child.” Giles’ eyes drifted closed, the pain of his betrayal weighing heavily once more.
 
“She’s a Slayer,” Ethan responded bluntly. “Whatever happened to the renowned Watcher impartiality? Rupert, your father would be ashamed of you, allowing feelings to compromise your duty.” He reached out, his thumb gently stroking the other man’s cheek; Giles’ eyes flew open and locked with his. Softening his tone, Ethan continued, “If what you say is true then neither you nor your slayer had any choice in this, it is unfortunate, but also, apparently, necessary. I am sorry, Ripper, but I’m afraid that we have a lot more to worry about than right now than rescuing the not-so-helpless damsel. The portents I have been reading suggest that your demon is merely the beginning of something far greater. The catalyst, as it were.”
 
Giles sighed resignedly and settled back to hear the other man out. Finally, when Ethan had finished speaking and he’d had time to digest the information he had just been given he asked the one—and in his opinion extremely pertinent—question that had been playing on his mind all evening. “And why, Ethan, would I believe that you of all people would care? Your previous visits entailed bewitched costumes, you trying to kill my slayer, and oh yes, attempting to sacrifice me and my friends”—thoughts of Jenny brought a fresh wave of grief, which he hastily pushed aside before continuing— “to Eyghon in order to save your own life. So why should I believe you’ve had a sudden change of heart and now want to help?”
 
Ethan laughed, the deep, rich sound floating in the air around them once again, invoking memories of happier times that the watcher had spent so many years trying to forget. With an almost imperceptible shake of his head, Ethan replied, “I was simply enjoying a little chaos, which is a far cry from wanting to see the world destroyed. In case it’s escaped your notice, Ripper, I happen to live in this world, too, and I’m thinking that the literal kind of ‘Hell on Earth’ isn’t exactly my idea of a fun and relaxing holiday retreat.”
 
 
*****
 
As Buffy re-entered the living room three faces turned immediately to look at her, Willow’s expression was filled with concern, as well as the pain of being torn between her two best friends.
 
Spike’s eyes locked with Buffy’s, and she drew strength from the tenderness and the unconditional support shining in their ocean depths.
 
Her mother’s face showed her concern for her daughter, but still showed the harder edge it had taken on in the kitchen. “Has he gone?” Joyce asked her daughter.
 
“He’ll be gone soon. I think walking is a little bit of an issue at the moment.” Buffy replied, the words accompanied by of Spike’s snort of laughter and Willow’s small whimper. Buffy glared quickly at her mate. “He’s ok, Will. Just a bit sore,” she soothed her worried friend.
 
Willow’s eyes flicked fearfully towards the vampire before answering. “Ok. I guess. It’s just, you know… he’s my friend, and you’re my friend, and…”
 
“Will, I understand. And I’m not asking you to choose betw…”
 
“No,” Willow interrupted. “I mean… I know that. And I’m not saying he was right, or that I agree with him. It’s just, I don’t like seeing my friends get hurt… in any way.” Her gaze once more wandered towards the armchair where Spike was seated.
 
“Look, Red,” Spike spoke up quickly when he saw Buffy’s face begin to cloud over with hurt once again. “The boy was out of line. An’ I won’t have anyone, no matter who they are, talk to Buffy like that. ‘f he’d been anyone but one of the Slayer’s friends I would have ripped his bleedin’ throat out,” he finished with a growl.
 
Willow visibly winced, and Buffy rushed to the other girl’s side. “Spike, so not helping,” she chided. “Will, Spike isn’t going to hurt you, I promise. And he won’t hurt Xander, or anyone.” A soft growl interrupted her. “Unless he thinks I am in danger,” she qualified.
 
“But Buffy, he is the danger. Isn’t he? I mean, only recently he was trying to kill you. And whatever he did to Xander, it didn’t sound good. And how do we know that he won’t just wake up tomorrow and have changed his mind again? If instead of protecting you, he decides he’d rather be killing you?”
 
