The Circle of Slayers Series 5/?
Chapter 5: Merchant
By Denna at dennaseer@hotmail.com
Rated PG
Keywords: Buffy and Spike…what else could there be?
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters. They belong to Joss Whedon. Yadda
yadda yadda.
Summary for Chapter 5: Xander and Spike go shopping.

Chapter 5: Merchant

Saturday, November 24, 2001, 6:24 PM

    Spike was bored. He slouched down on Buffy’s sofa, put his hands behind his
head and stared at the ceiling. Buffy, Dawn, the two witches and Anya were
busy with last minute preparations for the engagement party at the Bronze
and there was nothing for him to do until it was time to start getting ready
– which was still hours away. Why it was taking the girls so long to get
ready, he didn’t know nor did he want to. He would wear what he always did,
leather duster, black shirt and jeans. What else could there be? But the
girls had said they had last minute wardrobe choices, makeup, showers, hair
to wash, style and dry…He remembered Buffy’s look of distaste at all the
fuss the women were going through and was going to decline letting them fix
her up, but that cute little sister of hers had given her a hug and told her
all this Hallmark stuff and up she went. He would have gone down to the
cemetery to kill a few vampires to pass the time, but he’d been forbidden to
step foot in there the whole day. Buffy had come to his crypt only half an
hour ago when the sun was setting in the sky, telling him to come to her
house. He just wanted something to do and sitting here staring at the
ceiling wasn’t it. With a lurch, he pushed himself up. Maybe he’d go for a
walk. He opened the front door and headed out.

    He stopped on the front porch and took out a cigarette. He puffed the smoke
as he realized that today was worth it. Buffy was worth it. He smiled to
himself as he remembered the morning after they had made love…


    Spike stroked her cheek and weaved his fingers through her hair as she
slept beside him, limbs entwined with his. With a wakening murmur, her eyes
opened to see her lover’s looking right back at her.

    “Have a nice sleep, luv?” Spike asked her, still brushing her cheek.

    “You know what? I actually did. No nightmares, no nothing.”

    Spike leaned in to kiss her and for the first time her eyes didn’t show
fear or uncertainty. She kissed him back, gentle and lovingly. Something the
vampire had not felt for nearly a century. When they parted almost
reluctantly, both their eyes were shining with comfort and love.

    “I love you so much, Buffy.”

    “I love you too, Spike.”

    Spike kissed her again, more passionate and needy. He rolled her onto her
back and gently placed light feather touches along her rib cage. Buffy
moaned in pleasure, but stopped suddenly.

    “What time is it?”

    “It’s morning, pet.”

    “Oh God!” Buffy almost shouted, “Willow and Dawn have no idea where I am! I
am so screwed.”

    Spike almost chuckled at her playful innocence. “You mean you didn’t tell
them you were researching swords here?”

    “No…” Buffy blushed, “I told them I was going to the library. They wouldn’t
like the idea of me going to your crypt alone.”

    “Because I could take advantage of the innocent Slayer?” Spike asked as he
began to kiss her collarbone and shoulder.

    “Sort of…maybe…you should stop that…”

    “Why?”

    “Because I have to go now.”

    Spike looked down at her with a dismal look upon his face, “I know…”

    Buffy gently kissed him and got up, gathering her clothes and putting them
on. Spike watched her the whole time, his mind still surreal.

    “Is this really happening?” he asked himself aloud.

    Buffy looked at him and smiled, “Yes. It is.”

    Spike chuckled, “Imagine what the Scoobies will think when they see us
together.”

    Buffy’s smile faded, “They can’t know, you know that. The things they would
say or do. I can’t take that.”

    “You’re not sorry for last night are you?”

    “No!” Buffy said, rushing over to the bedside, “I will never be sorry for
last night.” She brushed her hand through his hair, “I love you, just the
others don’t understand. They will know, one day, all right? When we’re
ready. But not now. I know it’s hard to know that we’re hiding what we have
like it’s wrong. But it’s not, I know that now.”

