Monster in Her Man
by Spikesdeb
Chapter 2
As Buffy emerged from the darkness of
Spike’s crypt, she was distracted by thoughts of the events of the last 24
hours. She walked hesitantly, steps
slowing then speeding up as she sifted through the thoughts running through her
head. She didn’t hear the
approaching demons until it was too late, and she was bundled up in the net
they’d thrown over her and knocked unconscious.
++++
Spike was itching for nightfall,
desperate to have at least the option of going to find her if she didn’t
return. Didn’t mean he would, of
course, just meant he could – if he wanted to.
He could just picture her, all snuggled up with the Scoobies right about
now, glossing over the hours spent with him and inventing some yarn about how
Riley and she had exchanged words – loud ones.
Hell, she could even be planning on repairing that joke of a
relationship, though it’d take some patching up.
But Buffy could do anything she put her mind to.
She was exceptional… and she was his goddess.
He’d just dropped down to the lower
crypt searching for his cigs and bourbon for a bit of anaesthetic when he heard
the door upstairs open. He
couldn’t stop the grin from stealing across his face.
Yeah, he knew she’d be back, once bitten by the Big Bad, she couldn’t
help herself. Spike bounded up the
ladder like an overgrown puppy – only to skid to a halt when he saw who the
visitor was.
“Watcher.
What brings you to the dark side? Kiddies
playing up and you fancied some adult company?”
“I’d hardly call you…no, Spike.
Much as I enjoy our verbal sparring, I haven’t the time.
Have you seen Buffy at all?”
Buffy.
She was missing… His heart
sank to his boots.
“Not since this…since last night;
she stopped by to threaten me with violence, you know the usual thing.
But not since then…is she in trouble?”
Giles was slightly taken aback by the
undertone of panic in the vampire’s voice.
Odd. He’d have to look into
that, but later, when he’d assured himself that Buffy wasn’t in danger.
“Well, that’s the thing, Spike, I
wish I could tell you. All I know is
she didn’t go home last night and she was supposed to be dining with her
mother – who incidentally is completely beside herself because Riley woke her
when he couldn’t find Buffy.
Spike reached for a cigarette, hands
trembling. This wasn’t good.
She’d left soon after sun up and should have been snuggled under the
covers with Mr Gordo for a couple of hours before school started.
Where was she?
“Tell you what, Giles, I’ll head out
and hit the demon bars, see what I can come up with.
Need about another ten minutes or so before sunset.
‘Course, you’ll owe me…”
“Oh naturally -- heaven forbid you’d
actually help for altruistic reasons.”
“Vampire here, Watcher.
You keep forgetting I’m evil down to my little toes -- besides, need a
few quid to curry favour. Find
myself temporarily embarrassed in the cash department.”
It was the truth; digging up all of his
readies to get Drac out of Sunnydale had wiped him out.
And being as how he’d spent the last ten days healing, he hadn’t even
been able to play cards to try and recoup. Wasn’t
going to tell Watcherman that though, no. Until
– or more like if, to be honest - Buffy came clean about them, he’d better
stick to his usual MO.
“So.
What cash have you got on you? Not
gonna get very far in the demon bars with a screw cap off a bottle of JD.”
Giles tutted, digging into his pockets
for notes. He came up with $37 and
change.
“Here.
But I want a receipt. And
don’t forget, Spike, you’re there to find out about Buffy, not to buy blood
for your boozing buddies.”
Spike nodded in acknowledgement, turning
away to hide his eyes. Not like he
had any mates anyway, not since he started helping the Slayer.
And that was fine with him.
“Right then.
Best get ready. Don’t let
the door hit you on the way out, Watcher. I’ll
be in touch if I find anything out. You’ll
let me know if I’m off the leash, yeah? If
she comes back?”
Spike tried to keep his voice even, but
still Giles wondered at the tone. It
was almost as if he was bothered, personally bothered, that Buffy was missing.
Must be the acoustics in the crypt. Couldn’t
be anything else, surely.
Shaking his head at the peculiar turn
his thoughts were taking, Giles made his way out, closing the door behind him
with a clunk.
Alone now, Spike was seriously freaking.
He raced to his weapons chest… what to take…
Until he knew where she was and what had her, he didn’t know what
he’d need. He settled on a couple
of stakes, the crossbow, and his rifle. Stashing
some ninja stars and a knuckle-duster in his pockets, he checked the sun
situation and headed out. First stop
Willy’s.
As he made his way across town, he
conducted an internal debate. What
the fuck was he doing? It was likely
that Buffy was off telling Captain Cardboard that she’d had a hex put on her
or something, and by now they’d be having a celebratory shag.
Yeah – that’d be right. And
the sorry sod would be so magnanimous about forgiving her too.
But he knew, somehow he knew that things were not right with his girl.
They’d swallowed each other’s blood, and something had happened as
the nectar of her Slayer blood slid down his throat.
He’d tasted his own blood on her lips, weak as water in comparison to
the fine wine of hers, and something sizzled along his spine when their eyes
met. They’d connected; he could
feel her – not like a claim, nothing that overt and certainly not enough to
locate her, but a sense of her -- enough to know that she was uneasy and angry,
wherever she was.