“That’s not gonna happen.” Spike’s anger propelled him across the room to loom menacingly over the frightened red-head
 
“Look,” Buffy snapped, fixing first Spike and then Willow with an intent stare. “Right now, we need to be worrying about how to find Giles.” Her lip quivered slightly as she thought about her missing Watcher. “I’m worried about him. And we just don’t have the time for arguing, mistrust or childish intimidation tactics. So are you here to bicker, or are you going to help me?” Buffy’s eyes flicked from her friend to her mate as she spoke, and she was rewarded by their chastened looks and softly mumbled agreement.
 
*****
 
Xander struggled to his hands and knees before turning around to sit with his back propped against the wall; closing his eyes, he waited out the fresh wave of nausea his movements had prompted before struggling to his feet. His breath came more regularly now and the pain, while still present, had lessened to a bearable level. Wincing as he walked, he made his way to the back door and after carefully and quietly shutting it behind him, he left the Summers’ residence as ordered.
 
*****
 
“Willow, is there like a spell or something you can do to tell us where he is?” Buffy asked hopefully.
 
The red-head brightened at the suggestion. She had helped Giles with a few simple spells, and had recently been reading as much literature as she could get her hands on regarding magic, “Yes. A location spell. It’s fairly simple, although I don’t have all the ingredients. But I can get them all at the magic shop in the morning,” she added quickly as Buffy’s face began to fall. “And I’ll need something of his to channel the magic. We can get something at his place, right?”
 
Buffy nodded enthusiastically, relieved that they would soon have a way to locate her missing watcher.
 
“Spell?” Joyce looked around the room, her eyes darting frantically from her daughter’s face to Buffy’s ‘vampire’ boyfriend, and, lastly to her daughter’s quiet, unassuming little friend. “Magic is real?” She asked in amazement, her voice rising almost hysterically.
 
“Mom?” Buffy was stunned; her mother had taken the news about her slayerness, and about Spike being all undead and fangy, with almost perfect calm, and yet here she was, majorly wigging out over something as simple as a spell.
 
Spike moved quickly across the room, taking the woman’s hand in his as he knelt in front of her. “Joyce?” When her eyes focused on his he continued, his voice gentle and kind as he tried to calm the woman who, in so many ways, reminded him of his own mum, from her simple kindness to the hidden depths of strength and bravery housed within the calm yet fiercely loving demeanour. “Yes, magic is real, so are a lot of other things from legends an’ fairytales.” He smiled gently at her before continuing, “An’ I know we’ve dropped a lot on you today, but we need you to stay with us. Buffy needs you to stay with us, ok?”
 
Buffy joined her mom and her mate, a hand resting lightly on Spike’s leather-clad shoulder for a moment. “Thank you,” she whispered before settling on the arm of her mother’s chair and wrapping her arms around the older woman, her head dropping to her mom’s shoulder. “Mom, it’s ok. It’s all good magic… well, not all magic is good, but what Willow uses is only good magic. Just a little smelly sometimes,” she added, crinkling her nose in disgust.
 
Joyce drew a calming breath and pulled herself together before assuring them that she was fine; it had been a very long day and, as Spike had pointed out, there had been rather a lot to take in. Her world had changed dramatically in the last several hours, she mused; things she had long since designated as childish tales and horror stories were not only real but an immediate and seemingly enormous part of both her and her daughter’s lives.
 
“I think it’s safer if we all stay together as much as possible. Mom, is it ok if Will and Spike stay here?” Buffy looked at her mother hopefully.
 
Joyce nodded silently. She could see the sense in her daughter’s words, even if she wasn’t one hundred percent happy about the situation. It wasn’t that she objected to having Buffy’s friends stay over, but a vampire boyfriend didn’t really fall into the usual ‘friend’ category.
 
“Spike can sleep in my room,” Buffy suggested brightly. “Or not,” she backtracked quickly as her mother fixed her with a disapproving stare.
 
“There’s some old camping gear in the basement. I’m sure you can set Spike up a nice bed down there.” Joyce’s tone softened slightly as she turned to the vampire. “I’m sure you will be quite comfortable, Spike.” At his silent nod of agreement, she turned her attention to the young witch. “Willow, you can share with Buffy. I’ll call your mother and let her know that you will be staying tonight.”
 
tbc

Days of Blood and Wine Series

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