    “I love you.” They both said at the same time, then chuckled and kissed
each other again. A kiss of love and passion. A kiss of dawn and dusk. A
kiss of eternity.



    He sat on his bed, inhaling the musky innocent smell of his Slayer. He had
rolled that night over and over in his mind, each time never thinking it was
real. Just one of his dreams. But it was real, so wonderfully real.     He
crouched down beside the bed and reached under, grabbing an object and
pulling it up for him to see. It was a waterproof pouch he had swiped about
five years ago, just before he came to Sunnydale. Usually he had kept his
smokes in it or in his pocket, but it was filled with a sturdy square
object. He reached in and took out a small leather bound book. It was his
journal, somewhat. Well, it was mostly poetry. Yes, he never thought he
would ever write poetry ever again. And the poems were still as bad as ever,
but they were all about Buffy. He had started writing again last year when
his feelings for the Slayer had grown beyond lust and blood. Everything he
felt he poured into the book…and then he would go and kill something. He
wasn’t that much of a poofter.

    As he flipped through the pages, an envelope slipped out between the
leaves. Spike snatched it out of the air before it could fall to the floor.
Grinning, he turned it over and opened it. He pulled out the picture that
was nestled safely inside it and stared at it. It was a picture of Buffy,
sometime probably during her college days when she crimped her hair a lot.
He loved it when her hair was wavy and beautiful, he could remember them
softly brushing his face as he first kissed her during that cruelly
wonderful spell. It must have been a picture of her at a birthday party or
something at her house, but she looked beautiful in a red sweater and black
jeans. She was sitting on someone’s shoulder, (he had cut out the others in
the picture long ago) grinning like a maniac and pretending to bash
whoever’s head in with a wooden stake with a pink bow around it. It was
probably Xander’s stupid gift to her on her birthday. But she seemed so
carefree and happy. This was the first picture he had taken from her from
the start of his possession.

    Carefully opening the envelope once again, he gently put the picture back
inside and found something he had almost forgotten about. Reaching inside,
he pulled out a long lock of blonde hair tied with a bit of black thread. He
let the lock of hair fall over his fingers, his smile turning soft. Last
year, he had snuck into her house thousands of times, stealing pictures and
going through clothes. But one night, he had snuck into her bedroom and
without thinking, cut off a lock of her hair and stole away into the night.
It had been the most prized memento he had of her and he spent countless
hours just stroking the golden silk strands. He remembered that after Buffy
had learned of his love, he had burned and destroyed everything he had taken
from her, but he could not burn the picture and the lock of hair. He had hid
it and kept it all this time. If Buffy knew he had this – or knew how long
he had had it – she’d probably throw a fit. Shaking his head and laughing
ruefully, he tucked his treasure back into the envelope, folded the flap
down was it was inside and placed it carefully back into the book.

    Turning the other pages, he finally found what he’d come looking for. Going
into the main sitting room, he grabbed a leaf of paper Buffy must have left
from her research last week, found a pen and quickly scribbled down a few
lines. He snapped the book shut and safely returned back to its rightful
place underneath the bed. Folding the paper carefully, he left the crypt.

    Spike walked through the dark alleyways of Sunnydale, remembering how many
times he had fought the Slayer here or how he had recounted the tale of his
past to her in this alley. Yes, he remembered this long side street, just
outside the Bronze, more than he remembered anything else in Sunnydale. This
is where she had fought him, laughed with him and even scared him. A lot of
blood was shed on this couple of feet; a lot of tears lay buried in its hard
cement. He had walked down this alleyway to and from the girl’s house; with
a rifle in his hand and vengeance in his heart, or with a hopeful grin that
she would be there or a wallet newly filled with cash from his latest
endeavor. This alleyway seemed to be the barrier between their two worlds
almost, straight this way was Buffy’s house if you walked for fifteen
minutes or so and straight the other way was the graveyard where Spike’s
empty crypt lay.