He flung the door of Willy’s Bar open
and strode in like he owned the place, weapons carried carelessly in his hands.
He didn’t belong now, not really, but he still had enough of the Big
Bad vibe going on for him to cause a number of imbibers to scoot away from his
leather-clad form – some even sidling out the door.
There was a sibilant hiss running around the room in his wake; Spike
amused himself by growling and flashing the fangs just to see if he got a
reaction. The hissing stopped.
Dropping the game face, Spike glared at the row of assorted demons
sitting at the bar. Eventually one
young and particularly nervous Skalath demon slinked off the stool, tripping
over his tail and third leg as he went. Spike
took the seat, snagging the remains of the drink left in front of him.
The demons to his left and right tried
to put a safety zone between them and him without making it obvious.
Yep, his reputation definitely preceded him, he was the Big Bad -- or
maybe they just didn’t want to be close to the Slayer’s lapdog.
“Willy!
Me old mate. Fill up the
glass with O neg -- no pig’s! Give
me the house best.”
Willy considered his options.
He was human, and if rumours were true William the Bloody could no more
do him damage than could a three-year-old. But
he’d assumed that the vampire was toothless in the past only to be bitten on
the backside by that notion. He hollered through to the back and a pale figure
drifted into view.
“Yeah, boss?”
“Vance, gonna need to change the
barrel here. The vamp wants a drop
of the good stuff. Spill.”
Bloodlust almost overwhelmed Spike as he
watched the human drag a sharp blade across his wrist, splitting apart scar
tissue to open the vein. The aroma
of freshly spilled human blood hit him right in the gut and he couldn’t help
the switch to his demon visage. His
mouth watered, fangs traced by his long pink tongue as he watched the carafe
fill to the brim with warm, ruby red elixir of life.
He followed every movement with hungry eyes, licking his lips as a
tumbler was placed in front of him.
“On the house, Spike.
You know, goodwill and all that. I’m
thinking of starting a Happy Hour for the regulars.
Good plan, right?”
Spike nodded in acknowledgement and
quickly drained the glass. Now that
was a turn up for the books. Willy
wouldn’t even give away his own bodily waste.
Something was up.
As Willy moved to take the glass away,
Spike gripped his wrist, wincing as blinding pain shot through his head courtesy
of the government chip.
“Where is she, Willy?”
“She…I…I…what ‘she’ are you
talking about, Spike. You lost
someone?”
Spike glared at him, keeping a hold of
his wrist despite the fact his head was about to explode.
Shoulders sagging in defeat as he
realised that there was no way to break the vampire’s grip, Willy leaned
towards him conspiratorially. He
raised his eyebrows and waggled them in a ‘c’mere’ way.
Sighing, but following the narrative imperative, Spike shifted his upper
body towards the purveyor of demon wares.
“What.”
It was a statement, not a question.
The answer wasn’t requested – it was taken as read that it was
coming.
“Perhaps I might have heard a little
snippet of information that may be useful to my good buddy Spike, given all
freely and without any thought of asking for anything in return.”
“Willy…”
“Ok -- the word on the grapevine is
that the Slayer is all thralled up and waiting for fang at Castle Drac.
Folks are saying that she’s to replace the bride who recently shuffled
off this immortal coil at the hands of an angry mob.”
Spike muttered under his breath
“There’s always an angry mob…”
Dragging a deep and useless breath into
dead lungs, he let go of Willy’s now bruised and aching wrist.
The snitch had done his job; he’d told his tale.
No point hurting him anymore. And
besides, Spike felt sick to the stomach from the pain in his head and the last
thing he wanted was juicy blood making an embarrassing reappearance.
Gritting his teeth, Spike shoved himself
away from the bar and headed out the door. Stony
silence shrouded the room as the pissed-off vampire kicked over a table on his
way out.
“So...who fancies a round of pin the
tail on the Morlax demon?”
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Buffy was yanking at the manacles that
kept her bound, wrists and ankles, to the wall.
She’d come to a few minutes ago, no knowledge of how she got wherever
she was and seriously pissed off. Nobody
messed with her; she was the freaking Slayer!
Who had the nerve to fling a net over her and then chain her to a wall?
Well, there was one person…but that was before.
Spike had no need to stoop that low.
After all, he must know that if he just waited long enough she’d come
running. She was done kidding
herself. Sooner or later her stylish
yet affordable boots would click clack across the cold stone floor of his crypt
before being flung to the four corners of the room along with the rest of her
clothes as they stripped for action. It was a sex thing, and that was all it
was. Faith said that slaying got her
hungry and horny and at the time Buffy had denied it, but hell, she was a big
girl now and she could tell it like it was.
Spike said she needed some monster in her man, and maybe he was right.
Didn’t mean she cared for him. Was
just a warrior thing, celebrating another survival.
Yeah, right.
Did that explain why, when she lay at
his side, his arms flung over her and pulling her snug against his cool body, it
felt as if she was in the one place she’d always longed to be?