    He was woken out of his thoughts by the appearance of a familiar figure
leaning against the Bronze wall. Spike walked closer and remembered the
careless brown hair and annoying goofy grin that he just wanted to punch
every time he looked at-

    “Well, isn’t it Peroxide Boy…” Xander said as Spike approached, but with no
real hint of malice in his voice. He raised his hand in greeting slightly
but it stopped just as quickly as it had come and his dropped his hand to
the side. He was slouched against the wall and he leaned his head up against
the brick and closed his eyes. He looked actually annoyed but of course the
mophead always looked like that when he was around.

    “Having a fun time waiting for your little party?” Spike said, leaning up
against the wall across from him.

    “If you’re here to torture me with your bad ass Billy Idol wannabe humor
than it’s a fun time,” Xander said, “But if it’s about that damned party you
can go fall on a piece of sharp wood.”

    “God, get some deodorant man,” Spike said, wrinkling up his nose, “I can
smell your sweat from here.”

    Slitting one eye open, Xander glared at him, “Oh I’m sorry, am I making you
uncomfortable? Because you can leave whenever you want. I don’t even know
why you’re coming in the first pla-“

    “Why are you even nervous?” Spike asked, to tired to make an insulting
sarcastic reply, “It’s just a little shindig.”

    “Why would you care?” he sighed, running a hand through his dark hair, “All
right, you want to know so bad? Because…this party means it’s for real. I’m
getting married and it gives me the wiggins.”

    “Poor Mophead, he’s got someone who will love him for the rest of eternity.
Quick, someone shoot him and take him out his bleedin’ misery.”

    Xander didn’t even bother replying, and stared up at the sky. Spike sighed
loudly and looked up at him, “Look. I’ve seen you two around each other
and…you’re lucky. What you and you’re cute little bird have is real. It
doesn’t matter to you if she’s a retired vengeance demon or not. If you and
Anya love each other and want to get married-“

    “Well, it’s not all skipping down the yellow brick road and sucking on
lollipops,” Xander said, standing up and away from the wall, “Anya is an
ex-demon. She lived for a thousand years and she knows all this stuff about
things. And she’s gone all crazy over this wedding and everything has to be
perfect and I think it’s a bunch of hoo with a lot of haw.”

    “What is it with you guys and bloody rambling?” Spike muttered to himself,
“I know what your problem is. You think you’re too ordinary and that you’re
finally growing up instead of being a little poofy kid.”

    “Thank you, Dr. Spike.” Xander replied, “Like you know all the answers to
life’s problems.”

    “Just remember, Nancy-boy, that at the end of the day when you’re all worn
out from you’re latest misadventure, she’ll be with you. And she’ll be there
the day after that and the day after that. All for you. And she’ll always be
proud of you and she’ll support you and do all that bloody crap.”

    Xander smiled and looked up at him, “Thanks, man.”

    “Whatever.”

    The two stood in silence until Spike started walking back down the
alleyway, “Well, I better get goin’. Feel like killing a few demons before
party time.”

    “Hey,” Xander said, hurrying up behind him, “You dropped this.”

    Harris held out the page of paper to him, and looked briefly at it, “Silver
City, 2201, Hamilton Street. What’s that place? I’ve never heard of it?”

    “It’s a store. Where you buy things.” Spike said, swiftly taking the paper
from him, “I have to pick something up.”

    “Silver City?” Xander said, walking next to him, “Doesn’t sound like a
butcher’s shop to me…”

    “It’s just a shop, all right Harris? It’s run by a friend of mine and I get
good deals on stuff there.”

    “Well, I’m not going anywhere. Why don’t I go with you?”

    “You wanna go somewhere with me? Did I here you right? Are you actually
being buddy buddy with a cold blooded killer?”

    “Well, you’re more of a lukewarm blooded killer,” Xander said, “And I need
to rant to someone about my personal problems.”

    “What if I don’t want you to come?”

    “Then you don’t want me to come. And the problem would be?”

    “I hate you.”