Why when he whispered her name against her skin did it resonate deep
inside her soul? Why did the evil
undead have her crying his name to the heavens?
She knew why.
She just couldn’t quite accept it.
Not yet.
And she wouldn’t get a chance to
unless she got out of this…dungeon? She
was in a dungeon? Yep, complete with
cold stone walls, braziers, smoking torches, creaking door, genuine cobwebs…
She stared into the darkness as the
approaching footsteps echoed around the dank space.
The voice started before she could see its owner.
“Ah, Slayer.
You are awake. Zank you for
being my guest; I trust you are comfortable?”
Dracula.
“Oh for crying out loud -- is this is
your idea of comfortable, you jerk? I
don’t know what you want with me but -- ” and she felt lame saying it, “my
boyfriend is so gonna kick your ass!”
Well, he was her boyfriend…kinda.
Maybe.
“Ah, ze large military man…yes, I
know of zis person. I understand zat
he is …occupied elsevhere. No
matter, he vill not trouble us.”
“Huh?
No – not Riley. He’s so
dumped.”
Dracula wore a rare look of bewilderment
on his pallid face. His information
was out of date; somebody would lose a limb over this.
But if not him, then who? He’d
only been absent from Sunnydale for less than two weeks and he doubted that the
Slayer would take a new lover so quickly. Possibly
someone she already knew?
“Zo, it is ze villing and eager to
please little puppy viz ze soulful eyes? I
am…disappointed, Slayer. He’s
not man enough for you.”
“What?
Puppy? Oh, you mean Xander
– no! A world of no…and where do
you get off questioning me on my love life anyway?
Look, just let me loose and we’ll say no more about it.
You know I can take you.”
“And yet…you are still helpless and
I stand here ravished by your beauty. I
sink not. My plan is infinitely
superior -- and zere will be music!”
Buffy didn’t really feel threatened,
it was only a matter of time before she broke out of the manacles and then Drac
would be blowing in the wind. But he
unnerved her with his black, mesmerising eyes.
Crap. She felt the pull of
his will as he exerted his thrall over her.
Her strength seemed sapped and she sagged back against the wall.
“I vill make you my bride, as I have a
vacancy at present. You vill be my
beloved… I have searched for you, I have yearned for you….
“Still not convincing, chum. Must be
the way you say it…”
Dracula spun round to meet the
outstretched fist of a thoroughly pissed off master vampire.
The cloaked legend sprawled on his back at Spike’s feet.
“Hey, love, if you wanted to avoid me
you could’ve just sent a note…”
“Spike!
You came for me! Erm…thanks!”
Spike took a step towards her only to
find himself on his knees as Dracula grabbed at his ankles and brought him down.
There was a scramble, fists, fangs and feet playing equal parts in the
grudge match that had been building for decades.
Buffy tried again to rattle herself free but the manacles were Grade A
and free of those pesky faults that would have the locks springing open.
No, these were solid and securely fastened by a well-trained minion no
doubt, and the most she could do was pull on the chains linked through the
restraints to ease her aching shoulders.
She could do nothing but watch anxiously
as the figures wrestled on the floor, first black then platinum blond hair
belonging to the vamp with the upper hand. They
were evenly matched, it had to be said. Her
Slayer side observed the moves and strength of her natural enemies, but the part
of her that was… softening…towards Spike howled with frustration that she
couldn’t get free and help.
The whirlwind of flailing limbs stopped
as the two vampires sprang apart and to their feet.
Spike shook himself, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he gloried in
the well-matched fight. Dracula on
the other hand was anxiously checking his clothing for rips and tears and
smoothing down his dishevelled hair. They
eyed each other warily.
“That all you’ve got, Drac?
No flashy gypsy tricks up your fancy sleeves?
Not that the panne velvet isn’t slippery – but fighting in a
cloak?” As he spoke he was trying
to retrieve the stakes he’d stashed away earlier, the crossbow and rifle
useless and way back in the cavern anyway. Where
the bloody hell had they gone?
“Do not speak!
I vill not hear you. You dare
to attack me in my own domain? I am
Count Dracula, Prince of Darkness, who…”
“Oh please, not that old chestnut.
Do us a favour and put another record on.”
Spike let his fists drop and lit a cigarette, ignoring the prissy
nose-wrinkling that his elder made a huge show of.
“Villiam.
Be careful. I am not alone in
zhese caverns. I choose not to
summon my minions because I do not think you vorthy.
But that could change….”
Spike quirked his scarred brow in
answer. Every inch of his compact
yet well-muscled body was screaming ‘bring it on’.
And anyway, he’d found a sharpened stake in his back pocket and his
fingers were even now closing in around it…
“Ahem!”
Buffy cleared her throat. Both
vampires professed to have her as the centre of their universe, but momentarily
seemed to have forgotten her existence.
Azure blue and raven black eyes turned
to her. Buffy rattled her chains and
tilted her head.
“Ah, Slayer…you vish to be released,
yes? Vell, I apologise for detaining
you. Of course you vill be freed
soon – once I have dealt with…zis annoying little pest.
Do not vorry, you vill have all the time you need to make preparations
for your vedding.”