    The market of Sunnydale must be one of the truly frightening and unusual
place of commerce in the world. Merchants from every possible race came to a
few abandoned warehouses to hawk their wares. Which in turn brought
creatures from every possible race to buy those wares. Xander recognized
fungus demons, vampires, and those marrow-eating demons they encountered
last year and he even swore he saw Willy running around a corner with a bag
in his hand.

    Xander noticed all these things and others and tried desperately to look as
foreboding as possible. He put his hands in his pockets, safely fingering
his wallet and making sure no potential scaly pick pockets got in his way.
He had a feeling you couldn’t be pretty sure of your personal or monetary
safety in a place like this.

    Spike just walked through the dank building like he owned the place. He had
been here quite a few times before and he almost laughed at Xander’s
nervousness. He wasn’t afraid of any demons here and though the chip in his
head made him many enemies, the others respected him…knowing he could kick
their ass if he wanted to.

    Sticking close to the vampire’s side, Xander was grateful for the blonde’s
effect. Even for the last six years he had been hanging around all kinds of
creepy crawlies, a demon with a bloodied forked tongue and flashing golden
eyes still gave him the wiggins.

    They pushed through the main crowds and towards the back of the warehouse,
booths lined up with everything from pretty girls selling love perfume to
slimy demons selling human heads.

    Spotting the door to what probably had been an office in its time, Spike
put his hand on Xander’s shoulder, “Here we are. Well, thanks for the brisk
walk but you should be going now.”

    “What!” Xander said, sticking closer to his side, “You think I’m going back
there…alone! I’m like a Twinkie out there, a big yummy cream filled
Twinkie!”

    Spike rolled his eyes but silently agreed. It was more than likely that
Xander would get himself into trouble. He would just have to distract him
with some shiny tin foil or something.

    “Bloody hell…Come on then.” Spike said as he opened the door, Xander close
at his heels.

    He stepped into the dark shop and was immediately struck by a noxious
mixture of dust, unidentifiable herbs, perfumes, dry rot, and an overall
smell of musty age. Glancing around, he realized this was some sort of
rummage shop, where anything could be bought, traded or sold – for the right
price. He then became even more worried why he had even followed the vampire
here in the first place.

    Xander stepped further into the shop behind Spike who was already moving
toward the counter at the back of the room. Xander followed quickly, ducking
quickly to avoid a stuffed alligator hanging from the ceiling. Xander just
stared. ‘Don’t even ask…’ he told himself. He shook his head in bafflement
and nervously joined Spike at the counter.

    “Hey!” Spike called into the dimness beyond the curtain separating the shop
from the back, “Anyone here?”

    There was a muted shuffling from behind the curtain. “What? You don’t have
to shout-“

    A man appeared from behind the curtain, his elbow length ivory hair
swishing around his shoulders. His eyes were the palest blue and the
structure of his whole body was fair and delicate, like that of a china
doll. He tucked a couple strands of loose hair behind his pointed ears. The
man looked up at Spike, his face blank for a moment and then broke out into
a smile.

    “Spike? Is that you?”

    Spike nodded and the man’s face broke out into an even brighter smile.
“Wow! Last time I saw you were with that lovely dark beauty of yours. What
was that? 4 years ago? I don’t forget a face though. Not after you so
valiantly kept those barbarian vampire friends away from my shop. How have
you been?”

    “Wait a minute!” Xander said, forestalling Spike’s response. “Pardon the
bluntness, but are you an-“

    “Elf?” the man snapped back, “My name is Jariath if you please mind.”

    “Wow! Elves! That’s…cool…”

    “Yes. I believe there are quite a lot of us. Are you going to eat him now?”
Jariath answered, looking toward Spike.

    “You helped this guy?” Xander asked, trying to ignore the elf’s response.

    “Yes. And you could help me by shutting up and not touching anything.”
Jariath answered before Spike had a chance too.

    “Yeah, I can definitely see you guys as poker buddies.” Xander muttered,
turning around and wandering the shop. Spike leaned in and started talking
to the elf. Xander suddenly realized how little he actually knew about the
vampire. And he found it even more surprising that he was willing to learn a
little more.

    Willing the thought away, he spotted a bookshelf and pulled one down. Maybe
he should be on the lookout for any magical texts. They needed as much as
they could get now a days, with all these new demons and things always
showing up. What he found here, however, was a collection of brittle pages
slowly turning to dust, worms that had eaten most of the spine of one book,
and nothing but a bunch of deluded ramblings under the title “The Mrin
Codex.” Sighing with digust, he put the book back on the shelf and wiped his
fingers on his jacket.

    Meanwhile, Spike was looking through a tray of exquisitely designed
jewelry. He recognized the delicate yet strong craftsmanship of the elves
and Jariath looked over at him with a proud grin on his face. Spike sighed.

    “What’s wrong, friend?” Jariath asked.

    “I just…there’s this girl…and I want her to know how much I love her. But
I’m not one for buying presents, I mean, if I gave Dru a dying child she’d
be ecstatic. I don’t know what she’d bloody like. She has a whole bunch of
pretty little trinkets and-“

    “Oh dear, I always knew you had a soft side, William.”

    “Sod off.”

    “Well, how often do you give her things?”

    “Not bloody often…” he admitted, “Nothing like this.”

    “Let me give you some advice. If this young woman truly loves you, if it
comes from you it will be special. It would mean more to her than just some
ring she bought at a beauty shop right?”

    “Yeah…”

    “But…she’s still a woman. And women like shiny things. Shiny…expensive
things.”

    “Just because you’re helping me doesn’t mean I won’t kill you.” Spike told
him, looking at him from under his eyebrows.

    The vampire looked down at the tray with much more interest. After sorting
through the many fine pendants, brooches, combs, bracelets and rings he gave
up. In frustration, he shook his head but something caught his eye. He
walked up to a shelf nearby and picked up the objects. They were a pair of
matching gold wristbands. They were carved with a striking pattern of
complex knots on the outside and had been antiqued to show off the beautiful
carving. On the inside, there was an inscription in an ornate language.

    “Can you read this for me, mate?” Spike asked Jariath, wandering back to
the counter and handed the ring to the fair elf.

    “It’s in Ancient Elven. It says, ‘we are one, forever in heart, body, mind
and soul…’ Jariath handed it back to the vampire, who had a dawning look of
anticipation on his face.

    “Are you considering these armbands?” Jariath asked.

    The blonde man considered it for a moment, stroking and staring at the
armbands and finally nodded. “It’s perfect. How much for it?”

    “How much do you have?” the merchant asked with a twinkle in his eye.

    “Do you think I fall for your silly tricks, elf?” Spike asked.

    Laughing softly, Jariath leaned behind the counter, “You never could.” He
pulled out a small black box from under the counter and opened it. He put
both bands inside, put the lid back on and after a moment’s pause handed it
to Spike. “Take it. It’s yours.”

    “What? Jariath? Giving his prized jewelry for free?”

    “Yes. I have a soft spot for you, vampire. And I see a light shining from
your eyes I have never seen in any creature. Consider it a reward for
protecting my shop all those years.” He took Spike’s hand and put the box in
it. “I don’t want to taint your present with money. Take it, friend. And
when you wear it, know that it is because of your love for her and hers for
yours.” Jariath’s fair eyes warmed and there was a sense of wisdom in his
eyes that Spike had never seen before.

    “Thanks, mate.” Spike smiled, “I appreciate it.”

    Jariath waved them off, “Go on,” he said, “You don’t want to miss that
party of yours, don’t you?”

    Xander turned around, “How did you-Oh, merciful Zeus!” he called out,
checking his watch, “It’s almost 8!”

    Xander ran out of the store, came back in and took Spike’s arm, shoving him
out the door. Spike had only time to flash an appreciative smile to his old
friend before he was back in the crowd.